Artist with CMT wants artwork to stand on its own merits

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(Here we go again, CMT is NOT " a form of Muscular Dystropy " .!)

Artist with muscular dystrophy wants artwork to stand on its own merits

By Magdalena Wegrzyn

Longmont Times-Call

LONGMONT — Most art aficionados who admire her serene landscapes have no idea

the artist lives with a form of muscular dystrophy that can make clutching a

paintbrush difficult and gripping a pencil a chore.

And that's how Gudgel-Getson wants it.

" I don't want people to say, `Oh, look, it's that disabled artist on Sherman

Street.' I don't allow it to define my personality. I don't want that to be my

definition. I won't let that define me, " she said.

Doctors diagnosed the Longmont resident at birth with Charcot-Marie-Tooth

disease, a neurological disorder that, over time, causes a loss of muscle tissue

and sensation.

The genetic disease — named after the three physicians who first identified it —

affects about one in 2,500 people in the United States, according to the

National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke.

As nerve connections to limbs deteriorate and muscles consequently weaken, CMT

patients slowly lose use of their feet, legs, hands and arms.

But Gudgel-Getson is more interested in talking about her art than her CMT.

Her work captures spacious swaths of nature, often in Nebraska, Colorado, New

Mexico and Wyoming. A collection of images in her living room is a map of

Western geography: a bucolic patch of mountains along the Old Santa Fe Trail, a

gurgling brook of Nebraska's Niobrara River, and Mount Meeker and Longs Peak

snuggled together from a vantage point in spark.

Although she paints primarily landscapes of Western states in soft pastels, her

abstract art also has attracted attention. Two of her pieces — " Northern

Lights, " a blue- and green-streaked sky over clusters of trees, and " Vortex, " a

swirl of gold and violet that Gudgel-Getson said is like looking down the top of

a tornado — are featured in the Muscular Dystrophy Association Art Collection, a

traveling gallery of about 375 pieces, all created by artists with neuromuscular

disorders.

The collection is on permanent display at the MDA's national headquarters in

Tucson, Ariz. Galleries throughout the country also host exhibits with 20 to 40

of the pieces.

As a child, Gudgel-Getson wore metal braces — devices she describes as " almost

medieval " — on her feet at night to correct her pigeon-toed feet, a result of

her CMT. For the same reason, at 16, surgeons at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester,

Minn., cut and rotated the heel bones on both feet.

Doctors told her she would be in a wheelchair by age 40.

Now 45, Gudgel-Getson walks with a limp, dragging her left foot behind. Because

her muscles are weak — at 5 feet 7 inches, she weighs less than 100 pounds — and

they fatigue quickly she moves slowly and has learned to jury-rig everyday items

into working for her.

Before her sister presented her with a fancy automated jar opener, Gudgel-Getson

jimmied open tightly sealed jars of spaghetti sauce with a bottle opener,

methodically loosening the lid until it popped open.

" If I went back to college, the professor would probably be hitting me with a

ruler all the time because I don't grip things right, " she joked.

Still, the mother of two said she refuses to feel sorry for herself when other

people are much worse off. That's why when the handicap placard for her car

expired, Gudgel-Getson did not renew it. She figures there are people out there

who need primo parking more than she does.

And CMT isn't a huge deal at home, Gudgel-Getson said. Her 17-year-old daughter,

Jewell Getson, is more apt to roll her eyes and talk about her mother's tendency

to become " everyone's mom " than the challenges of CMT.

A recent episode of unemployment — she worked at a retirement community up until

last month — prompted Gudgel-Getson to pursue art full-time, rather than be a

" getting-one-piece-to-a-gallery-once-a-year kind of person. "

Now, she is working on a business plan, and hopes to sell her pieces through her

website at http://dancingcranestudio.shutterfly.com.

A gallery of her artwork will open Feb. 4 at the Lapis Gallery, 3971 Tennyson

St., Denver.

And most who see her Western landscapes won't know the artist has CMT.

And that's exactly how she wants it.

" I've tried to not let the disability have anything to do with the art, " she

said. " It doesn't make me any better or any worse... I never want anyone's pity.

So I work a little harder, and my work needs to stand on its own. "