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PTSD - If You Could Draw It Or Describe It - What Would It Look Like

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The inspiration for a further attempt

"Transposition"

I know its hard to see but the original is huge eight foot by nearly three foot - two pieces. One piece can rotate around the other, makes four art works in total.

I am hoping to create a new two piece work based on this principal - just shapes and half shapes which when the canvasses are rotated from different shapes. This will take time and I will also have to think hard on the colours but
heres hoping.


"art for arts sake"

The second oil image is a crayon drawing (16x20 inch)

I drew in this in the middle of "things" two and a half years ago and looking back can see how it portrays the space I was in, I cant remember doing it (only the last few finishing touches) but it finally is on my wall and I have come to admire it.
 

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When I painted an oil on canvas painting of PTSD, it was very bright and a little overwhelming... the lower portion of the painting was lavendar and gray and looked kinda like a mountain, however, it was a person's head lying face-up. Above the face mountain was what could have been a beautiful sunset or sunrise, but it was infact fire from an explosion. I am an abstract artist, and I wanted to show how the PTSD invade the beauty of life out of nowhere, and catch one completely off guard.

Your picture sounds beautiful, by the way! :)
 
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I don't claim to have PTSD, but I'll post this because I think it's something people may relate to.

It's kind of like waking up in a dark room. I have no memories, no sense of identity, no preconceived ideas, and oddly, no sense that this is an 'abnormal' situation. There are objects in the room, and people, and there doesn't seem to be any specific threat, but there is a hole in the wall, a tunnel into some other place. I know there's something out there, but I don't really know what it is. The people in the room tell horrible stories about it. I am also told that one day I will be squeezed through the tunnel into that horrible somewhere.

That's kind of what my childhood was like, I think. Now, I have more preconceived ideas and memories.
 
I have discovered that I have a number of images for PTSD, it stands to reason that each one is related to a very different type of PTSD and are attached to different people.

I have only just been diagnosed, I have cared for, and lived with very different types of sufferers (I dont like that word there has to be a better word with positive connotations).

Each one has left an image behind. All of which one day I will sort into Art.

Mine is definately related to thunder clouds - and balanced by the silver rim of light.

It has helped reading all your different images again I thank you all
 

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I have to say, I hate to be so negative, but for me very often it is simply a figure, me, standing in an empty, square room with the walls painted gray. Theres this big hole in my body as parts of my heart and soul have been stolen away, and theres no clear way in or out, just this weird mix of emptiness and rushing emotions flying about around me, going like this:poke:
 
Hi there, I am not a soldier but my images tend to be military themes for my ptsd

At it's worst: I am a soldier on a battle field in vietnam. The bullets are coming at me non-stop from all side and they are bullets made of triggering memories. I get hit again, again and again but I tell myself that I must keep going on. Then, once a week I go to a trench where a field nurse (my counselor), tries to put bandages on the wounds and even though I don't want to leave her, she says I must go back to the front lines until my tour of duty ends. No one will tell me when it ends. One day, (last week actually), I go to the trench and there is a field doctor there (psychiatrist) and he says that the bullets have severed my leg and that I need to leave the war and go for treament so that they can try to re-attach my leg. I refuse to go because I can't allow myself, can't be good enough to myself to really allow me to get help. So, I go back to the front lines with one leg and keep on fighting and hope that the field nurse will be able to keep the bleeding to a minimum when I get back to see her next week.

At it's least worst: I am reflecting on the day and I suddenly remember that there was a moment, just a small one, where the center of my world was not anxiety. I am standing in a field surrounded by apple trees in autumn and I can smell yummy turkey being cooked in a farmhouse nearby. I start walking there.

Weird but true I'm afraid :-)
 
This picture is what I tend to feel like when my PTSD symptoms are at their worst... and just so it's clear, I didn't draw / paint this... but I can't remember the name of the artist who did:
 

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