Something's happening here:
Dementia patients make connections through art
By Jennifer Jones
Anderson Independent-Mail
February 25, 2006
People stood and stared, awestruck, at the paintings that hung on the walls of the Riverside Living Center
amidst the soft buzz of scattered comments and conversation.
There were pictures of flowers and streams, palm trees and oceans: "Flower for my Friend" by Louise E.,
"To See Sister Sarah," by Ruth P., "A Garden to Share" by Cecil L.
The paintings symbolize a breakthrough, a connection made with personalities changed by Alzheimer’s
disease and other forms of dementia.
Noell Hammer, the former executive director of a small Alzheimer’s Association chapter and founder of the
Institute of MnemeTherapy, emphatically denies being a scientist of any sort and doesn’t pretend to be.
But something is happening in people’s brains, she said. Her unique painting program, Art Without
Boundaries, utilizes what she calls MnemeTherapy (Mneme is the short name of Mnemosyne, the Greek
goddess of Memory and mother of the Muse.)
"It’s not art therapy, because that's a psychological process. In contrast,MnemeTherapy uses everyday
pleasurable experiences: painting, movement, singing, storytelling and painting. I’m drawing from all of
these things because they each do something different in the brain," Ms. Hammer said. "What we believe
we are doing is reorienting and re-mapping the brain and finding routes around the damage."
She said she has a working hypothesis as to why this is working to reach people but is waiting on the
research to talk about the specifics publicly. Whatever the reason for the program’s success with
dementia, it’s plain to see that something is indeed happening.
Angela Childers, a resident care tech at Riverside Living Center, usually had a difficult time with one of the
residents. The woman was very combative, hitting and biting those trying to dress her or bathe her. After a
session with Ms. Hammer, however, something in the woman seemed to change.
"I thought she was a different patient. It was like night and day. She’s had a wonderful, wonderful day. I
wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it," Ms. Childers said. "She’s happy and she’s told me she loves
me, I’ll bet six times today."
Carla Heritage, executive director of the Riverside Living Center, said there are no words to describe the
differences she’s seen in the residents.
"I just wish everyone could see this. The families are just amazed. They’ll stand and stare at the paintings,"
she said.
Forty-four residents’ paintings will be auctioned at a special gala on March 23 to raise enough money to
bring Ms. Hammer back to the center the end of April.
"The purpose of the gala is to pull the community into the facility and it brings the community to the
residents," Ms. Heritage said. "These people are in the winter of their lives and this program has brought a
breath of spring. They get a sparkle in their eyes. They’re so proud of what they’ve done and they know
that they did it."
Riverside Living Center resident Mary Stone, dressed in a blue sweatshirt and red sweatpants, sits in a
wheelchair at a table spread with varied acrylic paints. Ms. Hammer sits by her side and calls her Miss
Mary.
"Just like baking a cake. Have you ever baked a cake, Miss Mary? A little of this and a little of that..."
She gives instructions. Pull it across. Pull it back. Beautiful, she says. That’s perfect. Do it again.
Her voice is soft but encouraging. The praise is constant.
"Alzheimer’s is a very negative disease. It’s the ‘You can’t do it’ disease: You can’t do that anymore. You
can’t go there by yourself. You can’t do your job. You can’t do your hobbies. You can’t golf. You can’t
drive. You can’t, you can’t, can’t," Ms. Hammer said. "What we’re doing is saying, ‘You can. This is
something you can do. And you’re good at it.’ Praise is powerful medicine. We’re giving them a chance to
express themselves creatively. We’re giving them a chance to say, ‘I did this. I’m proud. I accomplished
something.’"
Blue, white, shades of pink. Each one taking a step further in Miss Mary’s memory.
She remembers sitting in her playhouse as a child 80 years ago, painting and drawing. The stories start
surfacing.
"When did you get to be such a good painter, Miss Mary?" Ms. Hammer asks.
Trees, water, sky. A picture appears and something connects inside. There’s recognition of things past.
Miss Mary likes pinks, she says. Bright-pink polish covers her fingernails.
They talk about colors she wants to paint with. They sing hymns, walking together down long-forgotten
pathways in Miss Mary’s memory. She has no trouble remembering the words.
"Amazing Grace...how sweet the sound..."
Her daddy always had a garden, Miss Mary says. She pulled weeds and picked tomatoes so her momma
could can them.
"I once was lost, but now I’m found..."
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