St. Croix – The VI Breast Cancer Project was founded in 2016 and is dedicated to supporting cancer survivors through creative expression, community connection, and the healing power of the arts. It is easy to underestimate art as a healing force. We often think of medicines, nature and time as the great healers that have the ability to turn a sick being back into a healthy one. It’s hard to imagine a work of art performing that wizardry task.
But the healing power of the arts lies in its ability to induce an emotional release that has the capabilities to overshadow physical ailments by way of reconnecting the body with beauty, with creativity, with the flutter of a new breath of life. Art has the ability to reduce stress and anxiety, causing the inner workings of the body to yield its stranglehold on what ails it, just long enough to reroute itself onto a passage that leads it to harmony.
Art has the ability of improving mental health by stimulating the brain, clearing it of its negative congestion so it can take in positive thoughts and let them become dominant in the mind. Art also provides a safe haven for expressing, exploring, and processing complex emotions, traumas and anxieties that get in the way of the healing process.
The VI Breast Cancer Project recently presented an ART TALK with the acclaimed St. Croix artist Victoria Rundberg-Rivera, MD, at Cane Roots Art Gallery in Christiansted, St. Croix. The event was held in honor of cancer survivors, their families and their friends. It focused on art as a mechanism of healing, along with the threads of resilience that can be established through the healing arts, heritage and culture.
There is something so brave in being a survivor of cancer, and yet something so sad in being one of those that have survived its ravages while others have succumbed. There is something inspirational about being one of those who has been left behind to continue the good fight, to continue moving through the world, while others stricken with the same disease have gone on to another world, another life beyond our own dimension.
There are indeed plenty of statistics of those who have been taken from us by the disease, but where are the statistics that make up the survivors? How do we measure their angst, their sorrow, the forlorn of those who must take a step out into the world every day and be brave, with the thought of a near-death still in their being, carrying the burden and the glory of survival for years, decades even. How do they now view the world? How do they now view the future, once they have been forced to perceive the darkness beyond, and perhaps gotten a trace of the scent of death.
The tight-knit gathering of cancer survivors sat in a jagged circle at Cane Roots, breathing each other’s breathe, focusing on each other’s eyes, holding onto a life they have fought hard to keep, surrounded by this brilliant collection of paintings that artist Victoria “Vicki” Rindberg-Rivera has produced, listening to her speak of her own difficulties in life, the blockades she has had to overcome, the victories and defeats, the days of anguish and sorrow, a life that has ultimately led to conquest and a celebration of joy.
There is more than a spark of quiet hope here, of a life worth surviving, of a future worth fighting for, among all who have gathered. There is a sense of steadfast resolve and confidence, of a new knowledge injected into their life, a new meaning to explore and live for.
“We are much more resilient than we realize,” someone in the audience confided.
“Others around me were coming down with it,” another survivor stated. “I really didn’t want to be a member of the club, but I wondered why I was left out. And yet, once you’re in it, you’re in it.”
The open discussion period was thoughtfully monitored by Debra “D.J.” Kissinger from the VI Breast Cancer Project.
“I made a decision that I was going to survive,” an older woman stated. “I just made a decision I was going to keep going, one foot in front of the other.”
Sonia Nahar Deane’s Cane Roots Art Gallery has become so much more than a space to present wonderful, cutting-edge art exhibits. It is a place for contemplation, a place of refuge from the outside world, a temple of thought and solidarity in the Crucian community.
“It’s important as a community that we support one another,” said Ms. Deane.
It was a quiet occasion. Not somber, but contemplative. The sun slowly snatched the light from the white walls of the room as the day quietly receded, a day no doubt filled with the hope and wonders of life, with the deep thoughts of death. It was a day to learn lessons from your fellow man. From the survivors.
“I made it through cancer,” one woman said. “I’m still here.”
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