Writers 4 Rent: December 2010

”Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” Pablo Picasso

Brenda Leitow doesn’t climb mountains or go deep sea diving. She doesn’t live in a penthouse or a basement. She isn’t an elevator operator or an astronaut or a coal miner. Brenda Leitow is, however, a full time artist, with all the highs, the lows, the ups and the downs that might entail. Leitow’s talent lies in taking something as mundane as a box of pasta, an empty picture frame, or objects others discard, to create harmony, beauty and order while living a life that has, at times, felt overwhelmingly unbalanced and chaotic through no fault of her own.

Though she describes herself as a “typical, self-centered artist,” she also admits that her main goal is to bring her art to others, making it matter and mean as much to them as it does to her. Some of her art may seem mysterious, but she won’t make you guess where she took a photograph, how she arranged it, what it represents, how long it took her or even how she felt and what she was thinking at the time. She writes narratives for most of her works. When she doesn’t write a story, people will often ask, “where is the story?”

In spite of her artistic successes, she has long struggled with what it means to be an artist. “In the mid-west, in Grand Rapids, MI, being an artist is like being oh, I don't know, a hooker or something. It's just something one does not be. An artist has no work ethic. An artist has no morals. An artist is lazy. It's wrong and bad to be an artist. Dirty word. At least that's how it felt to me.” All that changed in the past year, however, when Leitow decided she just didn’t have time to worry about the opinions of others. “I am who I am and who I am is an artist and I don’t care who approves or disapproves.”

Leitow, the sixth of seven children, and the youngest daughter in her family, has never been one to seek approval in traditional ways. “I wanted to be a brain surgeon. I had dolls when I was little, but the only thing they were good for was operating on.” As a teen, she would raid her mother’s kitchen cupboards for food that looked interesting, not to snack on, but to create a piece of art. Though painfully shy, she could be fearless and stubborn when she wanted (or didn’t want) something. There is a photo of her toddler self, standing by a stump at a restaurant. Headed home from camping, her family had stopped to eat, a “rare treat” for a family of nine. Leitow had decided that she preferred to stay. The familiar parental line, “We’ll just have to leave you behind,” strikes fear into the hearts of most children. Leitow, however, just smiled and waved good-bye to her family. She still isn’t sure how they persuaded her to get in the car to go home, but she distinctly remembers screaming and crying and being dragged out of the car to go to school in third grade. She loathed school, but eventually went to college to earn two degrees – in liberal arts and biology.

Leitow’s fondest childhood memories are of simplicity – nature walks, living in a town so small it was often necessary to back up when you met another car on the roads, and camping with her family in the north woods of Michigan and. “After raking leaves all day, we’d be tired, but we were all together, not running around; just sitting quietly with our parents, sipping hot chocolate on a cold November evening. That was solace. Safe and warm.”

Those memories and subsequent love of nature, Leitow believes, provide much of the inspiration for her art. Discovering, requesting, collecting, examining, touching, arranging, rearranging (and rearranging again) her assorted pieces of nature, allows Leitow to forget herself for a time and “just be.” Though some of her pieces may look simple, it always takes her days and often weeks, to create an intricate design that an unexpected breeze might sweep away in seconds. That simplicity can be complicated is apparent in most of Leitow’s works.

The quest to make her artistic ideas a reality on an almost daily basis is also Leitow’s way of “keeping her balance.” “When I'm creating, collage, photograph, writing my little narratives that go with my photos, I can just be. Be. Not be me. Not be a daughter. Not be a photographer or artist even. I don't need air. I don't need sound. I don't need anything. I don't NEED to be. I just ‘be.’ There is no other word for it. It's mine. My word. My state. Be.”

That suspended state of being is important because it allows Leitow to step outside of her rigid daily schedule. She uses several alarm clocks and phone call reminders so that she will remember when to eat, sleep and take her medications at the same times every day, every few hours, every day, each week, month after month and year after year. She does this not only for herself, but also out of concern for the people in her life. “This illness is never so much about what it does to me as an artist, as what it does to those around me when I do not adhere to the program.”

Brenda Leitow is not bipolar. But Brenda Leitow has bipolar disorder. Her disorder may dictate her schedule, but she does not allow the disorder to dictate her life. “…I would like to help educate people about this illness and help them understand that it IS an illness, not ‘willful acts of disobedience and wanton acts of cruelty’ or however that goes. It’s not that.”

It is estimated that bipolar disorder affects more than 5 million Americans - one out of every 45 adults. Though a correlation between creativity and bipolar has not yet been scientifically established, it is often observed and noted by those in the mental health community. Vincent Van Gogh, Winston Churchill, Mark Twain, and Abraham Lincoln may have all had bipolar disorder. Leitow agreed that her manic phases often seemed to magnify creativity and boost productivity. But, she admits, when the quantity of work increased, the quality declined.

About to turn 50, Leitow said it has taken her a long time to come to terms with her illness and the limitations it places on her. She used to be a habitual reader and is still an avid book collector, but cannot concentrate long enough to read more than a page or two at a time now. She does volunteer work when she can, but her strict health regimen prevents her from working a regular full-time job. She has had to learn to overcome her attraction to what may feel like an incredible high so she can avoid the inevitable crash. Her daily mantra has evolved, keeping misery at bay; "Here's what I can do TODAY.”

Once her camera battery is charged and her meds and meals are out of the way, Leitow can focus on her photography, editing her photographs, and, at the end of the day, putting her florist’s leftovers and or her cupboards’ contents into artistic order. The designs she creates with these objects, however, are never the intended work of art, Leitow said. The photographs of the arrangements are always the intention and the end piece of work. She expects that her creations will not be perfect on the first try. It may be lopsided, or top-heavy, or the camera angle may cause it to look distorted. Her inability to create perfection quickly, however, never bothers her or keeps her from continuing the work until it is, to her, “just right.”

Life, she said, is quiet and fulfilling these days. When she isn’t working, a rare occurrence, her sense of stability can be restored by concentrating on the simple, important things – remembering to laugh at her mistakes, holding Lily (the cat who thinks she’s a dog), wrapping up in a warm afghan her sister made, watching a good movie and, of course, avoiding housework.

Her advice to other artists is simple as well, “Never quit. Listen to your breathing, not your thoughts. If you have quit, your instincts will tell you when it's time to start again. While you wait, just BE.”

Her three favorite works are:

Painting in Texture
“This was my first venture into "still life" collage. The intended final work of art is always the photograph. To me, for some reason, the things always feel like they are living and breathing. I feel especially so about this one. I guess because they evolve so much as they change and grow. I suppose they are like children in the way that we can mold and set examples for them but they always are going to be what they are going to be. Photographs, well, I have a LOT more control about that final piece.”

I Heart You
“This image comes from a macro photo of a ruffled petunia. I often find little gifts when I do that. I did not see the heart in this photo until I pulled it up on the computer to edit it. One of those really wonderful surprises I get when I take the time to look more closely at a frame. One of the reasons I spend so much time editing. That's a good 4-6 hours each day too. Boy is my house dirty!”

Moody Leaf
“This last shot is very, very different from the others. It's the first shot I published that gave a clue to the dark side of Brenda. As you can see the whole shot is very dark and does not show well at all. but what you do see, I hope, is the subtle light illuminating the edge along the leaf and the bright light emanating from the water droplet at the leafs' tip. I struggled for a long time over whether or not to publish this, but finally decided I was ready.”

You can read more about these works by visiting Leitow’s ImageKind or Fine Art gallery or clicking on the links.