Capturing scenes of life, death and humanity in Brussels’ hospitals

What place does caring for others occupy in public hospitals today? This was one of the questions Brussels-based French photographer Marin Driguez explored during his six-year immersion in three of the capital’s frontline health institutions.

The resulting book and photo exhibition Prendre soin is a moving documentary and testimony to a fragile world where suffering and joy are intertwined. They offer a rare insight into a microcosm of society that despite increasing pressure remains a beacon of humanity.

A selection of illuminating images are on show at Reset Atelier, a new light-filled space overlooking Place Sainte-Gudule. From news shots of accident scenes and Renaissance-like compositions of surgical teams to scenes of light-hearted moments, they encapsulate the reality of daily life in our hospitals. A film reel of a waiting area occupied by a succession of characters captures the tedium that also defines them.

Accompanying the book’s some 90 images are short texts by hospital personnel. Along with a preface by French philosopher and psychoanalyst Cynthia Fleury, they provide insight into the special relationship between caregivers and patients.

It was in 2018 that Driguez, then a photography student, embarked on the project. A six month stint in the A&E department of Brugmann University Hospital transformed into a long-term commitment following the outbreak of the Covid pandemic.

Cynthia Fleury: "These are scenes of life and death, which make us fear the worst, and yet a kind of gentleness also emerges, that of solidarity in action, that of the care that saves."

“The world had stopped and was entirely centred on hospitals. I couldn’t be anywhere else.” His reporting also took him to Saint-Pierre University Hospital and the Jules Bordet Institute, specialised in cancer treatment.

It was the diversity and precarity of these hospital’s population that Driguez found pertinent. “Asking questions about how you care for people is even more important in places that are designed to welcome everyone without distinction.”

“During my first childbirths, I fainted all the time. It’s not just anything, giving birth. I find it crazy. And I believe this is why we do it, it’s the instinct of life.”

He soon realised that taking images was insufficient as a medium to record the experience. “I felt limited as a photographer and needed testimonies as well,” explains Driguez, who deliberately renders these contributions anonymous, although there are acknowledgments at the end of the book. “I didn’t choose the interviews according to their function, sex or age. The idea was to dig deep into their work and how they live it,” he says. “Hospitals are very hierarchical places, but I liked the idea of placing everyone on the same footing.”

While he embarked on the project with natural curiosity but without any overriding plan, Driguez soon found himself drawn to the depth of human experience on display. “It’s a very contrasting world. You see all kinds of people, good and bad, young and old, experiencing joy and suffering.”

“The hospital is a war. It’s the jungle. It’s real chaos. It’s an environment where people suffer. It’s violent. How could it be otherwise?”

If it was the difficult moments that caught his attention, he was soon struck by the compassion he witnessed. “There’s vulnerability, suffering and also violence, but in the middle of all that, there’s enormous humanity. The harshness in hospitals mirrors the outside world.”

From his initial experience in the emergency department including accompanying first responders, the young photographer moved on to observing other departments, including psychiatry, oncology and obstetrics. “I tried to be as representative as possible of hospital services,” he says.

Each time he entered a new department, staff would comment, “you’ll find it’s another world here” but although he was fascinated by how each service was different, he noted that they all shared a sense of community. Driguez likens each service to a different part of the human body. “I had the impression of discovering a new bit each time.”

In the secure wing of a psychiatric department, he was confronted with the degradation of buildings and facilities. “When someone is suffering from a psychotic episode they can become violent and take it out on their surrounding,” he recalls, pointing to a rare image devoid of human figures, but centred on a gaping wound-like hole in a wall. “What interested me in psychiatry, was this analogy between the damage inflicted to the wall and the internal suffering that the person was expressing.”

“In a secure ward with psychotic people, I find the contemplation that I feel when looking at a landscape of the mountain or the sea, a small feeling of eternity. This moment where there is simply beauty in front of you, and you are no longer there.”

Otherwise, photos captured in this environment reveal solitary male figures, their backs turned away from the camera. “There’s a lot of solitude in hospitals even if you are surrounded by family and caregivers. Staff do what they can, but their time is limited.”

Returning to his motivation and the final message he wants to convey, Driguez underlines the current crisis in public hospitals. If the idea of a hospital as a sanctuary, treating everyone as equal is becoming increasingly difficult in today’s society, he admires the people he encountered during the project. “Public hospitals need to be defended, and I believe there’s a message of hope in that there are people who are ready to fight for public services. They are not yet damned.”

Prendre soin by Marin Driguez is published by Gallimard.

Prendre soin (exhibition)
Until 13 April, 13.00-19.00
Reset Atelier
Place Sainte-Gudule 5
Brussels

Photos: ©Marin Driguez