Nastasha Coreen Lorrane Robertson

at the age of 16, I suffered from paralysis called Ramsay's Hunt, at the time, they thought I had a small stroke and was misdiagnosed with M.S. I lost sight in the right eye, and hearing in my right ear. For many years to follow, my face fell again 5 more times, each episode causing more damage.

I couldn't tolerate noises, bright lights, and television, so in order to pass time, I took up sketching, and ink renderings.

I found it passed the day quickly and I got lost in what I did,

I find it hard to this day to talk in front of people, always self conscious, and looking down, sometimes with my hand in front of the fallen side.

Over the years I had put aside my sketching ideas, concentrated on trying to find a job, dealing with depression from gaining weight when I was 29, I believed that 125 pounds defined a woman’s beauty, and did not think 170 was considered attractive, and then began my battle with depression, self esteem, and at that time who I was as a person. Half gimped, walked funny as my right side would ache and sometimes had a cane. I spent most of my grade 12 with an eye patch off and on and had the memories of being teased or asked questions, that I did not have the answer for. 

By the time I realized who I was, and who I wanted to be as a person, I was pregnant with my Daughter Anwen.  It suddenly struck me that I was wasting my time with little day to day living, doing nothing constructive, and at the time, unaware that my son Marshall's behavior was not from my parenting, but from autism.

I was 7 months pregnant with Anwen when I bought my first 1000 pounds of soapstone from Gian Carlo. I couldn't see my toes, let alone pick up a 90 pound rock.

I had the crate shipped to Campbell River, and spent a week mulling over what to do with the stone, never had any carving experience, or knowledge, it was just something I recall trying to do in art class in grade 11. I remembered how good it was to be able to make stone move under my fingers, to have my immortality forever a lasting mark on the world. Soapstone could not be burned down, it would be around long after I was gone, and if it was interesting enough it would make people talk about it, or discuss it.

I found out soon enough, that carving with a mechanical pencil was a long and tedious process, but since I had no money to spend on shop tools, or an area to do so, I did it all by hand, and with rasps, no dremel, no electric sanders, and it took months to do one piece.

I tried several ideas on waxing, heating, oils, and came up with my own way of finishing the stone.

22 finished pieces later, and 13 more on the go in mid stages, I am pleased to finally do what I love.

When Anwen was diagnosed with her Autism, I turned more into cutting the stone, working out frustration, not knowing what autism would bring to my life, I embraced it, and had the kids working along side with me.

Every piece I have finished the kids have worked on as well, with their own masks on, and steel wool in hand they help with the first stage of sanding, the cutting, the shaping, and they oil the pieces not me. It is important to me that they learn how to work with their hands, since their verbal skills are so lacking. It also helps them with frustration and dealing with anger and emotions that are over whelming to them.

Since working on pieces, I have found they love to see what color it will finally be, since the true color doesn’t come out until the oiling process, its always a big surprise.

On the Wolf piece, Marshall was the first to point out flakes of gold, trying to say the word "treasure" so I let him apply the layers of wax and buff them up.

Marshallis my special boy, while pregnant with him, I underwent cryosurgery for cervical cancer, and he is my miracle baby.

Anwen is my princess, who I love and cuddle with every moment I can.

Maverick is my rebel, he has the twinkle of laughter in his eyes, he was born with a birth defect of the right ear, up until 2008 I thought he was also short a sinus cavity on the right side and all of the inner ear, he also had a growth, and still has a growth on the back of his skull, called a demoid cyst, but it is mineral in form.

With the children’s special needs, a regular income is borderline food bank, the art work I produce is to provide them with a standard of living that will hopefully give them additional education, books, trips, and most of all the same equal footing as their peers.

More to come