How Being Diagnosed with Breast Cancer made me a True Artist
Mali Schwartz
Mali Schwartz
When I was diagnosed with HER2 breast cancer in the summer of 2017, during Labor Day weekend, I was floored. I was 66, a proponent of holistic health, and had begun asking myself what I wanted to do with the rest of my life after raising four children. There was a fourteen-year spread between my oldest and youngest child, so after walking each of them down the wedding aisle, I felt a sense of well-earned freedom.
I had already taken some art classes at my local Jewish Community Center. I was honing my skills as an artist, painting landscapes, still life and grandchildren’s portraits. I had decided to take a certification to become a doula - a birthing coach. Having attended several births, I felt flooded with endorphins that were highly concentrated after a mother gave birth, feeling bathed in love.
Although I made sure to visit my internist annually, traveling back and forth from New Jersey to Florida, I forgot to schedule my once-a-year mammogram. After missing three, I then found the tumor that was silently growing in my breast. It had spread to my lymph nodes.
I found my tumor in a dream. My daughter and her family, including her one-month-old daughter, were visiting over that fateful weekend. Needing to rest, I decided to take a nap toward the end of the day. My bedroom door was ajar and in my light sleep, I overheard the baby crying loudly, wanting to be fed. These cries triggered long term memories of breastfeeding my children. In my dream, I startled myself awake, my next thought being, “I need to nurse the baby.”
Feeling a pull on my left breast, I woke up with a start. That’s when I felt a lump in my breast that I later found out was a Stage 2B tumor! This experience taught me that we can’t ignore the connection between a woman’s hormones and our subconscious. My dream saved me from waiting even longer to get tested.
I was put on an aggressive protocol which included chemotherapy, a surgical lumpectomy, and radiation. I decided that I would paint my three-part cancer journey series after I had completed my procedure to process my feelings.
While being treated, I began researching the types of chemotherapy drugs I was prescribed. They included Taxotere, derived from the natural world and Carboplatin, which had Agent Orange byproducts. I called my first painting “Bitter Pill,” which depicted my chemotherapy drugs on either side of a large pill with the words “bitter pill,” engraved on the pill. The clear drops that dripped over it represented the chemo that I received through an IV drip and the tears of women who must undergo this treatment.
The first round of these drugs left an acrid taste in my mouth. I remember taking a walk and spitting out my nasty tasting saliva. Each time I spit, I said the word “bitter,” to myself, which helped me to release some of my anger over the fact that my tastebuds were so altered. I began exploring the idea of painting a pill in the middle of my composition that symbolized the iconic “aspirin” pill as a sign of the medicalization of our society.
My experience with radiation was anxiety-inducing. I had just finished my lumpectomy surgery two weeks before my first treatment. I was told to lie still on a flat surface with my hands clutched over me when I was slowly moved into the circular apparatus of the machine. I was at an all-time claustrophobic high. What helped me get through these five days a week/ six-week treatments were to imagine that the radiation machine interior was a white womb which sent out good vibrations.
I wanted to depict the idea of breast-feeding in my painting to pay tribute to my dream which helped me find my cancer. So, I painted a breast-feeding mother in a hospital setting and an older, frailer woman getting a radiation treatment, and called this image, “The Dream.” Milk drops travel from the nursing mother to the frailer woman undergoing radiation who calls out for help through waves of energy that are released through the radiation machine. The underlying message was that women can overcome their challenges by turning to each other during vulnerable periods in their lives.
My third and final painting was of a woman praying in an open dark cave with a depiction of her soul flying up into the cave opening into the clouds. I called this painting “A Healing.” The difference between healing and curing is that healing is a process we undertake for ourselves while being cured is something done to us by someone else. I wanted the final painting of this series to share the message that we can all be healed from our challenges if we are willing to do the work.
I wanted to show my series to a larger audience. I completed my cancer series journey in the summer of 2020 during the COVID pandemic. I then contacted the Miami Beach Jewish Community Center, offering to curate an art show during Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October 2020. The call for artists stipulated that someone had either experienced cancer themselves or knew of family or friends who had.
I am proud to say that I recruited approximately twelve artists and one writer that participated in this art exhibition that was displayed for several months. I also organized a virtual online opening program. As each artist presented what their paintings, crafts and writing meant to them, I knew that I had made a real impact with a woman who participated in a Gilda’s Club writing workshop, as she shed tears while sharing her piece. She later told me that having a platform to share her story with others had increased her self - confidence in her writing ability. She planned to continue her path which she hoped would help her and others heal from their cancer experience.
I have shown my work at local South Florida libraries, art guilds, and performing arts centers. I met my curator Alina Ko through promoting my art exhibition. I
am grateful to have a platform to share my art with the public, my message being we are all in this together.
I can say that my own experience with breast cancer has made me a true artist, one that wants to probe deeper into interpretive art for myself and for all women.