The Language of Judith Scott
How a life forced into silence created loud heart wrenching sculptures
I don’t believe it’s necessary to know the backstory of a piece or the artist to be impacted by it. In fact, I think every one of us can say that we’ve in some way been possessed by a piece only to find we’ve completely misunderstood it. I don’t believe that makes the feelings we had wrong or in any way false. My feelings toward art are similar to my feelings toward literature: once it’s out in the world it no longer belongs to the creator. I feel this both as a writer and an artist. My pieces are only mine while I work on them. Once out, it’s in your hands.
So I could argue that not knowing the story behind Judith Scott is unnecessary to appreciate her works, and that would be a perfectly valid argument. But damn does it make me cry now that I know the truth.
I have twin nieces. Having nieces when you’re a younger sibling is the best gift because it means your older siblings have given you lifelong friends. I mentioned in my last post how they used to live with me, and how they taught me what girlhood is. If you asked me which is my favorite, I’d be stumped. They’re both so unique, so wildly different and so wonderful in their own ways. I love them endlessly.
I bring this up because of the origins of the artist we’re speaking about today. In many ways, Judith Scott’s story begins and ends with sisterhood. I’m not surprised that one of the first pictures I found of her was of her hugging her sister. It completes the story.
Judith and Joyce Scott were born in Cincinnati, Ohio on May 1, 143. They were beautiful babies, but Judith had staggering differences from her sister. She was born with Down Syndrome, and after a stint of scarlet fever, lost her hearing as well. This factor was not widely known until she reached adulthood, which was a long journey for her.
A year or two ago, I became fascinated with learning about the Deaf Community. I started reading books, watching TikTok, and so on. The Deaf Community is beautiful. I’m not saying that just to say it, I’m saying it because it’s impossible to ignore once you immerse yourself in it. I have multiple friends who sign, including one who passionately works to help the Deaf Community in whatever way she can.
A common issue for those who are Deaf and part of Hearing families is the inability to communicate. Sign Language is a gorgeous language, designed by the Deaf for the Deaf. Denying someone the chance to communicate in a way better suited to who they are is lethal not only to their development but to their emotional state as well.
Have you ever been in a room full of people speaking a language you don’t understand? Have you ever felt that kind of alienation that only comes from being an outsider in language?
Because it was not known that Judith was deaf until adulthood, she never learned to read or write, and she was not taught ASL. Yet, that is not the end of the many trials forced against Judith. As the twins grew, it became clear that Judith was not developing in the same manner that Joyce was. Even when introduced to a classroom for children with disabilities, Judith was deemed ‘ineducable.’ Her parents scrambled to find a way to help her.
One must remember that this was midcentury America, an era of heightened suspicion and where bigotry was the norm. Pressured by doctors and teachers, as well as societal norms that dictated parents shouldn’t have ‘difficult’ children at home, they chose to institutionalize her at the Columbus State Institution. This devastated both twins, but it cannot be understated the kind of horrors and injustice Joyce was likely to have been exposed to. She was believed to have an IQ of 30 and denied proper training and teaching. She was noted for being restless, messy, and hitting other children.
For Joyce, the pain was unbearable. She was not told ahead of time her sister was going to leave, and instead awoke one day to find her gone. A part of her heart was taken from her, and she sought any means necessary to fill the void. As an adult, Joyce pursued a career as a developmental specialist, specializing in helping mothers and babies with disabilities. Among them, she worked with many children with Down Syndrome. This awakened something in Joyce, and a long battle began in which she was able to become her sister’s legal guardian. In 1985, the twins were reunited in California. They were in their 40s.
Judith’s sister saved her in more ways than either could have anticipated. Joyce Enrolled Judith in the Creative Growth Art Center, a studio for artists with disabilities. Joyce had discovered in Judith’s files that while she was institutionalized she once attempted to color with other children. However, she was deemed ‘too retarded to draw’ and the crayons were taken from her. Joyce saw there was something innate in her sister, something yearning to communicate through creation.
The first two years didn’t yield any results. It wasn’t until a workshop with the textile artist Sylvia Seventy that she found her medium. And once she found it, there was no stopping her.
“All day, five days a week, she created mysterious sculptures, building each from a core of discarded, rejected or misplaced objects that she tied together, bound, then wrapped and wove with threads. Each yarn was selected with an extraordinary sense of color, texture and design.” - Joyce Scott “Entwined: Sisters and Secrets in the Silent World of Artist Judith Scott.”
From there, the Judith Scott who is now known the world over was born. I find her sculptures fascinating in and of themselves, but when you know the backstory, something hits you in the gut.
Here we see a voice yearning to be heard. We see Judith trying to communicate with us. She seals various objects in her fiber, almost mummifying them. These aren’t random bindings. Joyce is speaking to us. She is communicating with us the only way she can. And she didn’t stop, creating nearly every day of her life until her passing in 2005. In her life, Judith created over 200 sculptures.
Judith Scott was born into a world that refused to embrace her, refused to understand her. But by the time she found her art, she became an artist the world welcomed with open arms. She became the first-ever artist with Down Syndrome to be featured in the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Her work is exhibited the world over.
When I first saw a picture of Judith, I fell in love with her. The image of her hugging her sculpture is so tender, just bursting with innocent love. Here she is, here is her voice. And the way she embraces it only further exemplifies what this means for her. I cannot imagine going forty-plus years without a means to be heard or understood, but I have some idea what the intense relief must have been.
The gift of communication is exactly that - a gift. We’re communicating right now. Through words and text, I’m able to share my ideas and thoughts. I even have the added advantage of knowing words in two other languages, which admittedly can be a trial. But it’s something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Despite everything she went through, Judith Scott crafted her own language. The rest is left for us to translate.
As I said, Judith’s life begins and ends with her sister. When she passed at the age of 61 in 2005, she was in the arms of her sister Joyce. The tremendous love between these two sisters is impossible to underestimate. No one understood Judith better than Joyce, and I suspect no one loved Joyce like Judith.
My first thought when I saw Judith’s work was the way bindings are synonymous with feeling trapped. I wondered if Judith was feeling trapped in her own life and expressing that. Now when I look at them I don’t think that’s what she’s saying. I think she’s saying she is whole, fully formed. And safe. Safe in the arms of her sister. When everything is taken from us, do we not want nothing more than the chance to speak and feel safe in our words? I can’t truly say Judith’s life was tragic so much that it had a tragic start, because, in the end, she had what I dream of, what I wish was mine.
To make art is to be human. We have this incredible ability to create as a form of being. Judith is a reminder that this transcends all imagined barriers and that no matter what barriers there may be, we can still touch each other's hearts.
