Quadriplegic painter’s amazing art
Heiron was paralysed in a diving accident but discovered a talent that’s turned him into a sought-after artist
THE first thing you notice when you walk into the lounge are the colours: vibrant artworks are everywhere, on the couches and tables, lending a cheerful aspect to the space. Most of the canvases depict the Western Cape’s scenic countryside. Here and there are pictures wrapped in plastic, ready to be delivered to their buyers.
“Many of my paintings are done in bright colours,” says Heiron Joseph Nel, from Vredenburg on the West Coast.
“You won’t find a lot of darkness in my work. I’m trying to tell you, ‘Look, there’s light at the end of the tunnel’.”
Heiron was left paralysed from the neck down after a harrowing diving accident in 2005. Just 27 at the time, he fractured his neck and lost the use of all his limbs.
The catastrophic accident pushed him to the brink of despair and even led him to attempt suicide but these days quadriplegia doesn’t get Heiron (40) down.
In fact, through his condition he’s discovered a remarkable talent he otherwise might never have known he had. Using just his teeth and lips to grip and move a paintbrush between palette and canvas, Heiron creates exquisite art.
He often spends up to 15 hours perfecting a piece but that time can double depending on the amount of detail required.
And yes, he says, there are times when he’s unhappy with the finished product.
Then he simply gets rid of it and starts from scratch.
He’s fussy, he says, but it’s this perfectionism that’s seen his work being sold as far away as Germany. He’s even had big brands such as restaurant franchise Spur and advertising agency M&C Saatchi Abel commission his work.
“Sitting in a wheelchair, painting for 15 hours a day isn’t for the fainthearted,” he says. “But to see something that was once blank eventually become a story – that drives me to get up in the morning.”
HEIRON’S life changed on a hot New Year’s Day. He was braaiing with friends on a beach near Langebaan when he decided to go for a swim. “I swam towards a big rock, climbed on top of it and did a back flip. The momentum sent me right down to the sandbank,” Heiron recalls. He landed head first and recalls the sound of his neck snapping. “It happened so quickly. There was no pain, only numbness,” he says. “I was busy drowning anyway, so I was out of it.” Heiron’s friends weren’t really paying attention. They knew he was a good
swimmer so they were used to him taking risky dives then resurfacing later.
Fortunately, an elderly lady who lived in a beach house nearby was watching in horror as Heiron failed to reappear.
In a panic she sent her grandson to get him out of the water. “When he brought me out, everybody went crazy calling the ambulance and trying to save me,” Heiron says.
“They tried to resuscitate me. When I eventually came around, the first thing I asked for was a cigarette.”
He was taken to Vredenburg Provincial Hospital where doctors tried to stabilise him. Then he was transferred to Groote Schuur Hospital in Cape Town, about 150km away.
Heiron spent six months in an intensive care unit. There was a lot of saltwater in his lungs, which meant he couldn’t breathe unaided, and doctors feared he wouldn’t make it.
For months they battled to wean him off the ventilator.
“Eventually things changed for the better and I became stronger,” Heiron says.
But he was distraught when doctors broke the news of his paralysis.
“I was emotional, devastated. I didn’t understand the magnitude of what was taking place.” Initially he didn’t want to live. “I could hear people saying this man will never be able to do anything for himself again. I was an adventurous person. I was in the prime of my life.”
Heiron’s despair led him to attempt suicide.
Eight weeks into his hospital stay, he overheard the doctor ask nurses about the pressure of the release valve on the ventilator. He figured if the doctor was asking about it every morning, it had to be important to his survival.
“One Tuesday afternoon I just decided I’d had enough so I started chewing on that thing. Next thing I knew the doctor and the physiotherapist were working on me. I’d gone into cardiac arrest.”
A social worker was brought in to counsel him and Heiron says from that day everything changed.
“I had this person sitting next to me every day, talking to me. My whole mindset changed.”
In the six months he spent in hospital, he underwent spinal fusion surgery, during which doctors took part of his hip bone and used it, along with titanium plates, to rebuild his neck. He also had an hour-long physiotherapy and occupational therapy session every day.
For three months after his discharge from hospital he stayed at the Western Cape Rehabilitation Centre for Persons with Physical Disabilities.
In September 2005 he was moved to the Eric Miles Cheshire Home in Milnerton where he stayed until December last year. He’s now back at home in Vredenburg and shares a house with one of his four siblings, Roxanne von Weichardt (28).
His mom, Wilma Joseph, died of a heart attack in 1994 when she was 37. His aunt Elizabeth Koopman (67) has been his guardian since then. Heiron says it’s great to be back home. “I’m really enjoying my life now. Meeting up with old school friends is doing me a world of good.”
THE painting bug bit in 2006. “I’d moved into this home and it was boring. You get up in the morning, they feed you, you spend time in the sun – the same old routine,” he says.
“One day I heard a commotion and saw about 15 residents move into one area. They were doing beadwork and painting. A volunteer asked me if I wanted to join in, and I said yes. So he shoved a brush into my mouth and I painted a beaver.”
Heiron loved it and started painting more regularly. At first he painted for fun, but because it’s such an expensive hobby, he now only paints on a commission basis.
Each German-imported tube of oil paint costs him R200. The cheaper option costs between R30 and R50 but the quality doesn’t meet his standards.
Clients pay R2 500 for a standard-size painting, which is almost the size of an A3 page, but for bigger, more intricate work he charges much more. How much Heiron isn’t keen to disclose. “Let’s just say I’m comfortable,” he quips. He has a good support system. During the day, an assistant helps him shower and get dressed. Then he has a night assistant who does things such as turn him to avoid bed sores.
Since his accident, Heiron has regained limited use of his arms.
At first he drove his motorised wheelchair with his chin. Then 16 months later he was able to move an arm.
Although his right arm has no wrist function, he can pick it up and use it to manoeuvre the wheelchair’s gear lever. On his left side he can move only his shoulder.
There are still times his condition leaves him feeling hopeless, but his family and friends don’t pity him and that makes all the difference.
“No one treats me like a baby,” he says. “I’ve seen cases where everything gets done for that person and that can make you very despondent.”
But despondency won’t get the job done – and when it comes to this perfectionist’s work, only the best will do.