In every society, there are invisible people. The old and infirm, the disabled, those from foreign backgrounds, children; we write them off as inconsequential, winding our lives around them, talking down to them, and looking through them. Pippa Carvell is an extraordinary artist, a crack-up, and a searing reminder not to forget about the invisible ones.
SHE calls it “just another day at the office”, but for the rest of us, Pippa Carvell’s story is one of great strength and perseverance. Thirteen years ago, at age 25, Pippa became the youngest person in the southern hemisphere to be diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.
Now 38 and finishing up at The Learning Connexion art school in Island Bay, Pippa’s just had five of her drawings accepted for an exhibition at The Museum of Everything in London –established in 2009 to exhibit the work of untrained, undiscovered and marginalised artists from around the world.
Pippa and her brother Josh grew up in Brooklyn, raised mostly by their mother Suzie, who Pippa cites as her main source of inspiration and strength.
“Mum taught us to have determination and stubbornness; not to take bullshit… to always listen to both sides of the story, and then declare war if necessary. She also taught us to be prepared for change, and that things could always be worse,” she says.
“I’m extremely lucky to have had that upbringing.”
Pippa and Suzie lived together for thirteen years, but on February 23 last year, Suzie passed away. Pippa has continued to live alone, aside from her dog and constant companion Skufi, but friends and acquaintances pop by to say hello or take Skufi out for walks, and a caregiver helps with everyday chores and getting her round and about.
“You know how there are people who can’t be or don’t enjoy being on their own? I was like that. But I learnt that I wasn’t really that bad, and while I sometimes feel isolated I don’t call it loneliness,” she says.
While she struggles sometimes to speak as quickly as she’d like, Pippa has a great sense of humour; and is never slow with a good comeback (just as her shaking may cause an “operator error” when navigating broccoli to her mouth, but never chocolate). To her, laughter is a way to make people more comfortable, as well as part of how she deals with it all.
“I have to laugh about it… If I’d been [brought up] sheltered I wouldn’t be able to cope, but I was taught resistance and patience... I’ve had to give up dancing, driving – all sorts of wonderful things. But you adapt,” she says.
Pippa doesn’t want to talk too much about Parkinson’s; and fair enough – it has little to do with who she is, or what she does. The Museum of Everything’s Exhibition #4, which will feature her work, opens in an as-yet undisclosed space in early September and will showcase the work of 50 international artists for two months. The artists may be ‘undiscovered’; but the museum has an impressive track record - Exhibition #1 was voted best of 2009 in publications Time Out and Art Forum, and travelled to the Agnelli Museum in Italy; Exhibition #2 took place at Tate Modern, and Exhibition #3 was co-curated with English pop artist Sir Peter Blake and voted best of 2010 by The Spectator.
Three of Pippa’s pieces are from her ‘Richter’ series. For these works, Pippa starts by drawing a line across a piece of paper in pen. As the day progresses, more lines appear. If the day is a good one, the lines stay relatively straight. If the day starts to unravel, so do the threads she draws. The result is a remarkable map of Pippa’s life, often resembling the dips and highs of mountains and valleys, or of an earthquake chart (hence the name).
“Imagine you’re preparing, cooking and serving a stirfry, and while you’re doing it, you’re jogging. That’s how it feels, a constant interruption. You try to keep it straight, but it ends up a bit warped,” she says.
Through her canvasses, Pippa “shouts” her existence to those who have ignored or “downgraded” her; talking over her head to the person pushing her wheelchair.
“Being disabled, you get pigeonholed, people talk to you like you’re stupid… You can walk around with blinkers on thinking ‘poor little old me’, but with art you get to find out what’s possible… and it surprises you, seeing it and thinking ‘I did that’.”
Pippa’s bravery has come with time, and a lot of work – she says she became “intimately involved with the television remote control and carbohydrates” when she first received her Parkinsons diagnosis.
Now, she goes to the gym three times a week, and has weaned herself off most of her medication, including anti depressants, which she believes cause side effects worse than the illness itself.
“I was trembling so bad after coming off the medication once that my cousin, who came to stay, got scared thinking I was gonna give it to him,” she says, adding with a twinkle, “I’m not that generous.”
Everyday for Pippa is a fight against a disease that’s ultimate goal is to seize her up; she measures her victories through successes like lifting herself into her chair easily, and finishing a good painting or drawing. For Pippa, being accepted into an exhibition in London validates years of hard work, and ‘upgrades’ her to the realm of the visible, the listened to, and the important.  
“Art is freedom; it’s about being able to do whatever the hell you want. When the boat’s sunk, and you’re floundering, art is like being thrown a lifeline.”