In 2006 Weatherly was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. The side effects of chemotherapy challenged her to find new ways to express herself, she was determined to express some of the emotional upheaval through various media including pastels, acrylics, clay, photography and fiber arts, and assemblage. Below is her interview for the accompanying art exhibit held at King Community Center Gallery in 2007. The exhibit, titled Exposure, A Creative Response to Breast Cancer, has since traveled to sites in Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, New York and West Virginia.
________________________________________________________________________
(Introduction)
A diagnosis of breast cancer changes your life; how you feel, act, relate, and yes, even how you create art. You question everything: hence, my interview’s question/answer format. My title “Exposure” reflects how my body and psyche felt as well as the emotional struggle of coming to terms with feeling less-than-whole as a single-breasted woman.
Definitions of expose are: “to lay open, to view, not shielded or protected.” Yes, I felt physically bare, singled out and unprotected. I also identified with other nuances of expose: “to unmask, to bring to light as something shameful.” Yes, I felt a terrible sense of shame and vulnerability. What bad thing had I done to cause this cancer? And yes, there was unmasked OUTRAGE. The fact that society wants me to pretend that I’m still “whole” by wearing a prosthesis or getting reconstruction surgery! What is wrong with the way I am?
Despite the chaotic impact, I found this singular stage in my life to be a catalyst for new images and insights. My creative response galvanized the healing process which has left me stronger, more together and self-actualized than ever. I am very thankful to the Spirit within me that has sustained me in times of pain and fear, and also for the collective prayers of my friends and family which have amazed me and been real sustenance!
________________________________________________________________________
A Conversation with Weatherly:
Q. First, tell me a bit about discovering you had breast cancer.
W. Here it is in a nutshell: I have had yearly mammograms since I was 40. I have fibrocystic breast tissue and therefore often feel various lumps...perhaps this made me cavalier about monthly self-breast exams. At my yearly checkup, my GYN felt something and asked me when my last mammogram was, I told her it had been about a year and I was due for one. She said, “Let’s get that scheduled and do an ultrasound while they’re at it.” I believe it was the ultrasound that really found the cancer. With fibrocystic tissue, a denser area which appears white on the mammogram film can be hidden in the already foggy-white picture. I sent my doctor flowers, thanking her for recommending the ultrasound.
Q. So, they knew from the ultrasound?
W. Well, no, that just triggers the slow and steady journey into a world of doctor appointments, lab tests, waiting and waiting, more tests, more waiting, more appointments. A biopsy was taken, and I got the call from the surgeon that it was in fact cancer.
Q. How did you feel?
W. Well, I’ve always been curious how a doctor tells a patient he or she has cancer. As I mentioned there’s enough waiting in this whole process, you have to at least imagine how you will handle a cancer diagnosis. So I was sort of prepared for that possibility. My surgeon’s words on the phone were, “I’m sorry, the news is not good, it is cancer.” I put those words on the first drawing I did. I didn’t break down in tears, just said something like, “OK, what do we do now?”
Q. What about chemo...did you have to go through that, too?
W. Yes, chemotherapy takes its toll on one’s body. My particular regimen included several sessions of Taxol which has a common side effect of pain in the joints---kind of like a sudden onset of arthritis I guess. I was already experiencing some joint pain from the first 2 chemo drugs, so once I started the Taxol, my hands in particular were impaired. I couldn’t hold a pencil or paintbrush the same way anymore, my thumb wouldn’t bend, and my hand ached from the tension of clenching a pencil to try to draw.
Q. Did you wonder if you would be able to function as an artist?
W. In all of the trials of cancer, I have tried to stay calm and ask myself, if this is how it is going to be for the rest of my life, how can I make the best of it? My mantra was, “Be still, and know that I am God”, which helped me connect with an inner strength and not feel alone. So, I decided this would be a great time to “loosen up” my style. I LOVE art that is loose and energetic, I’ve just never been able to create any! (laughs) You can’t believe how hard it was for me to “let go” enough to just dive into a blank page and see where the color or marks would take me. I spent several days procrastinating just getting my easel set up, some art supplies close at hand, and staring at the white paper. This art is all about process, unlike my illustration work which is about planning.
Q. So your cancer experience acted as a catalyst to your creativity in this show?
W. Yes and there’s a good reason this show is called “Exposure” because I definitely had to risk a type of exposure to put a visual expression on “canvas,” overcoming the fear that whispers, “what if it turns out terrible?” And that’s not to say that I claim any of these works are museum-worthy art. I came to realize that they are what they are, simply visual expressions of something felt within me.
Q. Your exhibit includes a series of photographs of you. How did those come about?
W. I was inspired by a book titled, Turning Heads: portraits of grace, inspiration, and possibilities, by Jackson Hunsicker. It is a collection of photographs of women who are all bald from chemotherapy. These women looked so beautiful, so courageous and full of strength. I contacted a friend of mine, Rick Hypes, who is a talented artist, designer, and photographer. We agreed on a time for a photo shoot, and I came with some props that metaphorically expressed aspects of my cancer journey---life and death, beauty and ugliness. He did a beautiful job of capturing it on film.
Q. How did you feel about being bald?
W. Man, I could go on for hours about that! I felt defiant. I felt angry that the world wanted me to cover up...as though it was something shameful. I hadn’t “sinned” to get cancer, but covering my head made me feel like it, (maybe this is the Adam and Eve story emerging in my subconscious). I refused to get a wig, and opted for hats when I was at work. At home and with friends I just went bald.
Q. What about your rather decorative breast forms?
W. Those have been so much fun! I have always loved quilts, fabrics, and textile patterns so these evolved naturally for me---although it was difficult to do the sewing until my hands began to get some flexibility back. In my mind they have become a creative shape of their own. The whole prosthesis issue has been a hot topic for me as was the “bald” issue.
Q. So, why did you feel inspired to create these breast forms?
W. Well, I have this funny belief that in the morning when we stand at our closet to decide what to wear, it is like putting on our costume for the day. In fact, over my closet I painted the words, “What Shall I Wear Today”. If I am going to be at home working in the studio, I may put on jeans, t-shirt, and flip flops. I’m playing “artist” today. If I had an office job, my costume might be a skirt, blouse, and jacket. The man wearing a polo shirt and plaid pants is playing “golfer” while the teenager dressed in black with black eye shadow, mouth piercing, and dyed black hair is playing “Goth”. What we wear is a creative expression of who we are. So, when I go to choose what breast to wear, I pick what personality I want to exhibit for the day. This is all in jest, I don’t really wear them.
Q. Your breast art does express humor!
W. Yes and they are confrontational as well. Do you feel comfortable staring at a dislocated breast on the wall? Why are we taught it is impolite to stare at a woman’s breasts, yet fashion prompts a woman to use her breasts as a tool to manipulate? Have you noticed the cleavage that even female news anchors are showing lately!?
Q. Yes, it’s a strange mixed signal in the media.
W. We seem to have a relationship of hypocritical idolatry with women’s breasts. Breast cancer is unique in that unlike the removal of interior diseased organs, a mastectomy makes you feel violated, mutilated. You will notice glaring red scars on some of the drawings. Underneath the lighthearted cloth forms, I am angry. Angry that society says I need to pretend that I still have a breast. I need to hide the fact with prosthesis so I won’t make anyone around me uncomfortable. Am I not still the same person I was? Am I not beautiful even without my breast? There is a loss that is grieved when you lose a breast. At the hospital when I was in pre-op I was told to mark the breast I was having surgery on with a purple marker. I wrote, “Ciao Bella”.....Goodbye Beautiful....wonder what the surgeon thought of that? (laughs).
Q. Do you want to continue to work in this looser style?
W. I don’t really know. I used art as a way to release some of the angst and mental anguish I was going through during my treatment and the succeeding months. It was quite difficult for me to loosen up and work larger. If I worked on a piece too long I would slowly but surely start smoothing edges and tightening it to where it lost its freshness and spontaneity. Now the question is, should I fight my natural tendency to work in a realistic fashion? Is that just a ‘safe’ zone for me? Or, is it pure, from my soul? I hope there will be a balance between the two.
Q. What about other issues of cancer? Will you explore these topics in your art?
W. I am ready to move on but I’m sure the experience of cancer will color my work in some way. Although I am technically “cancer free,” I read one sentence that sums up the truth; “you can never really be called cancer free until you die of something else”. I am so thankful to have the opportunity to exhibit this body of work because it has helped me put some closure on this part of my creative experience. I’m not sure what I will tackle next. Mostly, just live each day to the fullest. Carpe Diem!
_______________________________________________________________________
Quotes from my journal:
I suppose I may feel silly if it’s benign, having run so many scenarios through my mind, but that’s just my way of preparation---to be ready.
Waiting for word on how bad it is. This wait is worse than the first phone call wait.
I crazily began telling my college sons in the crowded waiting room of O’Charlies (as Sarah said, what would Miss Manners think of that?!) But I started tearing up. Michael, sensing I was upset, rubbed my shoulder. Forrest froze, and I composed myself.
I go up and down emotionally thinking this is so small in the grand scheme of things to feeling a great sorrow and loss.
Still haven’t had a good cry---maybe I’m past it? Instead tears leak out at the worst possible times---like when I’m swimming, goggles fill from the inside--crazy!—and in the car while I’m driving.
Better today. Ate a bit and drank fluids as much as possible. Felt “buzzed”—head fuzzy, hard to concentrate, yet nervous energy, like I should be doing something, but ending up back on the couch...uncomfortable and depressing. I did do some art, transferring the bird shapes to the sculpture.
Having a hard time believing that the cancer is not going to come back---sort of haunted by the shadow.
Spoke with a woman at Sam’s yesterday who had chemo during her second pregnancy. Had two darling girls with her. Kept her buzz cut three years after chemo and I noticed she didn’t bother with a prosthesis...you go, girl!!
I’m gathering excitement for new projects, but can’t start them until I finish these #@!!#*!! treatments! My hands hurt, my hands hurt, my hands hurt.
I went to inquire about breast prosthesis at Med Response. I go in, the bell rings loudly to alert the staff there is a customer. To my right the small but open room has potty chairs, crutches, braces for knees, arms, wrists, chairlifts, bathroom assists and other gizmos I don’t even want to know their purpose. Great, I’ve entered the world of sickness and geriatrics.
“Is it a shroud or a bridal veil?” I remember uttering these words as Rick and I fumbled with the sheer fabric over my head during the photo shoot. How true. Is it a veil? Am I being ushered into a new life? ...a life that will forevermore include vigilant checking to see if the ghostly phantom of cancer has moved from hovering overhead, to abiding in me? Or is it a new life, to savor each day and relish the joy of being alive?
What is a one-breasted woman to do with a lace push-up bra?! Maybe that should be in my show.
I never could manipulate men with my breasts. But I miss being touched, caressed and kissed on my breast. I miss the between-the-covers function of my breast.
I have hated the hat wearing. Yet it’s not nearly as bad as the wigs or even scarves. Scarves seem to scream, “I’ve Got Cancer!” Wigs just look fake. I wish I could have gone bald in public. I heard another cancer patient say, “Well, you don’t want to scare the children.” Well, maybe they should see MORE bald women, and they wouldn’t be scared.
My Mom once said, “Well you don’t want to throw it in their face. You know, underneath it all, I do want to throw it in their face. “Here I am, bald as ever. Death at the door! Yes, Death—you don’t want to think about that, do you? You like to avoid thinking about it. Well, too bad. Here I am! You have been confronted, and I hope you live this day to the fullest!”
________________________________________________________________________
