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Artist Statement

 

My work deals with our culture's problematic attitudes toward the elderly; their general neglect and invisibility in our society and how this neglect specifically exists in poorly managed if not corrupt assisted living and nursing homes. I feel compelled to raise awareness and to inspire concern for these complex issues after witnessing my grandfather's experiences with nursing homes and assisted living facilities. Much of my work incorporates his personal history. By contrasting the lack of individual distinction in institutionalized care with the uniqueness and sincerity of the patients, I hope to make the point that the residents are not statistics- they are human beings. In order to engage the viewer more directly in these issues, I use art formats that promote viewer interaction. I connect with the viewer through my use of materials, space, action, and smell. I also encourage an active rather than passive audience understanding by presenting different types of information. I want the viewers to form their own responses and read my work within a personal context. Because I critique institutional care and social issues, I fall into the category of activism. I share several common threads with conceptual activist artists such as Hans Haacke and Krzysztof Wodiczko, yet my work is often less overtly confrontational. I also have been inspired by Shirin Neshat, because her messages are more subdued and metaphorical, yet still very politically charged.

The neglect of the elderly often begins on an individual level when family members place their older relatives in homes and then move away or rarely visit. My piece Obligation, 2002, a guest book with signatures of visitors who appear only around the holidays, refers to our culture's emotional abandonment of their elderly family members. Here I encourage you to realize the issue at hand- the mistreatment of the aging not only by institutions but also by their own families. It is important to note however, that families and nurses are not the enemy. The sheer number of residents, coupled with their needs for attention, makes adequate nursing impossible in this setting if the home is understaffed. Further, the families often are unable to give the residents' the intensive care they require, and are forced to place them in homes. Often they live far away, making meaningful interaction rare.
As a way to communicate these concerns, I relate my personal history, the narrative of my grandfather, in several works. By documenting a true story, I am saying that neglect can (and does) happen to our loved ones in these institutions. Even if the viewer is unaware that this narrative is true, the idea of following one character through a series of events makes us feel connected to the individual. Moreover, a personal narrative, whether fictional or not, ties the viewer to the person emotionally. In the works featuring documents, such as Living Will, 2003, I conceal the identities of all parties involved with black marker, except for my grandfather's first name. The name "Clarence" asks us to approach his character in an endearing way, rather than a list of names, in which the individual is lost to anonymity. Further, presenting an individual without a last name allows the viewer to identify with him, remembering loved ones that they have had in similar situations. This plays on our society's focus on the individual, using the individual to inspire concern for the larger community. However, I am not just leaving out his last name; I am covering it up where it once existed, underscoring the legal issues surrounding the matter. In addition, speaking for a man who is unable to speak for himself signifies the plight of the elderly. Even when these victims are conscious and critical enough to realize the injustices being done to them, they are silenced in two ways: either they are deemed senile or their complaints are prevented by the consequences of speaking out. Thus, I serve as a voice for my grandfather and the other residents in his former home. Telling my grandfather's story gives me a closer connection to and purpose for my work as I carry on his legacy. The more I describe my work, the more stories I hear of nursing home abuse, which pushes me to continue producing.

I address mostly things that are overlooked concerning the ways these patients are mistreated. In my video installation entitled Welcome, 2003, the viewer sits in an old recliner set in front of a video projection. A blurred image of a nurse is projected, welcoming the viewer as if he were a new resident. As you sit through the performance, subtleties such as tone of voice and level of interaction become more apparent. We notice that the nurse speaks in a condescending manner, treating her new patient as if he were a child as she reminds you about taking your medication and reduced privileges. In addition, her tone of voice is very high-pitched, like the tone you would use with a child or an animal. She also talks constantly, remaining for the most part in the center of the screen, which bores the viewer and evokes the sense of the mundane of everyday existence one of these homes.

While neglect and condescension are more benign forms of mistreatment, sadly, these disrespectful attitudes can give rise to direct abuse. Institutions which are charged to house and cared for elderly individuals are sometimes guilty of corruption in an effort to make a profit off of their residents. Family Heirlooms, 2003, a trash bag full of such belongings as records, books, and clothes, can be interpreted as referring to the practice of selling or giving away residents' valuables after they have passed away. By including a book titled The Conflict of Laws, I also reference the dead ends my parents encountered when trying to expose one particular facility's malpractice, since the current system is not conducive to reform. The frustration my family encountered during this process is also communicated in Unknown, 2003, a work that consists of a file cabinet containing the paperwork associated with the malpractice investigation surrounding my grandfather's assisted living facility. The only information the viewer has access to is the letter from the home stating that, by receiving a refund of the $75,000 entrance fee my grandfather paid, we forfeit our right to bring lawsuits against the home or any of their affiliates. This piece refers to the inadequacy of the laws surrounding senior communities. The system is set up in such a way that the administration of a home rarely receives reprimands for abuse. They cannot be affected financially, since the government subsidizes homes that go bankrupt, as they are a public service. After all, it would go against our interests to negatively affect the residents. Neither will the administration be set back legally, since it is difficult to gather evidence of malpractice when the patient is very old (minimizing his credibility), the family lives far away, and the organizations set up to investigate them are corrupt.

The reason for our attitudes toward the elderly is a web of cause and effect. In a society based on independence, innovation, youth, and physical beauty, the logical effect is to devalue the elderly. The elderly, who were once (and in other cultures, still are) revered for their experience and wisdom, now represent negative connotations. In the western culture they are often considered dependent, ugly, and outdated. In my photographic portraits, Untitled, 2003, I seek to point out that beauty is a subjective term. While most images of a "beautiful" person are those who are youthful and energetic, I challenge our notions of what is considered beautiful by making photographic portraits of the elderly. I capture beauty in the exquisite detail of such things as wrinkles and in emotions communicated through facial expressions and body language. In these photographs, individual personalities are apparent, celebrating the sincerity of emotion that we usually do not get in magazine spreads that typify our culture's definition of "beautiful" people. Often, barriers in communication arise, so featuring a range of emotion in these subjects lets us know that these people experience life just as we do. At the very least, my approaching older subjects with such humanity and closeness will make viewers question their own relationships with their elders. This personal aspect to my work highlights the importance of family in a culture in which it is often underrated. By examining society's definitions of beauty more closely, in which the elderly are underrepresented, my work also comments on the social climate in America's youth culture. Thus, my work serves as a social commentary about our disregard for the elderly, reflected by our notions of beauty.

Our culture's obsession with independence creates a tension between the individual and the elderly community as a whole. Worse than being useless, we see the elderly as a burden on our wallets and our time. Unfortunately, by focusing on the individual, we have made the community obsolete. Assisted living facilities are our only replacement for this need for a community that becomes more apparent in later stages of life. For example, in Family Heirlooms, the plastic industrial trash bag is juxtaposed with worn "heirlooms" to contrast industry with a family legacy. In my photos, Clarence and the other residents I take pictures of represent their community. We relate to the individuals personally, making us think about the larger community. These are countered by Welcome, which comments on our society's alienation of the collective elderly. By contrasting the lack of individual distinction in institutionalized care with the uniqueness and sincerity of the patients, the point becomes clearer that the residents are not statistics, they are human beings.

Ironically, we fail to realize that each of us is doomed to the same treatment (or lack thereof) unless the system and social attitudes change. For this reason, my work has a sense of activism in the respect that I seek to inform the public about this problem. Because my goal is to make people think more deeply about these issues heightening viewer interaction is essential to the success of my work. I seek to inspire concern without creating one-sided propaganda; my goal is to begin a dialogue on a problem that is all around us yet purposely ignored. I hope to engage the viewer mentally with objects that are interesting to think about, as well as look at. They have different levels of meaning that the viewer begins to fit together throughout experience the exhibition. I often utilize physical interaction, such as sitting in a chair, thumbing through books, or trying to open a file drawer, to involve viewers who have not taken the time with the more cerebral works meant solely for viewing and pondering. These interactive pieces slow the viewer down, allowing him time to contemplate his associations. I try to engage all of the viewer's senses; things to look at, things to read, things to touch, hear, and even smell. I think smell is the most evocative, since the associations it brings are so subconscious. Sometimes, the viewer "gets it" without even knowing why if each of the components of the piece subtly work together. Smells such as moth balls (present in Welcome), and industrial strength cleaners are reminiscent of the homes of the elderly, both unassisted and in institutions.

Manipulating the viewer's experience of the space allows me to create a feeling of loneliness, individuality, and intimacy. For instance, Welcome is enclosed in a small area, for only one person at a time to experience. This is a place for the person to contemplate meanings and associations alone, and to think more critically rather than be influenced by others' readings. Living Will also uses the space in this way, as we have to follow the words in the tubes one by one. Only one person at a time can read the documents that have been cut up and inserted through tubes, allowing each a chance to examine issues pertaining to my grandfather's health. I also encourage the viewer to inhabit the space, as in Welcome, in which the viewer becomes a participant by sitting in the recliner. Likewise, in Living Will, the viewer has to move around the bed to read the text in the tubes. Not only is the space intimate, but it sometimes encourages the viewer to participate.

Besides relying on the physical engagement of the viewer I also present my content in a variety of ways to promote greater audience participation. By weaving a web of associations, the works become more layered and will hopefully reach a wider audience, which is especially important to my work as a social commentary. I employ different kinds of information to approach each subject. In this way, I am able to broaden the viewers' understanding, likening it to everyday experience, and encouraging the viewer's engagement with the body of works as a whole. We take in information both scientifically and intuitively, for instance relying on both what someone says as well as how they say it. Therefore, a variety of modes of communicating are employed. In general, I show evidence, or documentation, to relate my grandfather's story, which contrasts the individual with very impersonal facts and figures. For example, I use medical records and correspondence between my parents and their lawyer/the assisted living facility. This leaves the viewer yearning for aspects of the individual's personality and we find ourselves thinking about an older person as an individual as we review his unique set of impairments.
I often use found objects in my work because they have their own history and therefore are effective at creating associations to engage the viewer mentally, When these objects are found in a thrift store, they seem to align with the intentions of my work even more, since they are a part of someone's history that have been discarded, and are unable to tell their own stories. These are real artifacts, although not necessarily my grandfather's, so they make the narrative more convincing and personal. In contrast to thrift store items that indicate personal possession through wear, I employ impersonal, newly purchased medical instruments and office furniture, such as IV tubes, file cabinets, hospital beds, and walkers. These items reek of industry and institutions and highlight the disabilities of the elderly.

I find I have a lot in common with the activist artist Krzysztof Wodiczko particularly when he deals with issues about interpersonal relationships and our culture's attitudes towards minorities. Yet his work differs from mine in attitudes of context and scale. He uses monumentality and the public domain to command the viewer's attention. By placing his work in the public arena, projecting huge images onto public buildings, and sending immigrants onto the streets to attempt conversations with passersby, he confronts the masses, not just the art-minded in a gallery setting. Whereas I create staged intimate spaces detached from the "real" world, appealing to the viewer's associations and memories, Wodiczko uses actual victims of alienation and abuse to confront the viewer. In Alien Staff, 1992 and Mouthpiece, 1993, the viewer is forced into closer contact with the performer in order to view the images on the small television screens. In a less confrontational way, my video projection, Welcome, involves an outsider who approaches the viewer individually. However, in Wodiczko's work, the viewer is more uneasy because a live person is approaching them. In Tijuana Projection, 1996 the images of participants telling their survival stories are greatly enlarged and distorted as the person's face wraps around the sides of a curved building. 1 This projection shifts from placing emphasis from a one-on-one interaction with the individual to a broad audience, and relates the individual to a larger group. Thus, both Wodiczko and I employ the viewers' sympathy with an individual, or in this case a victim, who speaks for a larger group.

Similarly, Hans Haacke is a socially conscious political artist who manipulates documents and familiar icons and advertisements to make a statement. His subject matter relates to mine because Haacke takes a critical look at the influence of governmental systems, wealthy institutions, and the media on public opinion. But Haacke targets a broad range of social issues which he unearths through objective research, while I draw from a deeply personal experience. For instance, Shapolsky et al. Manhattan Real Estate Holdings, a Real-Time Socialist System, as of May 1, 1971, draws attention to the unethical practices of a slum lord in New York. These statistics and photographic documents act as "proof" to expose injustice as Living Will and Unknown do in my work. However, Haacke's choice of subject matter is site-specific, in that he often criticizes practices about the people or place it is presented.2 This is also evident in Shapolskyet al. Manhattan Real Estate Holdings, a Real-Time Socialist System, as of May 1, 1971, since this slum lord was also associated with the museum in which Haacke's exhibition was being held. Similarly, in Mobilization, he examines Mobil's corporate sponsorship of art-minded organizations and the censorship of artists that inevitably ensues from such a relationship.3 Thus, Haacke's approach to choosing his subject matter often results in refusal of exhibitions and censorship.

I am also interested in the work of Iranian born artist Shirin Neshat. Even at first glance, I was intrigued by Neshat's photographs because they are at the same time beautiful, conceptual, and deal with social and cultural criticism. She captures her audience's attention by presenting the Other, in terms of race as well as sex, especially in works like Speechless, 1996 and Untitled, 1996. In my own work, I present the under imaged and in a sense, the elderly are considered the Other, due to communication barriers across age groups. Neshat also draws viewers in through visual aesthetics, seducing us with beautiful images before asking viewers to think about her political messages. The images are so implicit that once we begin thinking about the politics of the veil, women's rights, and other cultural differences, we are free to come up with our own meanings without being bombarded with propaganda. In works like Rebellious Silence, 1996, the woman's face has writing that both contradicts and supports the revolution in Iran.4 In the same way, my photographs entitled Parts of the Whole are visually interesting, so the viewer lingers long enough to begin to wonder about my message. Not only are the same three words repeated, but they are dissected, such as Investigate/invest. A more difficult relationship to understand is that of "Surveillance/veil", since they are shown in the same photograph and "veil" is only unveiled by the difference in value. Finally, I can be compared to Neshat because her photographs, especially Women of Allah, start a dialogue instead of presenting an opinion. At the same time, she uses her work to explore her own understanding of herself and her culture(s), so she draws from very personal experiences.

Essentially, the viewer can make up his or her mind about the "reality" I present, and pieces together the different ideas to make a cohesive statement about our society. In this way, the viewer is forced to interact with them to figure out each specific idea as well as their common themes as parts that contribute to a whole. I hope to raise awareness about the current attitudes toward the elderly community, asking all of us to reassess our values and assumptions.

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1 Wodiczko, Krzysztof. Public Address: Krzysztof Wodiczko. Walker Art Center: Minneapolis, MN, 1992, p 145.

2 Wallis, Brian. Hans Haacke: Unfinished Business. The New Museum of Contemporary Art, New York, 1986 p 20.

3 Wallis et al., p 158-65.

4 di Rivoli, Castello. Shirin Neshat. Museum of Contemporary Art: Charta, Italy, 2002, p 75-78.

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