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In 1995, U.K.-based artist William Utermohlen was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. This is a difficult diagnosis and disease for anyone, but before his death in 2007, Utermohlen created a heart-wrenching final series of self-portraits over a roughly 5-year period documenting the gradual decay of his mind due to this crippling disease.
An essay by the artist’s widow Patricia explains perfectly exactly why these images are so powerful; “In these pictures we see with heart-breaking intensity William’s efforts to explain his altered self, his fears and his sadness.” It’s hard to say whether the changes in his portraits came about due the loss of his artistic skills or due to changes in his psyche but, in either case, they document the emotional turmoil of an artist watching his mind slip away from him bit by bit.
In Blue Skies the artist bears witness to the announcement of his illness and his impending decline. The diagnosis of this psychic death, occurring before real death, produces a deep dread. The worst is confirmed, the end is now inexorable.
What is shown in Blue Skies is a key moment and a crossroads, beyond which the framework of the self dissolves. The will to live tips over and freezes like the studio skylight suspended above the artist in the picture. Time has stopped. Space is laid bare. Life opens to the steely blue emptiness of a dreadful future—an obliterating hole poised above ready to suck him in.
In order not to be engulfed by the darkness, he hangs onto the table like a shipwrecked man onto his raft, or like a painter holding onto his canvas. In order to survive, he must be able to capture this catastrophic moment; he must depict the unspeakable.
Rarely has a painting spoken so clearly of the ending of psychic life and the desperate effort to continue to exist by continuing to depict the world.
To paint oneself is a way of marking continuity and the passing of time. This self-portrait attempts to fix an image of the self, to regain his experience of being present, and to fill the ever- increasing gap that now separates the artist from his old self and his environment.
Here, Bill bears witness to his experience of living with Alzheimer’s disease and, through his work, we witness the poignant truth he shares with us—that the world has shrunk and he peers through it, as if trapped behind prison bars.
It is with great anguish that Bill watches himself disappear little by little every day. The artist mourns his lost self. His look is empty of all hope, the center of his pupil a blind spot. His reflection is coming apart and he can’t put himself back together. The double in the mirror sends back a negative, a death-carrying image that he had hoped to escape. He has become a shadow of his old self and only the clothes floating on the ghostly body still show the bright colors of life.
In 1997, Bill learns that only at autopsy will his doctors be able to definitely diagnose his Alzheimer's disease. This notion haunts him and he speaks of it constantly to those close to him.
Two years after his diagnosis, the self portraits are now distinctly different. Forms are more blurred. Motivation, attention, memory and visual recognition are now disorganized and render all tasks uncertain and awkward. The artist now paints as if groping.
Five years after Bill's diagnosis, time has become no more than a sequence of instants. The head is drawn and erased at the same time - dismantled as it is being structured. It is almost as if the artist has assimilated his drawings with his destiny. To subsist While disappearing.
originally posted by: SyxPak
a reply to: Kangaruex4Ewe
Kanga, this is truly sad. This is a terrible disease to all it touches...... A very touching Thread. Syx.
That's why I specified that they did not suffer "physically" in my OP.
originally posted by: Shiloh7
a reply to: Kangaruex4Ewe
Another great thread and what an thought-provoking one. Selfishly I hope I don't get it or my kids but I do worry for my wife as her Mother got it shortly after a sister developed it literally over night - she went from being herself one night and waking up only being "half herself" and then then the following morning being none of herself - it was so distressing for her husband and kids. Her mother made a slower decline into the disease but the effect was exactly the same.
originally posted by: Bassago
a reply to: Kangaruex4Ewe
This is one of the worst diseases imaginable as far as I'm concerned. I can attest first hand as it took my spouse over a period of 7-8 years and left nothing but devastation in it's path.
From what I've been reading it also appears to be almost at epidemic levels and seems to be getting even worse. If a cure or prevention is not found soon.. well, I don't know what but it won't be good.
Edit
That's why I specified that they did not suffer "physically" in my OP.
Not sure I believe that. Physical suffering also includes loss of motor skills. Maybe just not pain though.
originally posted by: mistressofspice
I appreciate you posting this. Just before checking ATS, I had just emailed my sister telling her I think Mom is showing some of the first signs of Alzheimer's. My Grandmother had it and its disturbing and heart breaking to see the deterioration of someone you love.
There are drugs they have now that drastically slow down some forms a dementia, but it doesn't bring back the lost memories.
originally posted by: jaynkeel
My mother has m.s, has had it for a bit over 30 years. Much in the same way as someone with Alzheimers loses ones self so has she. She went from becoming the energetic person to being confined to a scooter and not remembering things. Both horrible diseases to witness with a lot of similarities... S&F