Andrew Purcell, online producer
Self-Portrait (Green) by William Utermohlen, giclee, 1997, edition of 150, 36 x 36 (Image: courtesy of the artist and GV Art)
“He died in 2007, but really he was dead long before that," explains
the bright-eyed woman to a room full of sympathetic listeners. "Bill
died in 2000, when the disease meant he was no longer able to draw.”
Artist William Utermohlen
was the "Bill" in question here, and the person who uttered these
heart-wrenching words was his wife, Patricia. She was speaking at the GV Art gallery in London at William Utermohlen: Artistic decline through Alzheimer’s - an event exploring the relationship between the artist's work and his affliction with the disease.
Herself an art historian, Patricia kept the audience on tenterhooks
with a steady stream of heart-warming, insightful and very personal
anecdotes. The entire room was captivated by the passion with which she
spoke about her husband and his work.
Broken Figure by William Utermohlen, ink and pencil on paper, 1996, 34 x 47 (Image: courtesy of the artist and GV Art)
A series of Utermohlen's works on display reflect how his art
changed as his Alzheimer’s progressed. I couldn’t help but feel that
the use the word "decline" in the exhibition’s title was somehow
unjustified, even cruel. It's true that Utermohlen's lack of control
over his movement forced him to abandon oils for easier-to-use
watercolours and pencils, but his later works are equally stunning, and
provide fascinating insight into the mind of a person with Alzheimer's.
As his disease progressed, Utermohlen became more and more
interested in self-portraiture, and his own head - particularly his
cranium - became an ever more prominent feature in his works.
Utermohlen’s wife also drew attention to strange, black, half-open
doorways which started to appear in the background of his works. “It
was as if he knew he was going to a very dark place and he knew he
couldn’t do anything about it,” she said. “By the end he couldn’t even
recognise his own paintings… that was the saddest thing”.
All of this could have made for a rather depressing evening. But the
unabashed optimism of Patricia Utermohlen and the evening’s other
speakers made for an event which was as uplifting as it was
informative. Only the stoniest of hearts could fail to be moved by the
accounts of how art had allowed Bill to communicate his thoughts long
after verbal communication was far beyond him. If the upcoming events
in the series are even half as good as this one, I would certainly
recommend paying them a visit.
Further insight into Utermohlen's mind was provided by his biographer, clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst Rachel Davenhill. "With dementia, people get killed off socially long before organic death,” she said. “There’s a huge social stigma.”
Davenhill passionately believes that music and art can help people
with Alzheimer's disease remain socially alive - a view to which
Patricia Utermohlen’s experience bears powerful testament. During her
presentation, Patricia recalled one evening when she was sitting at
home with her husband listening to a symphony by Mahler, long after he
had ceased to be able to communicate with her in any way. Moved by the
music, she explains how she turned to look at her husband and noticed
tears pouring down his cheeks - he too was clearly moved.
That Utermohlen was able to continue with his art as his disease progressed amazed the evening's final speaker, Stephen Gentleman,
neuropathologist at Imperial College London. “It’s astounding,” he
says. “Utermohlen just shouldn’t have had the mental ability to be able
to carry on doing these as long as he did.”
Then came the bombshell - the words that stuck with me and played
over in my head as I lay in bed later that evening: “It sounds awful,”
Gentleman told me, “but in cases like these, you really hope that the
patient themself loses understanding as quickly as possible, because to
be in a body whose brain is failing and still have insight into what is
going on must be simply horrendous.” The works on display indicate that
Utermohlen did not have even this small mercy.
Despite this suffering, Utermohlen's dedication to his art provides
viewers today with a unique glimpse into the effects of a declining
brain.
The event was the first in a series of four curated by GV Art and
Urban Times exploring the theme of trauma from both artistic and
scientific perspectives.
The Trauma series is a collaboration between online magazine Urban Times and GV Art. A video of this event, as well as the upcoming events, will be available on the Urban Times website.
http://www.newscientist.com
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