Organs or New York hates me and my organs

I put my organs out on the street. It was harder than I thought it was going to be.

Lungs at the Myrtle Avenue stop, Bushwick, Brooklyn

Uterus on 13th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenue, my first apartment
Intestines on Grand Street near the FDR
Stomach on 2nd Avenue, next to B and H Vegetarian Restaurant
Heart in Washington Square Park under a bench
Liver on Bowery across from Bowery Poetry Club
Pancreas at 53rd and 5th subway stop, where I worked for two years

It rained for two days straight once I glued them down, pounding my internal organs over and over again with tiny raindrop fists. Of course, it figures. Did I expect them to stay there unmolested? It wouldn't be New York. I came back to the Myrtle platform later that night and the lungs were already gone. It would be fitting if it were removed by an MTA worker who thought it was a bomb-- someone "saw something and said something." I got a call from Cliff today and he told me that the one across from Bowery was smashed by someone-- they cut open the organ and took the vial with the scroll. I can only imagine the fate of the other five. Either way, I have received no responses, even though I created an email for that purpose and put it at the bottom of the scrolls. New York ignores me again. How appropriate.

And yet, it was still a nice experience putting them out. I ran into the guy who I subletted from on 13th Street as I was defacing his front steps with my uterus. I went to see the Olafur Eliasson show at the MOMA, which was incredible, while sticking my pacreas to the station. I ate cabbage soup (my favorite) at B and H while installing the stomach next door. I dropped Cliff at work at the BPC and then installed the liver across the street. A very organic process, a testament to why I did the project in the first place.

For the full set of pictures check out the Organs set on my flickr: flickr.com/arielleangel