How brain surgery made me create the best art of my life
Brain surgery.
That’s not the answer you want to hear when you’re sitting in an ER being pumped with painkillers for a headache that won’t quit.
But it became clear what was coming when the CT scans revealed an unknown mass on my pituitary.
It was my second year of teaching high school art.
I was 24.
And I had no idea that brain surgery was going to transform my art.
Hey there! 👋 I’m Carrie. Here on Artist Strong, I help self-taught artists with home studios who feel stuck with their art move from wondering what’s next to confidently expressing themselves through unique, original art. To date, thousands have joined the community.
👉🏽👉🏽👉🏽 If you feel like gaps in your learning hold you back from making your best art, sign up and watch my workshop, “How to Create Art from Your Imagination.” It’s completely free, and the link is in the description below.
Today I’m sharing a personal story at the request and pressure of a friend, about how my brain surgery helped me create the best art of my life. I hope my experience can be a shared moment of transformation that helps you show up for your art, whether you’re facing a creative block, a plateau in your skill development, or struggle to make regular time for your art. Let’s dig in.
Where were we? Oh, yes. 24-year-old Carrie.
Diagnosis: unknown adenoma on my pituitary.
Treatment: transsphenoidal surgery in two weeks time.
Once removed, the mass would be tested for cancer, etc. And further treatment to be decided as necessary.
As I took an indefinite leave from work and hung around my family, I pulled out my paints. Since graduating from college, I kept striving to explore different ideas and take my work “to the next level.” This is a period of feeling all over the place with my art, wondering what was next, and how to get there. I made a lot of art, most of it, not very good.
But when you start signing surgery paperwork that includes the following risks:
⚠️lifelong hormone replacement therapy, and/or
⚠️going blind, or
⚠️death.
The things that really matter become amazingly clear and obvious.
I didn’t care about achieving anything with my art. I cared that those 14 days may be all I have left with my family. And, to make art.
I let the surgery paperwork cover the floor as I pulled out my oils and pastels, and stared at a mirror. Without any real plan, I painted. And I kept painting.
If this is the first time you’re meeting me…
Hello, I’m Carrie and I’m a perfectionist. I was notorious for getting too tight and overworking my art. I had a well-meaning professor tell me I murder my art!
So, for little Miss uptight to approach the canvas with no plan… To create a composition that evolved with each intuitive decision… And let that drive the next one… That was a first. But I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. I was painting, because if I was going to go blind or die, I wanted to spend my remaining time making art.
I remember being all prepped for surgery, laying in a hospital gurney sat just outside the operating room. My surgeon approached me somewhat gingerly and asked me if I was ready. My reply?
“Let’s do it.”
His eyes open wide with surprise, but also, perhaps some amusement. I mean I wasn’t about to hop on a Ferris wheel was I? But in my pragmatic head, that’s what I was here for, why delay the inevitable? I wouldn’t know what I’ve lost or what I need to face moving forward until we took the next step.
Four hours later, the surgeon came for my family to share the good news: not a tumor. It was a cyst. Not likely cancerous. Time will tell if her pituitary and vision are intact.
I made it through a fully successful procedure. When I woke up, my vision was there, and the pain was finally gone.
While getting back into routine after something as serious as brain surgery takes a minute, I felt a newfound sense of urgency. And a sense of fearlessness. What else did I have to lose? As a good friend (thinking of you Zen) and I would joke many years later, I mean, it’s not like it’s brain surgery.
And somewhere in between my recovery and return to work, I stumbled on a call for artists. It was through VSA arts and included an opportunity to win a cash prize, have your art exhibited at the Smithsonian and Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, and have your work tour in a two-year, traveling group exhibition.
I had those two self portraits. Well actually these two here, sitting around staring at me. I knew they were strong pieces. And I thought, why not? I entered without thinking too hard about it.
Time passed, and I was on my way home from work when I noticed a call from an unfamiliar number. I pulled over to answer, and was thrilled to learn: I was a finalist; I would receive a financial prize, my work would be framed and exhibited at the Smithsonian and the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
The two pieces that probably took me about four hours, each, that I painted with zero concern about pleasing anyone but myself were receiving the accolade my inner overachiever murdered paintings to achieve.
That money brought me my first laptop. I had my art CV kick started, filled with exhibitions and most importantly, I had my health.
I’m quite certain I would have never made this art without my health scare. And I probably wouldn’t be here, talking to you.
I made art with abandon, applied to new opportunities, and even decided to teach overseas, moving to Dubai by myself. I mean, it wasn’t brain surgery.
It began to unravel the perfectionism that dominated my life behavior at toxic levels, that would’ve stopped me from some of the greatest adventures of my life.
After my surgery and full recovery I returned to teaching high school art. One day a colleague confided in me that he had survived cancer. I can still see him looking around to see if anyone was listening in on our conversation, like we were conspiring. He talked about how productive he was as an artist right after… how he let go and just made art.
Something lifted in that moment and all of the cultural rules we abide by fade as we connect with the things our heart calls us to do.
I felt seen.
And that is what I hope for you: please don’t wait for a huge health scare or other horrible experience to be the moment you finally prioritize the things you care about. If art is important to you, if you hear a whisper calling you to try something new, take today’s video as your call to action. It’s time to create.
You don’t have to do it alone, either. This is the kind of thing I do inside Self-Taught to Self-Confident, where I guide people through filling in any gaps in their skill so they confidently express themselves through unique, original art. We have regular opportunities for feedback from peers and myself, including our Weekly Check-In where people get feedback on their mindset, process and art.
👉🏽👉🏽👉🏽 If that sounds exciting to you, you can learn more when you sign up for my workshop “How to Create Art from Your Imagination” for free. You’ll enjoy a taste of my teaching, learn more about the program, and get a special 7-day enrollment offer when you sign up. Use the link here or in the comments below.
I find a lot of people in this community feel they need to reach certain levels of skill and understanding before they allow themselves to take new risks with their art.
“I’ll start that series when I am more confident with the figure…”
“I’ll make more of my own work after I study more…”
“I’ll wait until I can get better art supplies…”
If you keep waiting until…
You finally have the
✅ time,
✅ money, or
✅ energy…
You may or may not get a come-to-Jesus moment that wakes you up and offers you the same positive outcome.
It may be too late.
But guess what. You can do something about that. Right this minute. Go on, get out those paints. Do you see that sketchbook in your pencils collecting dust? Grab those, too.
Start small. (I talk about this a lot.)
Do a little bit every day.
And keep going.
I mean, it could be worse…
It’s not brain surgery!
If today’s message resonates with you, please like and subscribe so you don’t miss a future Artist Strong video. Thank you so much for watching.
And as always,
Remember: proudly call yourself an artist.
Together we are Artist Strong.
Recent Comments