Though I do not live with Parkinson’s, I have been diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, severe Fibromyalgia, and Essential Tremor, which share some of the same characteristics. When it became apparent that the efficacy of traditional pain management pharmaceuticals was negligible, I knew I had to concentrate my efforts on finding another method to help mitigate the debilitating effects of chronic illness. As many fellow sufferers will attest, we are generally open to alternative pain management methods to help reduce our reliance on medication. We often feel as though we have lost control of our lives. In my opinion, it is worthwhile to take whatever small steps we can to regain some power over the fight-or-flight response to trauma. My daily creative practice is a direct result of that challenge, and it has become both a healing and a meditative force in my life. I spend about five hours a day writing and making art, and this dedicated time continues to help me cope with symptoms and flares.
Over the years, I gradually noticed a visceral relationship between pain levels and the colours I used in my art. I became fascinated by the ancient Egyptian theory of colour psychology in which the effects of colours on mood were studied and applied holistically. One of the treatments was to shine light through coloured crystals, allowing it to enter the body. This method was believed to heal ailments, and it was adopted by many other cultures. Nowadays, this might be considered pseudo-science, but the underlying concept is central to the ongoing exploration of my emotional and physical reactions to certain colour combinations in my paintings and photography.
Carl Jung developed art therapies to help people deal with trauma, stating that “colours are the mother tongue of the subconscious.”
After some experimentation with the effects of colour on my mood, I began to gravitate less to black-and-white photography and stark ink sketches, in favour of more vibrant work. I found that the use of colour helps to stimulate my brain’s production of endorphins, which are useful hormones in combatting stress and pain. On bad days, I tended to paint in somber colours, and write dark poems, whereas on good days, the opposite was true. Now, I deliberately choose to use colours in direct contradiction to what the mind-body connection is telling me. Injecting colour into my life often helps to elevate mood and de-escalate pain, contributing to an enhanced overall sense of well-being. Of course, what works for one person may not work for another. Though this “therapy” does not always produce a positive outcome for me, any scintilla of relief is gratefully received!
The following comparison uses the illustrative haiga technique to explore this article’s theme. You might experience a different reaction to each image.
(The colourful version was awarded Editor’s Choice in Haiga in Focus #73, July 2024)
One of the most enjoyable and calming aspects of my artistic practice is the daily creation of haiga based on original photographs and artworks. Pain becomes secondary to pleasure while I am engrossed in the process. I have created and shared thousands of haiga via journal publications, The Haiku Foundation Haiga Galleries, and my blog archive. I use illustrative, interpretive, and associative techniques in a variety of mediums, such as watercolours, inks, acrylics, and collage. The possibilities are endless, and I am excited every day to immerse myself in the process. Making haiga seems to soothe my body into becoming less a vessel for pain and more a receptacle for imagination, hope, and joy! At the end of a haiga-making day, I am exhausted but also exhilarated. It is especially rewarding when a reader comments that my work has resonated with them on some level.
At the beginning of the Covid pandemic, I invited 50 emerging and established short-form poets to collaborate on a haiga project for healing. They contributed poems, and I created accompanying haiga. Sharing this creative process was one of the highlights of my haiga-making life, and I am grateful to all those who so generously provided their words.
I encourage everyone, healthy or infirm, to try their hand at this venerable craft. You don’t need to start with anything more complicated than a few words, a simple line sketch, a splash of paint, a bit of torn paper, or a photograph, and you are well along your way!
This quote by Vincent Van Gogh speaks to the artist, poet, and musician in me: "I don't know if you'll understand that one can speak poetry just by arranging colours well, just as one can say comforting things in music."
Please note: This article should in no way be taken as medical advice. It simply documents my own experience with the relationship between colour and pain.
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