Quilting After Brain Injury

My brain injury had a very strange side effect. I could not stop making things. I became an artist because I couldn't follow directions anymore. Because I was left with language processing problems, sequencing and memory deficits, impulsivity, and poor organizational abilities, using a pattern was virtually impossible.

My process is haphazard. For art, this seems to work well. I spend a lot of time looking at pretty pictures and fabrics. I use my iPhone to take tons of photos of stuff I see that looks cool. I play with my materials creating odd textures or just cutting fabric and sewing it together.

For years I have been promising my daughter I would make her a quilt from her old t-shirts. I think she gave up hope a long time ago. She told me once that she didn't think there really was a t-shirt quilt, that it was just something I said to get her t-shirts and throw them in the trash. It's like that farm where parents say that pets go to because they don't want the kids to know the dog died, she said.

Well, it was not a lie. I saved them and for her 30th birthday (What!) I made a quilt. But it was REALLY hard. During the whole sewing process, I realized that despite all my deficits, I still have one of the best qualities anyone can have. IMHO. Perseverance! Stick-to-it-iveness! Stubborn determination!

I am writing this before I even finish the quilt because I want to remember what I did. I want to remember not what I did right, but what I did wrong. I want to record my problem solving method.

So here's how I did it"

• spent a lot of time researching how to make a t-shirt quilt
• quickly rejected the idea of trying to cut rectangles and match seams 
• eventually rejected all methods I could find because they involved measuring, writing, and planning
• decided to wing it
• chose batting (fleece) with iron-on adhesive on one side so I could iron the pieces as I went along
• arranged the cut up t-shirt pieces on wrong side of the fleece so I had to pin down all the pieces
• picked the whole thing and carried it to the sewing machine
• tried to sew pinned pieces to fleece 
• stopped after one row of stitching because the pieces were curling up and shifting around
• moved to the couch and tacked down all pieces by hand with long strands of thread
• noticed there were places where the pieces did not meet
• took out all the pins and machine sewed all the pieces down despite gaps
• hand sewed patches over the gaps
• pinned the backing onto the quilt with safety pins (because I forgot AGAIN that there was iron-on adhesive)
• watched a video about free motion stippling a quilt
• started free motion quilting from one side of the quilt to the other in rows because that was what the video recommended
• did one row that way and then forgot what I was doing
• remembered rule about quilting from the center so I did that
• alternated between the two methods in a chaotic fashion
• sewed with the t-shirt side down so I could see the stitches but broke a needle when it hit a rhinestone
• moved all the safety pins to the top side so I could see any rhinestones
• started quilting with the top up but could not tell where I had already quilted since the stitch I used to sew down the patches looks very similar to the quilting
• remembered that there was iron on adhesive on the fleece so I didn't need pins
• realized how many times I needed to switch gears
• marveled at the resiliency I've developed and decided to blog about the process
• ironed on the back and continued to quilt

I'm back to finish this post. I couldn't publish until after my daughter's birthday. I finished the whole quilt in a week and on July 2nd she was surprised and happy to see her favorite shirts from 10-20 years ago.

This is a terrible photo. The quilt looks very cool in person.

Creativity Expo 2012

I am an artist.

What hurdles must one overcome, what qualifications must one have, what level of training or number of pieces or items sold or percentage of time spent grants someone the title of ARTIST?

I have no idea. This is just a blog, not a soap box. I go back to one of my all time favorite movies, The Matrix, as a source for my metaphors. Neo asks the Oracle how he will know if he is the one. She tells him that you just know it. The Oracle points to the sign TEMET NOSCE and says, "It means know thy self. I wanna tell you a little secret, being the one is just like being in love. No one needs to tell you you are in love, you just know it, through and through."

So, now I present some ponderings on the topic. I remember early on after my surgery when I began to realize my brain had been altered, I was not sure how to communicate this. It seemed important that I get an official diagnosis. I read about malingering and hypochondria. How would I ever be certain that these words did not describe me? When the part of you that describes symptoms is the same part of you that is suddenly processing information incorrectly, how can you be sure if anyone understands you? You can't.

I wanted someone to explain what was wrong with me. I wanted a diagnosis. I wanted an indisputable argument to present in my own defense when I was misunderstood or berated for inappropriate behavior. I still haven't found what I'm looking for. I stand teetering on the precipice of self-knowledge. I do not need an endorsement from the outside world. I know. I have a brain injury.

In some ways it is like any number of life experiences or elements of ourselves that set us apart from others, we take comfort in being with people have that in common. A friend told me that after she was diagnosed with breast cancer, she could only stand to be around other survivors because no one else understood.

Using words to describe yourself to someone else is only useful when you have a shared understanding of those words.

But, I digress. What's new? Enough about me, what do you think of me? That is not a real question. I do not want to care what other people think of me anymore. The hardest part of leaving my job as a teacher was losing the sense of self-worth it gave me. I loved being loved by so many students and by so many parents. I loved that they loved me because I took the time to get to know each student. I was really good at it, but even better, they told me so. 

So am I an artist? Yes. There may not be any outside validation and there may be countless opinions, both for and against such a statement. I'm okay with that.

I am going to share some photos of my art. (Yes, there is still the part of me that is a vain and gluttonous whore seeking praise and approval. Why else would I blog at all?) 

If you are in New Jersey, near Raritan Valley Community College, stop by and check out work created by people with Traumatic and Acquired Brain Injury, including these pieces by artist Alyson Vega, now through July 22, 2012.

Cognitive Decay

Flow

Salvaged Dendrite

Negative Space

Sheared Quilt

My art got press in Albany, NY

Times Union BIANYS Reports on Annual Art Exhibit

It says "artist" Alyson Vega. How cool is that?

Brain Injury Association of New York State Art Show

I mailed my two fiber collages to Albany today. I am hoping they will be in the art show. They are both 14" by 14." Machine and hand sewn, embroidered, drawn using layers of burlap, linen, gauze, brocade, tulle, lace, and organza. This is the statement I included:

I am 49 years old. In sixth grade during recess I ran down a playground slide, tripped, and hit my head on a cement turtle. I was knocked unconscious and diagnosed with a concussion. I was never very coordinated and New York City playgrounds were not very safe places to play in 1974.

Five years ago, I developed a severe headache, numbness down my left side, and some other strange cognitive symptoms. An MRI showed that I had a cavernous angioma (benign blood vessel tumor) in my brain stem that was leaking blood into my brain. I had to have brain surgery to remove the tumor.

Six months later, I tried to return to work as a middle school math teacher. It was a disaster. My long-term memory for the math is still good but I could not do my job. I was diagnosed with Cerebellar Cognitive Affective Syndrome. My brain injury changed my whole life and my identity. Everything feels like chaos, but my art makes sense.

They said I could write up to 500 words but I was never going to mail it unless I just wrote something fast. I think that is good enough. I hope it is good enough, anyway. Here is the flier so if you are in or near Albany between February 13th - 17th, you should stop by.

Here are the deets.

President's Day weekend marks the 5 year anniversary of the hemorrhage that led to the discovery of my tumor. It is a good time for a fresh start. I mourn the loss of Aly Version I, but I have a new operating system Aly Version II. I am still working out the bugs but there is no turning back now.

Merry Christmas to all!

I am LOVE this Santa I made. Isn't he cute? It's a bit strange that what feels like an expression of happiness inside of me, my smile, turns down at the ends. At least, my eyes are smiling.


Three years ago I got the idea to sell ugly Christmas sweaters. I labored for a year, felting, sewing, gluing, altering an abundance of sweaters. Every time I saw a red sweater or a Christmas-y sweater in a thrift store, I snatched it up. I thought I had hit on a great prospect for making loads of cash since I predicted that this would be a new trend. It would go viral  #uglychristmassweater as they say on Twitter. I worked way too hard on every detail forgetting the big picture. By the time I was done, my sweaters were a little too precious. I did not really want to part with them for the measly sum folks expected to pay for a once a year joke purchase. I sold 2 on Etsy for half the price I wanted and about 8 of them for a quarter of the price. That was it. I was done. Or maybe my efforts to keep teaching got in the way. I did used to be able to do it all: make crafts, raise a daughter, make dinner every day, decorate for holidays in the style of a trained Martha Stewart soldier all while becoming an amazing math teacher. I stopped altering and selling sweaters and forgot about my brief foray in business. 


And now look! NPR reports on a woman who expects to sell 2,000 sweaters this year: Ugly Christmas Sweaters Turn A Pretty Penny


I am tempted to draw some sweeping conclusion about myself or contemporary American society or the state of the capitalist economy from this experience. I expect a big pay-off to come from my efforts and dedication. I am a dedicated and work hard with every endeavor I undertake. The appreciation and reward does not match what I feel I put in. As a result, I begin to conclude that the way to go is an easier path. Put in less so I will expect less. Or, concentrate on quantity instead of quality. I should have focused my efforts on cheaper production costs, less time invested, and appealing to the masses. I have some appreciation for successful entrepreneurs but I know way too many people who put in the minimum because it's good enough. To do that, you must have to stop thinking. You probably lack self-awareness. Who would want to see that sort of laziness or indifference in himself? 

Let's outsource the work to another country with a cheaper work force. Let's dole out sub-prime loans to make more money for now. Let's put a credit card for in the hands of every college student who is already buried in student loans.

Not me!
Not I!
No sir!
Not me!So there!

I am not going to stop working as hard as I can. I do what I do because I love doing it. I do it because I have to. I do it because it makes me feel good about myself and if I didn't, I would be disappointed in myself. I am renewing my effort to put it out there and forget about the results. I am going to try not to care what I get in return. 

So, like they say, F%¢k 'em if they can't take a joke. 

And by "they," I mean America's Nielsen family. (A quote from one of my favorite underachievers, Adam Scho----ld.

HAVE A WONDERFUL HOLIDAY!

Cerebellar Cognitive Affective Syndrome

I read an article this weekend about CCAS, the brain injury type that is the cause of my disability. This excerpt was of particular interest. I wonder if anyone else thinks this sounds a little bit like me. Hmm...

"Following the uneventful surgery for resection of the benign mass, she was noted to have a marked personality change, becoming disinhibited, disrespectful,  and childlike. Testing using the simple tools of behavioral neurology revealed impairments in working memory, perseveration, distractibility, and lack of mental flexibility. She also showed deficits on visual spatial performance.

Over the next few months her mother recounted that the patient would report inability to make a sandwich—not knowing what to do first, and in what order. With time she improved many of her abilities, but executive functions remained impaired, and the next two decades have revealed a pattern of personal choices, psychosocial interactions and judgment that have left her requiring regular family intervention to provide support and safety.

This combination of mood and personality changes with the cognitive impairments that could be demonstrated on neuropsychological testing were the first indicators of the persistent pattern of executive, visual spatial, linguistic, and affective impairments in the remaining 19 patients that we studied prospectively over the next 6 years, and which we identified and named the CCAS."

I might have been able make a sandwich but I could not pack a bag. My first day back at school in August 2007, I was reduced to tears because I could not figure out what to do to set up my classroom. I sat crumpled on the floor crying and confused. I thought I was just tired. It wasn't until spring break that year when I tried to pack for a vacation to Cancun that I started to see a pattern. I was up all night and in the morning, I could barely close my suitcase. When we got there I found I had no t-shirts, no toothbrush, and no underwear. I did have a number of empty cosmetic cases and ziplock baggies. I also had more books and crafts than I could possibly use on a week long trip. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Doctors still said I was probably depressed or distracted because of the brain surgery 11 months earlier. I knew "depression" was not the cause but I did not no where to turn. 

What a long and bumpy road it has been to get here but here I am. For now, I remain optimistic about what may be ahead. 

Oh BTW I can make a taco, at least a taco costume. Here is Tess dressed as a taco for Halloween:

Lily was a mummy.

Aren't they so cute? I love my girls!

My best girl was Rock Lobster:

Sweater World Here I Come

After months in the planning, my first sweaters are for sale on Etsy. Now you know why I never call you. Check it out:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/AlyVega

Shout out to my peeps:
A.R. I am thinking about you and wishing you a speedy recovery. I love you!
R.F. You have the patience of a saint!

S.E. You are my inspiration. Would I really be making these if I thought you were worried about what other people think? You wore the first one, pumpkin dumpling, cuddle bunny, and you wore it with pride! You fashion plate, trend setter!

Back from Vakay...So?

My vacation was great. It was so healing and helpful because I really tried to stay in the moment while I was there. It took me about three days to stop obsessing about work and problems and brain injuries. (The packing was only a tiny bit less hellish aided by little cards I made with items written on them so I could literally move the cards from one side of their pocket holder to the other as soon as the item was packed. Only problem was I forgot to put a couple of items on the cards so... I bought a toothbrush and a paperback novel in JFK. No biggie! Way too many dresses and sweaters. Too hot for either of those.)

Here is some more good news. I read TWO whole books on my trip. That is twice as many books as I have finished in the two years since my surgery. I was very proud of me. The first was the airport purchase: The Shack by Wm. Paul Young. I got into it and felt really spiritual and good. It helped me let go a little. Then I read The Pact by Jodi Picoult which I purchased at the school street fair for a buck. It was a great page turner and I was riveted. So neither was about math or TBI related stuff. I was really on vacation. I stopped having obsessive thoughts of inflicting serious damage on whatever was ailing me and started to just relax.

I watercolored my favorite rusty pier. I photographed my favorite rusty pier (as evidenced above). I pieced together a fabric interpretation of my favorite rusty pier and began embellishing it with found objects. I also taught myself how to crochet round medallions that sort of look like the pictures in the book. I might need some help with that one.

Bri and I snorkeled almost every day. We ate delicious desserts prepared by the same chef we met last year Aaron. Strawberries, whipped cream, and meringue. Heaven! We danced until sweat poured from our bodies and our clothes were soaked. We played ping pong, never breaking our early record of a rally of 33. I guess I picked up some mad skills in that mad house.

I was randomly assigned to the group that has to wait three months for my TBI research group to begin so that kind of sucks. I will work on my art and post more pics soon.

I woke this morning back at home screaming and angry at something in a nightmare.

Good Sportsmanship!

That is the medal I always got in camp when I was a kid. It meant I was a spaz but I did not realize it and blindly followed the rules of whatever game we were playing. Thanks for playing kid! We needed one more on the bench.

I got RUNNER-UP for my hankie!

http://www.instructables.com/contest/mothersday09/

"In case you were wondering, judges from Singer selected the grand and first prize winners while the runners-up were decided by user votes. Sorry for the delay in the results, Maker Faire prep has overtaken us, but we wanted to make sure these results went out out (just) before the weekend. Thanks again for entering a great Instructable and we hope to see more good stuff from you in the future."

reads the email from the organizer of the contest which ended a week ago. I actually tried to conceal the fact that I already own a clearly superior Bernina sewing machine in my photos. When a packet of needles ended up in the background of a photo, I left it there thinking, a little "SINGER" product placement won't hurt. Ha! This was not in the rules. I was so mad when I got the results of the contest two years ago. This time I know what I am going to do. They are going to send me a little robot tshirt, their cute little mascot and I am going to wrap it around our dartboard and throw darts at it. Eventually, I will hit it too. Many people don't know this but I played darts in a league for about 8 years. That's how I met my husband. I played B division most of the time but The one year I played in the C division, I was the Ladies All Star and I won a plaque. I scored more points (4375) than the other 45 or so women in the division. Of course, in B and A the Ladies All Stars scored well over seven thousand but whatever. The men in B and C who win All-Star usually score over 10,000 points. You see where I am coming from?
Last year as the school year was ending, I asked one of my former students, a lovely girl who came by every day to help me out in the classroom, if she would write a letter on my behalf nominating me for some national teacher award. She did so gladly and even wrote me from camp telling me that her letter won an essay contest. I never heard from those people.
External validation! Why is it so important to me? Where will I truly find it? How is success measured? Here is what is not so high on my list of aspirations: fame, fortune, power. Here is what is: knowledge, wisdom, validation, understanding, comfort, freedom, creativity, and beauty (not personal although it was important until time took over and I realized it was merely a gift or perhaps, a loan from youth).
Yesterday, I decided to let someone else handle a big problem for me in exchange for a large sum of money. I felt relief to turn it over but still fear that I will continue to be misunderstood.
I am out of synch with my environment. I seek harmony!

Oh BTW look for my Moth Away! sachets on sale soon over at Etsy.com
Link to be posted soon.

Sewing Contest!

Mother's Day ICE Hankie - More DIY How To Projects

Vote for me please!

Planning – Executive Function

• I ask people to wait; I only need 2 more things, five minutes.
• When I find it each item, reminds me of another essential thing.
• I cannot plan because I cannot actually see more than one step in front of me at a time.
• Each object is a clue to the big picture.
• That is when I am lucky enough to convince someone to wait for me.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Sachi and I decide to hang out on the roof and catch some rays.

“I am ready whenever you are.”

I put on some sunscreen. Offer some. Chat about Fire Island, Buck’s Rock, dinner, art classes. I look and find for the SVA catalog. Winter 2008 seems like the correct one. I’ll work on my found object project so I grab the container with those.

“All I need is thread then we can leave. Give me two seconds.“

“I really want to go. You said you were ready five minutes ago.”

I spot the thread and next to it is a pair of scissors.

Oops! Yes, of course I need those too and
(Oh, crap)…

“I know. I know, Sorry. I only need a needle now.”

“This does not sound like two seconds, I think you need a little more time. Can I help you? What else do you need?”

LOOKING LOOKING

I want to stop and ask for help because there is probably something else but… what?

LOOKING

It is hard to find because… I do not have my glasses on.

“Now, I just need my glasses.”

I suddenly see why I am always late. I don’t know what else I need until I find the first thing. The related things aren’t staying in my head with it. While looking for glasses, I am holding the thread, scissors, needles, fabric, etc. All the objects I have collected are in my hands so I do not forget to put them in the bag.

OR I set them down somewhere and then can’t find them when I find the next (if I remember that I even set them down; I could just leave without them)

BECAUSE if I stopped and packed them, the item I just remembered I needed (glasses) flies out of my head. Since the ones I had in my hand are packed I have nothing to remind me of the next and I go searching with no purpose and every single thing I touch has some other possible association. Now I have lost track of the purpose of my trip, where I am going, and why I even needed the thread, and I still don’t have the glasses so I am not finding sought object but I don’t realize why it is so hard to find.

AND all this while (if I am alone) it really does seem like just one more thing and only a few minutes so when I glance at a clock on my way out, I am stunned to find that 40 minutes have gone by and I now have 20 minutes to get to my destination 45 minutes away.
THEREFORE, I run out the door clutching a banana, glasses, three $20 bills, letters to mail, and a book (it could have been what seemed so important to bring). I drop all of them as I lock the door. I stop and throw them all in the bag loose (except the letters to mail because the box is right there) and for the rest of the day seem to be unable to locate the cash because I probably dropped it in the mail box with the letters. I am hungry and can’t buy any food but the banana is down there forgotten squashed under a huge pile of other stuff in my bag that I do not need.