Finding beauty in chronic illness

Lindsey Holcomb was never athletic and always had a poor sense of balance, so when she would sometimes fall over while standing at her locker—it made sense. Or, when she could extend the joints in her fingers easily and painlessly beyond the normal range of motion—that was simply a cool thing she could do.

In college, like every other freshman who transitions to living in a new environment without parent supervision, Holcomb had to adjust. 

“I was learning how to sustain myself as an adult and probably not making the best health choices in the new setting,” says Holcomb. 

Holcomb recalls that her first year at the University of Oregon on a violin scholarship was a whirlwind. There were some days where she would practice violin for hours on end, and if her hands were “acting crazy,” it made sense. 

If there was something “off”, she could never really pinpoint the reason, because there were so many explanations. 

“I could never really pinpoint the reason why my health was up and down,” recalls Holcomb. “Was it lifestyle? Was it fatigue? Was it extreme stress because I was performing at a different level? I could chalk it off to finals. I could chalk it off to practicing for 18 hours or something like that.” 

And so, throughout her time as a student, she went on with life and never gave it a serious concern. Although music had been such a huge part of her younger years, and she loved it, she began to explore Shakespeare and then moved into Asian studies and learning to speak Japanese. 

"I honestly don’t know how the leap to English literature happened, but it was exciting to me,” Holcomb says. “I’m half Japanese and I always wanted to develop that language. My father is first-generation and didn’t teach me and my sister, but I just loved learning it.” 

Holcomb dove into learning more about her Asian heritage. She became an English tutor with the American English Institute and studied abroad in Tokyo, Japan for one quarter.

“I decided to fully pursue an Asian studies major and a minor in Japanese,” says Holcomb. “I also stayed a fifth year to do an international business communication certificate through the Lundquist College. It was a fun experience because there were so many different cultures represented in that class.” 

When she graduated in 2006, Holcomb wanted to be the coordinator of an international student exchange program. To gain more experience, she taught in northern Japan for one year. 

Life went on. Holcomb worked in an international travel and education company, and for 15 years, she was an executive assistant at both an education and later, a retail firm. She got married, had back-to-back pregnancies and then everything changed.

“I was reading them a book that I had read a million times before and the words were not coming out. I could read it, but I don't know what's coming out of my mouth.”

Holcomb recalls reading a bedtime story to her girls one night. 

“I read to my girls all the time, even when they were in the womb,” she says. “It was one of our favorite things to do as a family. I was reading them a book that I had read a million times before and the words were not coming out. I could see it in my mind, but I don’t know what was coming out of my mouth.” 

In 2017, Holcomb was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), a potentially disabling disease of the brain and spinal cord. 

To cope, she read books on the topic and attended in-person and online groups trying to find a community to better understand the journey ahead. 

“I was sick, and I suddenly had to look at my situation very hard in the face. I was a mother, my energy was at a deficit, and my job was stressful.” 

In 2018, she decided to quit and explore something that until that point had only been a hobby— art. 

“It was a scary leap, but art was always something that I did. I didn’t commit myself to it until I got my diagnosis, and I did my first show only a couple months after that.”

She describes her art during that time as her diary. Her pieces expressed her fear, her pain, and her hopes. It also gave her the courage to really look at her MRI. 

“It was impersonal and so clinical. I just decided to do it in vibrant ink,” Holcomb recalls. “And I felt a lot better after that.” 

Holcomb posted her MRI on Instagram and people began to respond to her art, asking if she could do the same thing with them. From there, Holcomb founded the Colors of MS Project, with the mission to flip the script on how individuals face diagnosis, by translating MRIs into art and highlighting diverse experiences of people living with multiple sclerosis. 
 

Through the project, she has done more than 204 MRIs of people in 28 states and 12 countries. Her work has been the spotlight of articles in Multiple Sclerosis News Today and Health Magazine and was featured in the Portland Art Museum Rental Sales Gallery. 

"It is an abstract interpretation of people’s MRIs. It’s personal, and while I’m not a trained neurologist, I do my best to imitate the brain structure in a way that is not obvious.” 

Holcomb uses a wood burning pen on polypropylene paper to outline the lesion structures which show up as bright spots on the brain image. The paper “melts away” and allows her to have control on the days when her fine motor skills are impacted by the MS. 

Each 2D piece of art is personal to Holcomb and includes a piece of her Japanese heritage through Kintsugi, a tradition of repairing ceramic with gold fill. Holcomb says that the technique is obvious and doesn’t hide the fact that the object was broken but celebrates the break as part of its history.

“I love how that translates into what we see as wrong with our brains through the manifestation of lesions. When I cut those out, I add the gold around the rim, and I think about the person and what they've gone through and what that represents. It’s very peaceful to me and I hope triumphant for them.” 

 

“There is love and there is life. There is a whole spectrum of people doing any number of things. We all have bad days, but we are also thriving.”

Holcomb also brings a personal touch by including thread from her grandmother, who was a seamstress, woven in the painting. 

“My grandmother was so humble, and the thread is just me being a very cheeky granddaughter and saying, ‘I’m going to put your thread all over all my art and send it everywhere.’” 

When Holcomb thinks about her journey, she says she is grateful for the new community that she is a part of. 

“I think the silver lining, especially with the Colors of MS Project is the community building. We have people who want to talk about our disease and its progression through the lens through art.” 

What she has learned from this global community is that while symptoms manifest differently in every single person and the journey is different for every single person, art makes it less scary, and brings them hope. 

“I get to meet people from all backgrounds; authors, artists, marathoners, and parents,” Holcomb says. “There is love and there is life. There is a whole spectrum of people doing any number of things. We all have bad days, but we are also thriving.” 

Visit https://www.lindseyjoyholcomb.com/shop for more information on Holcomb’s art and upcoming projects. 

-By Rayna Jackson BA ‘04 (romance languages), UOAA communications director