ADC program 52 Views of Cancer

In 2017, my daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 47. With her being diagnosed young, she had a lot of genetic testing done to see if there was a genetic cause. I am an ovarian cancer survivor. Back when I was first diagnosed with it in 2007, I had been tested for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene, which came back negative. From my daughter’s genetic testing, we found out that there was a genetic link to her cancer through the ATM gene mutation. Our whole family was tested; me, my kids, and my grandchildren. Along with me, 4 of my children including my daughter who had breast cancer tested positive, and so far, only one of my grandchildren are positive. The one granddaughter who tested positive is now a researcher in cancer therapeutics. There is a sense of guilt that one feels, knowing that all the struggles my daughter was going through with her breast cancer were given to her through my genes, and then even passed down to my granddaughter. I stood by in support for my daughter while she had a double mastectomy, reconstruction surgeries, testing for metastasis in her lymph nodes, and taking medications to prevent cancer relapse. It was a long road to her recovery, but she eventually became cancer free. In 2026, I was also diagnosed with breast cancer. At the age of 90, I did not want to put myself through chemotherapy again after already having to go through it for my ovarian cancer, so I had a mastectomy. I painted these two pink flowers for me and my daughter; I hope that there won’t ever be another flower added for my family. Learning that this cancer mutation runs in our family has been heavy, but I hope they will take this knowledge and use it to guard their futures. I hold onto the hope that, by their time, treatments will be kinder and more edective—so they never have to suffr the way my daughter and I did.

The artwork documents a place of healing. In Fall of 2023 I constructed the Tiny Chemo Room where I had chemotherapy for breast cancer. I created the artwork because I felt so fortunate to receive excellent care at Sibley Memorial hospital. I included the koi pond and the statue I would see outside of the parking garage. I also have a window because it was special to have a room with a window view.

This piece, "How I Survived" is a reflection of the journey I've gone through as a breast cancer survivor and BRCA2 genetic mutation carrier. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 41, underwent a lumpectomy, mastectomy with aesthetic flat closure, chemotherapy, immunotherapy, radiation, and a prophylactic oophorectomy and hysterectomy. This piece depicts the many scars I've gained along this journey, from my port scar to my mastectomy scars to my hysterectomy scars. The colors and movement in the piece depict the very real emotions and myriad of procedures I've experienced. I'm so grateful that the doctors, medications, and treatments I've had access to literally saved my life. This, along with my will to live and support from my community, is how I survived.

If Only was created as our five-year-old granddaughter, Mallory, battled diffuse midline glioma (DMG), an incurable pediatric brain cancer. In an instant, our family was pulled from the predictable rhythm of everyday life into a world measured by MRI scans, clinical trials, fleeting hope, and unimaginable heartbreak.

The painting unfolds in layers. Parallel vertical bands establish a sense of order and routine—the quiet confidence that tomorrow will look much like today. Soft, translucent circles drift beneath the surface, representing the ordinary impacts and obstacles we encounter throughout life, challenges we expect to overcome with resilience and time.

Then everything changes. Life is disrupted.

Black gestural marks slash, splatter, and wander across the composition, disrupting its structure. They represent the randomness of catastrophe and the cruel indifference of disease.

The repeated words IF ONLY become both image and voice. Their shifting scale, irregular spacing, and evolving intensity mirror the emotional landscape of every family searching for one more possibility. At times the text is purposefully vague and ill-defined; representing the vagaries of treatment and the uncertainties of options, protocols, side effects and outcomes.

If only there were another treatment.

If only this clinical trial accepted one more child.

If only the next medication worked.

If only someone had discovered the breakthrough in time.

The white tears that descend along the right edge acknowledge grief, but they also suggest endurance. Even in sorrow, families continue searching, believing, hoping, and loving.

While this painting began as a deeply personal response to our family's journey, it ultimately speaks for countless families whose lives have been forever altered by cancer. It is also a tribute to the physicians, nurses, researchers, and scientists whose work transforms if only into what if—the question that leads to every discovery.