Impact

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Papaya Mistake?

I may have made a mistake. I'm not sure yet. I'm here at art school in Barcelona, and I kept missing class because of depression, paranoia, etc. So when it came time to present a work of art related to our personal identity, I decided to drop another papaya, only this time as performance art, in a gallery/classroom. I dropped the papaya from about 8 feet up, so it did not break completely. I spoke some of the details of the accident and its aftermath. I explained that this was less a presentation of art and more a necessary communication from me to them, in hopes of dissipating my fears so that I could come to class.

They all critiqued it as a work of art - "you should have just dropped the papaya and not said anything" "you should have smeared the papaya guts all over yourself" "this is NOT a place for art therapy, this is a place for art, and your 'performance' doesn't belong" "I didn't want all those details" "I wanted more details".....and so on. It degenerated into me shouting that I HAD prepared another, completely impersonal piece, but that I needed to share this as a human being, not as 'an artist'.

So it wasn't my most successful venture.

About IMPACT

I started this blog to help myself process an unimaginable tragedy: At a few minutes after 8AM on February 3, 2009, my Nissan Pathfinder hit two pedestrians, sisters, and killed them. My memory starts with the airbags slamming into me.

I am shaking and nauseous writing this.

I was living in Nicaragua, where the roads are filled simultaneously with pedestrians, bicycles, horse-carts, moto-cabs, dogs, all manner of freight trucks from rickety pick-ups to 18-wheelers, ancient US school buses, and mini-buses and taxis determined to economize fuel by never stopping. Under Nicaraguan law drivers in accidents where someone is hurt badly are all jailed for at least 24 hours.

No one knows what caused my accident, although my brother discovered that Nissan had issued a Technical Advisory to mechanics' shops on my year and model because the airbags were detonating spontaneously. As my car was one of the very few with airbags in the country, no one, not even the Nissan dealer repair shop, had ever mentioned anything. I will never know if fault lies with the faulty airbags, and the not knowing is terrifying.

All traumas are unique. Our human reactions to trauma have traits in common. Though everyone will have their own path toward healing, I am certain we can help one another by sharing, witnessing, and affirming.

I have also been diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II, which means I miss the fun (ha!) of full-blown mania. I have suffered from severe recurrent depression and anxiety since I was a teenager.