“I wake up in the middle of the night and I see that face…a face tragically disfigured by a gunshot to the head, and I begin to question my faith,” Stephanie Arena whispers as tears flood her eyes and her voice begins to tremble. Then with a shot of furious passion she loudly exclaims, “It’s so insane!” After all, Arena would know. She, along with her husband, photographer Robert Drea, has spent the last decade documenting survivors of gun violence.

“It all began in 1991, when we were living in the Pilsen neighborhood and we began noticing this trend of senseless violence escalate around us,” explains Arena. “Robert began picking up the newspaper and we became alarmed at the rate of violence, not just in our community, not just in Chicago, but in the entire country.” At that time, lack of funding delayed the inception of a project aimed at documenting the horrific effects violence was having on Americans. “Once we got funding, it was our goal to go mainstream and open people’s eyes to what was really going on,” Arena says. Thus, the Wounded in America, True Stories of Gun Violence Told by Human Targets (WIA) exhibit materialized and demanded access to a public audience.

In this culture of violence addiction, getting the public’s attention is like winning the lottery—virtually impossible. On any given night, the TV is saturated with glamorized violence, and the thin line between fiction and reality often gets blurred. While watching any one of the four “Law & Order”-type dramas, the audience silently cheers when the district attorney wins one for justice as the judge reads a guilty verdict. The very next day, that same audience reads headlines that a judge and courtroom officials in Atlanta have been shot to death by a despondent criminal. The hot forensic hit C.S.I. sets its blood-soaked theme in the city of fun and sun, Las Vegas, and makes catching killers a glossy exploration into the modern marvels of science. Meanwhile, in a church—a place that most consider a sanctuary of peace—a man opens gunfire on the parishioners, killing seven of them. No doubt, the writers of the aforementioned series are already scripting next season’s shows based on what was printed in yesterday’s news. So what makes an exhibition on wounded victims any different?

“The basis of this exhibition is completely humanitarian,” photographer Robert Drea says. “We didn’t adulterate any of the photographs, we just let the voices of the victims come to life and tell how just seconds of violence have years of life-altering consequences.” While TV’s coverage of violence starts the story but never ends it, these photographs give testimony to what happens after the camera is turned off. The years of pain, the loss of financial and emotional support, the loss of human resources, and the twisted aftershocks are never filmed. It is estimated that the United States spends $100 billion dollars annually for medical, financial, and psychological support for the victims of violence.

As one walks through the choreographed exhibit, the words of the victims beg you to listen and the photos beg you to look and learn. From the boy in the wheelchair, to the blind policeman, the girl with long-term memory loss, the paralyzed fireman, the man with over ten surgeries, the voiceless victims that live down the street; these are faces that could be you or me. The statistics we ignore—the 80 people killed everyday, the eight children killed everyday, the victims falling every six minutes—this is reality. Never before has a larger proportion of Americans been so susceptible to gun violence. Not only gang bangers or drug dealers, but people going to church, to work, or to the store are vulnerable.

That’s why the WIA exhibit was made available at the Peace Museum in Garfield Park. It was there for the public to take a minute to stop and think about the impact gun violence has on our physical and mental being. Museum director Melissa McGuire knows this can be challenging. “We live in a culture where museums spend millions of dollars to warehouse our past rather than promote a culture of peace.” McGuire states. She adds that “We are at a disadvantage, since no one wants to fund anything political. Unfortunately, in the climate we are in now, anything that has to do with peace is alienated as unpatriotic and therefore political. Grants want to fund arts that are palatable to a larger demographic.”

Along with board advisors Tom Hayden and Yoko Ono, the Peace Museum wants people to wake up and take notice, to realize that we or someone we love could be the next victim. But more importantly, the museum wants to raise awareness that life doesn’t have to be dominated by the fear of violence. WIA founder Arena reiterates “This project is to get us to rethink the gun question. We would like to lessen the polarity between those who want guns and those who want gun control, and get a rational approach on common ground. No one is for gun violence, but guns make committing violence easier and quicker. It takes only seconds to paralyze or kill someone.”

Although the WIA exhibit has closed, you can still visit the Peace Museum at 100 N. Central Park Ave, Chicago, Il. Hours are Thursday through Saturday, 11-4, and Sunday 1-4. Please visit WoundedInAmerica.org and PeaceMuseum.org for more information.