This has always struck me as somewhat amazing: That magic little box enables one to leave, in a small way and for a short while, one’s own time and space and to occupy, maybe only superficially, another time and space: a then and there that really existed as well as a here and now. Photographs are both real images and imaged realities. This is both unique among media and new in human experience. — James Estrin
Car in Alley. Leadville, Colo. 1971.
Charles Harbutt — Archive/Center for Creative Photography
Despite the current ubiquity of cameras, we rarely pause in our flurry of social media sharing to document one of the most significant events in all our lives: death. Back in the 19th century, when camera technology became publicly available, documenting loved ones on their death beds or even after death was not uncommon. Beyond the Dark Veil: Post Mortem & Mourning Photography from The Thanatos Archive by Jack Mord, released in December by Last Gasp Publishing, gathers 120 photographs from this lost rite of 19th and early 20th century United States and Europe.
Mord is founder and curator of the Woodinville, Washington-based Thanatos Archive, which since 2002 has acted as a digital archive of mourning photography. As he explains in a book essay, cowritten by Jacqueline Ann Bunge Barger who curated the 2013 Beyond the Dark Veilexhibition at California State University, Fullerton, the photographs “served as a vital part of a healthy grieving process, providing a tangible way to keep the memory of a departed loved one alive and close at hand in times of need; displayed in parlors and in family photo albums, side by side with photos of the living.”
Embossed with gold lettering, the volume appears like an old photo album. Sections focus on themes like “pre-mortem/deathbed,” where sickly figures are often surrounded by flowers as if already in their caskets; “crime/murder/tragedy,” where a family of three appears serenely resting in one coffin, after the wife killed her husband, young child, and herself when she suspected her husband of adultery; and even “pets.”
“Neither death rites nor cultural portraiture could flourish until the Industrial Revolution fostered public expressions of individual worth and benevolent nature,” writer Joe Smoke explains in an essay. “Two concrete testaments to this sociological shift were the immediate naming of infants and the personification of pets.” He notes that in the 18th century, gravestones often just read “child” or “babe.” No one who died under a year got a name.
Words: Alison Meier
Rupa, a 38-year-old homeless woman, sleeps only metres away from burning bodies.
15-years-ago Rupa's husband died in a car accident months after leaving her for another woman. They had an extensive home and a young daughter — Rupa chose to leave the material world behind for a simple existence at Pashupatinath where she has been ever since.
I was lucky enough to stumble upon a ceremony for remembering a deceased man in a small suburb on the outskirts of central Hong Kong.
Music: Hong Kong — Gorillaz
is a period of brief weirdness amidst the serious cheeriness of the tear that is the cosmic flop, so promise not to drop the ball again or you’ll regret descent forever. Heaven’s never there but ever present, pleasant trends are clever yet sever the scent of the breath they endeavour to be, a feather tickling the stream of conscious trickle into a dream
— Marley Berry-Pearce