The Flashing Muse – Art as Medicine


Since my last entry here life threw me quite the curveball when I was diagnosed with a tumor in my colon back in the fall. Symptoms I had related to the stress of my dad’s passing a few months earlier, and moving, proved otherwise. As expected, I went into temporary shock upon learning the diagnosis. Once I accepted my situation and entered into treatment in February in South Florida, it had been months since I had triggered my camera shutter. Symptoms and treatments were debilitating for my body and mind. But one evening my muse came calling.

Lying in bed one Saturday evening I felt a calling to venture down to Miami’s Wynwood Art District for one of my early Sunday morning photo expeditions, something I hadn’t done for months. When I awoke, however, my body was not only rejecting the notion of jumping in the car, pre-sunrise, but getting out of bed at all. But my muse was relentless: I was to drag myself to Wynwood, no matter how badly I was feeling.

I arrived at my destination just past sunrise, ideal for the type of work I engage in, where my reflections are unblemished by people and vehicles on the street. And while my body was compromised, my eye was crisp. Very crisp. I emerged with a few winning images of the very cool Walt Grace Vintage Car and Guitar Gallery, a playground for rockers, bluesmen and car freaks. I discovered that despite my very debilitating physical struggle, my eye was evolving. It gave me hope in the future, despite difficulties of radiation and chemotherapy.

dotsOnce my treatments were complete, I returned to New York City, where my wife is completing a masters program. I felt worse than before, which is common with radiation treatment. But while simply walking around the neighborhood was difficult, at best, my muse was engaged, dragging me here and there so that I was fortunate to capture striking, abstract imagery of the city.

mark siskNow that my body and mind are recovering, and I’m returning to normal everyday activities, my eye retains the sharpness defined in suffering. I’m even trying my hand at capturing people, something I’ve avoided as an abstract artist. Immersion in art is inspiring my revival.

I invite you to browse my (mostly) abstract collections, and if something appeals to you, let’s talk about the best size and mounting options for your home or office. It’s a good opportunity to own some of my work, rather than bidding for it at a Sotheby’s auction (wink, wink). Simply scroll up to the menu, and send your cursor over the Collections link for the categories.