Lilly Oncology on Canvas began as an international art competition open to: those affected by cancer; their families and friends; cancer advocates, healthcare providers, artists and art students. The contest invited them to express, through art and in narrative, their own cancer journeys. This rich and enduring exhibition, which was unveiled at London's Royal College of Art in 2006 and has been traveling the world touching the hearts and minds of people everywhere.
Lilly Oncology on Canvas received more than 2000 submissions from 43 countries including Australia, Botswana, Hong Kong, Puerto Rico, Singapore, Slovakia, South Africa, the U.S. and U.K. The competition yielded 36 winners in various categories including photography, oil, watercolor, acrylic, pastel and charcoal. Monetary awards were provided to the winners' cancer charities of choice.
This was my submission:
Cancer is a Thief, Metal Etching, 13” x 10”, 1998
My father’s cancer journey began in 1996. It came as a shock to all of us when he was diagnosed and given 6 months to live. I was in my first year of art school and terrified at losing him to this thief called cancer. He fought hard for two years going through the routine of treatments and emotional ups and downs. He dealt with his illness daily with ebbs and flows that ranged from fear, determination to overcome, despair, depression, anger toward everyone (especially God), then acceptance and forgiveness. It was during these two very painful years that my father developed a relationship with his maker. He wrestled with God and realized his own frailty. He found peace in his heart and soul before he took his last breath. I was in the room when he died. As I held his hand the last thing he said to me was, “’night babe”, like he did when I was a little girl and he would tuck me in at bedtime.
I did this portrait of him as a tribute to his life and his fight. It shows him in his final stages; his weight loss and vacant stare; his glasses appearing to be twice to big. Cancer stole that body; that shell, but my father’s spirit lives on in our hearts and memories. It comforts me to think of him waiting in heaven where we will meet again and there will never be another “’night babe”.
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