03/05/2047

About the Work

When I was nine, my mom was diagnosed with stage one breast cancer and underwent a double mastectomy and oopherectomy in prevention of developing further disease. I watched as her body rejected the reconstructive surgery from the mastectomy only to shortly after develop metastatic breast cancer when I was thirteen. Despite seeing the promise in future medical studies and clinical trials, the cancer returned and consumed her 45-year-old healthy body, overtaking her liver and bones, eventually leaving me without a mother at the age of fifteen. When I was twenty, I made the the complicated decision to go through with genetic testing. I carry the gene that killed my mother. I can't start preventative testing until I am 25 but will never be able to talk to my mother about how to fight against the threat of the killer disease that left me an orphan.

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Through my work I visualize the things I have lost and things I will never experience. The wooden forms increase in size showing the mounting anxiety I have about outliving my mom, reaching the age of forty-six, crossing an imaginary barrier that most take for granted. A timeline of my life - with the space in between as an area to breathe; viewers can walk around, beside, or through the installation. There is a contrast between the abstract, pink forms and the nature and architecture around it. The viewer's experience shifts, altered by the sounds of traffic, construction, pedestrians walking by - mirroring the way life continues around us no matter how overwhelming grief and personal circumstances may seem. Both an homage to my personal grief and a memorial to my mother, the audience is encouraged to imprint their own understanding and processing onto the piece.

Where to Find the Installation

03/05/2047 is located on the Southeast lawn of the Frick Fine Arts Building between the building and the field. It can be found at 650 Schenly Drive Pittsburgh PA, 15213. From the senior exhibition, Detour, in the University Art Gallery, visitors should walk back towards the front entrance of Frick Fine Arts, exit the set of doors on the left and take the left hand staircase down towards the fountain. At the base of the stairs guests can turn left towards the Mazeroski Field and see the installation in between the rows of trees on the side of the building.

Debi Murray

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My name is Gael Humphreys and I am Grace’s grandmother and am very proud to have been Debi Murray’s Mother.
Breast cancer and the power of its malignancy has been a constant in my life. My Mother (aged fifty) called me when I was a freshman in college to share her diagnosis and assured me she would be fine. Mastectomy was the only option then. Her chemo treatment was horrific. I did not see that first hand, as I was away at school. But she told me about it after. I made her show me her breast. There was no reconstruction then. That ugly scar was a daily reminder to her of all she had to go through. I can still see it in my mind. 16 years later a mass was found in her other breast. Her doctor decided to watch it… for several years. When they stopped watching – her cancer had spread. After more difficult chemotherapy, she died at 72.
My sister found the lump in her breast on the day of our mother’s funeral. She was 35. She had a lumpectomy and a regimen of chemo and radiation. Like her mother, she went after the cancer so bravely. Most recently she has received another diagnosis in the other breast. It is also in her hip so she is following a metastatic protocol. She has endured more chemo, radiation and. medication. She continues to fight the fight.

I followed the family tradition with a diagnosis when I was 56. I had chemo and radiation. The chemo was a kinder, gentler regimen than my mother and sister had to endure twice. Daughter Deb was with me for all of that journey. She came when my head got shaved, she joined me for infusions, she was always calling, sending cards. Genetic testing was in play by that time and indeed I had the BRCA2 gene. Sharing that news with Debi was very difficult. I knew that knowledge is power, but I felt guilt - not intellectually but emotionally. She took it in stride and did all she could do to lessen her chances.
As you know she still had to hear those words “you have breast cancer” and also the follow up that “it has metastasized”. No parent should watch their child go through cancer. No mother should bury her daughter. However, I will say that during those two years, before Deb passed, we loved harder, we listened more, we had discussions about things I never would have with her. Our families always had lots of laughter. We developed “gallows” humor during that time. It served us well.
It takes a while after someone dies from cancer to remember them as they were pre-diagnosis. But as time has passed, my memories are with less tears and more smiles.
Deb was a pleaser. Maybe that was because she was a first child. I think it was because she had a kind and compassionate heart. She made friends easily and had lots of them. Was it her beatific smile or her contagious laugh? Or was it because she truly invested in people?
Deep in her soul she had a silent and powerful strength. It would be tested in her shortened life. Was she perfect? No. Was she irreplaceable? Yes.

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Take Action

My mother died of metastatic breast cancer (MBC), which receives only 2-5% of the money for breast cancer research. METAvivor is a organization working to expand awareness of MBC and raise funds to help those battling MBC. Please consider checking out the METAvivor website and contributing to help increase awareness and research of MBC.

METAvivor
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