A glaucoma-themed art exhibition last week could have found few better locations than an eye clinic for a launch. Though distracted and distressed by that fact that we were just one block away from discovery of an outrageous, murderous crime in south Valsayn, there appeared, to me, to be an ironic spark of artistic light.
In any event, there was no way I would have
dared miss Patrick Roberts’ The Windows – A Conversation with Glaucoma – a
collection of mainly acrylic and pastel works depicting several East Port of
Spain/Laventille physical structures whose artistic meaning, for Patrick,
extended beyond the impact of mere architecture.
True, the artist was a QRC schoolmate, did
the cover for my first collection of poems in 1977, and we knew each other well
from art class and my brief (and highly unsuccessful) affair with rugby decades
ago.
But it interested me most that the experience
was to occur amid ophthalmic paraphernalia and involve a group of people with
an interest in one or both issues of physical sight and artistic vision.
I am not a strong advocate of art as an
explicit platform for the promotion of causes; since I believe that good art already
has the forceful, implicit impact of influencing personal and public opinion. It
need not amount to sloganeering or being paraded as placards. Though, I
suppose, if we wished it can be employed that way.
But here, in Valsayn, was an example of visual
art relating a story of growing sightlessness and which, in the process, urges
greater attention to this country’s leading cause of preventable blindness.
Such, at least, was its impact on me.
This is what some describe as art’s “higher
purpose.” Not any kind of esoteric, spiritual mumbo-jumbo, but an actual
connecting of the creative imagination with actions to be taken and issues
requiring attention.
In some countries, there has been
recognition of the value of public art displays to promote notions of cohesion
and to encourage support for actions to mitigate social ills. Only last week I
was lamenting the removal of the student art we all admired on the wall
bordering the now-demolished Powergen generating facility along Wrightson Road.
The wall remains standing, for now, and so
too should the art have remained in place. This, I thought, was myopia both as
metaphor and as underlying social condition. Maybe there are other plans about
which I have not heard. I extend apologies in advance if there is indeed a Plan
B.
As for Patrick, with vision now restricted
– or let us say, influenced by - the use of just one eye, his work displays a
remarkable degree of depth perception, which is a function not generally observed
among people affected by glaucoma.
It was ophthalmologist, Dr Debra
Bartholomew, who explained this to the few in the room who had not before
understood such a limitation. Here was an artist, with impaired vision,
displaying multi-dimensional features of the subjects of his work.
Now, if that does not sound a note of hope
little else can. The occasion also provided both Dr Bartholomew and Dr Rishi
Sharma of the Caribbean Eye Institute (where the exhibition was staged) with
the opportunity to paint pictures of an increasingly urgent situation.
Dr Bartholomew, for example, described Tobago
as a virtual glaucoma hotspot (my words) and encouraged testing as a crucial
step that needs to be taken as soon as possible. Dr Sharma established the
important connection between a rising tide of Non-Communicables such as
diabetes and hypertension and growth in the number of glaucoma cases
nationally.
On that note, one member of the audience
urged similar action, through art, to highlight the scourge of NCDs, and its
connections with glaucoma and other health challenges. If Patrick had envisaged
a “conversation”, this was it!
“The Silent Thief”, as glaucoma has come to
be known, and as Patrick related, does not immediately exhibit major symptoms,
but when detected requires immediate action since vision loss through this condition
is irreversible.
The treatments include eye drops, laser
treatment, and surgery which may later become necessary.
Now, usually, you would find this kind of
material in this space earlier in the week, and I claim no specific expertise.
But I can tell you that the Glaucoma Conversation which continues until
Saturday contains instruction in art, medicine, and addressing much wider social
disabilities.
