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Sally Mann
Transcript
...with death comes New Life
Body Farm
If there's any time when you're vulnerable, its when you're dead. In life, those people had pride and privacy. I felt sorry for them. I thought if they knew I was taking photos, without them having a chance to comb their hair or put their teeth in, they'd die of shame. So I expected critics to ask: is this right?
-Sally Mann
He fell among the stumps and bracken, just a kid after all, my son's age, bled out in milky winter light.
-Sally Mann
-when a human body
is drained of its broths and filled
again with formaldehyde and salts,
or unguents and aromatic oils, and pranked
up in its holiday best and laid out
in a satin-lined airtight stainless-steel
coffin and stowed in a leakproof concrete valut-
I will know that if no fellow-creatures
can pry their way in to do the underdigging
and jiggling and earthing over mating
and egg laying and birthing forth,
then the most that can come to pass
will be a centuries-long withering
down to a gowpen of dead dust, and not ever
the crawling of new life out of the old,
which is what we have for eternity on earth.
Sally Mann
Galway Kinnell, "The Quick and the Dead
All things summon us to death;
Nature, almost envious of the good she has given us,
Tells us often and gives us notice that she cannot
For long allow us that scrap of matter she has lent...
She has need of it for other forms,
She claims it back for other works.
December 8, 2000
Jacques-Benigne Bossuet, "On Death, a Sermon"
What Remains
What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be
reft from thee
Erza Pound, "Canto 81"
By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Genesis 3:19
"For My Father"
Pensive on her dead gazing I heard the Mother of All,
Desperate on the town bodies, on the forms covering the battlefields gazing,
(As the last gun ceased, but the scent of the powder-smoke linger'd,)
As she call'd to her earth with mournful voice while she stalk'd,
Absorb them well O my earth, she cried, I charge you lose not my sons,
lose not an atom
When does it stop being Eva?
O great Pelican of Eternity
that piercest thy breast for our food
we are thy fledglings who cannot know thy woe.
Bless this shadowy food of substance
whose last eater shall be worm
and feed us rather
on the visionary food
of dreams and grace.
Alycia Maher
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