Suggestions
Christopher Bailey
Arts and Health Lead at World Health Organization
Christopher Bailey is a seasoned professional with a diverse educational background. He pursued his studies at various prestigious institutions including the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, Columbia University in the City of New York, University of Oxford, and Pratt Institute where he earned a Master of Library & Information Science (MLIS) degree. His educational journey reflects a broad range of interests from English Language and Literature to Romantic Studies.
Christopher Bailey has been actively involved in the field of Health and Arts, holding the position of Arts and Health Lead at the World Health Organization. Prior to this role, he served as the Coordinator of On Line Communications at the same organization. His contributions within these capacities have showcased his expertise and dedication to utilizing the arts for promoting health and wellness initiatives globally.
Highlights
Our collaboration with Lincoln Center on Good Morning America
I had just entered the hall of Roman funereal busts at Copenhagen’s Glyptotek, when the first WhatsApp messages arrived on my phone from both Israeli and Palestinian friends, the message bells coming in such fast succession it was like a fire alarm in my pocket, before the attacks were public news. Most of the messages were assurances that they were safe, or a compulsion to make sure people knew the outrages taking place, descriptions of explosions overhead, paralytic anxiety over the missing and kidnapped, and the drowning sensation of grief of friends and family known killed. Both my Palestinian and Israeli friends are not surprisingly in the healthcare system, artists, or some combination. They are not political. They believe in democracy, autonomy and compassion for others. They are united in their contempt for violence in all forms for any reason. Some are even clowns, and even they are in tears.
I read their real-time testimonials and forget who is Palestinian and who is Israeli. I look out at the busts of long dead Romans, children, adults, parents, and grandparents.
I cannot move. I become a statue too.
Passersby who do not know what is happening see me weep and ask if I need assistance.
I focus on the statues, near exact representations of bodies long since turned to dust.
I explain why I am crying and the Danes around me begin to cry.
Only the statues do not cry. They stare ahead, cold, fast, immovable, staring out from a darkness vast and immeasurable.
