Note: These are fieldnotes from the Bellevue Hospital project I am currently involved in through which I am exploring the ways in which the physical spaces of the Bellevue carve out, allow for, produce, engender, transmit, perform, disallow, and inhibit particular affective states in those that enter it.
__________
I approach the space of Bellevue Hospital having never seen it. All I know of it is what I have heard from others that have spoken of relatives admitted involuntarily to the psychiatric ward within. I imagine a darkened space with winding corridors, the type of ward featured in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, Kesey slumped in the corner high on peyote and wildly scratching away at his notepads. There are nurses in crisp, white uniforms in this image, most having severe features, most having the look of having given up a part of their humanity in an attempt to maintain sanity and keep distance between themselves and their patients. The doctors are apparitions in this imagining, existing only in the dimly-lit rooms where sturdy, worn machinery lies seemingly unused and a humming can be heard throughout the hallways, perhaps the occasional cry of a patient now-realizing where they have been placed resounds.
The history of the Bellevue, constructed in 1736, lies silent within the aged walls, travels through the rusted pipes, oxidized copper ornamentals and worn down tiles, and slams up against the newly-renovated modern wing which has been grafted onto the aged original buildings of the Bellevue. Within the old and new, there is a dormant history reenacted every day with a new face, new people performing the duties of the hospital, the duties of care and control. “What relationships have coursed through this physical building?” I think to myself. “What power structures between nurses and patients, doctors and nurses, families and the institution, and perhaps most importantly, between the patients and the building itself course through the aged organizational structures?”
I begin to think of the space of the cubicle that I have written previously about (see here), the affective states such a historical space engenders, produces, and performs and I mentally transpose this space on to one of the imagined holding cells for mental patients: four walls, bright white, well-lit from far overhead, the light hidden behind a steel mesh cage to avoid breakage, and a steel bed in the corner with well-pressed, white linen. This is only what I imagine as I have never been inside. To this project I bring such imaginings and I am cognizant of their presence but unaware of how they may inflect my research.
I wonder what it would mean to study a space with humans as the ornaments to the physical structure of the hospital. What it means to think of the emotional capabilities of us as human beings as directly informed, honed, and limited by the physical structures we exist within. I begin to wonder too if, when we remain for long periods of time within one physical structure, the organizational structure embeds itself within our facial expressions, rears its head though our views of life and the world around us, lingers under our fingernails, and importantly, informs what we deem to be emotionally available to feel.
Leading questions: what affective states does an organizational space such as Bellevue Hospital allow for, produce, engender, transmit, perform, disallow, and inhibit? What if we begin to imagine, as others have, the physical space as a living being, a ruin of past lives, emotions and experiences which hold traces of such things within its very walls, floors, facades, lighting, and fabric? Do human beings have agency when encapsulated within an organizational space or does their vision become limited not only by what the space allows us to see given the particular positioning of walls and lighting but also by what movement is allowed within the spaces of the hospital (i.e. If I want to walk down the hall, there are particular boundaries to that desire)?
Beginning approach: A reflexive study of three, three-hour sessions of observation per week from particular sites around and within Bellevue Hospital: the Southwest public gardens, the main public lobby and the public eating area. The structure of the Bellevue will be noted, historically researched, photographed, and drawn from the inside and out. Observations of the affective states the physical structure engenders within myself will be noted. Observations of other’s actions, visible emotions, and movements while visiting the hospital will be noted. All will remain anonymous. A feel for the place and people will be noted and an essence of the place will be allowed to percolate up through time spent observing.
Photos of the first trip to Bellevue (a grounding): http://www.flickr.com/photos/47478409@N06/sets/72157623412143184/detail/
Discussion
No comments yet.