People watching in an ER on a Friday night is not what I had in mind for this Friday night, but here I am, like most of the other people occupying chairs here, staring at my phone, clicking away at the screen with my tiny thumbs, occasionally glancing around me and wondering what everyone else is in here for. Some of them are waiting for someone else, some of them look quite ill, or sad, or just very tired; slumped shoulders, hollow faces, dim eyes. Some are even wearing face masks. There are snippets of conversations taking place, something was just mumbled over the intercom by a very très sounding man, and currently my hands are shaking a bit because I injured myself and now my system is trying to mend my bashed up knee.
No, it's nothing major. Had a fight with a lip of rough pavement and t took a rather large chunk of tissue for me as a memento of our fleeting encounter. Jerk. I need stitches. Between this and the tattoos, I am feeling really hardcore!
It could be worse, and thankfully, it isn't. And the people watching is kind of interesting. I am playing a game wth myself, trying to piece together the back story of what brought some of the other patients here. What is their story? First time visit for something minor, like myself? Something more major? Are the from here? Visiting? How long have they been here waiting? Do they know what's wrong with them, or are they waiting anxiously to find out? Things like that. It feels like research for my anti-portrait project, which is what I was working on this afternoon before I went for my run and smacked my knee.
This is a detail of a piece I just finished this afternoon. It was from a photo I took of the BD sometime during our Yukon trip. It's the first completed piece for one of the two anti-portrait shows that go up later this summer. It's off to a pretty good start, unlike my Friday night.
I'm pretty certain this evening will provide me with more material for this project.