Gemini by Jon Wos

Wheeling Surreal


Gemini by Jon Wos

By P.I. Maltbie

Contemporary artist Jon Wos, who came into this world with osteogenesis imperfecta, uses his painting to plumb the depths of his identity. Another emerging artist, Sunny Taylor, born with arthrogryposis, employs her artistic talent to educate and advocate. Both are influenced by earlier surrealists, but they share an even more intimate connection with the late Frida Kahlo, perhaps the best-known artist of the 20th Century to explore her disability in her artwork.

Frida Kahlo: The Icon

“My painting comes with the message of pain”
– Frida Kahlo

Few artists have captured the public imagination like Frida Kahlo. In the 50-plus years since her death, she has achieved the status of icon. Her life and art speak to a wide range of people – women, Hispanics, people with disabilities and anyone who has felt victimized or alone. In her lifetime she was the star of her own continuing drama and is also the subject of plays, books, and movies.

Painted while she lived in the U.S., My Dress Hangs There by Frida Kahlo is symbolic of her intimate connection with Mexico.
Painted while she lived in the U.S., My Dress Hangs There by Frida Kahlo is symbolic of her intimate connection with Mexico.

Born July 6, 1907, Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderon was the third of four daughters. Her father, a Hungarian Jew born in Germany, was a successful photographer and sometimes portrait painter. Her mother was indigenous Indian/Spanish and Roman Catholic. The symbols of the two divergent cultures would appear again and again in her paintings.

Growing up near Mexico City, Kahlo contracted polio, which shortened her right leg and caused a limp. To build herself up, she took sports in school and excelled at boxing. However, in 1925 a catastrophic bus accident resulted in a pierced uterus, broken collarbone, broken ribs, a broken pelvis, a dislocated shoulder, 11 fractures in her right leg and a crushed right foot. The damage to her uterus meant she would never be able to carry a pregnancy to term. She would endure numerous operations in an attempt to reverse the damage and alleviate the pain.

In a body cast, Kahlo turned to painting as a way to pass the time. With a mirror suspended over her bed, using prints of paintings from the Italian Renaissance as her guide, she taught herself to paint. Her first work was “Self-Portrait in a Velvet Dress.” Years later she would say, “I paint myself because I am so often alone, because I am the subject I know best.”

By 1928, walking with a cane, Kahlo was determined to become an artist. Through a mutual friend, she was re-introduced to Diego Rivera – whom she had met earlier – and sought his opinion of her paintings.

Estranged from his wife, Rivera was fascinated by Kahlo and began to court her. He encouraged her to follow her own unique style and not be influenced by him or other artists. Consequently, her paintings became filled with images of Mexican culture, folklore, as well as Catholic images and Jewish symbols from her own mixed heritage. Kahlo and Rivera married in 1929. In 1930, she immortalized their union in a painting based on their wedding photograph.

As the 1930s began, Kahlo and Rivera moved to the U.S. While Rivera painted commissioned murals, Kahlo painted her smaller, more intimate paintings and charmed reporters fascinated by her exotic appearance.

In the spring of 1932, she suffered a miscarriage. Although she had been forced to have a medical abortion a few years before, Kahlo had hoped to bring this pregnancy to term. While recovering, she documented the trauma in “Miscarriage in Detroit” – the first of her disturbing, penetrating self-portraits.

Encouraged by Rivera, Kahlo began recording the events of her life. In “My Birth” (1932), a newborn Kahlo, unibrow in evidence, emerges from her mother’s womb. It is likely that this painting was meant to document the loss of her mother, who died that year.

The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo was painted during a time when she endured many surgeries.
The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo was painted during a time when she endured many surgeries.

In 1933 Kahlo and Rivera moved to New York City, where she painted “My Dress Hangs There.” Amid a junkyard of U.S. symbols, the dress hangs empty, symbolic of her intimate connection with Mexico, where she returned in 1934, pregnant again. Once more, she had to have an abortion. Soon after, she had three toes removed due to gangrene, then learned that Rivera was having an affair with her sister, Christina. A year later she produced the disturbing “A Few Small Nips,” based on a sensational murder case of a man who killed his wife with “a few small nips” of his knife. Kahlo saw herself as the victim of Rivera’s infidelities.

Nevertheless, she continued to live with him, throwing herself into numerous affairs with women as well as men. Even Leon Trotsky would be a conquest when he and his wife sought refuge with Rivera and Kahlo in 1937.

Although Kahlo’s following never equaled Rivera’s, she did receive important praise. Andre Breton, leading Surrealist artist of the time, was intrigued by Kahlo and her paintings – which he called “a ribbon wrapped around a bomb.”

“I never knew I was a Surrealist until Andre Breton came to Mexico to tell me I was,” Kahlo would say later. “I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.”

In 1938, Breton organized a highly successful exhibit of 25 of her paintings in New York City. A show in Paris followed in 1939, but 16 of her 18 paintings were thought to be too shocking to exhibit to a French audience. Nevertheless, she won the praise of Picasso, Duchamp and Kandinsky. And her unique personal appearance put her on the cover of the French edition of Vogue. Even the Louvre fell under her spell, buying one of her self-portraits – “The Frame” – the first work by a 20th century Mexican artist to be purchased by the Louvre for their collection.

Upon returning to Mexico, she learned that Rivera wanted a divorce. The split did not last. In spite of their numerous infidelities, neither could live without the other. They remarried in December 1940.

During the 1940s Kahlo pursued a long series of operations. “The Broken Column” (1944) documents this painful time. In 1950 she entered a Mexico City hospital and stayed a year. Returning home, she started to drink heavily and rely on drugs to numb her physical and emotional pain. Consequently, her artistic style became more crude and less detailed, as evidenced by her last self-portraits.

Her declining condition did not prevent her from attending the spring 1953 exhibition of her art in Mexico City – the only one she would have in her home country. Forbidden by her doctor to leave her bed, she hired an ambulance to carry her to the exhibit, where she was transferred to a bed and, with her typical Kahlo-style flair, held court.

In August 1953, her right leg was amputated just below the knee – gangrene again. She was fitted with a prosthetic and could walk a few steps with a cane, but continued to rely on her wheelchair. “I am happy as long as I can paint,” she told her admirers. She died the following year.

Now, 100 years since her birth, Kahlo has the international following Rivera predicted shortly before her death – “Her work is destined to be multiplied by reproductions and will speak … to the whole world. It is one of the most formidable artistic documents and most intense testimonies on human truth in our time.”

Jon Wos: Surreal Reality

“Embracing my disability has had a profound effect on my artwork. Without art my life would not be as fulfilling – conversely, without my life as it is, my art would not have a soul.”
– Jon Wos

Don’t plan on throwing any pity parties for Jon Wos, even though one of his multiple self-portraits bears the title “Pity Party.”

As the name implies, Jon Wos' Pity Party is about those times we find ourselves mired in self-pity.
As the name implies, Jon Wos’ Pity Party is about those times we find ourselves mired in self-pity.

Born in May, 1981, in Lena, Wisc., Jonathan Wos started life with 13 bone fractures due to osteogenesis imperfecta (brittle bones). He was destined to spend a major part of his childhood visiting doctors and hospitals and enduring months in body casts to mend fractured bones or implant pins and plates to reinforce his long bones.

To occupy his mind and hands during long periods of hospitalization, he turned to art. At the early age of 3, supplied with colored pencils from his mother, Wos started drawing pictures and making things with his hands.

Every three to four months, Wos traveled with his parents to Washington D.C.’s National Institutes of Health, where his condition was studied. Young Wos enjoyed these trips immensely, as they pulled him out of his small town and widened his horizons. And all the time he kept on drawing.

When he was 10, his parents divorced and he moved with his mother to Appleton, Wisc., where he attended a regular public grade school. Wos was a quiet, introspective student, mostly ignored by his classmates. But his art teachers noticed his ability and encouraged it.

“All through school my art teacher and I knew that I had more art in me than other kids,” he says.

In Appleton, he was connected with the Make-a-Wish Foundation, and his wish for a trip to Disney World was granted. Upon returning to Appleton, he drew a picture of the Cinderella Castle, which he donated to the Appleton branch of Make-a-Wish for its Christmas festival auction. The donation brought a good price for the Foundation and a great feature story for the newspaper. Now it was evident that Wos had the ability to create art that would move the viewer.

With a well-publicized, successful first sale, Wos was encouraged by his art teachers to enter numerous small art shows and contests. His work was selling, and he started looking toward a career in art. Graduating from high school in 1999, he moved on to the University of Wisconsin at Oshkosh, with a major in fine arts.

As he developed his style, Wos was drawn to the surreal imagery of Salvador Dali and the dramatic realism of the 17th century artist, Caravaggio. Both of these influences would become evident in his self-portraits. Without realizing it, Wos would echo the self-portraits of Frida Kahlo as he portrayed himself in body casts.

Jon Wos says the award-winning Self Introspection is about his past and how far he's come.
Jon Wos says the award-winning Self Introspection is about his past and how far he’s come.

Even though his disability set him apart from other students in school and college, osteogenesis imperfecta has been integral to his art. “Art was one of the things that helped my self-esteem because I could say I was really good at something. My art and my life are completely interchangeable.”

In May 2003, Wos entered his watercolor self-portrait – “Self Introspection” –  in the national competition sponsored by VSA (formerly Very Special Arts) and Volkswagen of America. Founded by Jean Kennedy Smith in 1974, VSA is an international nonprofit organization dedicated to creating an environment and support system for people of varying abilities to participate in the arts.

“Self Introspection” shows how far Wos has come in his life: He is sitting on the ground, face turned away from the viewer, gazing at a Salvador Dali-type landscape filled with long bones sticking out of the ground and an empty wheelchair. The message seems to be that he has risen above and apart from his disability and can look back on his life objectively.

Against 14 other finalists, Wos’ painting won the $10,000 grand prize and was displayed in the New Horizon Gallery, the arts education and enrichment program at the Children’s National Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Now it was his art, not his disability, that took him to Washington. “My art is about road trips you can take without going anywhere,” he says.

Wos’ grand prize award would be followed by many more awards and honors. Since 2003, his work has been displayed in numerous exhibits and solo shows.

In 2005, Wos graduated with a bachelor’s in fine art – painting, drawing, and sculpture. His journey of discovery has instilled renewed confidence. He’s positive he can do anything he wants to do – within the limits of his disability. Since his early drawings, he has mastered oil and acrylic paints, stained glass, bead making, water colors, sculpture in ceramics and bronze. His favorite medium is glass: “I love all glass. It is fragile, perfect, and beautiful at the same time.” His stained glass windows and lampshades follow in the tradition of Louis C. Tiffany and the arts and crafts movement.

Today Wos is president of Oshkosh’s Jambalaya Art Cooperative, a place for artists to gather and share inspiration. The majority of its members, University of Wisconsin, Oshkosh alumni, display a wide range of artistic expression: painting, sculpture, pottery, jewelry, fiber work, performance art, and poetry. As well as providing for artistic interchange, Jambalaya also provides members with the fundamentals of becoming self-supportive.

“We want to be a jumping off place for artists, anybody who wants experience or is looking to get into the art world,” Wos says. The fact that he has recently bought a home proves that he has successfully turned his art into a successful small business.

“I use art to explore and make sense of my life and my personal identity,” Wos says. “The one thing I hope people take out of my art is the fact that we make our own reality, and we can either make it a positive or a negative place.”

Sunaura Taylor: Artist as Activist

“Painting and disability are directly related in that they both help me to form the person I am. I would not be me without either …”
– Sunny Taylor

Sunny Taylor throws herself into her paintings. Literally. Born with a neuromuscular condition called arthrogryposis, which prevents her from holding a paintbrush with her fingers, Taylor grasps the brush in her teeth. Or, when necessary, she’ll use her toes. And because she paints big pictures, she’ll do whatever it takes to get the paint on the canvas. She’ll get out of her motorized wheelchair and stretch out on the floor in any way she can. It’s an exhausting routine and some of her canvases have a habit of toppling over on her. To make certain she gets everything she wants to put in her painting, she’ll put them on their sides or even upside down.

“If you can paint it upside down, then you know it’s going to look good right side up,” she says.

Anyone who sees Taylor’s paintings will testify they are remarkable, no matter from which angle they are viewed.

Self Portrait with Wings by Sunny Taylor is unflinchingly honest.
Self Portrait with Wings by Sunny Taylor is unflinchingly honest.

Influenced, like Wos, by the style of the 17th century Italian artist, Caravaggio, Taylor’s subject matter ranges from portraits of friends to babies born with congenital disabilities. Like Kahlo, she doesn’t hide the extent of her disability, which she captures in “Self Portrait with Trichloroethylene.” Or as a baby attempting to crawl – “Self Portrait with Wings” (2003). And using a theme reminiscent of Manet or Ingres, she paints an odalisque, a reclining nude. But in this portrait, “Bethany” has osteogenesis imperfecta.

Sunaura Celeste Taylor was born in March of 1982, the second daughter to Valerie and Will Taylor. Valerie was an artist and Will was a musician; they had settled in a community on the south side of Tucson, Ariz. Close to their neighborhood was Hughes Missiles Systems, employed by the U.S. Air Force to degrease airplane parts. Unknown to the Taylors and their neighbors, trichloroethylene – a solvent used to degrease and clean airplanes – was being routinely and illegally dumped into the ground, contaminating Tucson’s underground water supply. Valerie, pregnant with her second child, drank it.

It became clear there was a problem when the baby had difficulty wiggling her fingers and toes. All over their area of Tucson, there was a high incidence of cancer, lupus, and other congenital disabilities. Many babies died soon after birth. “There were a lot of people in my neighborhood with the same disability I have,” she says. The Taylors would take part in a class action suit against Hughes, but Sunny would receive a mere $30,000 from being disabled by government negligence.

The family relocated to Athens, Ga., when Taylor was 6. There she was home schooled, along with her older sister and, eventually, her younger brother and sister. Provided with a rich environment filled with art, music and books, the Taylor children were encouraged to learn on their own. Taylor taught herself to draw by watching her mother and older sister paint, studying the techniques of the artists she admired, then experimenting on her own.

She was 12 when she made the transition from drawing to painting. And between the ages of 14 and 18, she painted a series of portraits of women and animals. Using friends and family as subjects, Taylor became more adept, her subject matter more powerful.

While living in Athens she was approached by Dr. Jay Tribby, executive director of the Arts for All Gallery, a division of VSA of Georgia, to exhibit her work. But Taylor was reluctant at first to be pigeonholed as an artist who held a paintbrush in her mouth because, she explains, “that is what people catch on to.” Yet, showing her work also gave her a platform. “I’ve also come to realize that it is very much a political issue, and it’s really important to talk about the fact that I’m disabled and how I became disabled.”

Making this decision worked in her favor. Her portrait of musician Vic Chesnutt went on to win the Grand Prize of $10,000 in VSA’s 2004 competition. In the Fall of 2004, Chesnutt would be part of the VSA “Driving Force” exhibit held at the Smithsonian Institute.

Sunny Taylor, shown here with an idealized self-portrait, taught herself to draw by watching her mother and older sister paint.
Sunny Taylor, shown here with an idealized self-portrait, taught herself to draw by watching her mother and older sister paint.

As well as using her art as a platform for her disability activism, Taylor has written extensively about how the U.S. government is responsible for causing disabilities through its illegal dumping of dangerous chemicals that end up in drinking water. In this and in her self-portraits, Taylor speaks with the voice of experience.

Currently, Taylor is working on her master’s degree in fine art at the University of California at Berkeley, with a focus on the relationship between war and disability, as evidenced by her unsettling picture of an Iraqi baby (“Depleted Uranium,” 2003).

In addition, she is also working to give back by establishing a nonprofit group called Art-Relief, which collects art supplies and sends them on to communities in need of such supplies: schools, shelters, disaster areas, and places of political and economic crisis. For Taylor, being an artist has been a healing and self-empowering experience. Now she wants to pass it on to others.


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