Lawrence A.
Hall of Famer
- Location
- New Mexico
- Name
- Larry
These were shot with my DP2S, though I hope to be able to continue the project with a Merrill at some point. The shots make no pretense to being "art", but are rather straight forward documents of a disintegrating reality.
The cemetery, once located on the outskirts of the city, now sits beside an on-ramp to I-25 -- lonely, vandalized, and apparently neglected except for the touching signs of remembrance still there in the form of fading plastic flowers, toppled artificial Christmas trees of recent vintage, and other evidence of recent attention. The older concrete on rebar memorials are falling apart, and the wooden crosses are in their turn inevitably disintegrating into eternity. The whole affect, for me at least, is of brave, even heroic, confrontation with inevitability. "Time will say nothing but I told you so.." says the poet, Auden, and in the end, memory, concrete, wood, everything in fact, will be overcome by it.
When I was in graduate school, before becoming ill and having to leave, I was studying Anglo-Saxon literature, and the same heroic stance in the face of the inevitable infuses the ethos of that poetry. It is not arrogance, as some imagine, but rather the stoic knowledge that one must go on in the face of things as they are, even, perhaps, as they are fated to be. And one must remember. I find it extraordinarily moving.
The cemetery, once located on the outskirts of the city, now sits beside an on-ramp to I-25 -- lonely, vandalized, and apparently neglected except for the touching signs of remembrance still there in the form of fading plastic flowers, toppled artificial Christmas trees of recent vintage, and other evidence of recent attention. The older concrete on rebar memorials are falling apart, and the wooden crosses are in their turn inevitably disintegrating into eternity. The whole affect, for me at least, is of brave, even heroic, confrontation with inevitability. "Time will say nothing but I told you so.." says the poet, Auden, and in the end, memory, concrete, wood, everything in fact, will be overcome by it.
When I was in graduate school, before becoming ill and having to leave, I was studying Anglo-Saxon literature, and the same heroic stance in the face of the inevitable infuses the ethos of that poetry. It is not arrogance, as some imagine, but rather the stoic knowledge that one must go on in the face of things as they are, even, perhaps, as they are fated to be. And one must remember. I find it extraordinarily moving.
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