Hospital bracelets, at the entrance to the installation invite viewers to journey through a child's experience in the hospital. close window

		This scale diorama of a patient's home titled Mi Casa, My Home symbolizes a child's departure. Filled with their favorite objects created from memories of home, this piece is a collection of work by more than 60 children. close window

		Reflecting on ideas of disorientation, this series chronicles the dreamlike traffic of the hospital's objects and people. Using advanced video techniques patients explored the overlooked corners of the hospital landscape and the secret lives of its animate and inanimate inhabitants. close window

		This machine, titled "The Apparatus" was created by over 100 pediatric patients to illustrate the medical experience. As Reginald (age 12) describes, "The Oxygen Machine sounds like the Ocean, a computer that always beeps. It is a machine that keeps track of what's going on inside my body, sounds like a phone that keeps sending me messages. It is trying to tell me that I need to get some rest." close window

		This room represents a fantastical imagining of a sterile environment from the perspective of its pediatric inhabitants. When asked to comment on the hospital, children mostly described what the hospital feels like — for most, a cold, alien-sounding, color-less space where time ticks slowly by. close window

		Drained of its color, each element in the room, down to the slippers, was selected by patients. close window

		This quilt represents the countless children who sleep in any one hospital bed. Some children kept a daily log of their activities, while others developed poems that explored the turns and bends that occur in their "night minds". These evolved into the fabric of this quilt, revealing a patchwork of day and night, reality and fantasy. close window

		When asked about time at the hospital, one child responded that "one day feels like 84 hours." (Emma, age 8). With this question in mind, a series of clocks line the walls expressing each child's own interpretation of timešs dynamic, if at times maddening, qualities. close window

		This drawing, done by a Snow City Arts artist, represents a wall of Jell-O™, inspired by a young patient at John H. Stroger Hospital who had collected so many cups of gelatin he had created a wall of them on his window sill. When the sun shone through, it washed his room in color. close window

		For the post-operative patients and others who are queasy, Jell-O™ is the lone item appearing and reappearing on hospital meal and snack trays. As the meals and days pass, the small cups of this familiar dessert become colorful pyramids and towers on the windowsills and tray-tables of patients. close window

		Imagining the vistas unfurling beyond their limited views, the children of Snow City Arts were encouraged to imagine birds they would choose to be or fantasy beds in which they would choose to sleep. close window

		The children then used paper, aluminum, copper, cloth, wire, clay, and other materials to hand-sculpt, mold, and sew the creations you see here. close window

		Able to fly at a moment's notice and to travel long distances unencumbered, birds embody freedom, moving in a fashion we can only dream about. In lieu of actual flight, this flock reflects the quiet hope — and the frequently long wait — for a chance to alight home. close window

		Each of these birds and beds represent one child's distinct vision of release — whether brightly-hued, built for speed, or ethereally unadorned — they sing to us the richness of the individual identities they represent. close window

		In the documentation room, stories detailed how the exhibition was designed, formulated and created by children in the hospital. close window

		In the documentation room, stories detailed how the exhibition was designed, formulated and created by children in the hospital. close window

Sleeping on the Ceiling is a six-room installation that traces the process of hospitalization experienced by 40,000 children in Chicago each year. The spaces and their content are inspired directly by real-life experiences, ideas, and statements given by actual patients. Each room in the installation moves the viewer through notions of separation, disorientation, sterile environments, medical encounters, recovery, and finally, release. Sleeping on the Ceiling also draws parallels between the experience of hospitalization and notions of bird migration. The title of the exhibit is taken from the Elizabeth Bishop poem of the same name. These images "walk" you through what the exhibit looked like in its final form.

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