Liz List

Artist Statement

When I was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer in early July, 2021, it felt like much of my ordinary life was suddenly "paused" so that I could focus on my treatment and recovery. I took time off from my job as an art teacher, and I spent a lot of time at home and alone while my husband was at work. My daily routines included early morning walks around our neighborhood, naps as needed, and quite a bit of time for crafts and painting. In fact, as I look back at my cancer experience now, I can appreciate that the time I spent painting was both therapeutic and academic for me. During those months of treatment and recovery, I had the time and opportunity to practice, practice, practice! For that blessing, I can now express gratitude. Something good and affirming resulted from something very challenging. Prior to cancer, I saw myself as an artist, but my own art took a back seat to my teaching career. I still teach full time, for now, but I paint every chance I get, and I truly see and express myself as an artist. The painting I selected highlights a Great Blue Heron and its reflection in the water. The painting is relevant to my cancer experience because once I lost my hair, unless I was wearing a hat or some sort of head covering, I avoided my own reflection in the mirror. The few glimpses that I saw of myself without hair frightened me. I didn't recognize myself. I didn’t like what I saw. I was fortunate in the sense that there were not many days when my cancer treatment really wiped me out, but I think it would be fair to say that I was uncomfortable with the way that I looked. Even as my hair started to grow back, I still didn't feel comfortable with my reflection in the mirror for some time. Sometimes still, my reflection reminds me of the all that I've experienced. I see the scars. I remember the fear I felt. I recall how self-conscious I was when I returned to teaching and people who had not seen me for months saw me for the first time. Most were polite and kind, but my initial sense was that they didn’t know what to say or how to act. It took some time before life felt somewhat normal again. In regard to this particular heron image, I am intrigued by the realism of its reflection in the water. If I turn the painting upside down, the reflection seems as real as the actual heron itself. What stands out to me is that the heron poses confidently without paying any attention whatsoever to its reflection. I can learn from that. My own reflection matters, but it doesn't define me. I, too, can stand confidently and celebrate my life for all that I’ve experienced—and all that’s yet to come. Life is a journey.