The Waiting Game: (n.) The amount of time it takes between a person’s initial steps in seeking out health care for a specific concern and the point at which they receive treatment that satisfies their needs. This process can take anywhere between weeks to years
The Waiting Game is an interactive installation piece that examines the emotional effects of the amount of waiting involved in seeking out healthcare for chronic health conditions and disabilities. As part of this project I am sharing other people’s experiences with The Waiting Game along with my own as I’ve been seeking medical treatment for my own chronic pain for the past 7 years. The installation intentionally mimics the aesthetics of a medical waiting room based on my own experiences with them.
In addition to this installation discussing the ways in which the process of seeking out medical care and/or a diagnosis affects people emotionally, I am also examining how the lines between the clinical and the personal blur and often overlap during this process and how this obfuscation can add to the emotional impacts. There is also an overarching theme about control in how the Waiting Game often takes away people’s agency and how people have dealt with and counteracted that by re-taking control.
What does it mean to exist in a space that doesn’t care for you? How do you find meaning within it?
This installation is part of an ongoing project that directly asks the audience to take a moment a moment of self reflection. In an age where people are increasingly getting worn down by work, school, social media, the general sociopolitical climate, and just life in general; it’s very easy to lose oneself.
Using my own experiences as a person with a chronic illness, this body of work seeks to open a discussion on people’s experiences within the Medical Industrial Complex and the different ways we have been harmed by our current system. With this discussion, I hope to explore the different ways we have had to take care of ourselves and try to find comfort within an uncomfortable situation.
Using my own experiences with allopathic medicine as a chronically ill person, this body of work seeks to open a discussion about different approaches to health and wellness from pharmaceutical medicine to traditional Indigenous practices and the boundaries between what is defined as “real” and “folk” medicine. What started off as a way to connect to my Brazilian and Colombian roots turned into an examination of the ways in which knowledge and culture is passed down and how to continue that practice for future generations.
This installation seeks to act as an archive of Indigenous knowledge and be used as a teaching tool for that knowledge to the viewer. By combining the aesthetics of european scientific illustrations and prints with fiber arts mediums generally categorized as craft rather than fine arts I aim to challenge the Euro-centric ideals surrounding archives and break away from the drive to categorize/pathologize everything by centering Indigenous voices. It is also intended to be used as a potential teaching tool for the knowledge archived within it, or at the very least a touch point for the viewer to go off and do their own research on the subject of Indigenous healing practices.
Our body is our first home, to take the title of the piece literally, it’s where our heart is, but we often don’t treat our bodies/homes very well. We’re often too overworked, too busy, too tired, to be able to take the time to treat our body/home with care. We’ll do the bare minimum to get through the day, but even that’s not always the case (think of how many times you’ve casually joked about how little sleep you got last night with your friends). When I was about 19 years old, I started showing symptoms of a chronic joint pain condition that has yet to be diagnosed. Not only did this throw a substantial wrench in my life plans, it forced me to stop and learn how to take care of my body/home, to pay attention to what I need. Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you look at it) I got a lot of help from my mom. We likely have the same condition, we both started showing symptoms around the same time and our symptoms are very similar. She helped me navigate the maze of the United States Healthcare system, giving me tips on how to find the right doctors (and how to deal with the shitty ones), sharing ways that she managed her pain, and commiserating over bad flare days. One of our favorite things to do after a long day is to just sink into the couch or chairs, get a cozy blanket, and just watch something together, taking a moment to decompress and rest together. So please remember to sit down and just take a moment to let yourself rest with your friends. Take care of your home.
