The Malingering Project

In the United States, six out of every ten people suffer from at least one chronic disease, and four out of every ten have two or more chronic illnesses . The majority of these chronic conditions are incurable and progressive, which means a lifetime of coping for the those who become ill. 

Despite its prevalence, chronic illness is not well understood. Our collective bias towards healthism inflicts damage on those unable to meet its exact designations and promotes the dismissal of serious illness. Under this bias, failure to overcome an illness is malingering. Unless the disease has an obvious, visible physical manifestation whereby the individual appears sick, accommodations and supports remain largely inaccessible. Health isn’t the norm, yet it’s always the expectation. 

And that’s just for those who are diagnosed. The path to getting a diagnosis itself can be a horror story, particularly for women. Doctors frequently dismiss, rebuff, and deny women’s claims of illness, pain, and discomfort. Whether cast aside with well-meaning advice, accused of hypochondria or hysteria, or simply shuffled from one specialist to the next without insight, connection, or guidance, the result remains the same: our health deteriorates and we take on wounds inflicted by our would-be caregivers-cum-health gatekeepers. 

Through the lens of body horror, my project Malingering explores what it means to experience chronic, progressive disease as a woman in the U.S. medical system. I plan to build four kiln-fired stoneware figurative sculptures in life-size and 1/3 life size that present an autobiography of my personal experiences with multiple diseases. Nine additional figures in the same material will showcase the experiences of other women who have chronic illnesses.

This figurative series shares how chronic illness feels like a violation of the human body, showcasing both physical and psychological manifestations of the trauma, hardship, and negative self-talk inflicted by the illness itself and the external (medical, societal, familial) responses to it. I am especially interested in portraying how the negative transformative capabilities of the body can be interpreted as a betrayal, and how the limits chronic, progressive disease places on the body feel like a loss of control. 

To reflect the confusion surrounding and difficulties attaining a diagnosis, I will design each figure for exploration. Viewers will be able to open drawers and hinged walls within the figures in order to puzzle out what they see within the body, what each individual experiences with their chronic disease. Viewers will look inside each figure to find dioramas in miniature, such as a scene from a hospital waiting room or abstract representations of pain, physical damage, or emotions. I will also incorporate interviews with the models in both written and auditory form. Within each figure, viewers will find allusions to early and modern Gothic literature, from which the body horror subgenre originated. I intend to reference classics like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper,” as well modern works like Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic.

Film scholar Linda Williams writes that the success of body-focused horror genres "is often measured by the degree to which the audience sensation mimics what is seen….” In this regard, success of final installation will, in part, be measured by the spectrum of emotions the pieces elicit. Chicago’s Ivan Albright once aimed to “[m]ake flesh more like flesh than has ever been made before; make flesh close, close, and closer, until you feel it,” which he succeeded in doing with his painting. I want to follow in these footsteps: I aim to inform, frighten, and upset viewers, even as the figures offer comfort, community, and connection.

I'm so excited and already love the planning I've completed.