The intro to the feature about the mother-daughter book about a girl with autism, based on the life of the book's artist Kim Miller. It's from the News-Review in Roseburg, Oregon:Kim Miller is an artist first.
Her work speaks for itself — her pencil describes anguish and frustration, love and joy — all the feelings she has been unable to convey throughout her life.
Miller is autistic second.
As an articulate 20-year-old, the Roseburg resident can look a person in the eye and clearly explain her thoughts. But through her childhood, adolescence and teen years, communication didn’t come naturally.
Teaming with her biggest advocate, her mother, Eileen Miller, Kim illustrated a book titled, “The Girl Who Spoke with Pictures.” The book is a harmony of Eileen’s story and Kim’s drawings from ages 3 to 19.
Eileen and her husband, John, realized early that their child was different. Eileen explained Kim as a “walking time bomb” before the girl was able to express herself through art. Kim didn’t smile, laugh or cry. She didn’t begin talking in full sentences until the first grade and even then, it was often in delayed echolalia — the repetition of a phrase after a period of time, such as snippets from television commercials or quotes from movies.
When Kim was 3, she used a pen for the first time to draw a face. Her parents had no idea the dots and lines would change the direction of their lives forever. In her pictures, Kim always drew herself as a happy girl — in one picture titled, “You and Me,” she is smiling and holding hands with her mother. In real life, touch was agonizing for Kim.
When she was 4, the family went to the local fair. Eileen writes that Kim sat stone-faced through a carousel ride, “not betraying any emotion as she went round and round.”
Almost two weeks later, Kim drew herself on the horse, a big, beaming smile on her face. The dichotomy between Kim in real life and Kim on paper is evident throughout the book.
As Kim grew older, she illustrated the obstacles she faced during her daily routine, such as sensitivity to noise. As a 12-year-old, she created a drawing titled, “Today.” In the picture, she has her hands over her ears, a word bubble from her mouth screams, “I can’t take it!” The crunch from someone eating cereal was enough to spoil her day.
As Kim got older and her drawings became more elaborate and personal, the family had to search through Kim’s notebooks to find any clues as to what their daughter was feeling.
“You had to dig for it, look for it,” said Eileen. “She wouldn’t just hand it to you. We had to be very active.”
As soon as Kim began drawing about her sensitivity to hearing, Eileen was able to advocate for her. When Kim drew a picture of kids chasing her home from school, Eileen could identify the kids from the details in the picture.
And when Kim’s pictures were heartbreaking —such as the self-portrait of a 13-year-old clutching a blanket, a tear rolling from her eye as she realizes she is autistic — Eileen was able to console her daughter.
She also could use the drawings to Kim’s advantage. Eileen would prepare teachers for the school year with a portfolio of art.
“Kim was afforded opportunity because of her drawings,” said Eileen. “They realized she wasn’t a glass half-empty. She was a glass half-full.”
The Miller family was discovering Kim’s needs through her art. And for Kim, art was an outlet. She was able to express her loathing of the word “retarded,” or the feeling of rejection.Masks were a common thread in many of her drawings.
