art smarts

Chapter 2. Artist Profiles

Persimmon Blackbridge

"I like that a lot of people with disabilities can relate to my work. It’s really meaningful for me that I can make art that lessens the sense of isolation and shame, just by talking about my disability in public. And I’m glad that I get to experience other people’s artwork that does the same thing for me. It’s exciting. It’s really nourishing being a part of this movement."

Persimmon is a sculptor, writer and performer from Vancouver, BC, who has been making art for thirty years. Her work covers a range of issues, including her own experience of having a learning disability and struggling with depression. Although Persimmon thinks of herself mainly as a sculptor, she has also worked on videos, written or co-written six books, and had an active career as a performer. Much of Persimmon’s work has been in collaboration: she has coordinated projects with other artists and community groups and has performed across Canada and the U.S. with Kiss and Tell, a performance trio who tackle issues like lesbian sex, censorship and disability. Persimmon’s books include Her Tongue on My Theory with Kiss and Tell, the winner of the 1995 Lambda Literary Award and Prozac Highway in 1997, which was a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award and the American Library Association Award. Her art has been shown across Canada and the U.S., as well as in Australia, Europe and Hong Kong.

“I had never thought of myself as an artist. I was one of the kids who couldn’t colour inside the lines when we got the Xerox of the Thanksgiving turkey in school. I couldn’t stay inside the lines, ergo, not an artist. I knew that. Art was scary, art was something that I wasn’t good enough at, so I didn’t do it. I had a learning disability and there were many things that I wasn’t good at, and I tried to avoid them. I had a really hellish breakdown when I was twenty. My boyfriend and I were living out on Long Beach in a little plastic shack. And one of the things that the guys did was carving, so my boyfriend had some carving tools. When I started to go crazy I started borrowing his carving tools and doing things that were proper for a girl, like bowls and spoons and domestic kinds of things. I found that the pain would stop while I was doing it, so I did it lots. As I was getting through to the end of that breakdown, I figured out that the carving was something I could actually do. So I kicked out the boyfriend, and I kept his carving tools, and I stopped being crazy. Eventually, I had to realize that I was making art, and it was too late to say I couldn’t do it and it was too late to be scared of failing.”

Joe Coughlin