Toronto Star

Creativity trumps artist’s blindness in graphic memoir

Struck by a rare disease, Vivian Chong and collaborat­or finish book

- MIKE DONACHIE

“Even without my eyes, I’m still an artist.” There’s real resolve in Vivian Chong’s voice. Her story, deftly told in her new graphic memoir “Dancing After TEN,” explains her determinat­ion.

In 2004, Chong developed a rare skin disorder, toxic epidermal necrolysis — the TEN of the book’s title — which caused scar tissue to develop across her body and left her near death, in a coma for two months. When she awoke, the condition caused her to lose her sight, her hearing and much of her independen­ce.

Cornea surgery restored the Toronto artist’s sight, but the improvemen­t was slight and lasted just a month. During that time she drew 100 pages of a graphic novel telling her story — but, heartbreak­ingly, her vision again failed before she could finish. She left the book aside for 12 years.

Until she met Georgia Webber, another Toronto graphic novelist with a remarkable story of overcoming disability. In 2018, she created the graphic novel “Dumb: Living Without A Voice,” also published by Fantagraph­ics, which told the story of the difficulti­es she faced when her voice first diminished, then unexpected­ly stayed away. She was an empathetic co-creator for Chong and together they finished Chong’s story.

It’s a compelling, harrowing read, describing what she calls a “horrifying” experience. In stark art, sometimes on scraps of paper visibly taped to the page, Chong describes becoming sick suddenly — the cause has never been fully explained — and being left alone in hospital by an ex-boyfriend.

Then come worsening symptoms, humiliatio­ns of treatment, loneliness and deteriorat­ing mental health, lessons in resilience and a slow, agonizing progressio­n back to a full life as a creative artist.

Chong’s recovery is astonishin­g.

She remains blind, but regained her physical health, her hearing — “It’s my thigh listening,” she chuckles, explaining that doctors used part of her legs to reconstruc­t her ears — and has a mental fortitude that’s let her reforge a life; she’s still an artist and writer and is now a standup comedian — and a dancer.

“Dancing After TEN” explains the process of its own completion, which involved Chong describing scenes verbally and Webber creating or finishing visual art that connects the events.

She’d send them back and Vivian’s other collaborat­or, theatre director Kathleen Rea, would describe the art to her, and then they’d do revisions.

“I am trying to showcase Vivian’s perspectiv­e,” says Webber (whose voice has recovered). “On a personal note, creativity has a lot to offer when it come to navigating new situations.”

“Creativity will help you survive and grow.” Chong says straightfo­rwardly. “When things happen to you, it doesn’t define who you are.”

Chong says she and Webber found common ground in their ability to visualize. “Georgia is an artist and I’m an artist. We speak creativity before we speak in words.”

The intensity, although not the method, of their collaborat­ion will be familiar to comic book creators — it’s been key to the success of so many graphic novels. And their achievemen­t underscore­s the message from advocates on behalf of those with disabiliti­es — focus on what people can do, not what they can’t.

“It’s all about giving people hope,” says Chong. “Transforma­tion takes place. Don’t worry about how other people do things. You can do it your own way and at your own speed.

“No matter how vulnerable your state of mind, your body or your mental health, you can come out of it. I realized my power. No one can give me that power. I would have to have that power within.”

This is an intensely personal book, one that Chong says has become “bigger than me already.”

And if her art has given her a way to share her experience and get others talking, all the better.

“The powerful thing about being an artist is you let things out and people react to it. You expect there will be talk and discussion and a reaction.”

“Dancing After TEN” was due to launch alongside a complement­ary dance-theatre production directed by Rea but, as with so many things, COVID-19 intervened. Now, both Webber and Chong have had time to think a lot about isolation, and they have advice for us all.

“Spending time with your feelings about what’s going on can provide a lot of space to move through that without resisting it,” Webber says. “Give some time and space to things you feel. Allow yourself to feel.”

Chong, too, faces the challenges with optimism. “I think people should start doing something fun and for themselves. This is a time when life is telling us to go onwards and find out who we are, and find some fun for ourselves. Reach inward and find a dialogue. Be OK with being alone and also see that you are not alone. You can still collaborat­e with others and you can reach inside to find a way to experience freedom.”

“I live life,” she smiles, and advises us all to join her.

 ?? FANTAGRAPH­ICS BOOKS ?? “Dancing After Ten” is a compelling, harrowing read, describing what Vivian Chong calls a “horrifying” experience.
FANTAGRAPH­ICS BOOKS “Dancing After Ten” is a compelling, harrowing read, describing what Vivian Chong calls a “horrifying” experience.
 ??  ?? Vivian Chong, left, and Georgia Webber co-authored “Dancing After Ten.”
Vivian Chong, left, and Georgia Webber co-authored “Dancing After Ten.”
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