I have spent a lot of time in waiting rooms. Not only because my mum used to be a medical receptionist for a doctor for the first 17 years of my life. She was also disabled, and a single mother, and we lived with my grandparents.

My grandfather was blind and had dementia. My grandmother had Lewy body dementia. Their daughter, my mum, survived poliomyelitis at 18 months old and now has post-polio syndrome, which affects polio survivors decades after recovering from initial infection.

Among other things, I have learnt from my family that caregiving is a two-way street. They cared for me and I cared for them. I still care for my mum and she still cares for me.

The waiting room has been a metaphor for my life, and in my new artworks I explore the concept of waiting.

Waiting rooms as a carer are very different to the experience of being a patient. I stand, sit and lay next to the care-receiver, witnessing someone else’s experience. I am the advocate, note taker, facilitator, taxi driver, ticket taker. The person........

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