For 12 years my body has told me whopping lies about my relationship to Mother Earth. As I cross a parking lot on foot, walk on a hiking trail or even on a level sidewalk, the ground can suddenly buck and pitch like a California earthquake. It’s yet another vertigo attack. In my painting, “Tilt: The Lies My Body Tells Me,” I recreate my physical and psychological reaction as my balance literally spins out of control and my misfiring vestibular system transmits faulty information to my cerebellum. There is no cure for chronic vertigo.
