{"id":37017,"date":"2020-09-28T13:53:03","date_gmt":"2020-09-28T17:53:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mindfulartstudio.com\/?p=37017"},"modified":"2022-03-31T10:22:54","modified_gmt":"2022-03-31T14:22:54","slug":"how-i-grieved-my-brothers-death-through-art","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mindfulartstudio.com\/how-i-grieved-my-brothers-death-through-art\/","title":{"rendered":"How I Grieved My Brother’s Death Through Art"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Dear Wonderful, Creative You: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the weekend, I was listening to an On Being episode with artist Dario Robleto<\/a>. His work centers on using unexpected materials to remember: the earliest recorded pulse waves cast in gold, his parents’ record collections ground to dust and cast into delicately balanced pelvises, and “pain bullets” cast from audiotapes of poets, ash, mourning dresses, and various materials. His work sits at the intersection of art, science, and nature – a place where most of my curiosity settles too. Hearing about his work filled me with a desire to share something I’ve been thinking about for some time. I want to tell you how I grieved my brother’s death through art. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’ve been wanting to share this story with you, and how I used my art to create beauty, ritual, and healing, but when my brother first died, the wounds were fresh, and it seemed too soon, and too much. Now with time, the pandemic, and the incredible hurts Black, Brown and non-gender conforming folk are suffering, I knew I needed to share this story and the tools I used to grieve through art. <\/strong>I hope it offers you comfort, or some ideas about how to process your own grief, at a time when we are all experiencing it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don’t normally share this much about my personal life, but it feels important to give to others right now, and so I’m taking the risk. <\/strong>I’d ask that you please not offer advice or judgment. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brother’s addictions started early, and ended his life early, at just 42. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got the call when I was at the top of a mountain in Maine. He had an untreatable infection in his foot, it needed to be amputated, and he was probably dying. I’d been half waiting for this call. Every time an unrecognized number in his area rang, my heart stopped a moment. Frequently I’d get calls from a hospital – that he was having fluid drained again, that he needed to stop drinking or he would die because his body was shutting down. I tried to help. Once he even let me help him get back into rehab, but Peter was trying to drown out a pain much greater than himself, and he didn’t want an audience. <\/strong>In the last year or so he barely ever answered my calls and texts, never mind the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Creative Self-Care E-Course Is For You<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n