Traveling to Cuba – The Beginning

Why We Planned a Trip to a Warmer Clime ©2019 Bo Mackison

February 20. There were lots of reasons to travel to Cuba this winter. The weather in Wisconsin was a big factor.

Traveling with Tom Bihn © 2019 Bo Mackison

I packed two suitcases to within a few ounces of our allowable limits. Since we were flying from Chicago O’Hare to embarkation destination of Miami, I packed our handy overnight bag with two changes of clothes, our necessaries, shoes (so we could leave our boots behind), a book for each of us, and a few art supplies.

There are traditions. Whenever we fly from Chicago, we make time for a stop at one of our favorite pizza places.

Weather? Check!

A quick check of the weather in Cuba vs. the weather in Wisconsin confirms what we expected. The weather will be about 70˚ wartmer in Cuba than back home.

Four Walls and a Bright Light – Barrier Series # 4

Bathed in Bright Lights

Bright Lights © 2012 Bo Mackison

“Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth.” ~ Pema Chödrön

This post is the fourth in a series of my story, an intimate exploration of art and healing. See the introduction and complete series at My Healing Journey.

I spent several months in the hospital. But after my initial admission, my condition went from extremely ill to critical, doctors transferred me to the equivalent of the critical care unit of a medical unit. But unlike a medical ICU with its high-tech equipment and constant activity, a person who needs a psychiatric ICU needs a different sort of healing space. She needs as little stimulus as possible. It is a time to quiet a system gone haywire from too much input.

By law, a patient must be placed in the least restrictive environment to treat their symptoms – I signed an admission form with a list of my rights – but my condition required drastic measures.

My world for several weeks was in a “Quiet Room” — a 8 x 8 foot cell-like room. The walls were softly padded, the floor was indestructible tile, the only window was covered with steel mesh and fully curtained in black. When covered with an over-sized piece of plexiglass, the space bore little resemblance to a window.

There was a mattress on the floor, a single sheet, a plastic pillow, and a camera high on the wall so I could be constantly monitored on a closed circuit system by a nurse who sat in the nursing station.

There was a door, but no door knob. Staff came in to deliver my meals, monitor my meds, and help me with basic needs. Otherwise, I was left alone — to rest. I craved someone to talk to me, or even to sit in the silent room with me, but rules required the nursing staff to monitor me by watching a television monitor, not to interact with me.

Also disturbing to me was the inset light in the small room’s ceiling. It was an obvious necessity. I understand that now — twenty years later. If I slept in a darkened room, no amount of surveillance on camera would inform them of my activity. If I paced in a darkened room, they could not see me pacing. Or crying. Or rocking myself, trying to calm myself, comfort myself. But I hated the constant light. Bright, with a yellow cast, I felt as if the fiery light was burrowing through my eyes into my brain.

My dreams, which I recorded in my journal while an occupational therapist supervised my safe use of writing materials, were constant chase scenes in confusing mazes, up and down stairwells, through basements and attics, jumps from roof tops only to end up zigzagging through six lanes of night-time traffic. I never knew who was chasing me. They hid from my view. The dreams were on repeat, and so I lived them and re-lived them.

I couldn’t tell night from day with the window covered. I didn’t understand what had happened to me, why I was here, nor how long I would need such extreme care. And I was angry and disoriented and terrified.

I describe this time in my life because this was me hitting the bottom. I could no longer function in the state I was in. I couldn’t go back to the life I’d enjoyed only a few weeks earlier. My only choice was to acknowledge my fears, as stated in the quote by Pema Chödrön, and move closer to my truths.

— based on journal entries, 1990-91

Next: Rapunzel, Rapunzel

Finding Sunlight in the Shadows

Harold Washington Library

Harold Washington Library © 2012 Bo Mackison

When I was in Chicago last week, I remembered an old feeling – the feeling of being surrounded by shadow. When I first moved to Chicago, I missed the feeling the sunlight on my face. I was a young twenty-something, plunked from the cornfields and small towns of western Illinois, and transplanted into the skyscraper land of Chicago. I don’t think I ever got over the feeling of shadows on my shoulders while I lived in the midst of the tall buildings of downtown Chicago.

I do remember I spent as much time as possible walking the eastern border of Chicago, the visually endless waters of Lake Michigan. I was saved from the shock of transplanting, soothed  by the lapping of the waves of the Great Lake.

When I returned to Chicago, and stayed in the South Loop, I once again had the “shadows on my shoulders” feeling. Except for midday, I walked in the shadows of the skyscrapers and tall buildings.But this time around, I knew where to walk to capture the sunlight.

Eagle in Seed Pods - Ornament on Roof of Harold Washington Library, Chicago Illinois

Eagle in Seed Pods ©2012 Bo Mackison

One of the most prominent buildings, the Harold Washington Library, wasn’t around when I called Chicago home. Set firmly on an entire large square block, its roof decor always seemed to capture abundant sunlight. I enjoyed the feel of the sunlight as it highlighted the features on the roof of this massive building.

The library opened in 1991. and is the largest public library building in the world. In 1993, seven large copper ornaments were added to the roof  – one at each corner and one in the center of the building facing State Street, Congress Avenue, and Van Buren Street.

These ornaments represent seed heads, symbolic of the natural bounty of the Midwest. I’m quite certain that the ornaments would not have been enough to sooth the soul of a transplanted young woman with country roots if they had been around in the mid-70s, but they are a distinctive landmark in the current Chicago landscape.

————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She photographed a few Chicago cityscapes while attending the Filter Photo Festival last week.

Under The Bean

Under the Bean

Under the Bean ©2012 Bo Mackison

The artist can truly understand surface forms only by knowing their underlying structures; their form and behavior under tension, stress, and activity. In a sense, the why of what is. – Ian Mack

This quote seems to be written for this wonderful piece of sculpture, Cloud Gate by Anish Kapoor. This is an amazing piece of sculpture, and one where the design required not only knowledge of the internal tensions and stresses of the structure and its form.

I keep imagining that there are just as many behaviors under tension, stress and activity in the exterior space surrounding The Bean.

————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.

She recently returned from a week at the Filter Photo Festival in Chicago. A week filled with workshops, lectures, gallery walks, portfolio reviews, and a photo-walk to Millennium Park to say hello to The Bean.

The Whole Bean AKA Cloud Gate

The Whole Bean

The Whole Bean ©2012 Bo Mackison

Cloud Gate

Cloud Gate, a public sculpture by artist Anish Kapoor, is the centerpiece of the AT&T Plaza in Millennium Park. The sculpture is constructed using hundreds of sheets of stainless steel, but the exterior has no visible seams. As seen in the photo, it is a wildly popular attraction for visitors – Chicagoan and tourist – all with some form of camera for this super-fun photo-op.

I saw DSLRs, point and shoots, even a couple of iPads as camera, but most plentiful were the phone cameras held aloft by almost everyone.

I walked around the sculpture, and I had to take the requisite number of photos, including ones with the city backdrop of skyscrapers as the sun was setting, ones with the skyscrapers reflected on The Bean’s surface, a few more when the city streetlights popped on, and a couple with a tiny crescent moon in the background.

But I forgot to bring my evening dress including date in white evening coat, or my sixteen member bridal party, or my teeny-tiny Halloween costume. I’ll have to be satisfied with my photo in faded jeans and a Packers tee-shirt.

————-

Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.

She recently returned from a week at the Filter Photo Festival in Chicago. A week filled with workshops, lectures, gallery walks, portfolio reviews, and a photo-walk to Millennium Park to say hello to The Bean.