I’ve Been Referred to Palliative Care

Dying For Art; A Body in Rebellion, Still Choosing to Create

Hi friends,

I want to share something tender with you today. A new chapter, a new series, and a new layer of my art and life.

It’s called Dying For Art.
Art born from a body in rebellion. A body still choosing to create.

Each painting in this living, breathing series has been made in the in-between spaces, between pain and paralysis, between presence and surrender. These are not just works of art. They are declarations. Reclamations. They are what happens when a disabled artist meets their grief head-on and still picks up the brush.

I do not create in spite of my Chronic Illnesses;
I create because of it.

Because my body may be breaking down, but my spirit refuses to.

Because in a world that questions our worth when we can no longer produce, I am choosing to produce anyway—and not for productivity’s sake, but for proof:
I am still here.
Still worth the color.
Still worth the movement.
Still worthy of making a mess.

Recently, I started the referral process for at-home palliative care, referred by my doctors who now prioritize keeping me comfortable above all else. My body has been rejecting treatments; some have even caused more harm than good. So we’re choosing something different now. I’m still supported by an incredible team of specialists and providers, but this new layer of care is focused on non-curative support, pain management, mental health, community and above all: joy and gratitude.

This is a heavy, complicated kind of body grief.
But it is also an invitation. A permission slip to listen more closely to what my body has been begging for.

It’s an opportunity to rest. To write. To heal in a new way. To redefine what healing even means.

This is Body Grief, lived out loud.
And Dying For Art is what blooms from that space; art that holds both devastation and delight. Grief and gratitude. Surrender and creation.

Sean and I are shifting how we live, how we dream, and how we hold time. We’re choosing to see this chapter not just as an ending, but as an opportunity, an invitation to abundance, even here. Even now.

Because there is joy in the grief.
There is hope in the surrender.
And there is still so much beauty to be found.

If you love me and are saddened by this news, let’s talk about it. Let me hold space for you. We can grieve this together. I want you to know you’re not alone in this; we’re in it together. I absolutely HATE sweeping things under the carpet, that includes feelings, and fur! So ask questions, or if it feels right share your story with compassion.

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And if you're wondering how to show support, here’s how you can help me keep creating, keep sharing, and keep breathing life into this legacy:

• Support or share my art – especially with a gallery, boutique, art dealer or interior designer or even a friend who is looking for a high value statement piece!

• Order a Custom Piece! Painting Intuitively is how I make most of my commissions, granted the buyer gives me mood boards, colors, sometimes even songs and a playlist! I dedicate hours, and days upon days to each custom piece, so much laughter and tears, and ritual goes into each and every piece, you can feel the energy off of the canvas once it is done. Custom paintings are such a wonderful and soul enriching experience on a collaborative level. I would say it is a Body Grief healing experience for both the buyer and myself.
  
  

• Buy or gift my book, This is Body Grief AND Leave a review or recommend it to a friend, therapist, podcast or book club

• YES, I am still doing Book Talks, Book Signings, I am writing, and speaking and traveling when I can and when it is right for my body and mind, granted I must be protective of my peace hence this shift.
  
  

• Share this newsletter with someone who needs it and/or subscribe!
  

  
  

• Follow along, and just… keep showing up. Keep holding space.

  
  
  Your support makes the pain feel like it has purpose.
  Your love makes this grief feel a little less lonely.
  And your belief in my work keeps the colors coming.

This is Dying For Art.
This is what it means to be a disabled artist.
This is Body Grief on canvas.

With more love than I can possibly express, and ofcourse…

With Gratitude,
Jayne