Mental Illness: Lessons from Two Artist, Agnes Martin and Donald Woodman
By Brian Nixon, Special to ASSIST News Service
ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO (ANS – October 25, 2016) -- In an article published by Relevant Magazine
entitled, “4 Misconceptions about Mental Illness and Faith,” writer
Andrea Jongbloed gives four quick characterizations some people have
concerning mental illness: 1. People with mental heath conditions are
unsafe, 2. People with mental illness are unpredictable and difficult to
relate to, 3. Most people with mental illness are on welfare of
homeless, 4. People with mental illnesses would rather not talk about it
[1].
Jongbloed’s
article tackles a difficult subject, bringing out many important
realities associated with mental illness, particularly as it relates to
fear. I recommend the read, especially for those within the church.
Christians need to ask how we are to minister and convey God’s truth and
love to individuals with mental illness -- in all its forms (from
schizophrenia to mild depression). Mental illness (like any illness) is a
deep and daunting reality we must face head on -- with charity,
compassion, and, hopefully, a clear idea of the science behind the
disease.
Generally,
I agree with Jongbloed’s points; there are too many misconceptions
regarding the mentally ill. However, one question came to my mind during
a recent lecture I attended that Jongbloed didn’t address in her
article (though alluded to). The question concerns people trying to help
individuals with mental illness: what happens when a person attempting
to help crosses the threshold of compassion and falls prey to depression
themselves, turning from helping the person to hurting the person or
themselves?
Noted
photographer, Donald Woodman -- husband of internationally celebrated
feminist artist, Judy Chicago -- presented the lecture I’m referring to
above. Mr. Woodman gave the presentation in support of his newest book, Agnes Martin and Me [2]. Of course, the “Agnes” in the name is in reference to acclaimed visual artist, Agnes Martin.
For
those who do not know Agnes Martin’s work and renown, a short word by
her representative, Pace Gallery, highlights her importance to the
artistic world: “Agnes Martin (b. 1912, Macklin, Saskatchewan, Canada;
d. 2004, Taos, New Mexico) imparted a legacy of abstraction that has
inspired generations of artists. Using a limited palette and a geometric
vocabulary, her works are inscribed with lines or grids that hover over
subtle grounds of color. Martin’s work is recognized as pure
abstraction, in which space, metaphysics and internal emotional states
are explored through painting, drawing and printmaking.
“Martin
is the recipient of numerous awards including the Golden Lion at the
Venice Biennale in 1997 and the National Medal of Arts in 1998. She has
been the subject of one-artist exhibitions worldwide, including a
five-part retrospective at Dia: Beacon, New York, in 2007, and, most
recently, a 2015 retrospective at Tate Modern, London, which will travel
to Kunstsammlung NRW, Düsseldorf; the Los Angeles County Museum of Art;
and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York [3]”
What
is not discussed in this short biography by Pace Gallery is the fact
that Martin was schizophrenic, hearing voices and acting in -- at times
-- unbearable ways. She had a mental illness. And the way various
articles, institutions, and people have dealt with Martin’s illness
ranges from “the voices told her what to paint” (which doesn’t give the
credit to Martin for her creativity), to a crazed-genius, to an
unwillingness to discuss her illness at all [4].
But
Woodman knows better. Over a seven-year period he was associated with
Martin and her illness, Martin’s uneven behavior and demands on Woodman
led him to the point of an attempted suicide, seeking therapy to make
sense of it all. The help he gave turned to hurt. True, the signs of
Martin’s illness were everywhere at the beginning of their working
relationship -- from Martin’s “voices” and self-imposed, inconsolable
seclusion, to her erratic behavior. But Woodman thought maybe her
behavior was part of her personality, the mystic-artist celebrated in
the art world.
During
the lecture, Woodman said Martin’s unpredictable behavior became very
pronounced towards the end of their working relationship: “One minute
she’d say one thing like, ‘I love you,’ and the next moment she’s
saying, ‘I hate you, go away.’” It was the erratic conduct and words
that caused great consternation and confusion for Woodman. Woodman
didn’t know she was mentally ill (he had hunches), but his suspicions
were confirmed after picking Martin up from a mental institution in
Colorado. Martin left Woodman’s property one day and wasn’t heard from
for over a week. After a call from the hospital, Woodman ended driving
five hours to pick her up. After the episode Martin opened up about her
struggle with mental illness. But sadly the friction continued, and
after another episode (Martin ended up in an institution in Santa Fe),
Martin was gone; their working relationship was over.
If Agnes Martin and Me
accomplishes one thing -- it highlights how one person (Woodman) came
to terms with another person’s mental illness (Martin). But the book is
so much more than that, worthy of attention on multiple levels. And,
yes, Martin and Woodman did reconcile before her death, largely because
Martin got the help she needed.
But
back to my question: how is a person to help someone that is hurting
the helper (like Woodman was with Martin)? The answer to the question
came during Woodman’s presentation, causing me to pause and think
through the question more deeply. Woodman pointed out that as he walked
through a museum celebration of Martin’s work in Europe, he was
comparing the high praise he was reading and hearing about with the
reality of her life. It was during this time that Woodman came up with a
theory concerning Martin: “She developed a visual language to stop the
voices that were constantly in her head; to bring quiet to that, so she
could get to the things she painted. She didn’t paint about
sophisticated things. She was interested in beauty, joy, and innocence.”
In short, one of the reasons Martin painted to push away the pain of
mental illness.
And
unbeknownst to Woodman -- he gave me an outline to ponder: how to help
people with mental illness. The three words, beauty, joy, and innocence,
are key. And though Woodman didn’t give these three words as a
point-by-point remedy for helping the mentally ill, I think they can be
subtle guides to ensure that the helper or mentally ill person is not
hurt to the point of no return.
Beauty:
As made in the image of God, people point to the beauty of God, His
creative acts in the world. People have purpose and meaning because of
God’s image—His print, if you will—in our lives. And when that print is
scarred and the beauty defaced (as with all people, the mentally ill are
subject to sin, the self, the world, etc.), we need to ask: what’s the
remedy for the repair? The clearest answer is a relationship with God in
Christ. But what if the person can’t fully comprehend the theology due
to their mental illness (such as a severe case of schizophrenia)? At
this point, love must manifest: we are to love the unlovable, even if it
is from a distance. If the helper of the mentally ill becomes harmed in
a relationship, it doesn’t mean he or she should stop loving the
person. No. The helper needs to employ the language of love. And love
requires that we help -- maybe not personally, but through
encouragement, recommendations, prayer, and assistance, helping the
person find the services needed from proper professionals:
psychologists, licensed Christian counselors, and doctors -- people
equipped to deal with the illness. When we see beauty in a person, our
reaction should not be to balk at their condition, but help the person
blossom into what God intends for them. So exercise love, finding God’s
beauty in the barrenness of mental illness by helping the person find
hope.
Joy:
If part of what it means to be human is to find purpose and meaning in
life—something beyond just being happy (a state that is always in flux
due to feelings)—then joy is something we must remember. Joy isn’t
something that we possess (as C.S. Lewis would remind us: “It is never a
possession”), but a longing for the kind of existence God intends for
us, a deep, lasting character of life, something we press and
continually seek. So the question is: how do we help a mentally ill
person discover meaning in life—joy? For those with mild forms of mental
illness the answer is like any human being: it’s first found in Christ,
and then in the things that delight Him as worked out through the
person’s passions and pursuits. But the answer can get complicated the
more serious the mental illness, requiring professional insight (see
above). But there is a simple side to the equation as well: what brings
the person joy? As pointed out above, Agnes Martin found joy in
painting. As Woodman pointed out, Agnes Martin was able to use her art
to help with her mental illness, keeping the voices at bay. Other people
have found joy in a host of other things: serving others, creativity,
and the pursuit of God [5]. And again, if a helper finds himself or
herself hurt beyond that which is helpful, then point the person with
mental illness to another mentor or professional, someone that will help
the person pursue joy.
Innocence:
This third area is a little more difficult to express. I use the word
innocence not in the theological sense -- as a person’s moral state of
being (someone free from sin or guilt), but as another meaning of the
word: simplicity and harmlessness. In the first sense of the word a
pastor or counselor would need to unpack how one is to view innocence.
But in the second definition of the word -- simplicity and harmlessness
-- are found key factors that can act as guidelines in the relationship.
First is simplicity. Is the relationship with the mentally ill person
simple? Are you helping the person find God’s beauty and joy in life?
Are you imaginative in your insight, keeping the person focused on the
things that are important to them and their world? Or is your
relationship complicated, beyond the scope of your ability to comprehend
their condition and care for the person? Do you find yourself confusing
the person -- and yourself? If it is complicated, then find a mentor to
help you simplify the situation, or direct the mentally ill person to a
professional. Second is harmlessness. As someone trying to help a
mentally ill person you must ensure you are not harming them or
yourself—with bad advice, unproven theories, or unbiblical challenges
(“the Bible doesn’t say anything about mental illness, therefore you are
‘demon possessed,’ etc.). If your relationship with a mentally ill
person is harmful to them or you, find a new path to tread, turning the
person over to a mentor or professional. In the end, you should seek
innocence—a pure heart in helping them to hope. Sometimes people with
mental illness just need a listening ear and hopeful heart. If you’re
that person, great, if not, don’t let help turn to hurt.
Not
let me be clear: I’m not a professional Christian counselor, nor do I
claim that the advice given above is textbook clean. No. Rather as a
minister with over 20 years of counseling experience and as one whose
extended family has had severe mental illness (my grandfather was
diagnosed as schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur), I have seen the
harm given to both parties in treating mental illness. My point in this
article is simple, going back to something Andrea Jongbloed (who
struggles with mental illness herself) writes in the conclusion of her
article:
“The
common stigma against mental illness is exactly what led my pastor and
the church leadership to have a negative view of my condition. In light
of this, we the people of God have an invitation. In Mark 12:31 Jesus
tells us to “love your neighbor as yourself.” I believe welcoming
someone with a mental illness into Church is a great place to exhibit
this.
“Be
open to learning about mental illness. Have potentially awkward
conversations with newcomers who struggle with their mental health. You
won’t regret stepping outside your comfort zone. You will be blessed
with stories of struggle, resilience and redemption. If you’re lucky,
maybe you’ll even become part of someone’s story of recovery and
reconciliation with the Church.”
Towards this end, I say amen. Use the framework of beauty, joy, and innocence as an outline for resilience and redemption. And like the portrait Donald Woodman painted in his book, Agnes Martin and Me,
the story of working with someone with mental illness can either hurt
or help. For Woodman it hurt. For others it can help. In the end, my
prayer is that it will heal, bringing hope to everyone involved.
Photo
captions: 1) Agnes Martin photo by Donald Woodman. 2) Donald Woodman
portrait. 3) Agnes Martin by Donald Woodman. 4) Brian Nixon.
About
the writer: Brian Nixon is a writer, musician, and minister. He’s a
graduate of California State University, Stanislaus (BA) and is a Fellow
at Oxford Graduate School (D.Phil.). As a published author, editor,
radio host, recording artist, and visual artist, Brian spends his free
time with his three children and wife, painting, writing music, reading,
and visiting art museums. To learn more, click here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Nixon.
Note: If you would like to help support the ASSIST News Service, please go to www.assistnews.net and click on the DONATE
button to make you tax-deductible gift (in the US), which will help us
continue to bring you these important stories. We need your help to
invest in this unique news service.
** You may republish this and any of our ANS stories with attribution to the ASSIST News Service (www.assistnews.net).
Please tell your friends and colleagues that they can receive a
complimentary subscription to our news service by going to the above ANS
website and signing up there.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar