International Museum of Surgical Science
I went to the Museum of Surgical Science today. I went particularly to see the shows that are part of the Anatomy in the Gallery series there. This series invites contemporary artists to show work that involves the body in some way. The artists there now, and unfortunately the shows close this friday, are Carol Chase Bjerke and Masako Onodera. There are many, many more fascinating things at the Museum! This will not be my last post about it!
Bjerke’s pieces in Hidden Agenda speak to the harsh realities of living with an ostomy - “a surgical reconfiguration of the intestine to create a stoma, or opening in the abdominal wall through which body wastes pass.” Basically, you connect a tube and a pouch to you, and all your shit flows into it - this bag is strapped to your torso throughout the day. Her sculpture Misfortune Cookies consists of red fortune-cookie-type-type objects with slips of paper reading misfortunes like: “Your pouch will irritate your skin and annoy you.” and “You will be distracted from the think you most love to do by the excrement exuding from your stoma.” Simple sentences that voice the unspeakable - crude human bodily functions.
Misfortune Cookies, 2004-5, polymer clay and paper
To the unobserved observer, this condition, or disability, may be invisible. Unless one questions what the lump under one’s shirt may be, the pouch of excrement, along with the body’s “reconfiguration” goes unnoticed.
Ironically, or rather coincidentally, i experienced a disturbing incident involving my invisible disability on the 151 bus leaving the museum to go to class downtown.
I was sitting in the front of the bus in the section reserved for seniors and people with disabilities. The bus was crowded, but there did not appear to be any seniors or people in need to give the seat up to. I sat down - i have been feeling fatigued and confused anyways, so i thought, what the hell.
An elderly woman sat down next to me.
When i reached back to pull the stop request cord, i accidentally brushed against her. She gave me a nasty look, but i replied with an, “oh! i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to!”
She proceeded to berate me for sitting in the section reserved for seniors. The conversation went something as follows:
Mean, old lady: You should be sorry! Look at where you’re sitting! this is for seniors!
Me: It’s also for people with disabilities…and…i have a disability.
MOLD: But look at the sign! It says seniors! This area is for seniors!
Me: And it also says for people with disabilities and i have a disability.
MOLD: Oh! Sure! Yeah right you have a disability!
This is when i proceeded to get off the bus. She kept saying “yeah right” behind me while rolling her eyes - my friend who was with me at the time told me this when we exited the bus.
This, right now, is just an anecdote, but as my teacher, artist Joseph Grigely told me: Anecdotes pile up. They begin to mean something.
This current anecdote may serve as just an example of the political implications of having a disability that is invisible to the observer. Under ADA - Americans with Disabilities Act - it states that in order for an impairment to be classified as a “disability,” the person must exhibit that:
1. the physical/mental impairment substantially limits one or more of his/her major life activities;
2. there is a record of this impairment; and
3. others regard him/her as having such an impairment
Looking at the ADA i wonder, what would happen to a person like me whose disability isn’t visibly present? when most times, it doesn’t even seem to be there at all?
