TAKE ME TO YOUR MOON 1
Journeys into the World of Dementia
(2021 - 2024)
The moon's surface is like a brain with Alzheimer’s disease, in contrast to an image of the earth as a healthy brain. The course of dementia can be described as a journey from the earth to the moon, from the familiar to the unknown (TED Talk: Reconsider Dementia by Vibeke Drevsen Back). My work on this series depict such inner voyages.
My former art teacher Daisy shared with me her journey to the moon. Our collaboration efforts were exhibited at the Prairie Arts Center, North Platte, NE in 2022. She can no longer create art now, but I have been continuing the series. It will be showcased at the Washington Pavilion in Sioux Falls, SD from May to November of this year.
Pseudonyms are used in order to protect privacy.
Click any images below for enlargement (for large screens).
My former art teacher Daisy shared with me her journey to the moon. Our collaboration efforts were exhibited at the Prairie Arts Center, North Platte, NE in 2022. She can no longer create art now, but I have been continuing the series. It will be showcased at the Washington Pavilion in Sioux Falls, SD from May to November of this year.
Pseudonyms are used in order to protect privacy.
Click any images below for enlargement (for large screens).
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TAKE ME TO YOUR MOON #319, 2021, sculpture 8x7.5x5.5", painting 13x18" This piece was created with Daisy—my former art teacher and a dementia patient. Our roles were reversed, and I guided her with the painting of her moon. She had been a pastel artist, but the medium no longer worked for her. For our joint exhibit, we tried different media, seeking what method would bring out the best of her remaining abilities. This painting demonstrates our efforts. 
"TALK TO ME ABOUT HOW I GO AWAY?" #313, 2022, 8.5x25x8" Every one of us is on a boat of life. At some point, we all have to stop rowing, letting the current take us. The uncertainty is sometimes terrifying. It is especially so for those who have been recently diagnosed with dementia. Daisy's handwritten questions to her doctor are inscribed in her own words on this canoe. Some of them are: “Talk to me about how I go away? How fast” “Ulshemers??” “Will I get dificult? I do not want to be nasty to my family.” “Know my family – how does that go away – do I not know them?” “Can I ask to be uthinized?” The blanket behind her holds the words “family,” “ friends,” “smile,” “reaching out,” and “compassion.” They will be her warmth no matter how far she drifts. 
WARMTH OF MEMORY, #316, 2022, 15.5x9.5x9.5" “I love to watch the sunset and think of my mom and dad. ” Daisy beamed with delight when she told me about her parents. Their gift of love was still remembered, and it would, I believe, accompany her journey to the end. 
HER CORE REMAINS, #312, 2021, 19.5x8.5x6.5", sold TENYOH: "Some choose death over becoming undignified burdens. I am one of them. On the other hand, suicide does not seem to have crossed your mind. Where do you get the strength to keep on going despite what may lie ahead?" DAISY: "I won’t kill myself. It will be awful for my children. Chances are I will go to a nursing home when I can no longer live alone, but even there I will make friends. I will also find something to occupy myself with. It may not be art any more, but I will find something." 
STILL ON HER BACK #341, 2024, 8.75x11x10" We forget so much, but unresolved issues can haunt us interminably. They will not go away even after dementia robs much of our memory. The pain will continue to stab at our hearts. I cannot forget the sorrowful expression on Daisy’s face when she told me about an inexcusable thing she had done. It could easily have been forgiven, but the person concerned has been long gone. The matter has always been smoldering in a dark corner of her memory. How much longer will this continue? How can we help her forgive herself? 
REACHING FOR MEMORY, #315, 2022, 10X17X15.5" Thousands of words had sunken beyond Daisy’s reach. Even her children’s names failed to surface. In mid-sentence, she would lose her train of thought with visible frustration. Still, her morals were within her reach. Without fail, she lent me a helping hand, carrying my stuff, setting the table for a meal, or removing snow from my car. She tried to be hospitable, serving me what little she had in her assisted living apartment. She drew a funny face even though it required significant effort. “I want people to have fun,” she added. That belief was also reflected in the ways she joked with the staff. On the day after my visit, Daisy surprised me with a call. Our previous day’s activities had not been erased from her memory. Listening to her appreciation, I smiled from ear to ear, feeling her warmth pouring into my heart. 
SAVORING #342, 2024, 19.25x6.5x5.25" Daisy’s memory has deteriorated. More than once, she got lost while walking her dog. She could not tell when and where she had fallen, though bruises on her face told her family it was bad. She stopped participating in any activities because her inability to follow instructions discouraged her. She still enjoyed outings. One day, I took her to nearby woods. We walked arm in arm, ensuring Daisy would not slip on the ice. She first pointed out the sound of a stream and then the sunlight, filtering through pine trees, leaving elongated shadows on the snow. Breeze stroked our cheeks. Nature’s language is truly universal. It can reach and soothe our depths no matter what conditions we are in. I felt the bliss, savoring the moment with Daisy. 
ENDURING BOND #344, 2024, 19.25x7.5x6.25 Cara thought what she had been doing for Daisy was not worth mentioning. She called her daily even though it often took several attempts before Daisy answered. Weekly Cara drove Daisy to a gathering. Daisy could no longer participate in the conversations, but she could still be part of the group. When Cara visited Daisy, they would often recollect their child-rearing years. Cara, as a single mother, had leaned on Daisy countless times. The tight friendship, nurtured over decades, continued to endure. When Cara’s grown son’s drug problem recurred, her first outreach was to Daisy. When Cara took Daisy out of town with two other women, I happened to call Daisy. Peals of merry laughter were audible. 
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