"wow," i thought, as i continued to walk. "that's a body there. in the bushes."
and then: "A BODY?"
so i stopped and turned back to see what was happening.
it was a lady, about 45 or so, lying there with some fairly serious wounds, and significant blood loss.
no gory details, but suffice to say the wounds were just that-- fairly serious.
the first people i saw on the sidewalk, a man and a woman, i asked: "do you live here?"
of course, i get uncomprehending stares.
"uh..." one of them, the woman, says.
right. they don't speak english.
i explain, in my not-great french, that a woman is lying over there in the bushes, seriously injured.
they understand. whew. so she dials 911 on her cell, the man runs upstairs to alert the caretaker and grab some towels.
she passes the cell to me.
the operator asks if i want to speak english.
i say yes.
i explain all i know--where she's hurt, her basic condition (which is conscious, speaking, and moving a little). the operator tells me to try to keep her calm, and not to let her move.
i try, in french. it seems to work.
a large dude comes out of the building and tries to grab the phone from me-- he's just arrived on the scene, and wants to play the hero-- says to me, in a loud voice and in french that he'll explain to the operator what's going on.
there's no need, i tell him. we're just waiting for the ambulance now.
he goes back inside.
the injured woman keeps trying to move. she's in shock.
the woman who dialed 911 on her cell comes out, keeps an eye on the injured woman while i stay on the line w/ 911.
the paramedics arrive, and immediately go to work. there's nothing else to do now.
so the woman with the cell phone and i stand off to the side talking to the caretaker. it's starting to rain.
i gotta go to work, i say, and the woman with the cell phone says something nice in french, and then i go down the sidewalk, and it's starting to rain even harder.
i get to the gallery five minutes later. the room is big and spacious, the walls are white, and there are windows everywhere.
i want to drink many shots of tequila in succession, or lie down someplace, or phone somebody.
hi, i say.
i'm here from the mirror, to write about your show.
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4 comments:
Sorry to here about the woman, but this story is spectacular, especially the way you have told it.
Stay strong Wolfie.
Save yourself.
Montreal will try to eat you, but you won't let it.
Very sad story, albiet sort of had a happy ending.
Was the show at the Parisian Laundry?
Artists often say that the result of their artistic practice is less important than the process to make it. The final product is placed on the wall, left on the floor, on arranged in some manner or other. It is then up to the viewer to bring meening to the work, to relate the art piece to your own experiences and feelings. Wolfie, your experience vastly changed your interpretation of what you saw at the gallery (whether good or bad).
sad story.
i really like this piece.
the theme of language and communication were strong here, and perhaps the French language issue also woven in here?
i wonder how many people walked by her before you came along?
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