‘The Art of Resilience’

My life changed dramatically at 4am on the 16th March 2024.Since that date I have, met many challenges, sailed some stormy seas.Read my story, follow my progress and hopefully enjoy my Art.

About Me

Gerard P McKenna

This is me and our pooch Luigi just a couple of months before my life changing medical episode.I don’t want what happened on March 16th 2024 at 4am to define me, I’d done quite a bit before that.I’m from a large extended family of Irish descent, my DNA says 86% Irish, 12% Scottish and 2% English, I have a Celtic soul. I grew up in Liverpool and now live on the beautiful Wirral Penisula very close to my spiritual calling, the shores of the Irish Sea, which I visit most days and a great place to walk yer dogs.For my main job I’d proudly worked for the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts (LIPA) being one of a unique band of staff who were there at the very beginning, in the end I stayed for 28 years. In fact I left to work on my art projects just 2 weeks before I collapsed.In my younger days I’d been a keen semi pro footballer playing either centre half or centre forward for South Liverpool, Burscough, and St Helens Town. I was one of those nutters who would willingly head the ball and I always loved a strong slide tackle in the mud, let’s say I enjoyed a competitive game.I only really got into art after leaving school. Most of the time in school we were just given powder paints and told to get on with it, besides I was too interested in sport at the time.It wasn’t till my late teens when my parents bought me an easel and oil paints did I suddenly discover I had an art soul. You can see my first ever painting from 1979 in the Gallery of Cotterdale in the Yorkshire Dales (Landscape section)I’m basically self taught, my passions were Turner, French Impressionism and Post Impressionism. As a young man, in my late teens/early twenties I read as much as I could about the great artists and their techniques (no YouTube in those days)I used to spend hours on my own in the Walker Art Gallery (Liverpool) where I also developed a fascination with the Abstract art, mainly because it was Abstract artists that always seemed to win the John Moores Art competitions and at the time I couldn’t understand why.Sadly, most of the other paintings I did around this time have been lost over the years.I’ve never wanted to emulate anyone else’s style, I appreciate the great artists but really I just want to paint things the way I see them, besides, what’s the point in trying to be someone else?I dipped out of art when I was playing serious football and only took it up again after my career was over (I stopped playing non league football at the age of 25 when I kept getting a recurring hamstring injury)After I met my wife Pam and our daughter Kate was little, I started up again, this time using watercolour pencils, which were a lot less messy than oils.Kate became involved in Gymnastics and subsequently I became a qualified coach. Once again I dipped out of art and didn’t take it up again till 2023 after we’d been on holiday to Kefalonia and I saw some fabulous sights that I couldn’t resist, so out came the pencils.
I can’t remember why but I also discovered oil pastels around this time which was a fabulous new path for me.I was into collecting driftwood from our nearby beach in Hoylake and Meols in Wirral and had planned to set up my art business based round this mystical wood that had drifted in from the Irish Sea. I bought some great tools before my personal disaster struck.You can read all about the rest of my journey and my subsequent attempts at art and how I learnt about the therapeutic value of art in the ‘My Story’ in my blog (coming soon)Alternatively you can read a shorter account on this site ‘The Welsh Landscape Story’ in which a piece of art became a defining moment during my most difficult period of treatment and recovery.

Welcome to my Landscapes page
I hope you enjoy my artwork.“The landscape belongs to the person who looks at it.” — Ralph Waldo EmersonFor information about each painting click on the image.
Limited edition copies 250, with the exception of the work noted ‘donate’
If you select the donate button you will receive a digital copy of that painting and 50% of your donation will be donated to the work of the NHS.

Welcome to my Seascapes page.
I hope you enjoy my art“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” — Jacques CousteauLimited edition copies 250, with the exception of the work noted ‘donate’
If you select the donate button you will receive a digital copy of that painting and 50% of your donation will be donated to the work of the NHS.

Welcome to my pets page.
Our pets have meant the world to me.“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” — Anatole FranceI hope you enjoy my pet artwork.
A 10% of sales from the pet section will be donation to a centre catering for rescued animals.Limited edition copies 250, with the exception of the art marked donate. 50% of any donation in this section will be donated to a centre catering for rescued animals. You will receive a digital copy of this artwork.

I do love cities, having lived in and around Liverpool all my life but I’ve found myself in the main focusing on other subjects. Anyhow, here are some of my cityscapes, perhaps I will create more at a future date.“The city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.” — Desmond MorrisLimited edition copies 250

Over the years I’ve done quite a few portraits but I’ve either lost them or given them away. Who knows, I might find the ones that I’ve lost, but here are some I haven’t lost !!
If you would like a copy of any of the portraits please just make a donation
Minimum £1
Limited edition copies 250, with the exception of the work noted ‘donate’
If you select the donate button you will receive a digital copy of that painting and 50% of your donation will be donated to the work of the NHS.

Ah Christmas, the time of year for sharing, for spending time with your loved ones and for spending a fortune that you haven’t got“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” — John SteinbeckJingle, bells! Jingle, bells!
Jingle all the way!
Oh! what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh!
Jingle, bells! Jingle, bells!
Jingle all the way!
Oh! what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh!Christmas can also be a very difficult time for the lonely, the destitute, the homeless and people who are ill, spending time in hospital at this time in the year. Donate to charity, buy charity Christmas cards, do what you can to help others less fortunate than yourself ❤️50% of any donations for the ‘bare tree’ will be donated to a homeless charity, the De Paul Trust.Limited edition copies 250 except for the art asking for a donation.

(Part) Abstract ArtFor the art that I have no idea about or in some cases why I created it.
I hope you enjoy whatever it is that I’ve created“I found I could say things with colour and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way.” — Georgia O’KeeffeLimited edition copies 250, with the exception of the work noted ‘donate’
If you select the donate button you will receive a digital copy of that painting and 50% of your donation will be donated to the work of the NHS.

Heritage Art 80s & 90s (all these paintings are in the Heritage Collection category)“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” — William FaulknerI’m in the process of tidying up art I created in the 1980s and the 90s. I’m still trying to locate art that must be somewhere in the house. When I find it I will share it on here. I’m obviously not as able as I once was so it may take longer, what am I saying, it will take longer to find things. Anyway, there are a few here to peruse for now.If you select the donate button you will receive a digital copy of that painting and 50% of your donation will be donated to the work of the NHS.

Driftwood Art
“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” — Albert EinsteinIt’s been well documented that my ambition was to create driftwood art but then I collapsed.
This ambition would have been mainly in the form of sculptures and models using wood from the Irish Sea.
I have been able to use some of the wood to paint on them as you can see.I’ve sold my driftwood art locally, hopefully I will be doing more work like the ones here on display.

Digital Editions & UsageWhy Digital Editions?To ensure I can continue creating while managing my recovery, I have created a digital studio. This allows me to focus my energy entirely on the art itself, removing the physical strain of traditional printing, packaging, and global shipping, which, due to my current condition remains impractical.The Advantages for You• Instant Ownership: No waiting for the post. You receive your digital artwork, electronically signed with a Letter of Authenticity immediately upon purchase.
• Creative Freedom: You have the flexibility to choose your own local professional printer. You can have the work produced on the exact medium you prefer—whether it’s fine art paper, canvas, or even brushed aluminum. Unlike traditional limited edition prints, which you do not control the quality of, with digital copies you have a lot more flexibility of choice in terms of how you want to use or display the artwork.
• Versatility: Beyond physical prints, your digital edition can be used as a high-end display for digital frames, tablets, or television backgrounds, bringing art into your digital living space.
• Global Access: No matter where you are in the world, there are no shipping fees or customs delays.Terms of Use & CopyrightWhen you purchase a digital work from the Heritage or Resilience collections, you are acquiring a Limited Edition Digital License.
• Personal Use Only: You are granted the right to print the artwork for your own personal display or to give as a one-time physical gift.
• No Mass Reproduction: Your purchase allows for the creation of physical prints for your personal home or office. It does not permit the reproduction of the image on merchandise, stock platforms, or for-profit ventures.Limited Digital Editions – Ownership & ResaleEach artwork is released as a strictly limited digital edition. Every piece is individually numbered and accompanied by a signed Certificate of Authenticity.Ownership of a limited edition is not defined by possession of the image file alone, but by the official Certificate of Authenticity and inclusion in the artist’s registry of collectors. This registry records the current owner of each edition and forms the basis of its provenance.Collectors are free to resell their edition at any time. Upon resale, the new owner may request an updated Certificate of Authenticity and registration in their name. This ensures the artwork’s authenticity and ownership history remain clear and traceable over time.To preserve the integrity and long-term value of each edition, the artist maintains a permanent record of all works and their ownership. In the event of the artist’s death, responsibility for this registry and authentication process will pass to a designated representative or estate, ensuring continuity for collectors.These works are offered in limited numbers to protect their rarity and to support their potential value over time.To support the ongoing value and integrity of each artwork, a resale royalty of 10% applies to all future sales of limited editions.You can decide the value of the resale.When an artwork of mine is resold the seller agrees to notify the artist (or the artist’s estate) and ensure the royalty is paid prior to the transfer of ownership. Upon completion, a new Certificate of Authenticity will be issued and the collector registry updated to reflect the new owner.As with any valuable asset, ownership can be transferred, and upon resale the certificate and registry are formally updated to reflect the new collector.Only works that have been transferred and recorded through this process will be recognised as authentic within the artist’s official registry.Artists Print recommendation
For the best balance of detail, colour and texture, these artworks are recommended for printing up to A3 size. Some pieces may be enlarged beyond this, particularly impressionist and abstract works, where the character of the artwork often lends itself well to larger formats.
Larger formats can be achieved by many printing services, though the appearance will vary according to the artwork, paper choice and viewing distance.By choosing a digital edition, you are directly supporting my ongoing recovery and my ability to keep painting.Thank you for respecting the integrity of my work.

These images are examples of how a limited edition digital copy of my art could look on your wall.
Each picture will have the title of the composition, the year it was completed ( unless the year was unknown) the number of the limited edition and my digital signature, seen below,“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” — Margaret Wolfe Hungerford

I’ve sailed some stormy seas.During my career at LIPA I took a keen interest in resilience. I created learning materials for a course entitled ‘The Professional’ and have delivered lectures/talks on the subject.I can now honestly say that until March 16th 2024 and the days, weeks and months that followed I knew very little about the practicalities of resilience.Since my enforced hospitalisation I have done a lot of self reflection and I’d like to share with you what resilience now means to me. You can follow my extended and more detailed account of my reflections in my ‘My Story’ blog, coming out soon.This isn’t text book stuff, I’m not writing this as an expert, this is my experience and how I coped during an extraordinary life threatening event.I have analysed my approach, including the use of art, a quest for fitness, days when I felt despair and techniques I developed including self-talk.Below I have narrowed down to 12 key points I believe helped me, maybe these could help you if you are facing some trauma in your life.If you dip into this list or my blog and you gain something from it I’d love to hear from you.If you’d like to book me to deliver a talk under the heading ‘The Art of Resilience’ please contact me, I’m sure we can agree a reasonable fee plus expenses.👍

12 Things I’ve Learned About Resilience1. It starts with how you choose to frame thingsWhen the Doctor told us what had happened to me, I remember saying to Pam, “from now on, every day is a day of recovery.”
I can’t explain where that thought came from but it built a belief system into my recovery. This type of positive self talk remains constant through treatment and recovery. From the moment ‘everyday is a day of recovery’ I wake up with this as one of my first thoughts. I say it each day.At the time, I didn’t know what that recovery would look like, or even if it was fully possible. But I’ve come to realise that having something positive and forward-looking to hold onto can make a real difference. It didn’t change my situation, but it helped shape how I approached it.2. You can accept what’s happened without giving up on what might still be possibleThere was no avoiding the reality of what I was facing — paralysis, cancer, and a very uncertain future. I’ve learned that accepting that reality is important, but it doesn’t mean you have to stop looking ahead. Acceptance of my situation at key points helped me through some very difficult moments, emergency surgery, six rounds of chemo, a stem cell transplant. For me, resilience has been about finding a way to live with what’s happened, without letting it completely define what comes next.3. Resilience is something you sustain over timeLooking back, what stands out isn’t a single moment of strength, but the length of time I had to keep going through difficult circumstances. Six months in hospital, multiple treatments, surgery, rehabilitation — it’s a long road. I’ve learned that resilience is less about big moments and more about staying with it over time, especially when progress feels slow or uncertain.4. Starting again from the basics takes patience and humilityI had to relearn how to walk, how to use my hands, how to do simple everyday tasks. Things I had never really thought about before suddenly became major challenges. That experience has taught me a lot about patience, and about accepting where you are, even when it’s very different from where you used to be. Remember I’d only been in my new state for a month or two, prior to that I’d walked, ran, used my upper limbs without problems (except for a hip replacement 🥺) and without thinking.5. There can be a lot of frustration in even the smallest steps forward- rest and recuperation are very importantWhen I first tried to draw again, I struggled just to hold a pencil. I dropped things constantly, my hands wouldn’t do what I wanted, and I grew tired very quickly. At times it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. But I’ve come to see that those small, difficult efforts were part of the process. Progress doesn’t always look like progress when you’re in the middle of it. There was a lot of pain, frustration and basic grit involved.
When you meet with frustration or overwhelming fatigue the best action is the do nothing option. I cannot overstate the value of taking time out when you need it, you can climb back into the saddle when you are ready, you’ve nothing to prove to anyone, take your time and rest. You can see some of the work I struggled with in my gallery. Photos were taken at various points as I painted, I gave up on compositions, painted over good pieces because I wasn’t happy with them at the time, mainly due to absolute fatigue. At that point frustration can be overwhelming.6. Adapting to change can be just as important as determinationBefore all this happened, I had a very clear plan for my driftwood art. Letting go of that was not easy. But I’ve learned that resilience isn’t always about pushing forward with the same plan — sometimes, often in fact, it’s about adjusting to what’s possible now, and finding a different way to move forward. Effectively I’ve taken a more traditional art route, besides I don’t think they would have let me bring in a pile of old wood into the hospital.7. Finding something meaningful can help you reconnect with yourselfFor me, returning to art, even in a very limited way at first, gave me something familiar in the middle of a completely unfamiliar situation. It wasn’t about producing great work — it was about feeling like myself again, even if only in small moments.8. Simple structure can make a difficult situation more manageableIn hospital and afterwards, days can easily blend into each other. I found that bringing small routines into my day — whether it was attempting some drawing or rehabilitation — gave me a sense of purpose and rhythm. It didn’t solve everything, but it helped me cope with the uncertainty. Now, as well as art, I’m building in aspects of t’ai chi walking into my daily routine. I will be discussing how I use t’ai chi in my blog.
Also having a dog or a pet who relies on you, brings structure to anyone’s life.9. It’s possible to grow, even through something you would never have chosenI wouldn’t have chosen this experience, and I wouldn’t pretend it’s been anything other than extremely difficult and still is. But I do feel that I’ve learned more about myself, about patience, often frustration and about what really matters. That sense of growth doesn’t take away the hardship, but it does give it some meaning.10. Putting your trust in others.There is no way I could have achieved anything along this journey without relying on others, all the medical teams who looked after my damaged body, who worked on my recovery, my family who were there through thick and thin, my network of friends with their visits and ongoing support.
Part of resilience is to never be afraid to reach out to others when you need help.11. Trial and error followed by Fine Tuning
I actually thought of this as I developed this Website. I started with an idea and through a lot of trial and error and fine tuning alongside days of sheer frustration I ended up with what you see today. Everything I’ve done along this journey has been trial and error followed by fine tuning. I abandoned work that I thought I was failing with, painted over really good compositions trying to improve them when they were already completed, at least I had the foresight to have my work photographed at various stages, mainly to try to illustrate the daily struggles I was having to create art.I’ve also got many things wrong on my quest for the best fitness I can possibly achieve given my condition, which I go into in my blog but now I know the best path for me and subsequently, along with some fine tuning, I’m learning some pretty effective t’ai chi moves.12. Persevere in the right way.
My best example of this I eluded to in my last point. I have been determined to be the fittest I can despite the cancer, despite the frame in my neck and despite my spinal cord injury. So when I embarked on a fitness programme that involved step aerobics and a mix of yoga and Pilates I put my heart and soul into it, but I was getting horrendous spasticity flare ups for days after. I persevered until I discovered it was doing more harm than good. T’ai chi movement along with mindful walking (with trekking poles) is persevering in the right way.Final pointI still come back to that thought I had at the beginning — that each day is a day of recovery. Some days feel like progress, others don’t. But I’ve found that just continuing, one day at a time, is often enough.I’ve allowed myself days off when I’m not feeling up to doing things but thankfully I now have a lot of routines in my life that keep me on my toes, e.g. feeding Luigi, he makes sure I get up in the morning to see to him.My artwork can be seen as a reflection of the resilience I’ve needed to utilise. You can see it in the gallery and you can make your own minds up about the quality of the compositions. Those I’ve created since my hospitalisation have all been a struggle and yes many have flaws but art is not photography and life can not always be about achieving perfection.I’ve had many days of struggle, days I’ve felt like giving up but I learn things about myself even on those days.
But more days thankfully, I’ve got up, let Luigi out and then fed him and thought what can I create today. Over time, those days can begin to add up to something more than just survival, even with a serious health condition, those days can be about personal growth.
And as Paul McCartney once sang ’With a little luck’ 🍀🍀🍀

The Welsh Landscape Story

The journey of one painting

“If a picture paints a thousand words”

On March 16, 2024 at 4am, the world as I knew it collapsed. A massive spinal shock left me paralysed from the neck down. I was rushed to Arrowe Park Hospital in a race against time.I had left a job I’d been in for 28 years just 2 weeks before.
I’d planned to set up my my small business producing driftwood art, I was all set up. I’d collected Irish Sea driftwood and had the tools, materials and creative ideas all ready, I was raring to go, but as John Lennon once sang, ‘life is what happens when you are busy making other plans’.An MRI scan revealed the worst. I remember the doctor coming in and saying grimly ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news’ Too bloomin right it was.The diagnosis was a triple whammy: a compound fracture of the C2 vertebrae and spinal cord damage, both caused by multiple myeloma.I said to my wife Pam, immediately after the doctor left the room, ‘at least we know what it is, from now on everyday will be a day of recovery’I’ve stuck to that mantra ever since.

The image above is from the MRI scan when I arrived at hospital. Those who are from a medical background may well be able to understand the story the image tells.My surgeon explained it to me. He said the tube running up the centre is my spinal cord. You can see that it has white lining almost all the way up, that’s how it’s is supposed to be. As you can see my spinal cord lacks the white lining towards the top, that’s how they knew it was damaged.To the right of the spinal cord, 3/4 of the way up the image, you can see a white mass, that’s the area around my C2 vertebrae, it has a compound fracture (aka the ‘hangman’s fracture’) and is covered with lesions, I.e. multiple myeloma.Not a pretty sight.

What immediately followed was a blur of high-stakes intervention—surrounded by my deeply concerned family, a police escort, 6 police cars and two outriders on motorbikes (the photo above is from the start of the journey from Arrowe Park hospital) took me to the Walton Centre in Liverpool where I had emergency surgery to fit rods into my neck and to begin the long process of healing. I was to be in a torturous neck brace for 9 long months.

After a month in Walton recovering from the surgery, I was transferred back to Arrowe Park to face a new challenge: chemotherapy and radiotherapy.I now had an incomplete spinal cord injury alongside incomplete tetraplegia. I was in a state of very slow recovery and at the time confined to either a bed or a wheelchair and now had to also deal with the added challenge of coping with chemo.3 months in Ward 30Ward 30 at Arrowe Park specialises in haematology. Room 17 on Ward 30 became my salvation for 3 months, if I had to be away from home for my treatment this was the place to be

After my first round of chemo, mainly bedbound and encased in a neck brace, I felt a desperate need to reclaim a piece of myself. I asked Pam to bring in my watercolour pencils and a sketch pad. Before the collapse, art was my sanctuary; now, it became a mountain that I wasn't sure I could climb.My hands, like the rest of my body, were severely inhibited by neuropathy, spasticity and touch blindness—I could barely manage a knife and fork, let alone thinking about producing art. I was unable to start to write my own name. I couldn’t hold a pen and over 2 years later I still struggle to scribble a few words. Hopefully that will give you an insight into the struggle I have to produce art.I chose a photo of a rugged Welsh landscape, a scene of strength and permanence. But as I lay in that hospital bed, the reality of my condition set in:• Pencils constantly slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor.
• The simple act of lifting my arms to the page felt more exhausting than any half-marathon I had ever run.
• The care team, ever patient, would retrieve my fallen pencils time and again.Probably the biggest hurdle however was the size of the paper. At the time I felt as if it was the biggest sheet of paper I’d ever seen, in reality it was no more than A3 size.Eventually, the pain and the fatigue won. Depressed and defeated, I quit. I decided that the Welsh landscape was a bridge too far.Thankfully I always had my family around me to pick me up. My sister Annie had almost decamped up here from her Wimbledon home, my brother Peter was a regular visitor as were members of my large extended family and of course my wife Pam and our daughter Kate.I didn’t get outside much so these wheelchair rides around the grounds of Arrowe Park hospital, as seen here with my daughter Kate, were such a welcome outing, particularly when I was feeling such a failure.

At the time it wasn’t just my hands I was having problems with. The chair in my room felt a million miles away. Everytime I wanted to leave my bed during the day a nurse or a care assistant would have to come and help me. The first task was to place that horrible neck brace on me. After that they would escort me those few feet to my chair.The view was worth it though. I was on the 3rd floor of the hospital and could see over Liverpool Bay to the Irish Sea. I could watch the rain clouds coming in and the weather change two or three times a day. That became quite a hobby of mine.Of course you need to look beyond the hospital grounds and the trees but I can assure you that out on the horizon I could watch the ships sailing in and out, with part of me wishing I was on them.

Every few days or so, Pete, the hospitals physiotherapist would come by and get me out of my bed and take me on a journey beyond the doors of room 17.
It was only into the corridor and it would be using mobility aids.
The staff would smile at me and say well done but inside this was killing me. Only a few months back I was out walking miles with my dog and only a few years ago regularly playing football with my mates or out running till my hip eventually stopped me, just short of my 60th birthday.Now here I was climbing my new Everest, walking 50 metres along a hospital corridor using a stroller my Dad only needed in his late 80s. How life changes, sometimes in the blink of an eye.

The Power of Small WinsThe turning point for me arrived in the form of a gift from ex-colleagues who visited me in the weeks following my aborted effort at art: they brought me a postcard-sized sketchbook.I mentioned how important it was to receive visits from family. I also had many visits from friends and former colleagues who kept me topped up with the important things in life like gossip, chocolate and cakes but on this day probably the biggest life changer for me, a post card sized sketchbook.This tiny canvas became my saviour. Because the scale was manageable, I could finally apply colour to the page without too much strain. I still dropped pencils and scrapped many attempts, but slowly, my hands began to remember their purpose. The small compositions acted as unofficial physiotherapy, building the strength and dexterity I thought was gone forever.The pictures below were my first efforts on the postcard sketch pad.
I was using a mix of water colour pencils and acrylic pens. I was still finding my way back. I spent hours working these small pages, reworking colours until I became reasonably happy with the outcome.

Of course I still had the burning passion inside of me, to finish the initial project I’d started with, the Welsh Landscape.A nurse suggested I leave this original, larger attempt at art unfinished—a raw monument to how difficult the journey had been. I compromised and photographed it in its incomplete state, a snapshot of a moment where I felt "up against it."I wasn’t sure what to do. Well I say I wasn’t sure. As much as I understood what the nurse meant and the goodwill behind her thinking, I knew in my heart that I needed to finish it.Below is the photograph of the Welsh Landscape as it was on the day I left Arrowe Park hospital. I could never adequately describe the effort required to even get to this point. Not being able to control a pencil through sheer exhaustion with the added problem of severely limited dexterity. Dealing with those issues makes this picture a masterpiece of achievement, but I saw it as a massive failure at the time. Emotionally it was a disaster.

Completion and ConnectionIt wasn't until I transferred to Wirral Clatterbridge for rehabilitation that I felt ready to face the mountain again.I was given a ground floor room, Pam helped me move in and settle. (you can see her in the photo above, ironically Wimbledon is on in the background, which Kate was working on for the BBC)The room looked out over the hospital grounds but the grass verges made it seemed (in my imagination at least) like a well maintained municipal park. Each day I was visited by magpies, rabbits and pheasants, going about their business, ignoring the fact that I was watching them. I was welcoming them every morning like old friends.I missed my old friends on Ward 30, the wonderful medical and care staff, but this hospital brought me new experiences and more independence.But here at Wirral Clatterbridge the routine was a lot different. On alternate days I worked with the physiotherapist in the gymnasium or with the Occupational Therapists on hand dexterity and general preparation for finally going home, simple things like making tea and toast.I was now getting out of bed on my own, walking with my trusty stroller to the bathroom. I had my first shower since my collapse (I did need supervision for those).I still needed the use of a wheelchair to get me around the grounds but whenever my family joined me we had somewhere to go, somewhere I will paint one day as it brought a new level of serenity to my troubled life. Wirral Clatterbridge had the most wonderful courtyard I could escape to and as it was now Summer we enjoyed some lovely hours out there.

There was an added dimension to my time in Clatterbridge. Back in 2010 our Mum spent her final weeks here in the hospice on the grounds of the hospital. Once a week they took me back to Arrowe Park for my chemo injection. Each time we made that journey we passed the hospice, which brought back the emotions of those visits.
The only memory I have of my Granddad, Mums Dad, was visiting him in Clatterbridge hospital shortly before he passed away. Spiritually I had both of them here, close to me as I continued with my rehabilitation and my art project.During my first week in my latest hospital room, I reopened that original larger sketch pad. I don’t mind admitting that I was very nervous. I questioned myself, could I complete it?
It took nearly the rest the month with renewed and focused effort, mainly with pencils but also some acrylic pens that had been brought in for me, to complete my mission.Yes, at times I thought about quitting again, I had breaks and went back to my postcard sketchbook because it was easier for me. But the call of the Welsh landscape was too much for me to ignore, I was determined to complete the composition.Once I got back into my groove however the picture, the way I’d originally imagined it, began to emerge. The different colours of the fields and hillside. The rugged rock formation, the hedgerows, the trees the skies, all adding to the beautiful landscape somewhere in the Snowdonia region.I had a lot of time on my own, in my room and most of that spare time was now spent with my art pad, water colour pencils and acrylic pens.At some point, I can’t really remember exactly when, I put my pencils and pens away and breathed a sigh of relief. The Welsh Landscape Story had now, at last, been told.

A few days later I was on my way home for the first time in 5 months. On a number of occasions I’d been offered the chance to return home for a few hours but the thought of getting a taste of home and then heading back into hospital was not something that appealed to me at all, it would have been too much of a wrench, but now, mid August 2024, I could finally return home, albeit to a new life given my mobility problems and my chemo pot belly but my mug of tea and fish and chips tasted better than they had ever done that Friday evening.

I was proud of the result, but I had no idea how much it would resonate with others. Nearly two years after that first traumatic day, I shared the story and the painting online. I expected a handful of kind words; instead, I received over 49’000 views, 8’200 likes and a 1’000 complimentary and supportive comments.The painting isn't just a depiction of hills and valleys; it is a map of my own recovery. It stands as a testament that even when the sea is at its roughest, and even when we are forced to "quit" as I did for a while, the story isn't over, when the time is right, we go again.

A Journey of Recovery: How You Can HelpEvery stroke of the brush in the Welsh Landscape is a victory over silence and paralysis. My story did not end on March 16th; it began a new chapter where every day is a day of recovery. While I have found my way back to art, it remains a profound physical struggle—a "rough sea" that I navigate with every piece I create.Your support does more than just keep a gallery alive; it directly fuels my ongoing rehabilitation and my ability to continue healing through art.I invite you to be part of this story.The Welsh Landscape– Limited Digital EditionEdition size: 100 WorldwideThis work holds a unique place in my practice. It was the first piece I attempted during my recovery in hospital following the onset of paralysis and an incomplete spinal cord injury. Created at a time of uncertainty and rebuilding, it marks the beginning of my return to making art.Because of its significance and the response it has received, this work is being released as a strictly limited edition of 100 digital copies. Each edition is individually numbered and accompanied by a signed Certificate of Authenticity.Ownership is recorded within my official collector registry and recognised through both the certificate and this record. As with any valuable asset, editions may be resold, with ownership transferred through the registry to maintain provenance and authenticity.To honour the role of care and recovery in its creation, 25% of each sale of ‘The Welsh Landscape’ will be donated to the NHS.This is not simply an image, but a milestone in my journey as an artist—one that marks both survival and the return to making work.• These funds support the ongoing treatment of Multiple Myeloma and Spinal Cord Injuries—the very services that saved my life and continue to save countless others.**

“Art has no meaning because it has many meanings… Art is different for every individual.” Keith HaringThe following comments have been made on social media about my art.

Contact Me

If you would like to contact me about art, spinal cord injuries, multiple myeloma, my other passion football, I’d love to hear from you.

Thank You

I hope you have enjoyed reviewing my art. If you have purchased copies I hope you will get pleasure from exhibiting my art.
Please call in again sometime soon.

© 2026 Gerard Paul McKenna. All Rights Reserved