And So It Goes: When you ignore the warning signs.

I wrote in my last post that with the lead up to my debut solo exhibition @ Sol Gallery (see my events page for more details), my sleep, had become an existential exercise in futility.

My body had been sending me alarms for months, which I had spoken with my counsellor about, but had done naught else to remedy the situation. At the end of the blog, I asked “Am I following the right path for long-term sustainability?” The short answer, dear readers, is “No!”

I was brought up by a military man, the first (and only) of his family who went to University. He thought this was the pinnacle - that you worked hard and achieved greatness - of life. He drove this home to me most weeks, whether it be in my academic endeavours, or my many sporting achievements. When I quit competitive sport in my teens, I was lying when I said, “it was too competitive, I was no longer in love with it”. The reality was, I didn’t want to run (soccer, softball, and cricket - and basketball, would you believe?!) because my chest was growing quite large and moving “inappropriately”. This was the deep-seated body dysmorphia I am still recovering from, even 13 years after chest surgery. When I quit, my father saw it as a failure. That I wasn’t trying enough, that the whole point to life was to be competitive. “Head down, bum up.” How often did he say this phrase to me? How ingrained it is within me still. Then the on-set of Capitalist 90’s hit, and, well, we all know how that is turning out.

On the other side there is my ma. A strong woman with many flaws. After she divorced my abusive father her social anxieties and self-loathing (that I argue were caused by my father) increased little by little and literally fed her to the point where she can barely move, and now falls constantly when she does. She lives in a rough part of the Northern suburbs an hour out of Adelaide and rarely leaves her house due to the sickening insults the neighbourhood teens heap on her. This is probably also why she refuses to use her mobility aids. I see her and do not want to be her. I drive myself to work out often with my support team, eat clean as often as possible, and constantly monitor for signs I’m “doing it wrong”.

So, working myself into the ground is an endemic coding deep within my DNA. I have asked my counsellor how one, with such an upbringing, stops working/giving at 110%? Ten years ago, when my body and mind literally broke directly caused due to the stresses of overworking and a very large insurance company who did little to help, I vowed I would slow down. For a long time, I did.

Little by little, however, I forget I have these acquired disabilities that need to be nurtured and my body must be listened to when it speaks up. My body is (and probably always has been) quite vocal when it needs extra assistance. I have tried, in the past ten years, to find the work/life balance I plead to all my friends to find. I think currently, I am failing. I am not alone.

The more I immerse myself within the art community, the more stories I hear of artists burning out - before they are 30 - or in their first five years of being in the industry. This is because the hustle is real. You hustle to have a voice. Then if you have a voice, you hustle to keep it; to grow it; constantly hustling. We hustle today, because tomorrow we are not guaranteed an income (and creating art is actually more expensive than you would think!).

If there was a minimum wage for artists, as the Greens Party here in Australia have weakly floated a few times, then yes, we would still be poor - but we could allow ourselves more easily to occasionally take breaks. Those of us living with disability would more often than not, stop of our own accord, before our bodies forced us to stop!

Needless to say, I have been laid up in bed with exhaustion and flu for ten days. My schedule has been rearranged, then rearranged some more as I try and keep hustling. Yesterday I masked up and took my artworks to the gallery for installation. Today I am off to my GP for a necessary health check as my body falls apart some more. I tell myself that I must be better for Thursday, so I force myself to rest, but still struggle to sleep.

Human beings are complicated. Human beings with disability, more so, particularly when those disabilities are largely invisible and can be oft times ignored. Whilst I am sure I have long shed my internalised ableism; I still must contend with and unlearn my conditioned work hard coding. I need to remind myself that stopping for an hour to play a computer game (I only play Civilisation VI, for those who want to know, maybe occasionally Wii monopoly or Wii sports – yes, I still have and use a Wii), is not a failure. Stopping is a success. Stopping IS a success. Stopping is a SUCCESS. Stopping is a success because it will increase both my longevity and my happiness. Just STOP!

At the end of every blog, I ask a question. This time I am not going to. This time I am simply going to submit the blog and go back to bed until I must go to my GP appointment. Rest well folx, and for the love of all things holy – S.T.O.P.

T.Leigh

Official flyer to Teague Leigh’s debut solo exhibition “The Reclamation of Terra”, proudly supported by Pride Foundation Australia, at Sol Gallery, Thursday 7th September @ 6pm. On the left is a canvas painted in hues of textured acrylic paint. In the middle is a landscape photograph of a yellow sand dune with one lonely tree to the left side and deep blue sky above. This central image is repeated in collage underneath in three chopped up lines. Above the central image are the colours of the progressive pride flag in wavy lines leading to the top left corner. On the right of the flyer it is black with the details of the exhibition.

Once More Unto The Breach: How to keep going in the face of adversity.

Adversity is my mortal foe. Yes, I live with depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, an acquired cognitive disability, chronic pain from arthritis, and autism, but they are all exacerbated by the stress of life's many adversities.

 In the lead up to my debut solo exhibition @ Sol Gallery (see my events page for more details), my sleep, which is bad at the best of times, has become so appalling that in the rare occasions I do sleep, I am bombarded with dreams that never stop moving and are filled themselves with anxiety and time-sensitive decision-making; they are exhausting; I wake up exhausted. Often, however, I do not sleep. Sure, my eyes might be closed, but there is no rest to be had.

 It is more than just the September exhibition. I am planning an exhibition gala in January and in order to pay for just the accessibility alone, not to mention paying for the gallery, entertainment, drinks and food, I am having to spend upwards of ten hours on multiple grants per month, none of which I am guaranteed to receive. The stress of being poor, of eating right, of buying all my medications, of fitting in appointments, my fitness regime, and my regular schedule, on top of creating a voice I think is worthy of being heard in the art world for a cause I believe worthy of fighting for, is immense.

 On Friday night, two songs into watching amazing New Zealand singer Bic Runga live in concert, I found out my ma had yet another serious fall (she has been suffering from falls for many years due to her [juvenile] arthritis and medical obesity). I spent the rest of the concert on the phone to my beloved aunt who lives not too far from my ma in the Northern Suburbs of Adelaide; and then on the phone to my sister (who is also going through her own trials now). My mother remains in hospital and will be for the foreseeable future as they remove her reconstructed (now smashed) knee and put in a new one. She is being looked after, but the stress of knowing that at any stage she could fall again once she is discharged is a huge weight to bare.

 I have been telling people for the past ten years, since acquiring my disabilities from working in a stressful job I loathed, that balance in life is crucial to maintaining a happy and healthy life. Yet here I am, working harder than I have even before my mind and body broke. Yes, I am a lot happier now and doing art is a passion, I would not do anything else. However, I am failing to see the balance right now, and that must change, or I know that no matter how many pills I take, my mental illness, the disabilities, the pain, will become so much worse than what they currently are, and currently they are bad.

 Science and medicine have proven the correlation between the increase of pain in the body with the increase of stresses in a person’s life. Due to unchecked stress, I can be sitting amongst friends, or attending a workshop, and by the end of an hour (or not even) I can be in immeasurable amounts of pain. Yet when I lift heavy weights and do Pilates with my Exercise Physiologist, the pain remains at a manageable level because my stress is being actively managed.

 Since my multiple diagnoses I have learnt to look at the silver lining, to not catastrophise and think of worse case scenarios, so I am not dire, but I do have to be conscious of asking for more help from family and my networks. I do have to lay in bed to “nap” in a dark room with my earplugs in for 45 minutes, even if my brain doesn’t switch off. Sensory depravation is a core element to maintaining good health for me because I have tried numerous times to meditate in various styles, but it just doesn't work. Removing sensory noise is the only way I find relaxation at these times of high stress and adversity. Oh yes, walks in nature reset my wonky equilibrium, and I feel exuberantly blessed in those moments, but often, I have my camera with me with the direct purpose of working. Sensory deprivation is my only downtime of late.

 Before I was diagnosed as living with autism, I masked in the face of the gaslighting world around me. I ran charities and was involved with running queer social events. They would inevitably leave me bedridden for weeks at a time as I recovered from the stress of “putting my head down and my bum up”, as my father always preached to me. You always keep moving forward and never ever give up. I now know that motto to be extremely unhealthy and unhelpful.

 But my title is how to keep going in the face of adversity. We tend to think of motion, of never stopping, when we think of “keep going” or “Just keep swimming” as Dory said in Finding Nemo. Like Dory, my memory is not so good, and like Dory, I do like to think positively, but sometimes you must stop, find your bearings, and ask for directions and help from others. Whilst it may seem like you are standing still, or even having to go backwards, this is what moving forwards is truly about. Learning when to lie down for a nap, even when your brain will not shut off. Learning to handball tasks to loved ones, or strangers, in order to get a moment. Learning to listen to yourself and what your body and mind need. Due to my brand of autism, this last one is perhaps the hardest of all. Recognising my emotions, my emotional state, and then knowing how best to care for myself, has taken years to learn the basics of.

 What I am trying hard not to do in the face of all this adversity, it to quit. Though I have lived through some dark times where I have literally hit a brick wall, quitting, ultimately, has never been in my nature. Now, that is not to say that stopping a project is the same as quitting, it most definitely is not. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do for yourself, especially when you live with disabilities, is place the project down and walk away. Whether that be for an hour, a day, a year. Walking away is not quitting. Walking away is giving you the opportunity to stop at the cross-roads, assess your health and your needs and either continue with the project as is but with more supports in place, or change the nature of the project itself.

 So, I continue to work with my amazing counsellor and other fabulous humans in my support network to ascertain how best to keep going despite life’s many adversities. I embrace the dark room, but not the potential darkness of the situation. I keep going, even if that means I am in bed with my eyes shut.

 In my second blog I asked if this level of work was sustainable. Now I ask: Am I following the right path for long-term sustainability? Follow my blog to find out.

T.Leigh

Official flyer to Teague Leigh’s debut solo exhibition “The Reclamation of Terra”, proudly supported by Pride Foundation Australia, at Sol Gallery, Thursday 7th September @ 6pm. On the left is a canvas painted in hues of textured acrylic paint. In the middle is a landscape photograph of a yellow sand dune with one lonely tree to the left side and deep blue sky above. This central image is repeated in collage underneath in three chopped up lines. Above the central image are the colours of the progressive pride flag in wavy lines leading to the top left corner. On the right of the flyer it is black with the details of the exhibition.

Harder Than Expected: Balancing expectations with limitations

Since my initial blog post, my intention was to write once a month, at the very least. However, it seems that working for yourself as an artist is a full-time hustle and I have not worked this hard since I was fired from my corporate job ten years ago due to my acquired disabilities making it impossible for me to work in an office environment.

Don’t get me wrong, with that job I was working 8am - 6pm, then immediately working on the charity I was running until midnight most days. This new form of working is not as intense, nor do I hate the work that I am doing. Art is a salvation in my life, and I am blessed to be practising it and that my disabilities do not limit my ambition.

However, whoever came up with the concept that all artists do all day is sit in cafes and people watch/dream, was a right naff tool. That idea couldn’t be further from the truth. I nap less now than I would like; napping being an important part of my weekly well-being routine.

So what have I been doing with my time if not napping, blogging, or sitting around in cafe’s? Since 7th June, I have: attended workshops for artists, run by the Merri-bek council; met Caity Lotz at Oz Comic-Con (ok, so I can’t be working all the time!); entered photography awards; applied for gallery space for my January exhibition; been interviewed for another photographers trans photography project; sat with a CBD treatment specialist and subsequently started a trial for pain management; attended art galleries; continued with fortnightly photography adventures with my support worker; edited those images; fought with my laptop/whispered sweet nothings to her to coax her to work whilst she constantly and consistently crashes; worked for The Emerging Writer’s Festival, photographing their closing night event, celebrating 20 years; fighting with the landlord over the condition of the apartment building (she owns the whole thing) and a water bill three times higher than normal that we were sure was due to a building leak she refused to attend to; locked in a gallery space for January; attended an ecological-meets-science-meets-art panel discussion featuring Yin Paradies and Ecological Gyre Theory organised by Green Bee; wrote a couple of grant applications; had my second essay in Archer published online; submitted my application for a Midsumma 2024 event; applied to a couple of group exhibitions; exhibited a piece from my current series at a group show; hopped back onto instagram for the first time in two years to promote my passions; submitted documents to Sol Gallery for the upcoming September exhibition; watched Electric Fields soar alongside the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra at Hamer Hall; watched Midsumma Pathways alumni, most of whom were my 2022-23 cohort, smash it out of the park at Midsummica - so talented!; write the audio descriptions for all my artwork because accessibility is key; and finally, I completed my series: The Reclamation of Terra! Phew!

Six weeks with nary a nap in sight. I’m wondering how sustainable this level of work is for me now. With my cognitive disability it takes me thrice as long to read and comprehend anything, which means responding to emails, reading/writing grants, and researching tech-speak to try and fix my failing laptop is an onerous chore that eats into my creativity time. Not to mention my poor sleep has eroded even more with the everything of logistics swirling about my head ‘til the wee hours of the morning.

So no, my blogging may not, going forward, be consistent, but I can assure you, it will be quality. My expectations of what I can achieve have been tempered by what my ability can allow. After a lifetime of being gas-lit, of having everyone’s expectations dictating to me what I should and shouldn’t be doing with my time, I am still negotiating with myself what exactly my limitations are. I am still coming to terms with loving this refurbished version of myself. I am having to stop and look at the above list and say, “Well done Teague, you accomplished so much!” Because my expectations had been a massive pile-on that in the end wasn’t feasible, but what was accomplished was a heroic effort.

Is this sustainable? I’m still unsure. I have always had a strong work ethic and a blinkered focus. To not give 110% every day is exasperating. However, I will keep working with my counsellor and the rest of my support team, family, and friends. I will continue to live unmasked and ask myself whether the hurdle in front of me is manageable today, or can it be postponed for a week or two?

I have deadlines now, many deadlines, my health is regretfully failing as I draw nearer to my 50’s, these two things are not necessarily harmonious, but I am determined to find cohesion and balance and consciously live with joy each and every day. I have limited social media to an hour per day, my phone blocks it after that, so that is one less stress to worry about. I am asking more of the people around me, letting them know that I cannot actually do it all myself. I am saying “no” and loving myself for that. When you have acquired invisible disabilities, it is often difficult to see yourself through a lens not of societies creation. People will often look at me when I tell them I am disabled and you can see their brains ticking away, trying to trace your disability, seeing whether they approve of its origin or not. I initially struggled to not judge myself the same way. Now, however, I can say I am strong, I can say I am an amazing human. I can give myself the lenience and the love required to live my life on my terms.

Is this period of frenzied work sustainable? Follow my blog to find out.

T.Leigh

Official flyer to Teague Leigh’s debut solo exhibition “The Reclamation of Terra”, proudly supported by Pride Foundation Australia, at Sol Gallery, Thursday 7th September @ 6pm. On the left is a canvas painted in hues of textured acrylic paint. In the middle is a landscape photograph of a yellow sand dune with one lonely tree to the left side and deep blue sky above. This central image is repeated in collage underneath in three chopped up lines. Above the central image are the colours of the progressive pride flag in wavy lines leading to the top left corner. On the right of the flyer it is black with the details of the exhibition.

Here I Am

Over ten years ago, reaching the end of my 30’s, I was diagnosed with autism and multiple acquired disabilities. The diagnoses were both a weight lifted from my shoulders and a confusing mixture of fear, self-loathing, and self-questioning.

I had always been creative, focusing in my late teens and adulthood on my writing practice. I wrote erotic queer prose, poetry, and short stories. I celebrated female sexuality, championing the notion that females should never be silenced over their needs and wants. I performed in clubs and pubs around Canberra, Australia, as well as queer festivals and events across Australia. Sometimes I performed to as many as 400 people. I have been published multiple times in several anthologies. All in my dead name or a nom-de-plume.

I use the term “dead name” because in my early 30’s, in 2003, whilst studying gender theory as part of my second degree focusing on English and History at the Australian National University, I discovered the “trans” section in one of the campus libraries whilst writing an essay dissecting the gender binary. I read more than was necessary for my assignment. I read that the feelings I hadn’t been able to understand when I was a child, and the feelings I brushed away as stupidity as a teen, were real. I was a transgendered man, assigned female at birth.

This was another awakening in my life. Probably a happier one than discovering I had been gas-lit all my life whilst living/struggling with autism. My acquired disabilities have greatly diminished the ability for me to read, comprehend, and write. I didn’t know what to do with my life. I had always been creative, but if I couldn’t continue to write, how could I outlay that creative passion?

Decades earlier, when I was around 16, I did a photography course through school, then in my early 20’s I studied dark room practices. Harking back to those days more and more the answer became obvious to me - I would buy a cheap refurbished camera off eBay and let the images speak for me - say the words I now found so difficult to recall.

I have been photographing landscapes, primarily, each fortnight with the wonderful support worker I found as part of my NDIS funding, for some years now. We go out into nature. Even before being diagnosed with autism, I have always found nature to be my balm. I live in an Inner North suburb of Naarm and it is busy. Billboards, cars, cyclists, pub-goers, screaming babies, barking dogs, the list goes on. Noise. Visual and aural noise. It has always added to the stress of my daily life. Nature is the quiet that calms my nerves and provides me with soothing equilibrium.

Over the last couple of years I have been thinking about my queerness. I am both trans masc. and bisexual. I have been thinking of my rainbow community, wanting to champion our voices through my art, like I did with my writing. But how does one queer up landscape photography? In 2022 this nagging voice was particularly strong and in June of that year I developed an idea. A couple of months later I joined a nearby art class through Arts Access Victoria, applied for the Midsumma Pathways mentorship program, and applied for the Yarra Sculpture Gallery Summer Residency for 2022/23.

Surprisingly (to me), I was awarded with both the mentorship and the residency and began nurturing my idea into a fully-fledged reality of mixed media and acrylic canvases utilising my landscape images, as well as creating a sculptural element, and working on a companion video. These pieces form the series “The Reclamation of Terra”, a call to arms to the LGBTQIA+SB community and their allies to rise in unity to reverse the drastic climate change happening globally. What good is fighting for equality, if we have no planet on which to live?

I am very pleased to say I have secured Sol Gallery in Naarm to hold my debut solo exhibition opening on the 7th of September, 2023. It is with great excitement that I also announce that the event is supported by Pride Foundation Australia. So, after 10 long years somewhat in the wilderness, I have emerged with clear intent. A clear direction. A clear voice. Here I Am.

Hope to see you on opening night.

T.Leigh

Unofficial invite to Teague Leigh’s debut solo exhibition “The Reclamation of Terra”, proudly supported by Pride Foundation Australia, at Sol Gallery, Thursday 7th September @ 6pm. Teague stands with his sculpture at the recent Artstop group exhibition held at Schoolhouse Studios, 11th May, 2023.

Teague Leigh.