Art 4 TROG Exhibition
Gallery 1 & 25th to 22nd May
The current exhibition at Newcastle Art Space is in support of cancer research, specifically the Trans Tasman Radiation Oncology Group (TROG).
There are so many personal stories on the wall in the gallery; all stories about lives interrupted and altered by cancer. While reminding us of our vulnerability and mortality these stories speak loudly of determination and hope. The artists have opened their own particular dialogue about their experience but the collection of stories unite us all as every adult knows or will know someone who is affected by cancer of some kind in their life. It is a fight we need to take on as one community.
The exhibiting artists are Joerg Lehmann, John Sorby, Sarah Orrett, Linda Adams, Gael Connop, Mitch Revs, Christina Frogley, Michéle Heibel, Judith Bee, Marika Osmotherly, Shirley Cameron–Roberts, Brian Roberts (1934-2015), Megan McCarthy, Dorothée Heibel, Michelle Louise and Polly Rickard.
While the art is wonderful and inspiring, it is their stories that resonate with life. For this reason I am not posting images only the artists’ own words. The images need to be seen and experienced in person in the gallery.
In March last year I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The next nine months saw me having surgery, six months of chemotherapy and five weeks of radiation. These works are reflective of my experience at this time, the loss of control over my own life. My body was no longer mine, but an object to be “treated” by the medical profession. However, I was still in there somewhere with a life to be lived and I got through it. My two works are watercolour, pencil and ink drawings that are A3 size. The works are reflective of my treatment experience. Feelings of unreality during that time, and a feeling of disconnectedness while trying to stay grounded. The figures are only partially visible amongst a swirl of unrelenting colour and movement around them that they have no control over.
In 2010 my husband, Brian Roberts, was diagnosed with throat cancer and went through an intensive course of radiation and chemotherapy. After the treatment he returned periodically to the Mater for follow up examinations and scans and eventually a full body scan which showed no sign of cancer - that was the good news - but did reveal a large abdominal aortic aneurism that needed prompt attention. When we saw the AAA scan we were fascinated to see that the interior of our bodies repeats patterns we see all the time in the world around us in trees, the roots of plants even watercourses. Most of my painting is concerned with these patterns.
Brian’s life threatening aneurism was repaired and we thought it amazing that if he had not had throat cancer and a full body scan we would not have known it existed. At that stage we did not know that there was more in store for us and that Brian would be diagnosed in early 2015 with pancreatic cancer. My painting Repetition in Nature – Interior World was heavily influenced by this experience.
Brian Roberts’ landscape and seascape paintings were concerned with atmosphere and movement around Australia’s eastern coastline. Bays and waterways were especially interesting to him inspiring moody paintings in thick swathes of pure rich oil paint. His aim was to flow with natures ever changing energies. His paintings were expressions of pure joy at the wonder of the natural world heavily influenced by childhood hours on the beach and sailing near his home in Victoria, travels along the east coast in Australia and twenty four years at Eccleston near the Barrington Tops state forest and national park.
Using a partially complete Aran cabled sweater and many balls of my spun Angora yarn from 1989 I have created this artwork in 2015. I used Angora fleece from my own goats … shorn, spun, plied and knitted. It depicts the life journeys of my three adopted children with all the bends and twists that life has thrown at them and allowed me many hours of contemplation and appreciation for all the experiences in my life. It also allowed me time to reminisce about my father’s life journey with his three primary cancer diagnoses. Dad was a farmer and he would have appreciated the process of using natural resources and the time and energy that were associated with its’ creation. The twists and turns represent the bumpy roads we experience in our journeys through life. The threads represent ‘hiccups’ in life, including false starts and unfulfilled notions and ideas; the cables are the ‘ties’ or connections of my children to each other and myself, my family. I found the process of making the artwork very cathartic as relationships and reflections are always important in our lives.
These paintings are representations of Newcastle's very active working harbour viewed from the water. I have seen the struggle of my partner Louise’s mother and sister, who both succumbed to lung cancer in the last few years. They were great supporters of my work and this exhibition provides an opportunity to make a contribution toward cancer research in memory of them.
A. has been battling cancer since a young age. She recently had a small tumour surgically removed from her left breast. She fights and lives on as a strong and beautiful woman.
This set of applicators from an x-ray unit was used in an operating theatre to treat the cavity in the breast after surgical removal of a tumour with the intent to neutralize any remaining cancer cells. The size of the applicator was selected based on size of the cavity. The x-ray source was in the middle of the spherical applicator tip.
Being a carer for a loved one suffering with breast cancer is an emotional experience, particularly when it happens early in a person’s life or career. But in every new day, there is hope. These early morning images are symbols of hope and joy.
Cancer has touched my life in many ways. When my partner was diagnosed with cancer we were not to know that this was the start of a lengthy, deeply upsetting journey. After keyhole surgery to remove the tumor had gone dreadfully wrong, he ended up in Intensive Care for three weeks clinging to life and enduring countless surgical procedures. The significance of our being on this earth and our relationships with others were brought into question. But we never lost hope and he managed to slowly partially recover although still burdened with the fallout, both physically and mentally. This was again highlighted when I did an artist-in-residency at the Mater Hospice. What I noticed was, that however heavy the burden is, hope is very often still present which I am trying to convey with this sculpture.
When I first met Audrey, she said, “Should I shake your hand, or give you a hug?” She had me pegged in five minutes. She was a wise old lady then, a devout Catholic with a love of music and an open heart. I was in my early twenty’s, carefree and ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ irresponsible. Audrey was a breast cancer survivor, eventually it took her, but only when she was ready. Ready to go meet her maker and see her husband again. When the time came, she gave me a rose, a hug and said goodbye. Five Years Later, follows the statistic that 66% of people diagnosed with cancer in Australia are still alive five years later. It's a reminder to all of us, to have fun, have an open heart and enjoy the small things in life.
No matter what is happening in your life, there is always a light at the end of a tunnel. For me, this was my battle with cancer in what should have been the prime of my life. Light illustrates hope, and hope should be held on to tightly, no matter what the circumstance.
My husband was originally diagnosed with aggressive, invasive bladder cancer in August 2013. After surgery and chemotherapy he was declared clear at each follow up scan until and including March 2015. In June 2015 it had returned and he was told not to expect to see Christmas of that year. He didn’t. I nursed him at home until the end. When my husband first learnt that his cancer had returned and that it was terminal he immediately started the process to donate his body to science. This and to die at home were his two main wishes. He was accepted, although his biggest fear was that he would die before receiving this acceptance. Regrettably he did not time his death well and the University was unable to take him due to lack of room. By the time we found this out he probably was not aware so was hopefully spared the pain of regret. He did die at home. I therefore had his body cremated. This series is stage 1 of a group that will eventually use his ashes at its core. Although he was unable to achieve his goal of donating his body I am sure he would love to have known that he will be immortalised in art and that he will always be in his garden at home.
In January 2016 I took myself off to Cuba – could I find many other places more exotic or challenging? This series reflects my moods, emotions and thoughts as I travelled. At times sad and unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel and at others a little opening crack that allowed a peek at what might happen. Perhaps even a glimpse of the relief that he was finally released from this horrible disease.
It is both inspiring and heartbreaking to watch the sick looking after the sicker. Carers truly are our society's fragile superheroes and they deserve all the support and recognition we can offer them.
These works express the fascination with the passing of time and the natural decay of elements. At the time of photographic these works my mother became terminally ill with bowel cancer and her body began to take on the appearance of being weathered and tormented by the illness. Although the photographs of the orphanage belong to a much bigger set of works and text which form part of a book, these works most link to my feelings about my mother and the memories of her struggle with the illness. Buildings once strong, shiny and young performed a function, but now take on a new future. Some become homes for the homeless, whilst others stand empty a reminder to commemorate its past occupants. My photographs trace the inevitability of the structure returning to its initial form. As brick turns to sand, metal to rust and wood decays, textures and patterns remind us of its past life.
My father, a farmer in rural central west NSW, made the 200km round trip every day for 6 weeks to receive radiation therapy. As this bird in the night prey on his lambs, so did cancer on his livelihood, his peace of mind and his way of life.
As my husband's cancer worsened, I found it very hard to paint. It seemed I was unable to switch off and let go and there was an underlying sadness that blocked my usually joyful style. This butterfly was the first painting I did after Detlef's death. It was important for me to paint something that was full of life and symbolic of new beginnings.
It is difficult to express in words the grief and loss of losing our Dah, sometimes it I easier to communicate through art. Each of these wearable artworks draw on our memories and regard for our Grandfather, Frank Galvin.
I was 37 years old with two sons aged six and 17 when I was diagnosed with late stage cervical cancer, requiring a radical hysterectomy and vaginal reconstruction; not an easy thing to hear. Everything happened very quickly from there. The operation was successful and amazingly the cancer had not metastasised, so there was no chemo or radiotherapy to endure, but my life was completely changed. Of course, there would be no more children and I struggled to come to terms with my altered body, but time brought acceptance and the realisation that when one has faced the possibility of death and been given a reprieve, everything that comes after is a gift not to be wasted. All this happened almost half my lifetime ago, but I am still conscious that without the wonderful medical treatment I received I would not have met my six wonderful grandchildren, had a long career in the ABC or lived to find my passion for sculpture in later life. Art is the expression of the artist and reflects the sum of life experience, and the sculpture I have submitted to the exhibition is a combination of the strength of steel with the ability to take flight.
The beautiful beaches of Newcastle are a constant reminder of not only how lucky we are as Novacastrians but how precious each and every moment is. This artwork was created during the winter of 2015, inspired by a friend who unfortunately lost his battle with cancer. The ocean is such a big part of my life and everyone around me. I am lucky to be able to share stories of adventure through these colourful artworks. Forever in the waves, my friend.
These works were created on reflection of how the lives of patients and carers are put on hold during illness and recovery.
Who is TROG?
The research Group is a global leader in radiotherapy research. One in two cancer patients will benefit from radiotherapy and TROG is working hard on ways to continually improve their treatment. Working with doctors and researchers mainly in Australia and New Zealand, TROG focuses on cancers that can be treated with radiotherapy such as breast, lung, prostate, skin, head and neck.
Over 1,000 researchers and doctors have been involved in TROG research studies. Most studies require patients and so far over 13,200 people have volunteered to participate in more than 80 trials, helping our researchers improve cancer treatments.
For information on TROG, donations, research and volunteers please visit: http://www.trog.com.au/
Visit the gallery to see these works and read the stories at first hand. Gallery hours Thurs - Sunday 12noon to 5pm.