Paresh Malhotra, a neurologist from Charing Cross Hospital, attended a class to examine
motor-skills and visuo-spatial attention in people with dementia.

He thinks the project has a lot of value with repeated engagement, the concentration and
the wellbeing it induces.

“It is so much better than doing something passive like watching television,” he said.

The exhibition will be accompanied by an ambient song made entirely of sound effects
recorded by Keith Rodway during the classes.

For more details contact Judy on 07768 633755.

Our tour guide is a surly man dressed in black without a name or any manners.  He
doesn’t say hello or ask my name.  Not the right kind of guy for a people-facing job I think, but
go along with it anyway.  He barks orders.  Sit down.  Put these in your shoes, spiky side up.
Give me your hand, put this plastic glove on.  I’ll put the chunky one on top.  Other hand.
Take your glasses off.  Give them to me.  Goggles on first, then head phones.  He guided me
into the bus.  No turning back.  Destination unknown.

It’s dark.  I can’t see.  Maybe I can, but not much.  Noise.  Loud.  Coloured lights flashing.
Words.  Tinnitus.  Voices. The floor moves.  Must not fall over.  Noise.  Static.  A shadow
moves.  Radio.  He growls at me.  I can’t hear.  Words. What do I do?  Pins and needles.
Buzzing.  Woolly fingertips.  Sirens.  Voices.  Noise.  Panic.  Dark.  Someone behind me.
Speaking.  Do something useful.  Where?  Is that a hole?  I dropped the cup.  Dark shadow.
That man.  Behind me.  What’s he saying?  Match the socks on the bed.  Why?  What did he
say?  Alarm.  Where’s the bed?  Is it clean? I can’t feel it.   Can’t find any socks.  Is that a
toilet?  My feet hurt.  Dizzy.  I don’t feel safe.  Can I sit down?  Where are the others?  Door
slams.  Bang.  Bang.  Everything at the wrong angle.  Loud.  Voices.  Traffic.  Urgent.
Something bad is happening.  I sit down.  Then it stops.  He lifts the goggles and the head-
phones.  Someone’s crying.

Hi I’m John.  He smiles.  How are you?  His Mr Grumpy act was devised to make you feel
uncomfortable.  It worked.

What did I learn?  This experience has been scientifically designed by an American doctor,
PK Beville, and it replicates some of the sensual assaults felt by people living with dementia.
Apart from being disorientated by memory lapses, people live with feelings of susceptibility,
loss of sight and speech, inability to recognize faces – even your own, dizziness, offensive
noise in your head day and night, fingers that feel like marshmallow, tingling feet.  You feel
vulnerable, small, needing to ask permission to do the most basic things.  You are obliged to
trust people who help you, whether they are pleasant or downright unkind.

Even before I stepped into the bus, I allowed Mr Grumpy put the gloves, goggles and head-
phones on me.  At that point I could easily have done those things for myself, but by then he
was in control.  That loss of self happened frighteningly fast.  John explained afterwards
that he told me a list of five tasks.  I have no memory of that.  I was too busy adjusting to
that fearful environment inside the bus.  All his other instructions were muffled and he
seemed to speak too fast.  I couldn’t work out if he was beside me or in front.

It was very, very dark inside the bus.  The goggles act for macular degeneration, dark in the
middle with limited peripheral vision.  Flashing coloured lights represent the hallucinations
that affect some people.  Why didn’t I search for a light switch or open a curtain like I would
normally?  I was so distracted by the assault on my senses that any modicum of self-
determination had evaporated.

The bus journey was unforgettable – I was frightened, defenseless, emotionally and sensually
interfered with – all in the space of about 15 minutes.  It was vital training for anyone working
with the dementia community.  As I write this, five days later, my feet still tingle from the spiky
insoles I had to wear.  No one would want to take a trip to destination dementia.
But some of us will.

internationaltimes.it/my-virtual-dementia-bus-trip

Living with dementia isn’t much fun; for the subjects themselves, for their families or
for their carers. But some of the best laughs of the week were had with a group of
residents at Hastings Court, many of whom live with dementia.

Judy proceeded to set up Drawing Life and, along with art teacher, Robert Sample
and life model, Mike Mitchell, visited Hastings Court to lead life-drawing classes. To
celebrate the achievements of the participants, the team is holding a show of selected
works at the Hastings Arts Forum from 17 to 29 May.  The show will be accompanied
by an ambient soundscape made entirely of sound effects recorded during the classes
by Keith Rodway.

“I came up with the idea for Drawing Life because I am interested in memory,” says Judy.
“I’m the author of the best-selling book about mnemonics, I Before E (Except After C):
Old-School Ways to Remember Stuff.  I’ve also spent many an hour at life-drawing
classes. It is sometimes said that as we age we revert to childhood. Picasso said that it
took him a lifetime to paint like a child.  I thought I would investigate this paradox.

“Most people in the class look at the model as if for the first time. Many start with no
memory of what they drew before. However, life-drawing is an activity for which you
don’t actually need memory. Whoever you are, you are simply there in the moment.

“The drawings are remarkable. The work became more proficient and confident as a
kind of motor memory kicked in. Is it art, science or therapy? According to senior
lecturer in art and design, Chris Milton, the drawings have an incredible spontaneity,
and a sense of sophistication evocative of abstract and expressionist art.

“Dr Paresh Malhotra, a neurologist from Charing Cross Hospital, attended a class.
He thinks the project has a lot of value with repeated engagement, the concentration
and the well-being it induces. “So much better than doing something passive,” he said.

“Apart from the likely mental health benefits, the sense of well-being and calmness in
the class is palpable, not to mention the songs, the saucy comments and the infectious
laughter that can overcome everyone present – apart from Mike our model, who keeps
a straight face and a steady eye, but he’s smiling inside for sure.”

Drawing Life Life drawings by people living with dementia. Hastings Arts Forum,
36 Marina, St Leonards-on-Sea TN38 0BU, 17-29 May (closed Monday 22 May),
11am-5pm. Private view Friday 20 May, 6.30-8.30pm.

Drawing Life website

See also Life-drawing classes bring laughter and fun to relieve dementia darkness

“Although people won’t necessarily remember what they drew last time, they grow
in confidence and the pictures they produce are wonderful.” The sessions form the
‘Drawing Life’ project. It has been reviewed by behavioural neurologist, Dr Paresh
Malhotra, from Charing Cross Hospital in London, who describes it as having
“a lot of value” and there is also interest in the project from researchers at Brighton
University and Kings College, London.

Around ten residents take part each week, many of whom have dementia. Home
manager, Georgina Gamble, says the classes complement the range of activities the
home offers.“Art is known to have benefits for people with dementia, such as
boosting their self-esteem, offering them an outlet for emotions and memories, and
also helping with their communication.

“Having a person to draw seems to enhance this. You can see residents concentrating
and really looking. It’s a markedly different response to if they draw a bowl of fruit
or copy a landscape.”

Janet Hemsley has dementia and takes part in every class, sometimes with her
daughter, Sarah Overbury. “It helps us to communicate,” said Sarah. “It isn’t always
easy to talk to Mum but this gives us something to work on together, it’s fantastic.”

Another regular student is John Wollatt. “It makes us smile,” he said, “because that’s
what we’re here to do!”

Life model, Mike Mitchell, describes the classes as “tremendously moving.”

“My mother had dementia. She loved nature and would spend a lot of time looking
at the view out of the window, but her brain wasn’t really active, it wasn’t firing.
To see these people engaged and involved, and reflecting on their drawings has been
amazing. It’s been a very intimate experience for me.”

Judy, who has written a book about memory, first tried out the classes last year and
is hoping to soon stage an exhibition of the residents’ work at the Jerwood Gallery in
Hastings and in London.

“I want people to see what’s been produced,” she said. “Residents have used charcoal
and chalk which has added to the sensory experience, and they have such a sense of
achievement when they see a framed drawing on the wall.”

For more information visit: Drawing For Life.