For a Son's Love

Unbelievably late to the game I finally signed on to Facebook for the first time just a few short weeks ago. I was always under the impression that it was a completely frivolous waste of time, geared only for the amusement of the young. Much to my chagrin I have since learned that it does have its uses. It is how I contacted one niece to let her know I'd finished her painting, and how I was contacted by another of my nieces looking to commission one. She's all grown up and attending college in a foreign country. O.K. O. K. it's only St.Cloud State but it's about as close to a foreign country as you can get without leaving the contiguous 48.

 Anyway................


My niece Lauren was requesting a painting at the behest of her boyfriend who had a gift for his mother in mind. He had seen the silly Chickadee I had done for my nieces sister Emma on Facebook (of all places) and he wondered if I could or would do it again. His Mother apparently adores our native Black-capped Chickadee and he thought a painting would make an outstanding Christmas gift for her. 

It took about 2.25 seconds for me to make up my mind that this would be my next project. I don't know why it took the extra quarter second, it just looks better on the screen than 2. 

Anyway...............


I have several personal projects vying for top spot in my imagination. They didn't go anywhere but they where easily warded away in favor of such a noble effort.
 
Jake, (What a good solid name) did offer to pay what little he could afford. Being only too aware of how difficult it is for a college student to scrape by, I respectfully declined, but he insisted on covering my costs. I felt a bit silly as my expenses were so small they don't warrant mentioning. Asking him to pay for me to have fun painting it was another matter. That was just never going to be part of this equation. Besides he would have far greater expense just coming here to collect it and then getting it delivered to his mom in time for Christmas.


We sent a few messages back and forth discussing size, composition, and frame choices quickly hammering out all of the details. We agreed on a  solid Oak frame about 2” wide with very nice depth in a natural finish. I had picked it up at the local thrift store for about $7.00. It was a 16” X 20” which set the size of the canvas which was actually a Masonite panel I had found at work and had cut to fit.


When I was starting an earlier painting for my nieces sister, I had Photo-shopped a decent composition with snow covered pines in the background, a rusty roadside mailbox in the fore, and a single Chickadee sitting atop the flag. I forwarded a copy of the image via Facebook (surprise,surprise) and they thought it would be great with just a few minor changes.
 

Even having a somewhat compressed deadline, getting it done on time seemed a rather easy proposition as it was not a very complex image. Of course I couldn't foresee two weeks lost to a hospital bed, and all the joys of a liquid diet when I made my initial calculations. 

Anyway..........


Thank goodness I didn't allow myself to procrastinate and got started on it right away. Having a week off work to recover from a pretty significant health issue along with the indignities perpetrated by those unpleasant people who inhabit hospitals, I think they're called doctors and nurses...


Anyway..................

Having that time off did help me keep the ball rolling. 
I altered the composition a bit to make the mailbox a more prominent feature. Then decided to introduce two more birds into the mix. The first would be perched on the opening tab for the mailbox door. The second would be flying in to land on the upraised flag. The third would be observing in some nearby branches at a safe distance the way the Chickadees around here often do. That is when the title for this piece fluttered into my mind, “Trio” what could be simpler.


The background is done entirely in acrylics and the birds are painted in gouache. After I was happy with the background, including the mailbox I blocked in the birds with white acrylic 2- coats. Once they dried completely I went in with the gouache. It is so well suited for fine detail I couldn't see struggling with the acrylics on so small a bird. The Gouache also has a depth of color that my acrylics simply do not possess.    

Merry Christmas Jake's Mom.


Acrylic and Gouache 16” X 20”.

On Dragon's Wings

Anne McCaffery
1926 – 2011 R.I.P.

When most people are asked the question, “Who influenced you in life?” the answer you'll most often hear is Mom and Dad, a favorite coach / teacher, or Jesus Christ, or some renowned world leader. All are fine answers and some even apply to me as they might to any of us. One I noticed looking back in my own life was an author. One who taught me that reading could be so much more than an onerous task to be done for school. That it could be a lifelong joy instead. An author who also taught me that Dragons could fly, if only in my mind.  Anne McCaffery an American author who lived much of her life in Ireland succeeded at breaking down the barriers to what it meant to be a successful novelist in a genre that had seen nearly a century of male dominance. Her early work was often dismissed as less than “serious” because her critics decided it was targeted for the adolescent female reader. They were wrong and she was serious.

Serious enough to build a career as a writer that spans more than fifty years. Her greatest successes came in the mid-1970's and later but she had been a published writer for almost two decades by that point. She has more than 100 titles to her credit, her first novel being “Restoree” published in 1967. She has created some ten separate “Universes” throughout her writing career. McCaffery was the first woman to win any Nebula award (1967) and the first woman to win a Hugo award (1968) both for works of science fiction. I'd call that serious, wouldn't you?


Her novel “The White Dragon” was was the first science fiction book by a woman ever to appear on The New York Times Best Seller list. Two of her Dragonrider novels appear in Locus magazine's "All-Time Best Fantasy Novels" subscriber poll, “Dragonflight” at #9 and “The White Dragon” at #23. In 2005 she was named the 22nd Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America. The Name McCaffery now appears alongside those of  Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke, and Heinlein.

McCaffery fiercely proclaimed her work was “Science Fiction” and not “Fantasy” as her detractors so often tagged it. To me the word that best describes her work is “Balanced.” It contained plenty of the “hard speculative science” so many writers of the male persuasion seemed to become fixated upon. She also created well crafted stories that a reader could quickly become invested in on a primal / emotional level. This facet of her writing distinguished her from her male contemporaries, and propelled her to the top of the best sellers list.


Her dragons and their riders in particular had a very widespread appeal, although it was her ability to bring characters to life that made her writing so engrossing for the reader. Regardless if they were human characters or some form of sentient alien each had personality that came through with depth and power on every single page. It didn't matter who the reader chose to identify with in any of her stories, there was always someone or some being within all of them with which they could. That was the real strength of Anne McCaffery's writing. 

!!!Spoiler Alert!!! !!!Spoiler Alert!!!

 She often featured strong independent women of considerable intelligence in her stories when it wasn't terribly fashionable to do so. In her very first novel  “Restoree” the hero was, in fact a heroine. She was a decidedly homely but bright librarian living her rather anonymous life here on earth when she is abducted by vicious space traveling aliens. She's only kept alive in a catatonic state as a future food source. When we first become aware of her plight she is hanging skinned in the meat locker of an alien ship under attack. 

She is rescued by a different race this one of space faring humanoids who restore her body to some semblance of her former self, only better. Slowly she recovers from her ordeal and realizes the truth about what has happened and where she is. It nearly overwhelms her but she decides to lay low until she figures out what to do. She unwittingly discovers a devious plot to undermine the the political landscape of the planet she would now have to call home.
 
She intervenes thwarting the treacherous scheme by helping the one man who can avert the looming upheaval. She hopes he will also assist her in forging a new life on this alien planet. First she frees him from the drug induced prison of his own mind. Next she helps him escape from the mental institution where they are both being held against their will. He agrees to keep her secret that she's not really from his world. In return she backs all of his political machinations aimed at restoring him to his former position within the government of the planet. When his enemy's resort to naked aggression she is there to fight by his side. Oh yeah, for some reason she falls in love with the big lug, almost forgot that bit.


I have to credit Anne McCaffery with creating within me an absolutely voracious reader. Since my early teens I have read approximately 1,000 novels perhaps more as well as countless works of non-fiction. I read for pleasure more than I watch television, listen to music, or go to the movies combined. 

For me a well written story is so much more than words on a page arranged in a particular order. It is an awesome visual experience painted on the limitless canvas of my imagination. Coupled that with the power from the thoughts and emotions of truly inspiring characters and T.V. or the movies simply cannot compete. Within the pages of a book I can be transported to other worlds, across time itself, I can swim at the bottom of the sea, or soar on the wings of a dragon, provided the writer has done Her / His job correctly. 


If there is any justice in this world or the next Mrs. McCaffery is right now sitting astride a Golden Dragon and soaring to heights unknown to mere mortals. I plan to join her there someday, as my own vision of heaven includes a sky full of winged, fire-breathing dragons.

Godspeed Anne McCaffery

P.S.

It would be a pretty safe bet that not too far in the future you just might see a dragon painting posted here. Just sayin'

Emma's Dilemma

During a recent visit around my sisters kitchen table sipping coffee with one of my nieces, we were looking over the paintings I have posted online on her smart phone. My niece made a comment in a somewhat facetious tone, “Gee uncle Tom sure would be nice if you did one for me,” adding a soft chuckle for emphasis.

Not at all opposed to the idea I think I surprised her when I asked, “What do you think you might want Em?”

Apparently she hadn't thought very far beyond her initial remark and her answer was less than definitive, “Well, Ah, how about a tweetybird of some kind?”

I have several projects involving birds bubbling away on the back burner of my imagination. Most are complete with the titles I suspect I'll someday use for them. I described a few of these to her and while she thought they might be “cool,” they were not quite what she had in mind. My sister slipped from the room unnoticed and returned a few minutes later producing a field guide for North American birds. The search was on. My niece doggedly made her way through the whole book, finally generating a short list of candidates. Maybe a half-dozen or so total.

Hoping to narrow the list I pressed, “So Em, which one's your favorite?”

“Any one of those,” she answered, “you choose,” effectively ending the inquest.

I began researching her list a week or so later eventually settling on a local subject, one familiar to both of us. I learned in my research that the common House Sparrow is actually an invasive species here, originally imported from England. Wanting to be a bit more creative, I remembered a nifty photo I had seen online not long ago. It had a small song bird sitting on a window sill with a cat just on the other side of the glass. Kitty was fixing a rather rapacious glare on the bold little visitor. I thought it might be even better if the cat was one with which my niece had some personal connection. I did change things around a bit to better suit my style as the scene was unfolding in my mind.

As children my niece and her sisters had grown up with a Grande Dame of a tabby cat named Pippin. While the smallest of the three cat clan she pretty much ruled the roost as far as the others were concerned. Pip had a stately demeanor and according to my recollection distinctive markings, on her face, chest, paws, and the tip of her tail. I emailed my nieces Dad asking if he could find a good picture or two of the old gal. This sly girl had a habit of finding the most unexpected places to sit and and watch the world go by. She seemed to enjoy waiting for somebody to approach her hidden perch and then letting out this strange little meow, scaring the bejesus out of the unwary.

I wanted my window scene to have a classic look, and decided nothing was more classic than a brick facade. It would also work well for the birds as the House Sparrow is very comfortable in typical suburban settings. I knew the window reflections would be extremely difficult. To simplify the task I opted to use semi-sheer lacy curtains as a backdrop inside the window. I did have a bunch of interior elements planned but as I progressed into the composition I leaned toward “less is more.” I didn't want this scene becoming too cluttered. Unfortunately I seem to have that habit and it doesn't always lend it self well to the smaller paintings I usually work with.

I had a bit of a dilemma of my own when it came to the size of this piece. I had purchased a very nice antique looking frame at a local thrift store. The style was gold gilded Victorian and I mistakenly thought the dimensions were 16” X 20”. However, when I tried to fit that size pre-cut canvas panel into it, I had two extra inches of painting hanging out one end. Luckily I found an odd sized scrap of Masonite at work and had it cut to fit this equally odd sized frame.

Simplicity is a watchword I've been trying to apply in my artwork of late, and not always successfully. This time, try as I might things became complicated the instant I began adding the reflected images on the window pane. I had used gouache for the interior of the room and curtains. I really like the softness I can get when using gouache in a low light composition. In order to protect the many hours of work I'd put into that portion of this painting I took the precaution of  lightly spray varnishing the window area. However, when I started painting in the reflections I was less than happy with what I had done. 

As I had with gouache in the past I used a moistened paper towel to remove the still damp paint intending to make a fresh start. After the second swipe of that paper towel my heart almost stopped, and my blood ran cold. The entire upper portion (about 25%) of the curtains inside my window where gone!

When I regained consciousness I assessed the damage. I found that just the high spots on the brush strokes had been removed, leaving a sort of “ghost image” of the details I'd wiped away. I recreated them as best I could. Once they dried I hosed the whole painting down with two full coats of spray varnish. 

I had never attempted over-painting a varnished panel before and didn't really know what to expect. One thing I learned quickly was Gouache wasn't going to work anymore. It's need for water to flow and blend properly left a fish eyed appearance wherever I applied it. It was like trying to get oil to spread evenly on the surface of water, it was just never going to happen.

That left me trying my acrylics next but they proved far too opaque for the window reflections I was trying to create. Then I remembered when I had briefly experimented with airbrushes a year or so ago. I had purchased some air brush medium to thin the paint with. It was indeed very, very fluid but substituting it where I would normally use plain water really did the trick. The reflections turned out nicely translucent yet distinct enough to give the appearance of credible reflected images. I added a few extra elements outside the window because the entire left side of the image looked a forlorn span of empty brick and I wanted direct some interest toward that side lending a bit of balance to the overall composition.

Pippin's been gone now for many years, but I hope not so long that she will have faded from instant recognition. If I did my part correctly it should make this painting somewhat more special than just “a tweety bird of some kind.”

Never being one to pass up a chance for a joke, I happened to have a little bitty 8” X 10” canvas board lying around. I decided it was just about the right size for a “tweety-bird of some kind” sort of painting. I wanted to give my niece the choice of getting a somewhat uninspired version of exactly what she asked for or, what my imagination had ginned up for her. So I whipped out an O.K. lookin' chickadee perched on a lichen covered branch and slapped it in a nice oak frame I had on hand. Truth be told I like the branch in this painting better than the bird.


Now for the dilemma, which one will she want?

Room with a view

 Acrylic and Gouache on Masonite 18” X 16” 

Tweetybird of some kind

 Acrylic on canvasboard 8” X 10” 

What do you think Em?

All Hail the King

Ever since I was a boy I have been fascinated with one of this worlds strangest wild cats, the cheetah. Its speed, as well as its sleek form, and its apparent departure from the conventional cat blueprint always intrigued my young mind. Many years later I came across a photo of a cheetah that was stranger yet. It seemed as though had all of the ordinary cheetah attributes except it had the most extraordinary coloration I'd ever seen.


Investigating a little further I learned it was a “King” Cheetah. Not at all a different species or subspecies as had been thought for most of the twentieth century. This rare, exotic coat pattern is the product of a recessive gene pairing that must be inherited from both parents. The same phenomenon that results in a black Leopard or Jaguar. Definitive proof of this finally came in 1981 when two separate litters born at the De Wildt Cheetah Center in South Africa produced a king patterned cub. Each of the normally spotted pairings  also yielded spotted litter mates along with the King variants.


From the first instant I saw a snap of one of these lads I knew I would someday try painting one. I wanted the "King" to really dominate the scene without doing the "conventional" animal portrait. On a whim I decided to use a lightning strike as my main light source to make doing it a bit more of a challenge. It was that for sure! I also tumbled to the idea of placing him perched in a dead tree. Cheetahs as a rule are uncomfortable climbers and if I could manage to make him look "Regal" up a tree, then I might be onto something.

 
This one took a fair bit of time due to a couple of health issues, now happily resolved, and a vacation trip that I had all but forgotten about. When I finally got back to it I was so sick of looking at it in my ahhh studio (ahem) that I wanted to throw my paints & brushes at it rather than apply them in the traditional fashion. Now, three weeks later I'm glad  I decided not to. It was every bit as difficult as I imagined when I began. The sky being my first major hurdle.


It not only needed to be dark and stormy but dramatically so. I tried doing it in gouache only, my first “Big” sky with the stuff but that proved unmanageable. A damp paper towel made that problem a thing of the past. I turned instead to my trusty old acrylics and whomped out the sky in no time. I wisely saved the sunset from the gouache and am extremely happy that I did, as it lends some extra drama to the image.


Using that lightning strike as my primary light source was a neat idea, but it complicated everything! I was then committed to doing almost every other object back lit in near silhouette. Anything that fell between the lightning and the viewer had to be darkened although there was a subtle transition to more normal reflected light striking various objects as the eye traveled toward the the star of the show. The grass too proved a big pain, not so much because there was a ton of it in the scene but due to how it had to be highlighted. 



All because of that damn lightning, great idea, arrrgh! The tree was relatively straight forward but little else was. Every time I sat down to work on it I had to concentrate very hard on which way the light was striking each object, as well as carefully considering where each and every every shadow should fall. I wasn't initially attempting a sepia toned image but the deeper I was into it it became apparent that "other than the black," I was almost there. I held with that notion eventually adding in some reflected color from the sunset onto the cloud deck to complete the effect. 


There are a few small things left that I want to fiddle with before it gets a coat of spray varnish, but it is for all intents and purposes finished. Hope you like it.


 Gouache and Acrylic on Masonite 16” X 20”

Leftover Look-a-like

Do you remember those helpful household products from the fifties, sixties, even seventies that bid the consumer to “Just add water” offering near miraculous results? Well I've stumbled across just such a product, this time a paint, which truly is that simple. I learned a few days into my first experimentation with gouache that, like watercolors, when it dried hard and caked on my palette the story was far from over. 

By adding the right amount of water it could be re-used over and over until its final vestiges had all but disappeared. I had leftover green paint coming out of my ears after my first butterfly painting. There also remained copious amounts of yellow, orange, and a few blues with which I had no idea what to do. The next composition I had in mind would utilize none of these colors in the amounts I was looking at. So... I decided then, to do another butterfly. I had this one mostly composed before opting instead to paint the swallowtail.

Looking at my calendar and remembering a benefit event forthcoming, I further decided, if it turned out well, that I might donate it to their silent auction to raise a few dollars in a very good cause. I would need to work quickly and the fact that my palette was preloaded with most of the necessary colors made me a little less apprehensive about diving right in. I roughly drew in the three foreground daisies and the butterfly the rest I would throw on without an underlying sketch. Once the grasses were laid down in just three shades of green, I fired in with white adding each of the more than 70 background daisies petal by petal, lending each one it's own special "character."

It took several trips around the board to get them all looking "right." I felt a bit like a butterfly myself hoping from flower to flower adding a little yellow here, a bit of blue there, well you get the idea. In just two weekends I have it ready for spray varnish and a frame.This particular butterfly is the Viceroy, that mimic of a more familiar orange and black butterfly, in a field of daisies. 

The title I affixed on it is "A Viceroy for Dr. Scott."  It is quite likely the last of my fluttering insects. I had an amazingly fun  time doing both of my butterfly's but I have so many other projects in mind for this most interesting paint.

Gouache on Masonite 12” X 16”

My Gossamer Tiger

 

This is my first painting done in a new medium and on a different surface than I customarily use. The Paint is called Gouache pronounced (gwash) and is similar to those tempra poster paints we all used in school. It can be used like water colors as a soft highly fluid wash. It also has characteristics similar to acrylics in that colors can be changed or moderated via layering. I had never heard of it before joining the artists haven mentioned in the previous post. Seeing the results produced by some of those artists with this strange new paint I was dying to try it.

The surface used is plain old, back of mom's old T.V.  Masonite. I found a large piece of it tucked behind my tool box at work and decided free was a just the right price. With a little help I cut it into two pieces of 12" X 16". Perfect for experimenting with this new kind of paint. I prepared the surface by priming it with as smooth a coat of gesso as possible. Once that dried I sanded out any brush marks with fine sandpaper. I repeated this procedure three times until I had a very smooth surface that was perfectly pure white.

The scene itself is a conglomeration of different images I collected on-line and then assembled into this composition. This is my take on the Eastern Tiger swallowtail butterfly snacking in a patch of Ironweed blossoms. I went with the rest of the scene because I wanted to test as many of the colors that came in the kit I bought. I got stuck on red and found a nice picture of a barn but decided it needed a farmyard to go along with it. Also I've seen a great number of butterfly's depicted in sharp detail with a blurred indistinct backdrop. I wanted instead to try showing one as the human eye perceives distance rather than a camera lens.

This was a fun experiment but was not with out its challenges. The colors are really intense and can run away on you if you don't carefully consider each of your color choices. The final step in this experiment is the sealing. I found a spray varnish from Krylon called Kamar that is supposedly suitable for the task. I'm a bit nervous about it because more than once a stray drop of water and my forearm conspired to smear portions of this painting. After my panic subsided all were easily fixed and I continued as if nothing at all had happened.

With some good luck and dry weather for this last step I will be able to declare this experiment a complete success! 

Update: 5/30/11

Qapla! er...that's... ah...Klingon for success! The painting is fully protected now and I don't have to sweat every drop of... well... sweat...washing my picture away. The finish was a bit glossier than I wanted but the can didn't specify what the finish was. Live and learn and this has been a wonderful learning experience.

Old Dog, New Trick

At the urging of my brother I have explored and eventually joined a nifty new place to post my artwork. It's a website called Paintings I Love.com. Although the image sizing is limited it is nicely organized and easy to navigate. Its an incredible place for a budding young artist to learn. One can view the work of some seriously accomplished artists as well as post some your own pictures. Its membership is comprised entirely of other artists in an amazing array of styles and skill levels.

There is something here for every taste, abstract, impressionism, realism, landscapes, as well as some truly stunning wildlife art. You can find pastel, charcoal, and pencil drawings, as well as an array of paintings so brilliantly done you can hardly believe they're not photographs. The members range from beginners, to the hobbyist like myself, to working artists who make their living creating and selling their produce. 

The artwork there is incredible and many of the best are the "self-taught" amateurs who paint and draw for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. They willingly accept comments or critique on their work from other members who are themselves artists.

To say it was daunting to post a first picture there totally understates how nervous I was. Awaiting the judgment of other artists on my little old painting had me shivering in my boots. I had tremendous doubts that first day. Was my stuff any good at all? Are they going to tell me I suck and and suggest I should be doing needlework or pottery instead?

I was so completely amazed at how welcoming and gracious so many of them were that I was completely blown away. I have a paltry four paintings posted there but all have been well received, much to my delight. If you enjoy fine art or are a budding artist and wish to explore how you stack up in the “art world” you should check it out. It is an amazing experience. 

You can join for free as I have, and post up to 15 pictures. If you want more out of your membership you can pay for a "gold" membership for about $20.00 a year. With that you get to upload an unlimited number of pictures and enjoy some other member benefits. Once you join you can comment on your favorite paintings  and communicate with other artists interested in the same things you are. 

They even have a Q & A section for finding out the answers to your questions. These can range from the philosophical to highly technical issues involving art styles and techniques.

Check it out when you have a few spare moments My guess is you will be as dazzled as I was.

A Fatal Attraction

When a Whitetail buck has nothing but mating on his mind he sometimes abandons the wariness and cunning that allowed him to reach an impressive age and stature. Rushing in to investigate the object of his desires, even one not amenable to his advances, he may unwittingly leave himself vulnerable to an untimely demise.

A year ago last December while a co-worker was telling me his tale of a successful hunting season this image began forming in my mind. The scene remained buried there until one day I saw some photos of this imposing fellow. His antlers scored nearly 160 on the Boone & Crockett scale with 21" of inside spread. Impressive doesn't quite say enough!




I decided then and there I wanted to capture it on canvas as a bit of a tribute to the noble fellow in his natural surroundings. Some months later my co-worker was taking a well deserved vacation and I noticed he had left the photo's sitting out on his tool box. Deciding it was fate, kismet, whatever, I scanned them into my computer and later used them to try recapturing the moments just before he took the slack out of the trigger.

I started working on it Thanksgiving week of last year and finally finished it earlier today. It still needs a good coat of matte varnish to really be complete, but that's the easy part. When he was telling me the story he said after about an hour in the woods, all of a sudden deer were all around his stand. As usual they were only the does. They were acting nervous and fidgety, and then this "Big brute" stepped into full view. 

My friend and his wife had seen this rascal earlier in the day, chasing and sniffing at anything wearing a brown fur coat. Well, his fascination with the ladies would eventually prove his undoing. The bucks antlers had several distinctive features that should make his eleven points recognizable when I offer the canvas to my co-worker next week.

Acrylic on canvas-board 18” X 24”

A Splinter In My Mind

In the nearly twenty years since the worst of my own struggle with clinical depression I have often thought about writing down a simple description of what it was like. Mostly in the hopes of helping someone else, or those who have lost a loved one to this devastating condition. Unfortunately there is no “simple” in recognizing and combating this debilitating disorder. I am now too late too help one of the finest people I have ever worked with and one who was a close friend to my family. He recently lost his battle with depression taking his own life out of utter despair. He was a genuinely great guy who had plenty to live for but knowing that did not help him. He couldn't see it. He was engaged in mortal combat with, and for, his own mind.


There is an enormous chasm between enduring a little bout of “the blues” which most people associate with depression, and the depths of despondency that make this a truly life threatening condition. Mental health professionals will describe it as a spectrum that weighs both the duration and intensity and helps them determine a cause and treatment options. My dictionary lays it out in rather cold blooded terms that barely scratch the surface of how insidious this condition can be.


De-pres-sion   4. A psychotic or neurotic condition characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, and feelings of extreme sadness, dejection, and hopelessness.


Psychotic? Neurotic? Who the hell would want to admit to themselves that these are “their” problem? Sadly both can be part of depression. Oftentimes they conspire together, feeding one upon the other. A small physical imbalance inside of your own body can make you question your entire mental being to the point of destruction. You'll never know exactly why or how it's happening on your own. I got very, very, lucky and the people who cared about me got me help at a critical moment when something could still be done. Many who suffer from depression get no second chances.


I was an emotional wreck when I landed in that hospital. Laid off from my job for the previous six months, I was in the middle of a divorce, I was about to lose my home to foreclosure, couldn't keep up with any of my bills. I felt like I had failed at everything I was supposed to be as a man. Not only was I losing the wife who I was convinced that I still loved, but my twenty month old daughter who I adored was also about to be torn from my daily life. 

 Yeah, OK, that would suck enough for anyone to go through all at once. Emotionally I was devastated and desperate to make all of it to just stop! In my case I also got both barrels of what makes untreated depression the leading cause of suicide among teenagers and adults.

Physically, I was losing weight and strength at what should have been an alarming rate, but I didn't notice or care. I would eat once a day if I remembered to eat at all. I would sleep 1 maybe 2 hours a night when sheer exhaustion would still my mind for a few precious moments. When I would wake up, often leaping out of bed in abject panic, my thoughts would be absolutely racing.


I've often thought of those times as a slide projector stuck on advance. One slide would pop up onto the screen inside my mind, and before I could give it a good look or analyze what was there, the next would flash up in its place. And the next, and the next, and the next, and so on until the carousel had finished, and then it would start again completely random and chaotically. I couldn't make myself focus on any one problem through to a resolution, so they and I, stayed stuck in this continuous loop of indecision and inaction. Finally, I would find a finger hold of daily life to cling to, ie: making coffee, letting the dog out, or returning to an unfinished project, and I would start a another day regardless of whether it was 2:00 AM or 11:30PM.


My emotions pinged and ponged just as erratically throughout the day as I tried to function as is expected of a normal adult. One moment panic would rear it's ugly head only to be supplanted by crushing despair. Occasionally I would have a few seconds of clarity only to have it torn away by a wretched loneliness. Happiness might even make a fleeting appearance until an immense sense of foreboding would crush it out of existence, and then it would start again. One moment I would be completely indecisive or apathetic about something of real significance, the next I could be hyper-vigilant over something utterly ridiculous. I could not make myself understand that this was backwards even harmful, it all seemed to fit with where my mind was at that time. I went on like this for months never realizing just how bad I was getting. I was really becoming quite a basket case!


A large part of the emotional component that makes depression so dangerous is the social stigma that is attached to it. Call it pride, vanity, whatever, no one wants to admit to themselves or anyone else that they suffer from any form of mental illness. Period! Even twenty years after the fact I am still very uncomfortable discussing my own experience with others. When my life came crashing down around me, I was acting pretty damn nutty. I can look back at it now and admit that to myself, but not then. I could not see it, I was at the heart of it and didn't have a prayer of helping myself out of it. In fact, by doing nothing, I was making it worse.


I've read depression described as "anger turned inward" while I do agree with the sentiment, I don't believe that statement goes far enough. I've tried several times to come up with a useful metaphor for describing depression as a whole. While it is undoubtedly different for everyone, hopefully something I have written here may prove useful to someone who may be suffering and doesn't know why. The title of this piece is as well as I could do. In descriptive terms it gets the job done, perhaps inelegantly, but it's what I have to offer.


Have you ever had a splinter in your finger or hand? One of those little buggers that's just too small to see? Every time you try to do anything you feel it, and it hurts. You want it gone so you can get on with your life but every time you touch near it the sting makes you pull your hands away. Early on indifference may rule the day and you try ignoring it, but that does no good. It's constantly distracting you and giving you a painful reminder that it is still there. The pain may be minor at first, but builds to a dull throbbing ache. One that won't let you think, sleep, you can't do your job, or even touch a loved one without more pain. 

In complete frustration you finally go after it trying to dig it out with your penknife or a tweezers. It hurts even worse when you touch anywhere near it so the entire process is a battle of competing forces. Even when you think you've got it out, it remains beyond your efforts and the pain intensifies. The more you dig the the more damage is done. Gradually it becomes horribly infected and more painful with each passing day. You refuse to admit that you can't handle the problem so you keep on digging. Before long you grow so desperate that despite the pain you dig at it with anything handy, a rusty nail, a dirty screwdriver, you even glance over at the damn hacksaw wondering if relief is going to take an act so final? 

When that answer becomes yes, there are only two places left to go. The hospital or the mortuary. 

Now place that splinter in your mind. Can you begin to see the scope of why depression can get so out of hand so quickly? The splinter, to me, represents the physical. Imbalanced neurotransmitters such as serotonin and nor epinephrine can cause many problems by themselves but they can also augment an ongoing emotional crisis. Sleep deprivation, loss of focus, erratic behavior, these can be symptoms of a serious physical change in someone.

The pain, damage, and infection I've described represent the emotional quagmire that depression can devolve into. Even though you can't see it the pain is absolutely real. It effects everything you do. It is always there, never granting more than a moments peace, and it will not go away on its own. You have to get help with it! Fixing one part without addressing the other may only delay the outcome. Untreated depression is dangerous and requires the help of  professionals.

Many depression sufferers self-medicate by drinking or using illicit drugs without ever knowing that is what they are doing. This can cause a delay in getting useful treatment and can turn a bad situation into a protracted battle for life itself.

As I said before I got Lucky! I got help! A week and a half in the hospital, followed by six months of anti-depressant medication. That along with some therapy helped me put my shattered life into a meaningful perspective. I am around to write this today because I got that help. My friend Gene was not so lucky. I am almost ashamed I didn't take the time to do this a few days, weeks, or years ago. Had he read it, and recognized something within himself, perhaps he might have gotten a second chance too.

Dedicated 

 
Gene Prekker

October 3, 1950 - March 8, 2011

RIP