VARIOUS ARTISTS

Hear Their Story

February - March 2023

“1995: The end of life as I knew it. I began experiencing excruciating burning pain in my hands, arms and legs. In 1996 fibromyalgia was not recognized by the medical community as a ‘real’ ailment. Doctors considered it to be a syndrome: unexplainable, unverifiable and in all probability psychosomatic. Their unofficial diagnosis was ‘Hysterical Middle Aged Woman’s Syndrome’.

“Doctor after doctor, told me, test after test after expensive test came back negative, that nothing was wrong with me and to go home and ‘Get a life’. Some looked at me knowingly, like we shared a secret ‘You’re a psychotherapist. You know about psychology’ – Wink, Wink. The only reason I winked back was to blink away the tears that were threatening to disrupt the façade that I wasn’t a hysterical middle-aged woman.

“I just wanted someone to put a name to what I had. Gynecologists, gastroenterologists, cardiologists, neurologists, rheumatologists, environmental specialists, acupuncturists, immunologists, chiropractors, Yup you are reading right! They are ALL in the plural. I didn’t just see one of each. I saw private practitioners, researchers, and heads of hospital departments. I’m sure each of them wrote ‘HYPOCHONDRIAC’ on their charts.

“Over two-plus decades later I'm no longer middle-aged, just hysterical. I still struggle and some mornings I wake up feeling like a locomotive hit me and the bottoms of my feet on fire even though the only thing they touched for 7 hours was a sheet. BUT now that the pharmaceutical companies have realized there's over 10 million people, in the United States alone and millions more world-wide, with this condition the research is progressing.”

Judith Westerfield, @judithwesterfield

Everyone carries stories. We collect them. We wear them. We tuck them away in the depths of our coat pockets living amongst the lint and it receipts. We hide them. We wander through life satisfied with the knowledge that nobody knows us completely. Nobody has heard all of our stories.

This exhibit brings forth a sampling of these stories in word and paint, and in such a way that it isn’t a full out blathering or confessional autobiography, but rather a trepidatious unfolding, a peak into a bit of the story; an excerpt that will entice you to read more.

Our hope is that when you leave here you will carry our stories with you. That you will experience immeasurable growth from the compassionate act of understanding and carrying a stranger’s story. We hope that this beckons you back to gather more, time and again.

“After spending thirty-two years in trucking, she finally could see clearly the nuances and adventure that awaits in a stick of charcoal.”

Colleen Scully, @colleenscully

“You just have to keep on going no matter what and in the face of not knowing what the results will be.”

Kate Ryan, @kateryanstudio

“The studio door is rusted shut from the tears shed within. 

The watery substance seeps through the cracks eroding the rotting wood and weakened hinges, creating a new entrance. Clearing the way for me to patiently wade through the sludge; these murky waters renew themselves bubbling up like the joy found at the bottom of a baptismal font.”

Renée Ortiz, @reneeortizstudios

“A woman seeks a path
Through the forest.

Finding her way
Through a tangle of trees,

She emerges

Through an opening

Refreshed!

And ready to tackle
The dishes in the sink
And the half-eaten
Blueberry muffin
On the kitchen counter.

And how did Nelson Mandela
Endure years of solitary 
In prison
In South Africa

And cultivate
An unyielding spirit?”

Valerie Samuel Henderson, @valeriesamuelhenderson

“The foot 
of man 
steps. 
A prelude to 
dominion’s march 
with not one beat 
of a second 
thought. 
Without even 
a bat 
of a soft green 
eyelash 
or 
a salty drop 
of 
an ocean tear.