Beloved local artist Gary Power discusses the impact of a stroke on his life and work.
Two years ago, Gary Power woke up in a daze. He had been feeling unwell but could not anticipate how his life was about to change.
He asked his partner, “Am I dreaming?”
Power then went into what he described as “a very quiet space for about 10 seconds”.
Later that night, a doctor told him what had likely happened. The diagnosis was clear, it had been a stroke.
He was rushed to Queen Square, a neurological hospital that was fortunately just 15 minutes away. It became his home for the next two months.
Words eluded him for a while after the event. On the night, Power thought newspapers were written in a language from “another planet”. “I just couldn’t find the words anymore,” he says.
“Maybe the message from the stroke was that we don’t need words as much. I don’t think I need them as much. Just use the words that say what you mean and no embroidering.”
Two years later, Power, sitting in the Place café in Canonbury, is not short on words. The space is decorated with other local artists’ works, though he has exhibited there in the past. He jokes that he does not welcome the competition.
In the hospital, Power says he was anxious but did not wallow in sadness.
“I don’t really engage too much in depression. I’m sure I have felt depression. No doubt I have,” he says.
“But I am intrigued by the things of the world. For me, it was just anxiety and fear. I thought I might die.”
His doctors made no attempt at reassurance: “Well, you are going to die.”
Another benefit, he adds, is that his “sense of irony” has become far more “pronounced”.
Power admits his physicians’ bigger problem was assessing “what baseline Gary was at”. He quotes the physician to have said: “Clearly Gary is permanently strange anyway. We’re not going to be able to sort that out.”
Power often slips into the third person, or more accurately third persons. After his stroke, he says he felt removed from himself and now refers to the old Gary, from before the stroke, as a distinct individual.
Power says he likes feeling separated from his past self, and “relishes a new post-stroke lease on life”.
It took five or six weeks before Power went back to making art, and since his return, he has “started doing kind of abstract paintings”, which is quite a change from his usual impressionistic landscapes of leafy Canonbury. He has resumed his habitual painting style since his recovery.
“It’s a journey without distance”
“I don’t go very far because I have to be on call for my partner. That’s why Gary’s always painting in the same area,” says Power, referring to himself. “So, there’s a reason why I don’t go to the vistas of Paris or even Hampstead.”
“It’s a journey without distance,” he adds, as although he paints a few footsteps from his home, the journey metaphorically takes him far beyond.
Power has been the area’s resident artist for 15 years, and says he has “actually become a little bit of an institution”. The dry cleaners next to the Place café proudly features a whole wall of his paintings, and his neighbours love him as a pillar of the community.
However, he is not sure how he feels about his fame. “I clearly like the attention to some extent. I do like to be out with people, but I always feel like I should – I want to be – somewhere else.”
Helped in his recovery by his art, Gary says he feels himself “getting quieter… making more sense”. Although his presence may have faded, he finally feels comfortable breaking the silence on the fragile period that upturned his life.
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Finlay is our Canonbury reporter. Their words have appeared in various student publications at Warwick University. They are always open to new stories and leads.