After working exclusively on breast cancer-related issues for several years, I have decided to broaden my horizons with a new blog, A Time For Such A Word. I couldn't just delete all the blood, sweat, and tears of this work though, so please feel free to browse the archives.
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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Who Will Tell The Story?

“…child, i tell you now it was not / the animal blood i was hiding from, / it was the poet in her, the poet and / the terrible stories she could tell.” (Lucille Clifton via Gayle Sulik)


“I know it’s not pretty. It’s not something people look at and say, ‘I want to hang that in my kitchen.’”

That’s how Angelo Merendino describes his photographs currently on display at the Convivium33 Art Gallery 1433 East 33rd Street in Cleveland, Ohio. The exhibit chronicles his late wife Jennifer’s experience with breast cancer. She died on December 22, 2011 at age 40.

Jennifer was originally diagnosed in 2008, shortly after she and Angelo were married. In April of 2010, she found out that the breast cancer had spread within her body. Once it spreads, cancer is termed Stage IV, or metastatic. About 40,000 people in the United States die of breast cancer every year, virtually all of them from metastatic disease. Read more at METAvivor.

Even after the devastating diagnosis in 2010, people encouraged her to stay positive and continued to say that she would beat it. Angelo says, “People didn’t seem to get it. From that moment on, we never left the chaos of cancer.” Cleveland natives, the Merendinos had relocated to New York, so photographer Angelo started taking pictures to update family and friends out of town. “The pictures,” says Angelo, “were always secondary to taking care of Jen.”

Over time, Angelo started sharing pictures on his website and via social media outlets. Thousands of people, including me, started following their story and the poignancy of these photographs. About a year ago, a Cleveland cancer support organization called The Gathering Place (TGP), contacted Angelo. Kristina Austin, Director of Community Relations and Marketing at The Gathering Place, describes the organization.

“The Gathering Place serves people of all ages, both those that have been diagnosed with cancer and those that are family members and friends of a person diagnosed with cancer.” They offer free programs and services, such as “support groups, individual counseling, yoga, tai chi, Reiki, massage, exercise and hands-on cooking classes, lectures, educational workshops, a lending library and a very comprehensive program for children and families.” TGP serves about 4,500 participants in more than 20,000 visits every year.

According to Austin, a volunteer familiar with his work suggested that Angelo contact The Gathering Place in 2011. A staff member scheduled the exhibit for July of this year. Since its opening in 2000, TGP has featured art in both its locations. Angelo’s pictures were scheduled for the Westlake Gallery, which Austin describes as a hallway that all participants pass through.

During the year, Angelo prepared the exhibit of sixty pictures, working with more intensity in the seven months since Jennifer died. A few weeks before the scheduled opening, he sent the images TGP for approval, which he received. Proceeds were set to benefit TGP and a non-profit organization that Angelo has set up to help cancer patients in New York pay for food and transportation.

He leveraged his social media contacts to advertise the show, was interviewed by newspapers and on Cleveland’s local NPR affiliate. Angelo said he was overwhelmed by the love and support he felt on July 13th, opening night for the exhibit scheduled to run for ten weeks.

Then, five days after the opening, Angelo got a call from TGP’s Executive Director Eileen Saffran who told him that the exhibit was being shut down. TGP’s Austin says that a number of participants and volunteers expressed “difficulty in seeing the photographs.” After learning of this, Saffran took action. “Due to the number of people that were expressing a concern, she felt that her priority had to be for the needs of our participants thus she made the decision to have the exhibit taken down from our gallery.”

Angelo found another home for his exhibit. The Gathering Place, Austin says, will now have a formal review process for art installations, including a committee to approve artwork. Even Angelo says that TGP “provides a great service,” although he adds that he’s disappointed that it took a year to determine this wasn’t the right exhibit for them. During that year, he spent money and time preparing and publicizing the event and even turned down other opportunities. “None of this had to happen,” Angelo says.

As the old management adage says, you can delegate authority, but not responsibility. That this exhibit was initiated by a volunteer and approved by a staff member does not absolve the Executive Director.  Their mission is both to educate and support those affected by cancer, but in this case they chose to give priority to those upset by these photos rather than to educate the community or to support Angelo. I hope that in the future, they clarify their mission and make concrete determinations before all the work is done. I hope Angelo can be made whole financially from his investment in this project, and I hope his exhibit continues to be a great success.

He told me last week that while these pictures are disturbing, “they are more about love.” The future of this exhibit is still evolving, but Angelo wants to show what people with cancer are really going through. He wants everyone to know that the best thing you can to is to “be there” for someone with cancer.

While we can discuss the missteps in this unfortunate situation, to me there is a bigger issue. I wonder if TGP, by all accounts a wonderful organization, could have presented the exhibit with more context and in a less upsetting way. Perhaps the more “difficult” images could have been displayed in a separate room, and included some advisories so viewers could be prepared. I am disappointed that instead they chose to abandon it, and Angelo, entirely.

Although Austin says they serve the metastatic community, what message does this send? That people who don’t fit an uplifting model of cancer survivorship need to be hidden? Does their decision further marginalize people who already are often excluded from support groups, from the term survivorship, and from the conversation in general?

If an organization whose purpose is to serve people affected by cancer runs away from the “terrible stories” of this disease, who is going to embrace them?