When Lindsey Holcomb received her multiple sclerosis diagnosis in 2017, she channeled her fear and uncertainty into an unexpected form of healing: transforming her own brain MRI into a beautiful abstract painting. What began as a personal coping mechanism has now evolved into a remarkable artistic mission that has touched the lives of 400 people across the United States and 14 countries worldwide.

In her Hillsboro, Oregon home, Holcomb creates these unique artworks using alcohol inks, carefully dripping teal and other vibrant colors onto paper and watching them bloom into representations of brain scans. The 35-year-old mother of two transforms medical images that often represent fear and uncertainty into stunning pieces of art that help people process their diagnoses of multiple sclerosis and other neurological conditions.

Holcomb vividly recalls the moment she received her MS diagnosis. "It was a fearful moment," she said, describing how she left the neurology office and immediately created an abstract painting of her MRI as what she called "a diary entry." Using her innovative technique of dripping alcohol ink onto paper and manipulating it with air from a bulb syringe while tipping the paper back and forth, she created paint patterns that resembled the natural folds of the brain.

"When I finished it, I felt a lot better and I felt like I could maybe digest things a little bit more the next day," Holcomb explained. After posting the artwork on social media, the National MS Society shared it on their platform, catapulting her into a new artistic career. "It catapulted me into art," she said, marking the beginning of her journey as a specialized medical artist.

Holcomb's artistic process is both meticulous and deeply personal. Before creating each MRI painting, she gathers detailed information from her clients about their individual journeys with MS and their artistic preferences. She carefully studies the folds and lesions visible in each brain scan, approaching each piece with the precision of a medical professional combined with the sensitivity of an artist.

The most meaningful part of her process involves what she calls "finding beauty in the broken." Holcomb uses a wood-burning pen to carefully cut out the lesions from the MRI images, then traces these holes with gold paint. "It feels like applying a balm," she said, describing this technique that echoes the Japanese art of kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold lacquer. "It's not about hiding the cracks—it's about honoring them."

To add texture and personal meaning to her artwork, Holcomb incorporates thread that once belonged to her late grandmother, a seamstress. She sews this thread into the paintings, creating contrast against the glossy ink while honoring her family heritage. "It's my way of honoring her," she explained, adding another layer of emotional depth to each piece.

Creating art while managing MS symptoms presents daily challenges that Holcomb has learned to navigate with creativity and adaptation. Before beginning each painting session, she performs what she calls "artist yoga"—scooping her arms in horizontal circles like a dancer stretching before a performance. This ritual allows her to check in with her body and assess what she can accomplish that day.

Living with MS means dealing with fatigue, spasticity, double vision, and fine-motor challenges that directly impact her ability to create detailed artwork. On difficult days, her vision blurs "like torn tissue paper," while other days bring trembling hands that make precise work nearly impossible. Rather than letting these symptoms stop her, Holcomb has embraced them as part of her artistic evolution.

"I've challenged myself in the last two or three years to create with my eyes closed," she said. "It's scary, but also kind of a puzzle." This adaptation has allowed her to continue creating even when her symptoms are most challenging, though the intricate nature of MRI paintings has become increasingly difficult to execute.

The emotional toll of constantly working with medical imagery and patient stories has begun to weigh heavily on Holcomb. "There's a heaviness to making space for somebody's story and their imagery," she explained. The psychological impact is particularly challenging when she encounters MRI images that show more advanced disease progression than her own. "When the image is different from my own, I think there's always something in your mind thinking, 'Could I be experiencing that soon?'"

This emotional burden has led Holcomb to limit the number of MRI commissions she accepts. "If I do too many MRIs too often, it feels like I'm being diagnosed over and over again," she said, acknowledging the need to protect her mental health while continuing to help others.

To balance this challenging work, Holcomb has developed a newer series called "Torii," featuring abstract works with bold arcs and circles that are easier for her to see clearly even on her worst vision days. These pieces require less detailed work, making them more manageable given her physical limitations. "It felt triumphant to be able to do these really smooth, large shapes," she said, describing the sense of freedom this series provides.

The Torii series has also become an unexpected source of joy through collaboration with her children, who enthusiastically point out shapes they recognize in the abstract artwork. In one memorable piece, her daughters identified what looked like a floating baby head. "It's something you cannot unsee!" Holcomb laughed, appreciating how her children bring lightness to her artistic practice.

Despite the challenges of living with a chronic illness, Holcomb has found unexpected benefits in her MS diagnosis that have fundamentally changed her life's direction. Before her diagnosis, she worked in event planning and administration—high-stress roles that required managing other people's problems and pressures. The diagnosis forced her to reevaluate her priorities and pursue a more fulfilling creative path.

"My joy is much better and bigger, pursuing a more creative path," she said, reflecting on how her illness led to discovering her true passion. This transformation has also influenced the values she hopes to pass on to her daughters. "I hope my children see that there's nothing worth working yourself to depletion for. I hope they chase their spark. I hope they chase that new crayon box smell."

Through her unique artistic practice, Holcomb has created a new form of medical art therapy that helps people around the world process difficult diagnoses and find beauty in their medical journeys. Her work represents a powerful intersection of art, medicine, and healing, proving that sometimes the most beautiful creations can emerge from our greatest challenges.