The Impact of Chronic Illness on Creativity: A Woman Artist’s Journey in Montreal

As a self-taught female artist, creativity has always been my way of navigating life’s complexities. It’s how I make sense of emotions, process struggles, and connect with others. Living in Montreal, a city teeming with inspiration, I’ve found endless avenues to express myself—whether through poetry, acrylic and fluorescent paints, charcoal and ink drawings, or sculptures crafted from needles and pins.

But when Lyme disease and Lupus became a part of my life, creativity took on a deeper, more urgent meaning. It became not only a refuge but also a powerful tool to share my story—a testimony to the invisible symptoms of chronic illness. As a woman, I find that these stories often remain untold, dismissed, or overshadowed. Through my art, I aim to change that.

Chronic Illness Through a Gendered Lens

As women, we are often conditioned to minimize our pain, to endure silently, to smile through the discomfort. This societal expectation becomes even more pronounced when living with an invisible illness. Too often, I’ve encountered disbelief or dismissal: “But you look fine!” or “Are you sure it’s not just stress?”

These experiences are not unique to me. Studies have shown that women are more likely to have their pain misunderstood or misdiagnosed, particularly when it comes to conditions like Lyme disease or autoimmune disorders. This invisibility within the healthcare system parallels the invisibility of our symptoms, and it’s a theme I explore deeply in my art.

Making the Invisible Visible

My creations—whether a vibrant painting that glows in the dark or a sculpture of a head painstakingly covered in pins—are all tied by a common denominator: they embody the unseen. They represent the stabbing sensations of nerve pain, the weight of fatigue, and the emotional toll of feeling misunderstood.

Through fluorescent paint, I illuminate the vibrant chaos that often exists beneath the surface, mirroring the inner turmoil that contrasts with an outwardly “normal” appearance. With ink and charcoal, I capture the shadows and contrasts of living with chronic illness, the constant duality of hope and despair. And with sculptures made from needles and pins, I give physical form to the intangible pain that defines my daily life.

Creativity as Advocacy

Creating art as a woman with chronic illness is not just an act of personal expression—it’s a form of advocacy. It’s a way to challenge societal expectations, to say, “This is what my pain looks like; this is what you don’t see.”

Exhibiting my work has opened doors to conversations about empathy, inclusion, and diversity. People often approach me to share their own experiences with illness or to ask questions, curious and eager to understand. These moments remind me that art has the power to build bridges, to foster connections, and to dismantle the isolation that often accompanies chronic illness.

Montreal: A City of Creativity and Challenges

Montreal is a city that celebrates creativity, and it’s provided me with incredible opportunities to share my work. Yet, as a woman navigating chronic illness, balancing the fast-paced demands of an artistic career with the unpredictability of my health can be daunting. (That’s why exploring liminality comes into scene.)

This is where community and collaboration come in. I’ve found strength in working with other artists who share my values of inclusivity and resilience. Together, we challenge the idea of art as an individual endeavor, showing that creative expression can thrive through shared experiences and mutual support.

Art as Empathy, Inclusion, and Diversity

My art is my voice—a way to speak for myself and for those whose stories remain unheard. It’s a call for empathy, urging others to consider the lived experiences of those with chronic illnesses. It’s a plea for inclusion, reminding us that everyone, regardless of their health or abilities, deserves a place at the table. And it’s a celebration of diversity, proving that beauty can emerge from struggle and that strength can coexist with vulnerability.

As women, we often carry the weight of invisible burdens, but through creativity, we can transform that weight into something visible, meaningful, and powerful. My journey as an artist in Montreal has taught me that art is more than a personal escape—it’s a way to change the narrative, to challenge biases, and to inspire a more compassionate world.

If my story resonates with you or if you’d like to see my work, I invite you to join the conversation. Let’s use creativity to make the invisible visible and to create a more empathetic and inclusive future.