Confined, the bed, really a cot. A small space, cheap. A hospital (bed) maybe? The empty isolation is tangible, as brokenness lays in silence, a sign of solidarity for the space.
This image, with its mustard yellow cot of sorts is folded into its most minimal size, shrinking its value to the bare minimum. It lays incomplete, with coils that have left their intended place and a wheel that has attempted to run, only to be trapped underneath the cot still. Its freedom is still tied to its owner, and without its ownership its value fades into nothingness.
Taken from the ground, the reflection of its sharp edges can be seen in the foreground as well. Though its reflection is blurry, there’s still some lines that are able to be seen. This mattress, in its violent, active state tells the story of those implicated in a system that places people over profit, bills before breath, all without ever portraying those who have been damaged by the system. As the photographer, I wanted to caption the pain emoting from the bed, with its white walls to imitate the removed coldness of many medical facilities. The exhibit’s artist Derek Peel simulates the solitary nature of both diseases and hospitals through Get Well Soon. When I spoke to him, he wouldn’t reveal his exact intentions for the exhibit, but rather insisted that each viewer be a live participant in each work, allowing their lens to work in collaboration to tell a story.