A Tableau without Hope
When I was a freshman at Louisiana State University at Alexandria, a course I chose was psychology. I had a moment in which I even thought I might major in the field, but I quickly concluded that I understood more about the human condition than the “experts” in the field.
The fellow teaching the psych 101 course was kind of a jerk. He was, I believe, also the chief psychiatrist at the Central Louisiana State Hospital in Pineville, a rather large and physically imposing mental institution which is still available to this day.
One day the psych teacher instructed those in his class to meet him at the mental institution for a little tour. Although I had driven past the institution many times, I had never before entered its grounds.
I recall that as I entered the institution, there were men in white jackets manicuring the lawns. I assumed they were patients given jobs. It was obvious that they were doing a good job by the wonderful condition of the grounds.
When I arrived at my designated location, I gathered with the other members of the class and the teacher herded us into an area which included some of the patients.
The scene made a powerful impression on me.
I remember that the light was very even, strong enough for easy vision but without shadows and I could see tree tops beyond the wall.
I do recall that the patients were standing or sitting on what appeared to be old red brick and a few feet behind them was a concrete wall.
My first impression came from the strong smell of urine. Urine smells in institution scream neglect.
There were about a dozen patients all dressed in dissipated light colored clothing.
My best comparison of the scene was to a tableau of victims after a medieval catastrophe.
There were a number of men and a few women in the tableau and one woman who claimed my attention. She was the only person in this scene who seemed to recognize that interlopers had entered her world. She had turned her face but not her body toward the psych class…not quite focusing on us, but obviously within her vision. Her expression gave no indication of her thoughts.
Most of the other members of the tableau stood or sat on the bricks as though frozen. A couple of the men slightly rocked their bodies back and forth. I particularly remember a man seated who was the most animated in his rocking.
Although we were only a short distance from the tableau, perhaps twenty-five feet, other than the woman, none of the patients gave any indication that they were aware of our presence.
It was a scene without hope, a tableau of despair.
No one spoke---not the patients, not the students, not the psychiatrist. Other than the low sound of the wind slipping through the trees beyond the wall, there was nothing to disrupt our viewing.
After departing this event, we all went our separate ways. I don't recall ever discussing what we had witnessed with the other students or for that matter anyone.
I'm uncertain how this impacted me, but I do know that the feeling I departed with was sadness.
Indeed, it was a scene devoid of hope.
enough
enough