Taken at dusk after leaving a busy day working in the medical intensive care unit. I was overwhelmed by the support of our first responders, and watched quietly with one of our MICU nurses. It’s one of those moments that stands out like a bookmark in a chapter of one’s life.
Michael S. Cross, M.D., is a Chief Resident and Clinical Instructor in the Department of Internal Medicine at UAMS.
By Marissa A. Miller
Mixed media on paper
I enjoy sharing my art with others, especially my abstract pieces. Hearing the different interpretations of my art fulfill my desire to share with others. It seems that no two interpretations are exactly the same and that sparks a fire inside of me to continue to create, even when I am trying to express something that I struggle with.
This piece is meant to be a representation of what I see when I have a migraine aura. The vein-like structures represent firing neurons and sensitivity to light, while the darkness and random composition represent the chaos that is to follow. The dark, moving background creates a sense of anxiety and panic that is associated with a migraine aura. The bright greens, blues and whites are flashes of pain and the dark, soft, repetitive brush strokes are the throbbing or pounding sensation felt after the aura dissolves. The high contrast of the colors in this piece represent the battle for restorative sleep while enduring the pain of a migraine.
The irony of this painting is that although it was inspired by pain and darkness, the migraine aura is actually quite beautiful and interesting to see. Clouded vision, flashes of light, blurred squiggle lines, black flashing, and decreased depth perception are all ways to describe a visual aura, but no two are the same and no two people will give the exact same description.
The texture and dimension of this piece was achieved by layering contrasting gauche and acrylic on top of pastel, chalk and watercolor.
Marissa A. Miller, PA-S, is an alumna of the Physician Assistant program at UAMS.
I have always liked photographing paths. It is embarrassingly sappy and cliché of course, but when I see one, I think how it is symbolic of life’s paths. Some shots, like those that often accompany “The Road Not Taken,” show two or more paths diverging, which could represent options and big decisions. This is the shot after the decision. You have settled on something, and you have a general idea where you will go. You may be feeling hopeful. The first part of the journey is bright, but you cannot see what lies in wait further ahead. You take the first steps…
Mitchell R. McGill, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor in the Fay W. Boozman College of Public Health.
By Molly Gathright, M.D.
I took this photo, now almost four years ago, on a trip to the Grand Canyon, and I call it “Light after the Storm.” During a morning hike in the Canyon, a very large and unexpected thunderstorm suddenly appeared and caught us by surprise. We waited out the storm while sheltering under a rock overhang. As soon as the storm had passed, the amazing light shining through the clouds captivated us. That light brought beauty and color to everything around us, providing yet another perspective of the splendor of the Canyon.
Over the past four years there have been numerous times that this photo has come to mind–each time when reflecting on a “storm” I was facing—whether personal or professional. So, not surprising while recently reflecting on the “storm” that we all have been facing with the public health crisis of a pandemic, this photo, once again, came to mind. For me, it personifies hope. It reminds me to continue with watchful waiting for the light that will appear after this storm, and it serves as a reminder to pause and take time to notice the glimpses of light every day in the work that each of us are doing. My hope is that others can be inspired and encouraged by that light and will take the time to pause and find their own glimpses of light in each day. I am grateful for the light that others often share with me, and because of that, I know the sun will continue to break through the clouds and shine.
“The Heavens declare the glory of GOD, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.” –Psalm 19:1
Molly Gathright, M.D., is the Associate Dean for Graduate Medical Education in the College of Medicine at UAMS.
By Suzanne House
“I am among those who think that science has great beauty.” Marie Curie
This image was taken looking through the eyepiece of a dissecting microscope using an iPhone. It shows a thin section of human precision cut lung slice (PCLS) with an airway that is bifurcating and resembles a heart.
Suzanne House is a Research Associate in the Department of Pediatrics.
By Luann Racher
My 10 year old Yorkie, Max, offers support as I finish the final draft of an article.
Mary Luann Racher, M.D., is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at UAMS.
