2 - 12 October, 2025
Melbourne, Australia
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Artist Statement
Two years ago I held an exhibition called the Highest Form of Hope, and in my artist statement I wrote:
“Art is the highest form of hope” - Gerhard Ritcher
My hopeful response to the world we live in, and the world we’re walking into, has been to create art.
Dostoyevsky once wrote: ‘The world will be saved by beauty’.
When a situation feels dark and desperate, the most hopeful and empowering thing we can do is create something beautiful.
Creating art is a deliberate and intentional act of transformation – both of the self, and of the physical world around us. You can only create art if you feel hopeful enough to exercise your personal agency and power - you cannot create art without the presence of hope; hope that you can do it, hope that someone will see it, hope that it will make a difference.
The poster for this exhibition is inspired by the poster for a Matisse exhibition that was held 70 years ago.
Matisse became very ill in the later stages of his life, and went from being able to paint at an easel, to having very limited mobility. The only way he could continue to create art was to cut intricate shapes out of sheets of painted paper with scissors, and then fashion these cuttings into his new ‘paintings’. This hopeful and defiant change in tack not only meant that he could continue to create, but that he went on to create some of the best and most influential work of his life. When faced with his own mortality and newfound disability, his decision to choose hope, over despair became his super power.
‘Happiness is something to do, someone to love and something to hope for’ - Kant
Thank you for being a part of my hopeful story, and for coming to my exhibition.”
—
Strangely, (and completely unintentionally) it fits perfectly this time around, perhaps even moreso than last time.
And as per the duality of life, it is my intention that this new work sits at the very edges of the completely absurd and ridiculous, and the heart breaking and deeply profound.
If you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry, I’ve succeeded. Ideally you do both. Maybe even at the same time.
—
There are two separate exhibitions that are linked by a single event, and you need to see them both in order to understand the full story. This is exhibition 1 of 2.
Content warning:
This exhibition contains medical narrative art.
The written gallery labels discuss sensitive topics related to a serious medical diagnosis, including experiences of illness, medical treatment, emotional challenges, gallows humour, strong language and mortality.
The artworks themselves are not graphic or visually traumatic but are accompanied by descriptions that some viewers may find emotionally intense or distressing.
_
It’s really important to let people tell their own stories in exactly the way they want to tell them.
This is my story and this is how I want to tell it: with gallows humour, tarot cards and colourful language.
I am a deeply private and introverted individual.
I’m sharing this very personal project online because the world of brain cancer is short on patient advocacy (given how devastating and aggressive the illness is) so I am lending my tangentially related story to the cause in good faith.
Please be respectful of me, my work and my story.
Part 1
CAUSE
001 - The Foolish Mortal
Our story begins in late 2024; inspired by some interviews she saw with Eckhart Tolle and Marc Allen, Alice decided to ask the Universe to do her a solid.
In a journal entry dated 24.12.24 she wrote:
“A quantum leap in every single area of my life, in an easy and relaxed manner, in a healthy and positive way, for the highest good of all… Show me what to do, use me”.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Fool’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
‘The Fool’ is the first card in a traditional tarot deck and according to the renowned online psychic known only as ‘Google’, ‘The Fool’ card represents new beginnings, having faith in the future, being inexperienced, not knowing what to expect, having beginner's luck, improvisation and believing in the universe.
Alice is joined by ‘Snowy’ on her journey – a character from Tintin, (iconic series by Hergé my fave) and the dialogue is a reference to a panel in The Shooting Star, to which Snowy replies: “If I were you, I’d stop wishing and look where I was going.”
Sound advice. Let’s see if she took it..
Every transformation demands as its precondition "the ending of a world"-the collapse of an old philosophy of life. - C.G. Jung
Before Alice got to Wonderland, she had to fall.
002 - My GP
*Not a drawing of my actual GP, because #privacy*
Who pays attention to you, really, a hundred per cent? Your doctor, your dentist and your photographer. They really look at you, and it’s nice. – Dorothea Lange
A couple of months later, I lay in bed each night in agony as my face ached with pain.
For two weeks, my cheeks, my jaws, my head - everything hurt. The pain was relentless, and kept me awake every night.
Desperate for some sleep I booked in to see my Doctor, who said it was probably just TMJ but out of an abundance of caution (and not at all expecting to find anything), referred me for an MRI scan.
Cue: foreshadowing music
003 - MRI Machines; A Unique Kind of Hell
The scariest moment is always just before you start. - Stephen King
Four weeks later, after going to the gym and minding my own damn business, I lay in a giant plastic hell-coffin for about 20 minutes.
It was like being trapped inside a demonic washing machine and then unceremoniously tossed out of a light aircraft on a windy day.
I would later discover that some MRI machines are better than others, but this one was in serious need of some self-awareness and holy water.
Be gone ye hateful and unclean beast, lest I cast ye back into the bowels of hell from whence ye came.
Zero stars. Would not trade again.
004 - The Acoustic Neuroma
“You need to get into the ambulance and go to the hospital immediately” the panicked radiologist told Alice, “we’ve found a large mass in your brain”.
“Impossible!” said Alice, “I’m the healthiest person I know!”.
“I go to bed at 8:30pm every night, train 20+ hours a week and I don’t even drink fizzy drinks!
People like me don’t get lumps in their brain; they get lululemons!” she continued to protest.
But it was no use. The scan said what the scan said.
In a complete state of shock and disbelief, Alice left the radiologists (and all their negative energy) and went home to process the news in peace.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Tower’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
To the uninitiated, the ‘worst’ card you can get in a tarot spread is either ‘Death’, or ‘The Devil’ (depending on who you ask - lol), but actually, ‘The Tower’ card is the one you really don’t want because it signifies that some major shit is about to go down.
I was given my life shattering diagnosis by some rando doctor who appeared out of nowhere, while I was sitting in an unlit storage cupboard, on a $49 broke-ass lint-covered swivel chair from Big W.
Talk about traumatic.
Radiologist, you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon and you and your corn-child MRI machine were made for each other.
Let’s see what Madame Google has to say about this ominous calling card from hell; ‘The Tower card generally signifies sudden, unexpected change, destruction, and liberation. It often appears when a structure or foundation we've built (whether literal or metaphorical) is about to be dismantled, either by external forces or through a realization that it was built on unstable ground. This can be a painful experience, but it ultimately allows for new growth and a fresh start. The Tower card is a powerful reminder that change is inevitable and that sometimes, destruction is necessary for growth and new beginnings.’
‘Nuff said.
005 - Nothing A Bit of Windex Can’t Fix
“You do need to go to the hospital - I’m really sorry – they’re expecting you..” my GP told me over the phone the next morning.
“I know. I knew yesterday as well. I just needed some time to process everything.”
Friends, what you’re looking at here is a great big fuck-off acoustic neuroma. Benign (good), but [at this size] requires major surgery to be removed (less good).
I actually couldn’t even bring myself to look at any of the scans until a couple of months after it had been removed, but I digress so let’s continue.
Sometimes a work is at its best when most threatened by the weather. A balanced rock is given enormous tension and force by a wind that might cause its collapse. - Andy Goldsworthy
006 - Strength
‘Come, there’s no use in crying like that!’ said Alice to herself.
After sobbing her way through the machinations of a large hospital, Alice eventually landed in the High Dependency Unit of the Neurosurgery ward of the Royal Melbourne Hospital.
During the break in visiting hours, she found herself alone with her thoughts for the first time since she had been given the black spot by the hysterical radiologists at [name redacted by my better judgement].
She reflected quietly on her predicament and the path that lay before her.
‘Alright Alice. You’ve cried all morning, but now you need to make a decision; how are you going to approach this? With fear? Or with hope, optimism, gratitude and tenacity?’
Alice thought for a while, and then decided to choose her own adventure.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of the ‘Strength’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
According to Google, “Strength predicts the triumphant conclusion to a major life problem, situation or temptation through strength of character. It is a very happy card if you are fighting illness or recovering from injury.”
Finally. Some good news.
007 - Surgeons
Not long after I made this decision, my freshly allocated neurosurgeon appeared at my bedside with a small ensemble of doctors carrying important looking clipboards.
I’m not sure how I ended up with this particular neurosurgeon, but I like to think the Universal Surgeon Distribution System (not to be confused with the similar-but-altogether-different Universal Cat Distribution System) was trying to make it up to me for the garbage radiologists I had at the start, by giving me the most chill and 👌🏻 neurosurgeon on the planet.
Dr. Neurosurgeon also came with an Otolaryngologist that together were the perfect blend of serious and easy going, each meeting me where I was and giving me exactly the kind of support I needed, when I needed it.
An old alchemist gave the following consolation to one of his disciples: “No matter how isolated you are and how lonely you feel, if you do your work truly and conscientiously, unknown friends will come and seek you. - C.G. Jung
One of the deep secrets of life is that all that is really worth doing is what we do for others. – Lewis Carroll
008 - Give It To Me Straight, Doc
I would later learn that a kind of relatively predictable spectrum exists when it comes to vicarious panic in medical institutions, and it looks like this.
And being the enneagram type 5 that I am, I have chosen to express my gross generalisations and wholly unverifiable data points in this helpful diagram for you all to enjoy.
009 - I Don’t Get Paid Enough To Deal With Your Shit
As per my earlier decision not to wallow in self-pity and instead make the best of my situation whenever I felt well enough to, my recent acceptance of my fate allowed me to experience some small pockets of calm, where I could just be myself.
My sassy, colourful, zero fucks, wildly inappropriate self.
The conclusion I came to was: if I can’t even indulge in a moment of fun every now and again, then what the fuck is the point of being alive at all?
Of course, I fully acknowledge that it’s much easier to have a sense of humour about things when your tumour is BENIGN, you’re in a WORLD-CLASS HEALTHCARE FACILITY, have FREE HEALTHCARE and your surgeons are AWESOME, but I digress (again).
This piece is a collection of moments where I was able to wrestle my psyche away from the jaws of sadness just long enough to slip in some ridiculous nonsense and harmless fuckery while I was in hospital.
010 - The Hermit
Back to reality.
Alice had roughly 2 weeks between diagnosis and surgery and boy did she need it.
She spent her two weeks preparing herself for surgery (and all that would come after it) physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually and logistically.
Faced with the truth of her condition and what lay before her, she also spent her two weeks wrestling with some big thoughts and feelings; mortality, the purpose of life, her future/unlived potential, gratitude, sadness and grief, all while trying to manage her mental and physical health to the best of her ability in order to prepare her body for 13 hours under the knife and a barrage of other physical stressors that it had no prior experience in dealing with.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Hermit’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
I chose ‘The Hermit’ card for this part of the story because you may have family, friends or support of a different kind, but at the end of the day, when it comes to something like this, this is a path that you must walk alone. No one else can do it for you.
Google says: “The Hermit suggests that you are in a phase of introspection where you are drawing your attention inwards and looking for answers within. You are in need of a period of inner reflection, away from the current demands of your position.”
Was I ever.
011 - Preparing To Die
These are the sort of tasks that filled my days during those two weeks.
Looking at this list fills me with sadness, and reminds me of how close I was/am to not existing anymore (a truly terrifying prospect).
It is a sobering reminder of how little control we have over our very existence and how close we are to vanishing altogether at any moment.
We often talk about the inevitability of death in abstraction, but I wonder how many of us are actually prepared for it.
I certainly wasn’t.
If you are wondering what my ‘favourite things’ were, and what this maybe-dying girl on medical death row wanted to do one last time in case she didn’t make it out of that hospital a second time, I can emphatically confirm that it was not ‘waste hours of my precious life scrolling on my stupid phone’.
Instead, I sat in the sunshine one whole afternoon listening to Yo-Yo Ma play Bach’s complete cello suites while eating an entire tub of ice cream.
Sometimes, being alive is awesome.
I would have gone to the beach as well, but I was too stressed out to leave the house.
It’s truly impossible for me to accurately convey the level of psychological pressure I was under during those two weeks.
End of life planning is such a fucking bad buzz, trust me when I tell you that you need to take your health seriously because being this close to oblivion is not cool.
Death does not allow its story to be told – Elias Canetti
Good. I don’t want to read your shitty story anyway.
012 - A Quiet Wish
Give me books, fruit, French wine, fine weather and a little music. - John Keats
Faced with the very real possibility of blowing out like a candle at any moment, I could scarcely bring myself to hope for the possibility of continuing to live post-op.
Looking at my calendar and diary was upsetting.
All those unlived days.
Would I be here for my next birthday? No idea.
Would I be here next week? Also no idea.
Would I be here tomorrow? You get the picture.
It was like being a tourist in my own life; knowing that I was only here for a short stay and might never, ever walk these streets again.
I spent a lot of time journalling, and made another bold request of the Universe; to live.
Acutely aware of my own insignificance and serious lack of bargaining power in this situation, it felt like an audacious request – what right did I have to ask for such a thing when so many others are denied it every day.
Life is a gift, not a right.
“Why do you want to live?” something responded from the ether. “What will you do with the extra time if it is given to you?”.
The questions were fair.
I wrote out a list of things I would do, and ways in which I would live my life differently if I was granted another swing at the bat.
Then I held my breath and hoped for the best.
013 - Put It All On Black
Although acoustic neuromas are benign, Alice was otherwise [and uncommonly] healthy AND she had a gifted and experienced surgical team; the procedure was long and complex.
Also, her tumour was massive.
She understood that death was always an option, even if it was only mentioned in passing as a form of box ticking legal compliance.
Alice knew in her heart that there was only one person who got to decide if she lived or died, and it wasn’t her, her surgeon or her anaesthetist.
She did what she could to increase her chances of survival, but she knew that for us mere mortals, something like this is fundamentally no different to any other game of chance.
Like some weird game of Russian Roulette, the prize that Alice was gambling for was that she would live, not that she would die (which is inevitable - unless you are Bryan Johnson, but more on that later).
—
This piece is based on the artwork of the ‘Wheel of Fortune’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
Dr Google tells us that the ‘Wheel of Fortune’ tarot card is a powerful symbol of change, destiny, and the cycles of life. Often depicted as a large spinning wheel, this card reminds us that life is full of ups and downs, and that we are constantly evolving through the forces of fate and fortune.
The sure path can only lead to death. – C.G Jung
014 - Blackout
This piece is part of an actual conversation I had with one of the anaesthetists as I was wheeled into theatre but just before I lost consciousness (obviously).
Before walking into the operating area I was stripped of anything remotely representing my humanity.
I was just an empty shell of myself; a body, dropped off at the mechanics while I was still inside it. In need of some major repairs and some new filters.
Ready for pick up in ~13 hours.
Sensing that this was easily the most terrifying experience of my life, she tried to reassure me that someone would be there at all times to make sure I was ok, and I was given some anxiety reducing drugs in addition to my general anaesthetic, and then, before I knew it, I was out like a light.
Where your fear is, there is your task. - C.G. Jung
Would you like an adventure now, or shall we have tea first? – Alice
015 - Mischief Managed
Since I was completely unconscious for the 13 hour operation, I can neither confirm nor deny that this actually happened.. but, I like to think that it did.
I have no memories of my operation, but if I was pressed for an answer, I would have to say that I do believe that (on some level) I was ‘awake’ the whole time.
That said, I try not to spend any time thinking about where ‘Linda’ went during this time, or what actually happened to my physical body, because I have neither the capacity nor the psychological frameworks required to safely comprehend such a thing, so let’s continue.
In each of us there is another whom we do not know. - C.G. Jung
The subconscious never sleeps. – Neville Goddard
That which is, is manifested; that which has been or shall be, is unmanifested, but not dead; for Soul, the eternal activity of God, animates all things. – Hermes Trismegistus
016 - Consciousness
I think, therefore I am. I think. – George Carlin An enneagram type 5 waking up from brain surgery
This is the first thing I remember seeing post-op.
I know I was speaking to people before this, because they have told me since, but I was still cracked out on anaesthetics so I only have a hazy auditory memory of it happening.
But this.
This I remember.
If crossing the metaphorical and literal threshold into the surgical area was the most terrifying experience of my life, then waking up in ICU (unexpectedly) was a close second.
I had no idea where I was or why I was there (I’m sure someone had told me at some point, but I wasn’t conscious enough to register anything said to me during this time).
It was the middle of the night, so all the lights were off, and I was all alone in a scary dark room.
That shadowy figure is the first ICU nurse I had, watching over me to make sure I was alive and ok.
Waking up alone in that blacked out spaceship room was beyond traumatic.
Terribly uncomfortable, unable to sleep, not fully awake, exhausted AF, weird shit strapped to my legs that would inflate every few minutes and coming off the strongest drugs known to mankind was about as enjoyable as it sounds.
I wish I had something funny to say about this, but I don’t.
It was a harrowing experience and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
The first few weeks that I was home from hospital, I had nightmares and hallucinations every night and they always took me back to this room, and this memory.
017 - Two Angels
I use the expression ‘act of faith’ because I have to believe that it’s going to be all right, and sometimes it feels like it’s not. – Tacita Dean
Remarkably, it wasn’t all bad though, because this is the next visual memory I have.
It’s of the two exceptionally happy faces of my ICU nurses during the shift handover.
These two men took extraordinary care of me during my 6ish hour stay in ICU and displayed levels of patience and grace that I had no idea were humanly possible.
To say that I have never been so well taken care of in my life would be an understatement.
018 - Wish Granted
No one will ever know what I went through to secure those negatives. The world can never appreciate it. It changed the whole course of my life. – Mathew Brady
Surviving the surgery was really only the beginning of my recovery journey, and in keeping with life’s penchant for unhinged duality, my joy and relief at being alive was soon replaced by my fear and terror of being alive. But more on that later.
Essentially, I was alive but had permanently lost all the hearing in one ear, was unfathomably tired, and couldn’t stand or walk.
The first time I tried to stand up after my surgery, I lost consciousness for 4 minutes and woke up propped up by an army of nurses whilst puking my guts out into a plastic bag.
Sometimes, being alive is a bit shithouse.
I’ll take ‘death’ for 400 please, Alex!
*This piece is a reference to this hilarious video.
019 - Love Heals/The Heart of the RMH
Art must be an expression of love, or it is nothing. – Marc Chagall
This may be the most ‘straight-forward’ looking piece in this exhibition, but actually it’s the one that I have the most difficulty writing about.
Two of the biggest lessons I needed to learn during this time were that I needed to let people in and that I needed to let people take care of me, but the complicated feelings I am left with are the most difficult to process because I don’t know what to do with them and they have nowhere to go.
And so I will write. And I will draw. And hope that these feelings find the final resting place they are looking for so I can get some closure.
Many would say that a word like ‘love’ has no place in a modern, functional, professional, world-class healthcare facility; but actually, that’s the only thing I experienced from the moment I got to the RMH.
—
I cry every time I see the list you are about to read.
Here are the people I will never see again (and cannot thank in person), but who helped me through the most difficult time of my life:
*All names have been changed, because #privacy*
Thank you to:
Dr John who tried to cheer me up with a ridiculous video about neurosurgeons after I broke down in tears in his office;
Dr Simon for treating me like a human being and not like a patient (there is a difference – it’s subtle, but it’s there);
Dr Paul for reminding me of the seriousness of my condition;
Dr Bevan who looked at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen in my life when I told him what my scans revealed and the path that lay before me;
Nurse Amy who was genuinely excited to see me walking again and gave me the pep talk I needed to eat more so I could get well enough to go home;
My two ICU nurses who had to endure ‘partially-conscious Linda’ and her LeBron James trivia, endless requests for serviettes (unfolded please – this is a hospital, not a prison) and patiently cared for me during the most terrifying hours of my life;
Patient porter Tim who seemed to appear whenever I needed him and had the ability to magick tissues out of thin air;
All the nurses who tended to me around the clock: getting me bags of ice for my aching jaws in the middle of the night, pots of fruit when I could finally eat and dragging computers around so they could sit next to me while they worked because I was sad, scared and lonely;
The doctors doing the rounds each morning who tried to be as cheerful and energetic as possible to keep me in good spirits after probably working all through the night themselves;
Everyone who just held space for me to sob uncontrollably in front of them;
The physios who had to deal with my passive aggressive clapbacks when I flatly refused to walk or do literally anything they asked me to;
The radiologist who came all the way up to level 4 to put me at ease because he heard I was afraid of getting back inside the death machine again;
Everyone who held my hand when I asked them to or laughed at my inappropriate jokes/colourful language as I tried to cope with what was in front of me; and
My entire surgical team who went to goodness knows what lengths to transform me from a 56kg lump of meat on a table with some knives in my brain, back into a relatively functional human being in a matter of hours.
You are all amazing, and I am eternally grateful to you.
I’m sure it’s easy to become cynical and disillusioned when working inside of a system that can never comprehend or appreciate the complexity or significance of your work, but know this: your shifts will end and you may never think of us again, but we remember you forever.
Know all the theories, master all the techniques, but as you touch a human soul be just another human soul. - C.G. Jung
020 - That Ground Floor Cafeteria Knows What’s Up
Despite feeling like absolute shit for the full 5 days I was in hospital the second time around, I did manage to find a few things to laugh about.
I wasn’t always in the mood for silver linings or gallows level post-op humour, but when I was, I was very grateful for the spiritual reprieve.
All experience is great providing you live through it. If it kills you, you’ve gone too far. – Alice Neel
A sense of humour is the only divine quality of man. - Arthur Schopenhauer (and he would know)
021 - Absolutely Fucked
April 2025.
This is a photo of me on discharge day/my first day at home.
5 days post-op; bandage off; staples in.
My first few days at home were pretty rough, but things were about to get better for me in a big way.
As far as “detours” are concerned, they’re always more interesting than the main road. – Mary Kelly
022 - The Blueprint
Alice woke up in her own bed one morning and thought to herself: thank heavens! It was all just a terrible, terrible nightmare!
But as she looked in the mirror and saw the deep scar that lashed across the side of her head, she realised it had all really happened just as she remembered it.
‘Well Alice, I suppose that now you have survived the surgery, you had better get on with this silly business of being alive’ she said to herself.
And with that, she opened up her phone in search of a mad hatter with a magical recipe for healing that she had once read about.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of the ‘Temperance’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
It is a card that signifies healing and expansion.
The ‘angel’ in the original artwork is often identified as Archangel Cassiel who is considered the angel of solitude, patience, and the passage of time. He is also linked to introspection, responsibility, and accepting life's cycles according to the Googlebot.
In this piece, I have transformed Cassiel into multimillionaire tech mogul Bryan Johnson of Blueprint-fame.
Why?
Because a few days after I got home, something told me to start mainlining ‘Super Veggie’ and I did.
Then I started healing at a staggering pace.
4 weeks after the 13 hour operation to remove the Godzilla-sized tumour in my brain, I was walking, talking and happily on my way to see Dr. Neurosurgeon for my follow up appointment.
Dr. Neurosurgeon cleared me for all my desired activities and said: ‘see you in a year!’.
I took my recovery very, very seriously, and I did everything in my power to get better as quickly as possible, but I am quite convinced that my Blueprint-heavy diet played a significant role in my speedy recovery (let food be thy medicine and all that) and for that reason, I will be forever grateful to Bryan for freely sharing his recipe for 21st century ambrosia with the world.
------------------- A message from future-Linda ----------------------
I’m not sure if Bryan’s stomach is lined with lead, or concrete, but one thing is for sure, mine is not.
Forgetting the cardinal rule of old man Paracelsus like some 10 year old rookie with too much chocolate and no adult supervision, I ate Super Veggie every single day for ~2 months until my guts finally packed it in on an industrial scale.
Trillions of angry gut microbiota downed their tools in protest in what can only be described as the largest and finest display of collective action I have ever witnessed in my life, bringing me to my knees in agony, literally and metaphorically.
I tried to retaliate with the most malicious Howard-era lockout I could muster, but they responded with 3 defiant bouts of gastro until the bargaining stalemate finally ended in my GPs office with one clear and obvious victor (not me).
Scared they’d resort to violence and burn a hole in my guts if I didn’t agree to their demands, I finally conceded.
No more broccoli.
And no more supplement peddling ‘content creators’ (said with love).
I had just survived a brain tumour; I didn’t know if I had it in me to survive a stomach ulcer as well.
The new deal was drafted and accepted unanimously by my formidable opponents, marking a historic and humbling realisation of who is really in charge (again, not me).
So, whilst I am still an avid believer and active member of the church of Latter Day Bryan, it is with much sadness that I have had to take an indefinite break from Super Veggie and the Blueprint stack. If I could have followed the protocol forever, I would have, but it was not meant to be.
A lonely 5kg sack of black lentils sits in my pantry, serving as a reminder if I ever needed one of the importance of moderation, the power of collective action and why you should never buy pills from a strange man on the internet.
------------------- Message End ----------------------
023 - The Star
Armed with the Mad Hatter’s recipes for Super Veggie and Nutty Pudding, Alice got to work, eating her weight in broccoli, shittake mushrooms, dark chocolate and berries.
And as each day passed, she was beginning to feel more and more like herself.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Star’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
It’s a card of healing, hope and renewal. When ‘The Star’ card appears, you are likely to find yourself feeling inspired with a sense that you are truly blessed by the universe at this time.
024 - The Moon
‘But wait! There’s more!’, said the Universe to Alice, ‘I’m not done teaching you dumb stuff!’
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Moon’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
Madame Google says that: “‘The Moon’ is a card of illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.”
Fuck me. Here we go again.
025 - The Post-Op Spiral Begins
So, just like any half decent writer of a non-linear hero’s journey, the Universe had a few more plot holes lined up for me to fall into.
After spending all my energy trying to help my body heal as fast as possible, I soon discovered that it was my mind that was about to pack it in, not my body.
And who could blame it?
It had tolerated every variety of psychological torture hurled in its direction for weeks and obediently kept going under the most trying of circumstances with no end in sight.
The vast stretches of time with nothing to do coupled with the inability to exercise properly and care for my mental health as I normally would, landed me in a pit of despair filled with all my sad thoughts, hospital flashbacks and other unsavoury psychological experiences.
And so began my post-op spiral into the abyss.
Art is a line around our thoughts – Klimt
If you stare too long into the abyss, eventually the abyss stares back. - Friedrich Nietzsche
026 - Anxiety
First up we have garden variety anxiety.
But I’d survived the surgery, what could I possibly be afraid of?
All sorts of things. Here’s a sample:
‘Dying’ again
Not recovering
Disappearing into the ether having lived a life of complete insignificance
Developing some sort of post-op ‘complication’ that would land me back in hospital
Something else going wrong with my body
Not being able to work again
Not being able to speak to people or engage with them normally again
People forgetting that I ever existed
Losing the remaining hearing that I had
Not being able to use my left hand properly
Wasting my life
Not being able to drive again
Not being able to do all the things that I thought I still had plenty of time to do
You get the picture.
Had I left those images hidden in the emotions, I might have been torn to pieces by them. - C.G. Jung
027 - Existential Dread
And as we all know - what we focus on expands - and my anxiety was about to expand into something I had never experienced before: existential dread.
This is the only way I can describe the unique terror that simply being alive creates in you: It is a constant and heightened fear of death that never leaves you. Not even for a moment.
You spend your days walking on metaphorical eggshells, while meticulously watching the clock and the passage of time in agony because you know death is inching closer to you with every passing second and there is nothing you can do about it.
It is a kind of psychological purgatory.
You realise that absolutely nothing in life matters so you have no desire to do anything at all, and what feels like eternity stretching out ahead of you while the reality of actually dying one day sits resolutely on your shoulder.
Since grief is not a cerebral problem but a subjective experience, we understand grief only and entirely as we filter and interpret it through our own experience. Initially it captures us, but we can capture it back and reshape it; and the expressive arts and therapies function beautifully as vehicles to help us reshape grief. – Sandra Bertman
028 - Panic
Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them. – Anais Nin
Eventually, that heightened feeling of danger developed into full blown panic.
But not a regular panic attack, it was much, much worse.
Every breath I took filled me with more fear.
My post-op journey almost broke me psychologically.
Twice.
But, I was fortunate that I had a handful of support people I was able to reach out to, who immediately came to my aid until I was able to develop..
029 - Depression
DEPRESSION! Faithful and beloved companion of grown-ups everywhere!
That’s right folks, this is where I eventually landed.
Like a stinky teenager recovering from their first bad trip on mushrooms, I was struggling to reintegrate.
My psyche had been stretched out in ways that it was not supposed to and would not return to its original shape.
I had seen too much and I was in a state of ontological shock.
Peeking behind the existential curtain, I saw nothing but strings, waves and disillusioned scientists who had even more questions and anxiety than I did.
It was all starting to feel like a colossal and catastrophic waste of fucking time to me.
I always knew that life was a game, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play anymore.
The line from Mercury’s Bohemian Rhapsody rang truer than I cared to admit: “Mama, I don’t wanna die, I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all”.
I looked at new parents with judgment and disdain; how could you bring someone into this world knowing that they will one day have to experience the abject horror of death?
I imagined the promotional flyers we were all handed before we were born.
Unlimited ice cream they said.
Sunshine they said.
Nothing about tumours.
The horror of death also notably absent from the marketing materials- no doubt buried in the fine print, under reams of terms & conditions none of us bothered to read properly before we came here.
After an experience like this it’s hard not to feel a level of cognitive dissonance akin to realising you’ve just used your life savings to purchase a late 90s timeshare in Miami that you’ll never go to and will cost you $85,000 in legal fees to get out of.
Convinced that my life would never get better, and that even if it did, it was a cruel and pointless waste of fucking time, I had a short stay in psychological prison until..
If I could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint. - Edward Hopper
Disempowerment is the engine room of despair. – John Falzon
030 - Chill Bruh, I Gotchu
The Universe intervened again.
Seeing that I was in desperate need of some help, it started aggressively throwing more and more lifelines in my direction the further I got away from the day of my surgery.
It started by suggesting I draw portraits of my surgeons to include in their ‘thank you’ cards, and eventually led to (probably) the most prolific and creative period of my life.
The more I created, the better I felt. So I just kept going.
Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality. - Lewis Carroll
031 - The Sun
Alice had finally found a way out of the dreaded rabbit hole.
She wasn’t sure exactly where it would take her, but she was happy again so she didn’t mind not knowing.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Sun’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
‘The Sun’ card portends good fortune, happiness, joy and harmony. It represents the universe coming together and agreeing with your path and aiding forward movement into something greater.’ - Mistress Google.
Hallelujah. Praise Jesus. Amen.
032 - Progress
This piece represents how precarious progress feels at this stage of the post-op spiral.
You’re out of the psychological trenches so to speak, but unless you manage your mental health meticulously, you will easily slip right back into it.
All those sad and scary thoughts aren’t actually gone, they’re just lurking in the background, waiting for you to be sad, angry, hungry or tired so that you’ll give in to them.
Throughout the ages, man has conquered tragedy with his ability to create a work of art. – Wil Barnet
033 - Hope Returns
I wrote a big list of everything that would need to happen in order for me to feel like I had made a full and complete recovery, and ‘feel hopeful again’ was on that list.
Having a big health scare like this (can I even call it a scare?) makes you seriously lose faith/trust in life.
That faith/trust is important for the psyche to function properly in the world.
If you don’t have hope, you have nothing.
That is when the human spirit breaks.
But fortunately, at this point in the story, as I continued to create, hope was returning to me in spades.
Art is the highest form of hope. - Gerhard Richter
034 - The Happiness Of Pursuit
Finally able to fully catch the ‘drift’ the Universe was throwing me, I immersed myself in creative endeavours and felt renewed purpose, meaning and enthusiasm.
The world of medicine may have saved my life, but it was the world of art that made it one worth living again.
If an art installation gets a patient out of his room or paintings take a person’s mind off their pain and lower their stress levels, the art isn’t just decorative anymore. It’s part of the entire model of care. – Dr. Lisa Harris
For it is only when we live in imagination, can we be said to truly live at all. – Neville Goddard
035 - Gratitude
Like a trembling sailor fished out kraken-infested waters, the further I got away from the day of my operation (and the more art I created), the happier and more relaxed I was about life.
It did not happen overnight, but eventually, I was able to relax enough to enjoy just being alive again.
[I am almost 5 months post-op as I write this and I still burst into tears almost daily.]
No longer able to feel Death breathing down my neck, my mind was free enough to consider and appreciate my unfathomably good fortune and feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for it all.
These days, if I do cry, they are tears of gratitude.
And for the most part, the only thing I feel, is lucky.
This is what gratitude looks like to me.
Art has always been the raft on to which we climb to save our sanity. – Dorothea Tanning
036 - Peace
The weather, rainy and dull on our arrival, has cleared up, the sun shines and hope smiles in the heart. I shall soon go to work. – Paul Cezanne
037 - The Hanged Man
Who. Are. You? – The Caterpillar
‘Oh Lord,’ thought Alice, ‘not this again’.
‘That’s right’ said the Universe, ‘I’m back. One more lesson and then I’ll leave you in peace.’
‘This time I need you to think about your future.
Who are you? And why do you think I spared you?’
Alice thought for a moment, and then it came to her.
A creative person has little power over his own life. He is not free. He is captive and driven by his daimon. - C.G. Jung
It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then. - Alice
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The Hanged Man’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
According to Google’s dusty tea leaves, ‘The Hanged Man’ is the card that suggests ultimate surrender, sacrifice, or being suspended in time.
As common wisdom will tell you, there is no such thing as a free lunch, so my second swing at the bat naturally came with some spiritual ‘strings’ attached.
Inspired by Mark Ruffalo’s story of receiving guidance to ‘just keep moving’ after a lot of prayer, I couldn’t help but meditate on my future.
What was I supposed to do now? Why was I spared in such an unfathomably generous manner? I asked.
Then out of the ether something responded again with chilling indifference and reminded me that ‘To whom much is given, much is expected.’ Luke 12:48
Right. Better hop to it, lest I’m thrown another unpleasant curve ball by the man upstairs.
038 - An Answered Prayer
My quest for answers and spiritual wholeness took me to the edges of our collective human knowledge.
Quantum physics. Abraham Hicks. Dharma & Greg.
But even after 12 minutes of googling, I was still no closer to answering the big question that has eluded mystics and scholars alike for a millenia; - ‘what the fuck is the point of life?’
How to live?
THAT, I can answer:
Be useful.
Be good.
Have fun.
But why to live?
That, I have no answer for.
All I know is, only a healthy person has the luxury of concerning themselves with such things.
--
With this in mind, I was ready to start paying down my karmic debt and channel my experiences into something that could help others. Make some ‘lemonade’, if you will.
First cab off the rank was ‘Arabella’, and a 100 day journal I created to help people manage their mental health before and after surgery.
(The name Arabella means ‘answered prayer’.)
039 - Our Thoughts Become Things
And then, a side project that became so large that it needed its own exhibition – that’s what you’ll see in the ‘Effect’ portion of this show at Honey Bones gallery.
Colour is where the brain meets the universe. - Paul Cézanne
Art is a kind of innate drive that seizes a human being and makes him its instrument. The artist is not a person endowed with free will who seeks his own ends, but one who allows art to realize its purpose through him. As a human being he may have moods and a will and personal aims, but as an artist he is "man" in a higher sense— he is "collective man"— one who carries and shapes the unconscious, psychic forms of mankind. - C.G. Jung
040 - I May Look The Same, But I Am Changed.
Save for an ugly haircut that I can hide for the most part, the scars of this experience are not that easy to spot - they are on my skin, yes, but mostly they are on my soul.
When I first met Dr. Neurosurgeon in March, I asked him if I would feel different after the surgery.
I think what I was trying to ask was, would I be a different person after the surgery.
These days, I wander the empty corridors of my life and it feels like it belongs to someone else. It’s a life that, like Alice, I have outgrown in every way imaginable, but very few people would have any idea that anything at all has changed.
Six months post-op, I can confidently say that the answer to the question I asked in March is a resounding ‘Yes’.
The landscape thinks itself in me, and I am its consciousness. – Paul Cézanne
Not only are we in the Universe, the Universe is within us. I don’t know of any deeper spiritual feeling than what that brings upon me. – Neil deGrasse Tyson
041 - The Foolish Mortal 2
October 2025.
Shout out to my two surgeons for their mad sKilLz in the OR and for preserving my facial nerve so that I can still do this whenever I feel like it.
042 - The Quantum Leap
Alice leapt for joy as she suddenly realised she had survived her journey in and out of Wonderland.
With a renewed appreciation for life and a healthy level of detachment and cynicism for the human experience, she decided to happily close the final chapter of her old life, and start a brand new one.
—
This piece is based on the artwork of ‘The World’ card in the traditional Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith.
It is the final card in the major arcana and signifies the end or completion of a journey.
“The World represents an ending to a cycle of life, a pause in life before the next big cycle beginning with the fool. It is an indicator of a major and inexorable change, of tectonic breadth.” – The Googlebox on the Internet Machine.
So, 9 months after I asked the Universe for ‘a quantum leap in every single area of my life’, did I get what I asked for?
Yes.
I did.
In the most devastatingly difficult, soul crushingly beautiful way possible.
The Universe always delivers.
Fairfarren friends.
(And be careful what you wish for.)
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s. - C. G. Jung
043 - Any Last Words?
‘Come child, it is time for you to give us your answer.
Why live?’ said the Universe to Alice.
Dripping in privilege, an answer finally came to her.
“We live, as well as we can, for all those who cannot.”
“A blazing fire makes flame and brightness out of everything that is thrown into it.”
— Marcus Aurelius
Part 2