THE WARD - REVISITED
© Gideon Mendel
6 JAN - 5 FEB 2023 (FREE Entry)
FITZROVIA CHAPEL, LONDON.
TIP: Entry is permitted anytime during opening times. Although screenings are on the hour, every hour approx duration 45 mins. So arrive before the hour for a seamless visitor experience.
I guess it is an odd thing to say that I was really looking forward to this exhibition and on a crisp, sunny winter’s day I made the 20-minute walk from my home in Islington to the Fitzrovia chapel. I didn’t realise but I had walked past the chapel hundreds if not thousands of times given it is hidden by yet another mundane white plastic-looking commercial building. I arrived at the chapel to witness it resplendently illuminated by the winter sunshine and it gave that warm glow that amongst the modern fakery you were about to step back into real history.
FITZROY PLACE: Photography not permitted
Before stepping inside I wanted to document my visit while the sun was shining with a short video clip of the blue sky and the chapel entrance. I guess the chapel had moved me in a way that religious sites do for those on a pilgrimage. In this instance not being religious myself, it was the only surviving part of the demolished Middlesex hospital. Where the Broderip ward accommodated its first HIV/AIDS patients in 1987 and was officially opened by Princess Diana a few months later. But that aside, what makes the chapel special is that it is custodian to the thoughts, prayers, and perhaps conversations of those with an HIV/AIDS diagnosis at the time. Perhaps seeking or asking for renewed hope, a prayer or even a miracle for better treatment, a cure, or even just ‘a life’ itself and not a painful, stigmatising existence.
But my somewhat spiritual awakening was short-lived as I was abruptly shouted at by a man who had crept up on me out of nowhere “excuse me! Do you have permission to film or take photos”! Slightly dazed and now standing in front of me I apologised and asked why I needed permission. He stated it was private property and pointed out a sign that read “private land” of which I saw dotted about on my way out. He directed me to the estate’s website should I wish to have sought permission but there was really nothing more I wanted to document especially as the Chapel is obscured by trees and a carpet of that hideous fake grass. He lingered as I drafted my insta story and I assured him I was not about to take another photo. He was amiable and shared that policing photography/filming was the only purpose of his employ.
On entering the chapel I was greeted by two friendly volunteers who directed me into the Chapel and the digital exhibition. I could hear the audio of the video I had already watched online of family, friends, and those who worked on the wards recounting their memories. I shared I had seen the video currently playing and looking into the Chapel I could not see any photographs. The volunteers shared “yes, there is the video currently showing and a very emotional display of photographs on the big screen after”.
INSIDE: Big screen and hospital bed
I entered the Chapel and was in awe of the shiny gold mosaic tiles dripping from the ceiling and wondered if it was this breath-taking back in 1993. After reading the information displayed on photographer Gideon Mendel and his photographs from 1993 of John, Andre, Stephen and Ian I went and stood next to the font.
I first noticed the vacant and neatly made hospital bed in the centre aisle before the altar. Complete with a bedside cabinet and hospital chairs it was just missing a bottle of Lucozade, a bunch of grapes, and the waft of hospital disinfectant and digestive biscuits. For some, the site of the bed might be a sobering if not sombre reminder of the lives lost to AIDS or AIDS-related illness. Especially with the connection of the chapel to both Broderip and Charles Bell wards of the since demolished Middlesex Hospital. But for me, although tinged with sadness it was a representation that the bed remains vacant and made, and given medical advances with HIV vacant it shall remain.
I found myself bizarrely for the first time talking to my HIV in my head, goading it with the site of the vacant and made bed. “Ha, look at that you fucker”. Although short-lived as I got no response, one because HIV can’t speak and two, I giggled to myself at how ridiculous I was behaving. I said to myself “it [HIV] can’t speak because it is not really here, my HIV is undetectable (U=U) and therefore has no voice”. And then I was hit with guilt because despite not personally knowing the millions of men and women, nor the four men depicted in Gideon’s photographs. I only wished they’d had the chance to have their moment of victory against HIV/AIDS as I seemingly have.
WOOD: “…brown jacket, Marksie’s”.
As I stood at the back of the Chapel as the first part of the exhibition played I noticed a regular customer I served frequently while working at the ‘Lost Boys of Soho’ pub. Another chap sat directly in front of me and dropped his head in what I thought was a moment of emotion as he perhaps composed himself. He remained with his head bowed for a minute or two and I wondered if he was dead before he reassuringly showed signs of life and started snoring. I was mortified although understood by his apparent age that it was most likely nap time and in fear, his snoring would deepen and echo around the chapel. I gently kicked the back leg of his chair and he quickly came to by uprighting himself. Three old dears came in and had no regard for those viewing the video exhibition as they moved chairs, chatted, took off their coats at the front, and then got comfortable. Not 5 minutes later they made the same amount of commotion as they put their coats back on and waddled out. I laughed to myself as I heard Victoria Wood from her Albert Hall tour “c’mon brown jacket, Marksie’s [M&S]”. Whether they’d come in to gawp at the Chapel and felt compelled to sit or misunderstood the exhibition I don’t know.
Then I had a guy with a 35mm camera clicking away behind me, again at the Chapel architecture. He made more noise as he changed the film in his camera with that manual ‘winding on’ clicking of the cogs. I thought maybe this was a 4D exhibition with actors and props but he took some more pictures of the gallery and left. I just felt it was all a little disrespectful, but each to their own.
BED: AIDS ward in the Chapel of Middlesex Hospital
John one of the patients, mother Patsy ends the first part of the exhibition with an emotional account of the moment her son John passed away on the ward. Her voice broke and tears flowed as she naturally all these years on bares the loss of her son, her “baby”. She had me in tears the first time I saw the video at home and despite knowing it was coming, I cried again. WATCH VIDEO HERE
The second part of the exhibition was a collection of Gideon Mendel’s photographs of John, Andre, Stephen, and Ian. Photos scrolled by on the big screen on 35mm film often with the photographer’s preferred shot circled in red. Although the images not selected offered additional if not greater insight into the lives of the four men and their friends and families in those moments. In the background plays a specially composed soundtrack often with sound effects of hospital machinery in a bid to bring the image to life. It was easy to be drawn into a world of black and white and see colour as though I was there seeing the scene for myself through Mendel’s viewfinder. Despite being 11 years old in 1993 I recall the colours and textures of objects such as inter-sport carrier bags, Pepsi cans, and even Ribena bottles with gold foil around the neck. The pastel shades of hospital furniture, decoration (excluding the odd garish/loud hospital bed curtain), and machinery.
But what stuck out the most was a great sense of love and affection as almost every picture in one way or another conveys love and warmth both from a professional and personal perspective. It’s hard to find a photo where someone is not holding someone’s hand, embracing them, or being tactile. And it is incredible to think that as a nation if not the world at the same time these images were taken. People were adamant that touch alone was a way of transmitting and being infected with HIV/AIDS. While Princess Diana deliberately sent out a message with the use of, if not clever staging of cameras, media & publicity. The message that touching someone with HIV/AIDS was not a reason for concern. Gideon’s images are a testament to how empathy and love overcome irrational fear and stigma.
As I occasionally checked in on myself and my emotions during this display of photographs I often found myself with a massive smile on my face. Thankfully those present were facing forward as I am sure I’d of looked odd if not out of place. But as quickly as I removed my smile and continued watching it came back. It was the men’s sheer courage, determination, and bravery that had me smiling with pride and admiration.
I know all too well a photo captures just one moment, and while the men no doubt had hard, difficult and even fearful moments. It was these snippets that made me feel, despite what I said earlier that they had indeed had their own little victory against HIV/AIDS. In that, they didn’t let it stop them from living what life they had left. Seeing Stephen looking gaunter than he did in his earlier photographs enjoying an ice cream, was such a simple act of indulgence but a powerful act of defiance against HIV/AIDS.
Mendel, the four men, their friends, families, and partners along with the clinical personnel have left a legacy to remind current generations and educate future ones on the effects of the AIDS pandemic and HIV stigma. And while an HIV diagnosis can be hard to accept for some living with HIV, even many years after diagnosis. These individual photographs should serve to remind us that we have a ‘future’ to plan and live for. The privilege to look forward to and celebrate milestones, and accomplish what we set out to achieve. When some share with me they question if they want to live at all while living with HIV. I say look at these photographs and tell me not one of the men and hundreds of thousands of others before and after them, wouldn’t have considered a daily pill(s) to live a long and normal life, as a real-life ‘miracle’.
Exhibition dates: 6 January – 5 February 2023
Open to the public: Tuesday – Saturday 11.00 – 18.00 and Sunday 12.00 – 17.00
