From the Inside Out — Creative Expression
In my world of painting I feel no pain. I have no problems. I am in a world without limitations.
— Dan Beacome,
1950–2002 |
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by Bill Greenberg
In September 1986, Dan Beacome moved into the Michigan Masonic Home in Alma. He was only 36 years old, but his seven-year battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis had taken its toll. Doctors didn't expect Beacome to last another year.
But then a funny thing happened: He learned to paint.
Beacome had never painted before, and ALS had already robbed him of the use of his hands. So he learned to paint by holding the brush in his mouth.
In 1992, Beacome's oil painting "Old Barn" helped inaugurate MDA's nationally renowned Art Collection. In 1993, Beacome received MDA's Personal Achievement Award for Michigan, recognizing both his art and his advocacy for people with disabilities. And in April 2000, Beacome was featured on the cover of Quest.
Not bad for a man who wasn't supposed to live past 1987.
"I like to look at problems as a challenge to my intellect," Beacome wrote last October, less than four months before he finally passed away. "I haven't won all the battles, but I've enjoyed each one. It's so much more fun than sitting still and letting the problems take control of your life."
Unproven But Real
There's no conclusive scientific evidence that learning to paint was responsible for adding some 15 years to Dan Beacome's life. But academic studies and personal accounts have established a link between good health and the ability to manage stress and remain positive in the face of illness or adversity. (See "The Mind-Body Connection")
"Once you put a thought on paper you can put it in a drawer and forget about it. It's very cathartic." |
Christine O'Brien of Iowa Falls, Iowa, thinks her work as a writer/painter has the same effect on her body as the self-hypnosis techniques she learned for pain management. But O'Brien, who is affected by mitochondrial myopathy, isn't concerned with how or why her writing helps her feel better — she's just glad it does.
 Inner peace: Artist Christine O'Brien focuses on images of serenity to move beyond physical pain. |
"Through adversity I found that writing does several things," she explains. "First, it helps you organize your mind. Then once you've put a thought on paper you can put it in a drawer and you can forget about it. Walk away. For me, it's very cathartic."
O'Brien, 47, also relies on writing a personal journal and articles about her experiences to help maintain her attitude.
"The other thing I find about writing is that I can't write negatively. Even if it's a bad situation, it has to turn out positive in the end. If you do that in writing, you have to do that in your whole being, because the writing comes from you."
Confrontation or Escape?
Some artists, like Erin Brady Worsham of Nashville, Tenn., use their artistic skill as a means to confront the emotions accompanying their diseases.
"Our disabilities are not the key factors in our lives." |
Other artists, like O'Brien, use their art to help them forget their diseases, if only for a short while.
"Most of my paintings tend to be very serene," she says. "I think that's a reflection of what I'm always looking for in myself — my inner search for peace and harmony."
Linda Jaeger of Bay Shore, N.Y., can relate.
 The power of music: Range of Motion band members raise disability awareness by showing off their abilities. Back row (left to right): John Phillips, Mike Zielinski, Pat Ryan; front row: Tom Ryan, Linda Jaeger. |
Jaeger, 39, has spinal muscular atrophy and has used a power wheelchair for mobility since she graduated from high school. So one might expect her to address disability in her songwriting.
"Actually, all my songs have been mushy love songs," she laughs.
Jaeger sings with Range of Motion, a New York-based ensemble whose members all have disabilities. She also serves as president of the Coalition for Disabled Musicians.
"Our disabilities aren't the key factors in our lives," she says. "They're inconveniences and from time to time they can present big problems. But I think of myself as a person first."
While Jaeger's band plays all the usual gigs — parties, weddings and the like — the group also performs for schools in an effort to raise disability awareness.
"Whenever we do a show, we're showing our abilities," she explains. "We're showing what we can do, what we can offer. We're showing our talent.
"By the end of our show, the audience has totally forgotten that we're disabled."
'I've Got the Music in Me'
Jaeger's doctors are happy with her singing — and not just because they feel she's talented.
Singing also happens to be an excellent form of respiratory therapy.
"If you have music in your soul, there's got to be a way to get it out." |
"It's not a magic cure-all for everything, but I think it's helped me get as far as I have without having more problems," she asserts. "You can't stretch your lungs any more than when you're belting out a song."
Jaeger's coalition believes strongly in the power of music to enrich the soul. They've developed a nationwide network of disabled musicians to find solutions to musical challenges caused by disabilities.
For example, bass player and CDM co-founder John Rinaldo, who also has SMA, uses a specially devised stand that supports the weight of his bass guitar, allowing him to devote all of his limited physical energy to playing.
"If you have music in your soul, there's got to be a way to get it out," Jaeger asserts. "We try to help find a way to keep people going as long as they can, to keep playing music."
'You've Gotta Be Creative'
Today, with assistive technology, people who can no longer speak are able to write, and new advances are being announced almost daily.
"You can do anything you want to do — you just have to be creative sometimes. Find something you can do. It's out there." |
So if you have thoughts that need to be written, a story to tell, a picture to paint, a song to sing — Christine O'Brien has a message for you:
"You can do anything you want to do — you just have to be creative sometimes," she says — pun intended.
"I can't ski anymore, but I can still play in the snow. There's always something. Don't sit there and bemoan the fact you can't do it. Find something you can do. It's out there."
And while there's no guarantee that it will prolong your life, it will almost certainly make the life you do have quite a bit more pleasant. 
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