When the Lights Go Out, by Tatiana – In The Mix #5

January 15, 2009 Tatiana EL-Khouri 26 Comments

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
-Helen Keller

The night is my favorite time of the day for various reasons. For many its a time to wind down and reflect on the day. For others, it is a time to pick up energy and party the night away. For me the darkness has another meaning, the darkness represents vulnerability and pushing comfort zones. Have you ever tried walking around your house at night with no lights on? I love mazes and often make sport of navigating through familiar spaces with no lights. I’ve gotten very good and perceptive of obstacles and changes in layout as well. This may sound like an odd pastime, but I personally have a fear of going blind, Scotomaphobia.

When I was in art school, a pinched nerve caused me to lose some motor control in my right arm. I was unable to grip anything without dropping it, let alone hold a pencil or paintbrush. After a month or so of it not getting better, I began retraining myself to learn to draw with my left hand. During my marathon training, I met a chiropractor that slowly adjusted me back to mobility. My fellow art students and teachers, sympathized because this was there biggest fear- losing the use of their arms.

Me?

As odd as this may sound, It didn’t bother me as much as I thought.

In eighth grade, my world changed. My Aunt/Godmother was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa and was told she only had a few years until she went blind. I was devastated for her and just offered my love, support, and prayers. As I researched the condition and learned more from my family, I found out that it was hereditary and my fear became real.

It’s been a bit more than 10 years since we received the news about my Aunt losing her vision and I’m happy to say she still has her vision during the day. But once it goes dark, she is blind. My heart almost broke a last year when I found out that one more person my family was affected by vision loss. But this was an even more hard pill to swallow, because it was my 10 year old cousin in Mexico. It’s never easy to suffer a physical loss, but when it deals with a child- I was at a loss for words for my family.

As an artist, I didn’t realize how many words or phrases I use that refer to sight or the way I see the world. She has lost the vision in her left eye and is slowly losing the vision in her right eye due to Uveitis. She is currently undergoing surgeries and treatments to salvage her sight. I’m really anxious to see my cousin and expose her to all the sights and scenes in Los Angeles.

Being a practical person, choosing a career in the visual arts was a hard decision as I watched one of my family members lose her vision. But like all things that I am passionate about, I made a conscious choice to conquer my fear and make it work. Tactile approaches like sculpture and heavily textured paintings felt natural and primal- it mimicked the way I viewed the world via touch. I thought about the way my Aunt or other people with vision problems could enjoy art. As I developed my style and explored mediums, I always leaned towards big, heavy strokes and graphic shapes.

In a continued effort to overcome my fear and come to grips with my inhibitions, I recently experienced the Dining in the Dark phenomenon. If you aren’t familiar with the concept, you are lead into a pitch black room by a blind waiter. While in complete darkness, a 3 course meal is served. The idea is that the darkness will engage your other senses and become intensified. The complete darkness was like nothing that I’ve ever experienced.

I was very concerned that while dining in the dark my impeccable conversation skills would be tested since I wouldn’t be able to rely on body language cues. Surprisingly that wasn’t a problem, the experience was enjoyable and not awkward. It was like looking at a black screen, I couldn’t even make out basic silhouettes.  I was able to drink my wine and water without missing my mouth or the table when placing it down. I also managed to get a fairly decent use of my utensils, although I found it easier to rely on my Mediterranean roots and eat with my hands. My hearing and smell were heightened, and my palette was put to the test as I guessed the food that I ate.

Towards the end of the meal, I spoke to my waitress about her vision- to which she was prepared to answer. Unlike my Aunt and Cousin, she was born blind and said it’s hard to miss something you don’t have. Her advice to me with dealing with my concerns with blindness and supporting my family member was to just be there for them. Losing something you remember is always harder but there is a lot of support and tools available.

The experience really helped me come to grips with my fear. Though I know that 2 hours of darkness can’t equate to a lifetime of darkness, I’ve personally pledged to myself to appreciate the sight I do have and be there for my Aunt and cousin as they strengthen their other senses.