Creativity and the medical archive
giving voice to those who have been silent for too long
Archives contain many clues to life lived in previous times, and historians have long been aware of the potential of tapping into the stories of individuals. Health archives have a particular contribution to make. We all share health concerns, good and bad.
By exploration of these stories, many of them hidden away for generations, we can shine a light on our own lives. It’s not straightforward, though; there are many ethical considerations to be made, and any writing about or naming of individuals is protected by law under the Data Protection Act. However, the release of the digitised archive in 2017 acknowledged this; patient records after 1914 can only be viewed in person at the Mitchell Library.
Gartnavel has been the subject of academic study, both in relation to its existence as a centre for the treatment of mental ill health, and as a geography. The places and spaces in which these health journeys have taken place are of particular interest as they fall into abandonment or re-purposing. Urban explorers venture into these broken buildings with an agenda of their own; it is also a place for local people to walk their dogs and take some fresh air, especially important in the COVID-19 lockdown months when footfall at Gartnavel increased by around 500%.
In each case, the writer or artist has provided an accompanying commentary on their creative choices and process, illuminating the way the project developed. Many had concerns about the ethics of using the records of named individuals as the starting point for research and new work. We discussed this in the group, and you’ll see a number of references to this dilemma, and occasional solutions, in the commentaries. It made the editing responsibility for the overall content more challenging, but in fact there was never any worry that work was taking a prurient or inappropriate approach. It’s a compliment to those taking part. Ultimately, the project is a way of remembering and celebrating those named and nameless hundreds who passed through Gartnavel over the years. As one writer says, ‘we could have been friends.’
In Writing the Asylum, voices are heard which have been silent for too long. Those whose stories were forgotten have a new audience, and Gartnavel in its green fields and airy spaces, can be celebrated as the heritage centre it deserves to be.
Creativity and the medical archive
giving voice to those who have been silent for too long
Archives contain many clues to life lived in previous times, and historians have long been aware of the potential of tapping into the stories of individuals. Health archives have a particular contribution to make. We all share health concerns, good and bad.
By exploration of these stories, many of them hidden away for generations, we can shine a light on our own lives. It’s not straightforward, though; there are many ethical considerations to be made, and any writing about or naming of individuals is protected by law under the Data Protection Act. However, the release of the digitised archive in 2017 acknowledged this; patient records after 1914 can only be viewed in person at the Mitchell Library.
Gartnavel has been the subject of academic study, both in relation to its existence as a centre for the treatment of mental ill health, and as a geography. The places and spaces in which these health journeys have taken place are of particular interest as they fall into abandonment or re-purposing. Urban explorers venture into these broken buildings with an agenda of their own; it is also a place for local people to walk their dogs and take some fresh air, especially important in the COVID-19 lockdown months when footfall at Gartnavel increased by around 500%.
In each case, the writer or artist has provided an accompanying commentary on their creative choices and process, illuminating the way the project developed. Many had concerns about the ethics of using the records of named individuals as the starting point for research and new work. We discussed this in the group, and you’ll see a number of references to this dilemma, as well as solutions, in the commentaries. It made the editing responsibility for the overall content more challenging, but in fact there was never any worry that work was taking a prurient or inappropriate approach. It’s a compliment to those taking part. Ultimately, the project is a way of remembering and celebrating those named and nameless hundreds who passed through Gartnavel over the years. As one writer says, ‘we could have been friends.’
In Writing the Asylum, voices are heard which have been silent for too long. Those whose stories were forgotten have a new audience, and Gartnavel in its green fields and airy spaces, can be celebrated as the heritage centre it deserves to be.