I cannot see a straight line
I cannot see a straight line.
I have blisters which warp the sensory portion, the retina, in the back of my eyes. What makes the condition worse is that it is unstable and always changing. . The blisters can grow and decrease in size. They can shift in location. They can fully disappear while new ones appear. My condition is known as central serous retinopathy. Stress and anxiety are well-recognized as the primary factor in its onset and progression. At its worst, I will actually have a blind spot in any given eye. However, for the most part, both eyes work in tandem and one can compensate in the areas where the other is deficient.
So if I close one eye, and I look at vertical blinds, I see an obvious kink in what should be a straight line. I’ve also noticed the distortions on computer screens. Sometimes, when I look up and take a quick glance or a side-long view, I see the kinks in the straight lines in the design program I’m using or even on the edges of the illuminated rectangular screen. I’ve also noticed some colour shifts. I have difficulties in distinguishing shades in the blue-green range — mostly cyan.
I’ve finally come to see the interconnectedness of all of this. Stress and anxiety can alter my visual, as well as my psychological perception of the world. The former is caused by the uneven texture of my retina while the later caused by my mood, but both are a result of stress and anxiety. My interpretation becomes my manipulation to make sense of that moment. I compensate and reconstruct the image in a way to process the stressor.
This is similar to the digital manipulations of the architectural references I use to create, to document and even to commemorate the incidents of violence and chaos that invade our cities. An attack meant to instill terror (not necessarily a terrorist attack) for any number of reasons produces a malformation in the urban landscape.
I want to acknowledge this change, this transition, or better yet, this transmutation. In my work, I document the moment of the transmutation. I commemorate the loss but I also allude to the newly created beauty. The damage to the urban landscape heals, leaving behind a trace of scar tissue. The city gains back a light that it never truly lost but now is permanently changed. .
My central serous retinopathy is clearly unwanted, but after twelve years, it is likely to be a permanent feature. I’m wary that a possible progression could lead to a serious visual impairment, including partial blindness. The right eye has already progressed to retinal pigment epithelial (RPE) detachment — sounds serious, doesn’t it?
However, even though I cannot truly see a straight line, I have learned to accept the distortions of my new reality. I can compensate for the flawed perceptions and still create a vision which is true enough and appropriately beautiful. Cities and their citizens can also compensate for the cracks or flaws in their metropolises and reconstruct beauty and resilience from fear and destruction.
To see the work, visit: www.thomasbrasch.com