In the fall of 2016, I did an endo. In mountain biking terms, an endo is when you fly over your handlebars and most likely land on a body part other than your feet. It’s not good. For me, it was my right arm. As I headed down a steep hill at Boulder Valley Ranch, I hit the brakes and before I knew it, I landed on the ground–hard. At the ER they told me my right arm was broken and gave me some painkillers and the phone number of an orthopedist. “If you keep your arm still enough, you could avoid surgery,” I was told. For six weeks I did just that—kept my arm as still as possible, lugging it around by my side in a sling. At bedtime, Kevin would prop me up on strategically placed pillows so my arm would be supported and stay in place as I slept. I’d get up in the morning, pull on a tank top and shorts with my left hand (did I mention I’m a righty?) and make myself a cup of golden milk in hopes the magical anti-inflammatory powers of turmeric would help me heal.
After a few weeks, I was pretty sick of the limitations of my situation and needed to do something productive, so I made art—with serious built-in constraints. What art could I make with one arm? A collage. I had the raw materials—paper, glue, and an unwanted Room & Board catalog. My physical limitations forced me to keep it simple and made it impossible to get fussy. I laughed upon finishing it–with its bone-colored palette and fractured paper edges.
