“Bloom in the Negative Space”
Katie Kavanagh
Houston, TX
Social Media: @Katielkav (Instagram)
Survivor
Twist on cancer:
Being diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic breast cancer changed the way I understand the word “survivor.” For me, surviving isn’t about reaching a finish line. It’s about living fully every day while managing a disease that is part of my life. I want people to know that metastatic breast cancer looks different from what many expect. Some days I look perfectly healthy, and some days are very hard, and both are real. The biggest lesson I have learned is to stop postponing joy. I say yes to the trips, the dinners, and the time with the people I love, and I say no to things that drain me without guilt. I also try to connect with others living with cancer who truly understand, and I give myself permission to feel whatever I am feeling–whether that is hope, fear, anger or gratitude. What I would like others to know is that people living with metastatic cancer are still living. We are working, laughing and making plans. Please don’t treat us as if our story is already over. Check in, show up, and support research for metastatic breast cancer, because more time and better treatments make an enormous difference for people like me.
Annamaria Scaccia
Austin, TX
Social Media: @gotchascaccia
“Bloom in the Negative Space”
Acrylics
Two 12” x 24” panels
$600
Artist Statement: Cancer builds its own community, whether we want to join or not. Katie Kavanagh, who lives with metastatic breast cancer in Houston, and I, a double cancer survivor in Austin, found our common language in dark humor. It’s how we, respectively, process the whirlwinds that are our lives and cancer experiences, and it’s why both panels are painted against a black background. The left panel is based on one of Katie’s X-rays, a spine rendered in vertebrae. Four small flowers each stand in for a tumor that ate away at the bone. The iridescent colors shimmer as the silver lining Katie is trying to find in all of this. The right panel is based on the CT scan of my abdomen and pelvis, showing where my left kidney used to be. Katie is missing her left kidney too; hers was donated, and mine was lost to cancer. (Call us kidney sisters.) A large dark hole marks where each of our kidneys once lived, and from it grows a single enormous flower, symbolizing how Katie is making the most of the time she has. The bright flowers and leaves across both panels represent the people Katie has met along the way. She calls cancer “the worst club with the best members.” This is why their color pushes against the darkness without erasing it. This acrylic diptych borrows the visual language of X-rays but replaces the clinical with the living. What’s missing, whether eaten away or given up, is still present, and something is growing there anyway.