44" x 29"

O'deen's glorious red hair is made of wire, while her velvet couch is trimmed with real fringe, and her shoes are edged with fur.

                     ODEEN DEMENTIA

          Psalm 43:5   Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why are you disturbed within me?

I met Odeen while working as an Art Therapist.  She visited my studio for an hour a day sitting, staring ahead lost in her demented world.  I placed paper and crayons in front of her hoping to penetrate the evils that lurked around this woman’s head.  She just sat, month after month.  One day, following our usual routine, she began drawing a head complete with features, using black, heavy scribbles in the brain area.  Daily she drew the same face, week after week. Gradually the colors changed from black to brown then green until bright reds, oranges, and yellows emerged, always the same face with the same blank expression.   Sometimes there would be rows of white squares in her neck, or rakes and hoes in her head or other objects.  Eventually, Odeen began talking of her faces, revealing fears or daily routines while growing up.  For instance, the row of white squares in her neck represented her fear of swallowing her teeth, or maybe some scribbles around her neck indicated a snake that got in her bed at night.  She became more verbal.

            Month after month she continued this routine, sitting, drawing and talking about her fears, which were many.  Daily she began to notice others in the room, sometimes resenting that they took up some of my time.  She began talking about them as if they were not present, demanding that I dismiss them and pay attention only to her.  One day she swooped across the room, arms spread like a Condor toward her prey, someone working with clay. “What are you doing,” she shrieked, “You can’t treat clay like that.  Are you nuts?”  “You’re crazier than we are,” was the reply.

 Odeen stood erect, shouting for all to hear, “Just wait till 4:30 and watch who goes home and who doesn’t.  Then you will know who’s crazy!”  She then stormed over to her corner of the room and created one more drawing her last.  This time the drawing had white in the brain area, no black splotches.  She stood, turned toward me and announced that she wouldn’t return ever again.  “I am now well, it is 4:30 and I am going home,” she said.  She disappeared into the night.

 Months later the family did find her and with the blessings of the hospital  Odeen Dementia was placed in a halfway house in south Louisiana for about a year. Currently she is living alone and doing well.

 I hear she never draws faces anymore, however, and that no matter where she is at 4:30, she announces loud enough for all in earshot, “It is 4:30 now and I am going home for I am a well person.”

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