Tag Archive | MD Anderson

Houston: We Are Set For The SCAR Project Exhibition

[With all systems GO for The SCAR Project Exhibition to premiere in Houston this week, I am happy, honored, humbled to hand over the SCAR blog mic to CEO and Creative Director of American Art Resources, Kathy Hathorn. An innovator and pioneer in developing patient-focused art programs for healthcare facilities, Hathorn is an authority in art and its impact on patients in healthcare settings. Other signature projects, besides her work with MD Anderson Cancer Center, includes: Celebration Health, Northwestern Memorial Hospital and Prentice Women’s Hospital, Phoenix Children’s Hospital, Duke University Cancer Center and the new Parkland Hospital. She sits on various boards and councils related to healthcare research and design, and lectures both in the US and abroad as an expert in evidence-based art programs. In 2001 Hathorn co-authored the Evidence-Based Guidelines for Selecting Healthcare Art with Roger Ulrich. She founded the RED Center whose original research has been published in peer-reviewed journals and in Joint Commission’s Environment of Care. Hathorn has been featured in Business Week and The Coolest Entrepreneurs in America, and was named one of the 25 Most Influential People in Healthcare Design in 2009. She was the 2011 recipient of the Symposium Distinction Award. She was commissioned in 2012 by the National Academy of Sciences in Washington, DC. to write a white paper on the effects of art on the aging, due for publication in 2013. Besides all that, Kathy Hathorn was instrumental in bringing The SCAR Project to Houston.]

American Art Resources Portraits 2013-18a-1

Guest Post by Kathy Hathorn

An authority on art and its impact on patients in healthcare settings, I am frequently asked by my healthcare clients, if a particular work of art is appropriate to display or include in a hospital’s art collection.

I had a unique experience a few months back, when MD Anderson Cancer Center’s Dr. Oliver Bogler asked me to review the work of New York photographer David Jay.

I replied that MD Anderson doesn’t have a rotating gallery space but that the work HAD to be brought to Houston. Hands down, The SCAR Project was the most incredible work I had ever seen!

I have always been drawn to figurative black and white photography—it draws me in in a way that no other genre ever does. David’s work has the raw brutality of Diane Arbus’ work but it envelops the viewer in a passion of love, respect, and admiration. Instead of detachment and alienation that viewers can feel about Arbus’ work, these pieces bring out every shred of humanity in the viewer who wants to reach out to each of the subjects and say, “You are beautiful….”

Bringing the work to Houston became a personal mission. My first thought was that Gremillion Gallery had the perfect exhibition space for the large format works. I also knew that the gallery has been incredibly generous in lending its space to various charitable events over the years. It was a quick and emphatic yes when I asked Ron Gremillion and Chris Skidmore if they were interested.

It must have been serendipity but as soon as there was a fabulous exhibition space, there was also funding to bring the show to Houston! Pink Ribbons Project, a breast cancer survivor non-profit organization, generously agreed to underwrite the hard costs of the exhibit. The show premieres at a private gala event this Thursday, October 17, and runs through October 28th. There are numerous public-service events planned around the exhibit including lectures by both the artist and various breast health experts. Click HERE for the exhibit schedule and ticket information.

The message of the work is undeniable: David Jay has captured the harrowing beauty, dignity, courage and strength of young women dealing, living, and thriving after breast cancer surgery. Both his passion and compassion are piercingly apparent to the viewer.

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Blue is the New Pink

Guest Post by Oliver Bogler

“When I grow up I’m going to be a photographer.” That’s what I used to tell my kids, when they were at the age when saying it seemed to be enough to get you there. Now I’d add: “… a photographer like David Jay.” And by that I mean successfull, visionary and socially engaged.

I’m not kidding anyone of course, least of all my children. First of all, I’m never growing up! And secondly, I’m in my late 40s, enjoy my career in cancer research enormously and frankly lack the talent required for art. But photography is a passion of mine, mostly as someone who loves the art form and a little as someone who takes pictures. When I go to art museums I head straight for the photography section, and when I travel the world I often seek out photography above all other sites to see.

So following my diagnosis with breast cancer in September of 2012 I began to become interested in the intersection between this disease and photography. To say that there are a lot of breast cancer images out there, is an understatement in the age of digital photography, and much of it is in the vein of pink. In this landscape the SCAR Project stands out as a beacon of frank art. The first time you see it, it hits you. And that is saying something in an age when visual impact has become significantly blunted by the sheer volume and ever increasing shock value of the media that saturates our culture.

The SCAR Project portraits have an honesty and simplicity that create a connection between the viewer and the subject. The images of young women, bearing scars, are compelling, and draw you in to try and understand their loss and what it means to them. They are also beautifully made photographs, by an artist with a sure eye. The Project has evident integrity. And its goal, to raise awareness that young women do get breast cancer, that the disease does not respect age, is important. Wherever the images appear they accomplish their goal.

In the Fall of 2012, from my freshly diagnosed perspective, the one thing I thought that was missing in the SCAR Project was men. Just as David says “breast cancer is not a pink ribbon”, I say “breast cancer is not a women’s cancer”.

Oliver

Oliver’s SCAR Portrait

One in every hundred people with breast cancer is a man. Sure that is a pretty small number, but it is not zero. And men are another segment of the breast cancer world where raising awareness is still urgently needed. Men routinely ignore their symptoms, and are diagnosed later with poorer outcomes because of denial and ignorance.

I am still a little stunned that David agreed to consider men as subjects for his work, and has started a connected body of work, the SCAR Project: male breast cancer. Stunned and deeply grateful. This new work focuses on men of all ages, and they are mostly older than the women in the SCAR Project. That’s because men with this disease are older, and because the goal is to raise awareness for all men. Amongst women, the focus is on younger women, where awareness also lags behind. This male breast cancer work is still in its early stages and I am excited about its future.

As a result of our discussions around men with breast cancer, I was lucky to become acquainted with David and the SCAR Project team, and the idea of bringing the work to Houston was born. Susan Rafte of the Pink Ribbons Project came aboard early, and her foundation which works at the interface of art and breast cancer is the sponsor that is making it happen. Gremillion & Co. Fine Arts generously offered their gallery space for the exhibit. And Kathy Hathorn and American Art Resources are supporting the project too, both by connecting us all and by providing resources to get the pieces hung in the gallery. Now a large team of volunteers is helping make 10 days of viewing and events a reality. In October the SCAR Project will be in Houston for 10 days of exhibits, expert talks from doctors and survivors, chances to meet some of the women photgraphed in the Project, and to hear David talk about the work. There is also a showing of the award winning documentary about the SCAR Project, called Baring it All, at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston.

Please join us. Details of the activities are HERE.

[About Oliver: Dr. Bogler studied Natural Sciences at Cambridge University graduating in 1988, and then completed his PhD at the Ludwig Institute for Cancer Research, University College Branch in London, in 1991. Following a post-doc at the Salk Institute in Developmental Neurobiology, he rejoined the Ludwig Institute, at its San Diego Branch. His first faculty appointment in 1997 was in the Departments of Anatomy and Neurosurgery at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. In 2000 he moved to the Hermelin Brain Tumor Center, Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit and was promoted to Associate Professor in 2002. In 2005 Dr. Bogler joined the Department of Neurosurgery and the Brain Tumor Center at the UT MD Anderson Cancer Center as Director of Basic Research, and was promoted to Professor in 2009. His research was focused on EGFR signaling in glioma and novel platinum compounds. In July 2010 Dr. Bogler accepted the position of Vice President for Global Academic Programs where he manages academic relationships spanning over 30 Sister Institutions in 20 countries on behalf of MD Anderson. In September 2011 he was also appointed Senior Vice President for Academic Affairs, and now focuses on overseeing the 300 people organized into 16 departments in this division, who deliver support for the more than 5,000 academic personnel at MD Anderson and are the stewards of our education mission. He is married to Irene Newsham, PhD, a cancer biologist also working at MD Anderson, and they have two children, aged 10 and 11.]

Follow Oliver’s blog HERE.

Gravity

[When I stood before my guest blogger ‘s SCAR portrait at the first SCAR Project Exhibition in NYC in 2010, it was the first time I really faced another  woman whose [Surviving Cancer.] [Absolute Reality.]  looked like mine. I knew so little about breast cancer when I was diagnosed in 2008, that I didn’t  know that no  reconstruction was even an option any woman ever opted for. The one woman I knew who’d had a double mastectomy, did it prophylactically with immediate reconstruction. In my case there weren’t really options. The best course of action was to wait until after surgery and chemo, to evaluate the reconstruction question: 2B or not 2B?   When I  met Toni at the Cincinnati Exhibition I produced in 2011,  she was still the only other woman I knew who had been there, done that, had to buy a flat new t-shirt like me. I was eager to learn her story and to share it here.  Now, especially in light of the recent Facebook controversy over SCAR images, and of upcoming exhibition news, I’ve asked my flat and fabulous SCAR sister Toni G. to share her SCAR story. Here is the first of two parts.]

Toni G

Guest Post by SCAR girl Toni G.

I was sitting in a tent at Zion National Park when I got the news. The voice of the surgeon who had biopsied a mass in my breast the week before came through my cell phone: “We need to talk”. My heart sank.

I had breast cancer. I was 28 years old.

I’d already planned out my vacation to Utah for the spring of 2007 to celebrate passing the doctoral candidacy exam—a feat that would allow me to continue pursuing my Ph.D. in Molecular Biology and Biochemistry. But  experiments didn’t cooperate, and I’d had to postpone the exam and take my “celebratory” vacation before I even answered one question.

And now this woman was on the phone saying words horribly foreign to me. ER+/PR-/Her2-. Grade 2. BRCA1/2-. Two IDC tumors measuring 3 and 5 cm.

More unfamiliar terms followed as she proceeded to tell me the course of treatment. I sat in silence while she described, in what seemed like one breath, oncologists, mastectomy, chemotherapy. When she spoke the word radiation I finally lost it.

My space-time continuum had just been warped by the gravity of cancer.

She wanted me to see an oncologist that day, but I was 1500 miles from home and a week away from my return flight. I told her I couldn’t that day. Or the next few. I had rented canyoneering equipment for the day and had miles of hiking to look forward to. I would be home in a week. I didn’t call my family. I couldn’t bear to tell them the heaviest news of my life over the phone.

The one phone call I did make was to the chair of my committee. My candidacy exam would have to be further postponed. It turns out, indefinitely—but that’s another blog.

The months following diagnosis were surreal. I’d become so used to people telling me that 20-somethings don’t get breast cancer that I found it hard to believe I actually did.

When I was 20, I found a lump in my breast. My surgeon insisted it was a cyst. No tests? No biopsies? Nope. When the pathology came back benign, I sensed an “I told you so.” He told me that even if I discovered more cysts in the future, I wouldn’t have to have them removed. “They’re normal,” he said.

“They’re normal,” I thought eight years later as I stood naked in front of the mirror slowly tilting my head and squinting. My left nipple looked odd and had gone flat. My gynecologist thought the scar tissue from my cyst removal was causing it. She never mentioned the words breast cancer.

Over the next few months I began to feel a mass in the same breast. I called my gynecologist’s office again and was told to call back in six months to follow up. I convinced myself it was just another one of those normal cysts. So I didn’t worry—for seven long months.
By then, the two masses in my breast were causing sharp shooting pains across my chest. The (finally) worried gynecologist ordered a biopsy.

And then I was in Utah, sitting in a tent…

When I did finally go home and called a family meeting, Dad was giddy. “You’re getting married!?” No, Dad. “You’re having a baby!?” No, that’s not it either. It made the truth more crushing.

My oncologist started me on chemotherapy immediately because the tumors were so large. He ordered a CT scan that came back with abnormal spots in my femur and four places in my spine. After a follow up PET-CT scan, I received a second blow. The spots were metastasized breast cancer.

I was now stage four.

I wasn’t concerned at first. My ignorance of metastatic breast cancer shielded me. But after a week of reading through scientific literature, I found myself shutting my laptop every night in tears, unable to handle any more statistics. Based on my research, I knew I only had a 25 percent chance of being alive in five years.

My oncologist said nothing had changed—not our treatment strategy or my life expectancy. I knew then I had to change oncologists. My life depended on it.

I found my second oncologist at MD Anderson. She cited current literature and was willing to be as aggressive as I wanted with my treatments. She understood my drive to do absolutely everything I could to get rid of the beast that was trying to pull me down.

“Absolutely everything” turned out to be the hardest experiment of my life. Seven months of chemotherapy, a bilateral mastectomy, a clinical trial with high dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplant, and six weeks of skin-scorching radiation to top it off.

It worked. I was declared to have “no evidence of disease”!

Just one week after I finished my treatment, I hiked to the top of the Continental Divide in Colorado. After hours of plodding through the snow and a chance encounter with a majestic mountain goat, I found myself sitting at the top of the mountain. Bald and burned and brave. I had defied gravity. I had defied cancer!

Toni Hiking

[All this defying of cancer and, most likely, more gravity as well, will be continued in Part 2 of Toni’s SCAR story, in which she considers the geography of cancer.]