A Night of Art and Healing with Sharon Agnor

By April Brenneman

Glass and steel artist Sharon Agnor shared her illness narrative as well as her art at the Northwest Narrative Medicine’s Monthly Series on May 9th.

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Agnor has vivid memories of being sick and in the hospital as a child. Struggling with her health on and off most of her life, the decade of her 50s turned out to be the most challenging. Her son was diagnosed with two debilitating illnesses, her mother suffered an aneurysm that permanently disabled her, and short while later, her father suddenly collapsed and died. As if that were not enough, Sharon was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer and began the grueling treatment: double mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation and multiple surgeries.

All the grief piled on top of the other took its toll and Agnor found she could not function. Walking out into her studio, she’d look around then go back inside her home. She knew she needed to process all of her loss. Eventually, her medical experiences from her 50s helped her focus on what making art could do for her. Agnor described some of her large scale sculptures and smaller pieces as she spoke.

“In a work of art, I could contain the problem and control it and figure out how I wanted to regard it. I did not have to be a victim,” she stated.

Next, she guided the participants in creating their own pinch pots using clay. The room grew quiet as everyone focused on their own medical journeys, shaping and controlling the clay. Near the end of the evening, those who wanted to share showed their completed piece and told the meaning and expression behind it. The creativity and shared narratives were powerful.

One participant sighed and said, “This is what I needed tonight.”  

Through her work, Agnor explores the effect of life’s unpredictable events on the human form and spirit. She believes that our ability to sustain loss and heal is both amazing and central to our existence. The stories of these events, both joyous and tragic, are carried within our forms.

Currently, Agnor’s large scale work and rotating exhibits can be found here:
“The Choice” (rotating exhibit) Washougal, WA
“The Wave” property of Cannon Beach, OR, near public parking
“Walking Warrior” (rotating exhibit) Hillsboro, OR
“Earth” property of Washougal, WA
“Renovation” (rotating exhibit) Redmond, OR summer of 2017
“Genesis” (rotating exhibit) Lake Oswego, OR
“Urban Rhythm” property of Vancouver Housing Authority, Vancouver, WA
“Wendy Rose” collaborative work property of City of Vancouver, WA
“Pillars of Fulfillment” collaborative work property of WSUV, Vancouver, WA
“Luke’s Star” in the Luke Jensen Sports Park in Hazel Dell, WA

Northwest Narrative Medicine Collaborative thanks Sharon Agnor for her time, her donation of the materials for the event and her art. www.sharonagnor.com

Participants look forward to picking up their fired pieces on June 13th for the next NWNMC Series, a writing workshop facilitated by Stacy Brewster.

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Poems from the Body

By Judith Barrington

I come to the thrilling idea of narrative medicine as first a poet and second a patient. My first poetry book was published in 1985 and my fifth (a “New and Selected”) will come out next spring from Salmon Publishing. In between, there have been chapbooks, collaborations with artists and musicians, and poems that will never be published but provoked a good round of laughter at someone’s birthday.

I have always been dedicated to the study of prosody (the patterns of rhythm and sound used in poetry) a subject that will never run out of surprises and new insights. One crucial piece of my learning was the strong connection between the rhythms of language (in poetry the rhythms of poetic lines and stanzas) and the sounds of language (vowels, consonants and words), and the body from which those rhythms and sounds emerge. Although I took very few classes in poetry or poetics, I was very fortunate in that my first teacher used a text book that is so amusing and smart that I still use it in my own workshops, although my copy is almost entirely held together with sticky tape. *

Why not buy a new copy? you may ask. Well, there is a good reason that I keep the first edition: a chapter called “Gold in the Ore: the sounds of English” is illustrated by drawings of what we must do with our bodies, particularly our mouths and throats, to produce various vowels and consonants. My two favorite are “Man saying ‘Ugh!’” and “Woman saying ‘Sn—!’” If you try saying these sounds yourself, and slightly exaggerate them, you will see immediately how essential your body structure is to their production. Sadly newer editions of the book omitted these splendid illustrations.

The rhythms of language that we manipulate into pleasing poetry, are not rhythms that exist solely among the words of poems and songs. The fine poet, Alfred Corn, in his book aptly titled The Poem’s Heartbeat, says that the word rhythm comes from the Greek meaning “measured motion.” To hear it, the ear must hear a recurrent sequence of accents at predictable intervals. For many reasons human beings find this experience pleasurable and deeply engaging. Why? he asks. Well, because this regular recurrence is found in contexts that may be fundamental to forming our consciousness: an infant develops hearing before it is born and of course s/he hears the mother’s heartbeat—a regularly recurring sequence. Add to that the steady rhythm of the mother’s walk, experienced as a physical sensation of rocking to and fro. At birth there comes the addition of a new rhythm: the intake and exhalation of breath, which is crucial to the structural form of a poem (where to break the lines, for example). Later there are all kinds of visual rhythms: night and day; a flight of steps from one level to another; repeating patterns on textiles or wallpaper; phases of the moon. Continue reading