An Every Day Kind of Tragedy
Death. Of course, I want to talk about death. When people pass on, there inevitably is someone who considers their passing tragic-- whether it is because the decedent was too young, because so many people depended on that person and are now defenseless, or if the tragedy is that they died alone and were utterly unmourned. We all die just as surely as we are born... but death doesn't lose its sting despite being so commonplace.
So You're Going to Show Me Death Art
Yep. Enter Sarah Sudhoff's project "At the Hour of Our Death." The photographer snapped pictures of textiles that had been stained by someone's passing. Her thoughts on this work are moving and too eloquent not to quote: "Death, like birth, is part of a process. However, the processes of death are often shielded from view. Today in Western society most families leave to a complete stranger the responsibility of preparing a loved one’s body for its final resting place [...] Now the stain of death is quickly removed and the scene is cleaned and normalized [...] The images are my attempt to slow the moments before and after death into a single frame, to allow what is generally invisible to become visible, and to engage with a process from which we have become disconnected."
I'm not ignorant of the fact that we live in a culture that is uncomfortable talking about dying. Artwork that is "too real" in that regard can be jarring. That said, I think the reasoning behind this project is incredibly justified and beautiful. The work is presented tastefully and without a touch of exploitation. She is doing something that is motivated on a deep personal level and we as an audience benefit from taking a moment to pause-- to slow down time and interact with societal "dark matter." I would argue that "media-fication" of death is needed-- at least a little.
I should add Sudhoff's project is gorgeous and fits that bill. This is far from something like Logan Paul's infamous stroll through Aokigahara-- which would be the photo negative of her artwork (his video was tasteless, had no higher purpose beyond his own personal gain, etc). She approaches the topic with respect, sensitivity, and vision.
At the Hour of Our Death from Walley Films on Vimeo.I should add Sudhoff's project is gorgeous and fits that bill. This is far from something like Logan Paul's infamous stroll through Aokigahara-- which would be the photo negative of her artwork (his video was tasteless, had no higher purpose beyond his own personal gain, etc). She approaches the topic with respect, sensitivity, and vision.
What Would a Manifesto Look Like for a Person Who Was Super Into This as a Kind of Artistic Ideal?
I'm going to rant like Marinetti because I can...
As a theatre artist I am stunned-- STUNNED! I am utterly aghast with how much of your "dark matter" there is to everything that might make us uncomfortable. The occultation and sanitization of death, decay, and (let's be honest) most things unpleasant is a crime! We rob ourselves of a truer understanding of our world, of nature, OF LIFE! Life is dirty. Life is that torn up bit of upholstery with the blood of a seizure victim permeating through the strands of thread. The fluids look like dendrites and LIKE DENDRITES they shoot information to our brains faster than the blink of an eye. That is power. It is amazing how much life there is in death!
Friends, do not mistake me. I do not mean to suggest that onstage death should be made to shock and frighten. Something exploitative and vulgar like a man being fed is own viscera until he dies is best left to lesser artists who are only interested in notoriety and a paycheck. Instead, we should look death in the face in a way that is candid-- and therefore beautiful. Not just death! Anything unpleasant! Any uncomfortable part of life should be viewed in stunning REALISTIC detail. We cannot continue to keep ourselves numb! It cannot be afforded!
Let us DARE to be ugly! Let us DARE to look at something that shakes us to the core! Art should be DARING! Art should make us feel ALIVE-- even as we stare Death in his eye sockets.
I like how you related our recently discussed and dear Dark Matter to this definitive landmark in all our lives. If we say that Dark Matter is an absent component in the narrative (in this case, your life) that gives meaningful context to other things that are present, death would a pretty good candidate for the Ultimate Dark Matter. But engaging with the Big “D” from the living world is, of course, strictly for those who are on this side of The Bourne from Which No Traveler Returns, and so death’s role as marking the final and finite parameter to one’s life only means something to the living. That must be why, as a general theme, it’s everywhere: celebrity’s passings are an everyday and widely publicised thing, fictional characters perish left and right, facts and statistics about the different ways we die are all over the place...but a meaningful encounter with the stuff of death is a rare thing, and, if it’s the significant, definitive, human leveler that I believe it to be, isn’t life itself so much less without such an encounter? Here then, as you say, “enter Sarah Sudhoff’s project 'At the Hour of Our Death.'" Now, I can understand how the stain of death medium may not appeal to all tastes, but it’s well worth considering her broader aim. When we engage with big, abstract themes like death we look for something quantifiable, something we can grab a hold of. For some, this kind of art, challenging or unsavoury as it may be, could do just that. Here’s an example: I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad before he died, and I never saw him after. One night my uncle drove me to a junkyard and walked me a place in the rubble. We stood there in the silence and darkness and looked at the twisted metal and broken glass for a while. Good ole’ Uncle Joe must have known that death’s mark on our timeline deserved some kind of meaningful engagement. It was artless and hard, but like “The Hour of Our Death” it did not allow this definitive moment to slip unseen into oblivion without something of a relic, some souvenir for the living to carry on his way.
ReplyDeleteThis is so fascinating!! The first question that popped into my mind was what about the people who pass in an unspectacular fashion. The photographer mentions her grandmother passing in a hospital (which was exactly the kind of environment I was imagining) and I wonder how that death might be captured on film. How do we capture that which doesn't necessarily leave behind a big, striking stain. I don't think it lessens the impact of the death by any means (clearly: she was still mourning her grandmother so the loss was a potent one for her) but it begs the question of representation in art. Often times I think we seek out only the most dramatic, a result, perhaps, of being told through our artistic journeys to continually "raise the stakes." But again, I wonder what kind of art can be made from the quiet deaths.
ReplyDeleteDammit, Erica beat me to it! I was going to make the same observation: what about those who do not exit this world violently, but more peacefully and naturally? I found myself wondering, also like Erica, about the photographer's grandmother, and if there was beauty and art to be found in capturing an image of the empty hospital bed, moments after the body was removed? Yes, it would leave less of a strident, physical imprint the way that the blood in other photographs did, but there would still be a particular absence that would still be able to be captured. I hope that this is the photographer's next step. To attempt to memorialize the absence of something. The capture the "Dark Matter" that exists even when a person's physical being is no longer there. To be able to put forth a series of photographs that show were someone once was would be compelling and beautiful, I would think. An attempt to show that even in death there is "something" that remains. And even if we cannot see what that something is, there is no denying that it is there. Excellent post! As evidenced by how many of us were compelled to comment.
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