Fragile Figures
By Christy Karras  -  The Salt Lake Tribune

Some people think Holly Mae Pendergast is crazy. Sometimes she believes them.

The lifelong artist can't leave home without wearing a mask over her nose and mouth. She can't heat her rural home with anything but an electric heater. She eats meat three times a day although she would rather still be vegetarian.

Pendergast was diagnosed a year ago with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity syndrome, in which common substances make her dizzy, depressed or sick.

The worst offenders are human-made chemicals, and some of the very worst are contained in materials used to make art. "The thing that helps me get through it is the thing that's creating it."
Pendergast might not be crazy, and Van Gogh might not have been crazy after all, either. Scientists have recently speculated that chemicals in his paint might have made him physically and mentally ill.

"The more symptoms you tend to have, the more likely they are to think you're crazy," she said. She doesn't mind that too much. "I don't think there's any difference between the body and the brain."
She offers literature on the condition "just to show that it's not something I'm making up," said Pendergast, who hopes a show of her work at Forum Gallery in Salt Lake City will raise awareness of the problem, especially among other artists. Then again, "I've had to let go of whether people believe me or not."

Pendergast's paintings are ethereal, sinuous watercolors of elongated forms, many representing herself. Some are pastel, some brightly colored, some with touches of gold. Over the course of her illness, her art has changed. "I used to have an image of the painting in my head, of forms that were solid and real, like life. Now I just put the pencil to paper and it unravels, just like my life. I just can't know what it's going to look like."

The show is called "Art of Fragility." "It's not so much about the fragility of our physical selves -- of course, I've experienced that," she said. "It's about the fragility of who we are."

'Down to earth': People who know Pendergast say they wouldn't call her neurotic. Gallery owner Patrick Hoagland, for one, calls her "down to earth and devoted to her art."

But many doctors consider MCS a largely psychosomatic disorder. "I don't mean to say these people are crazy or it's all in their head, but many of these people that are evaluated have concomitant anxiety disorder, which confounds the diagnosis," said physician Edward Holmes, director of the Occupational and Environmental Medicine Clinic at the University of Utah.

Because the symptoms of MCS are varied and hard to substantiate, it is difficult to know how many cases have physical origins and how many are symptoms of an anxiety disorder. There are definitely cases in which exposure to chemicals can cause legitimate health impacts. "These are much more rare. Maybe 1 percent have actual, true, measurable allergies to the substance to where the reaction causes them physical harm," Holmes said.
Doctors' opinions "vary, frankly, even between specialties and within specialties. It's really because there's no objective data or measurement," Holmes said. Those with the condition are rarely eligible for disability payments or Social Security.

Cases mounting: The number of people who believe they have the condition is growing; some of them say they are canaries in the coal mine, a warning that human-made chemicals are poisoning clothing, homes and offices. "The one thing I've learned is that you cannot get people to see things they don't want to see," Pendergast said.

She has met several other artists with similar sensitivities. She warns all artists to wear protective clothing and even respirators when working, to open windows and to avoid painting while eating or drinking.

The Internet is littered with sites devoted to the topic; they contain warnings against certain products (dryer sheets are a prime target: "I've baby-sat babies I couldn't hold because they were so toxic," Pendergast said) and advice on how to stay as well as possible, usually by avoiding the triggers. For Pendergast, this means never leaving home without a filtering mask. "If every time you leave your house you get hit with a two-by-four, you get fine with staying home," she said.

She has endured whispers and outright rude questions or suggestions about why she wears the mask. "I've had people say, 'What's today, SARS day?' "

'Weepy and depressed': Pendergast looks back now and figures she was always sensitive to chemicals. "I used to get sick when we'd go shopping in the mall." Symptoms included dizziness and stomachaches. She also had reactions after spending time in an art classroom with 25 other students, all using the same open can of turpentine. "I'd just feel weird, weepy and depressed, and I didn't know why," said Pendergast, who went to art school and became an illustrator and conceptual designer for the film industry in Los Angeles before moving to Utah.

The condition worsened with repeated exposure to chemicals artists use every day. Finally, she broke down entirely after an artists' retreat, despite wearing a mask to filter out the chemicals. Now, she can no longer paint with oils, and she is not sure if she will ever again.

Under the guidance of a nutritionist, Pendergast now eats a rotating diet of 19 foods, changing the rotation every week. The former vegetarian eats meat every day and is allergic to soy, dairy, nuts and seeds.

Through it all, her husband, Mike Reid, has stood by her. "It's been a trip for my husband, poor guy. He's been a trooper. Most people would have left," she says, with a twinge of sadness.

Reid admits it's challenging to live with someone who has problems with so many substances. But he doesn't see her as a hypochondriac. "From her perspective, and from being with her, I see how real it is," he said. "She's really empowering. . . . A lot of people identify themselves as sufferers. Holly doesn't identify herself as a sufferer, though she does suffer sometimes."

Sometimes she looks at her life and thinks of the goals she can no longer pursue, including having children. She thinks, "This is nuts. This is not my life. This is just crazy. This isn't what I thought life would look like."

Through it all, her work remains a constant. "As long as I can draw with a pencil, I'll be fine. *"Art of Fragility," new works by Holly Mae Pendergast, is on display until April 10 at the Forum Gallery, 511 W. 200 South in Salt Lake City. Call 801-521-5999 for information.

* "Art of Fragility," new works by Holly Mae Pendergast, is on display until April 10 at the Forum Gallery, 511 W. 200 South in Salt Lake City. Call 801-521-5999 for information.