Living Relationships
Burial Sites is a document of collaborative relationships. This project was never made alone. All the photographs I have taken are linked and indebted to someone who has helped me along the way. My work has also been reliant on the relationships that were cultivated as I moved through the many places featured in this project. Community is a central tenant in the production of a place.
When I was still a student, Professor Reed suggested I draw a small graveyard in Auvillar, France, and it was a beginning. Klara and Petr gave me maps in the Sudetenland. Frances ate chocolate with me on a bench near the tomb of Karl Marx. Sirrka and Olli treated me like their daughter standing before ancient moss-covered stones in the woods near Lahti. The director of Assistens cemetery, whose name I don’t remember, patiently fielded my questions. Nils took me to a crematorium in Gävle. Maike explained the meaning of the pink stickers in Kaarst. Moussa drove me through the highway above al-Qarafa and Ahmed walked with me near the Sunday market before the sun rose. Milagros and I witnessed the gathering of hundreds of motorcycles in Azul on the way to Salamone’s portal. Pete told me the story of building a monument for a young girl. Uncle Frank drove me to the place where his friend was buried after the Christ Church earthquake. Noriko invited me to process through Koyasan on Kobo Daishi’s birthday after emails with Keiji. Jake recorded the sounds of the highway in Rendville while Harry brushed the dirt off a stone.
The list goes on, trickling off into an endless void of the many names I can’t recall or never was given. Throughout this project, I am also always standing behind the camera with the support of others besides me, even when the images I produced were devoid of living figures. While traveling I stayed with countless host families and was given the generous hospitality of strangers. These hosts guided me to these sites, shared their personal stories, and explained what these places meant to them. We laughed and cried together. We debated together. We cooked meals and sang together. We sat in silence together. We lived together. We. These interactions transformed the way I understood these spaces. Some of them are lessons I carry forward and experiences that I cannot share through words.
Returning to Robert Pogue Harrison, “To resolve upon my mortality means first and foremost to acknowledge that its fate belongs as much to others as theirs belongs to me…
Where does my mortality end and the other’s begin?
Precisely because I am mortal my mortality crosses over into my neighbor’s, just as his or hers crosses over into mine.”
Burial Sites is a document of collaborative relationships. This project was never made alone. All the photographs I have taken are linked and indebted to someone who has helped me along the way. My work has also been reliant on the relationships that were cultivated as I moved through the many places featured in this project. Community is a central tenant in the production of a place.
When I was still a student, Professor Reed suggested I draw a small graveyard in Auvillar, France, and it was a beginning. Klara and Petr gave me maps in the Sudetenland. Frances ate chocolate with me on a bench near the tomb of Karl Marx. Sirrka and Olli treated me like their daughter standing before ancient moss-covered stones in the woods near Lahti. The director of Assistens cemetery, whose name I don’t remember, patiently fielded my questions. Nils took me to a crematorium in Gävle. Maike explained the meaning of the pink stickers in Kaarst. Moussa drove me through the highway above al-Qarafa and Ahmed walked with me near the Sunday market before the sun rose. Milagros and I witnessed the gathering of hundreds of motorcycles in Azul on the way to Salamone’s portal. Pete told me the story of building a monument for a young girl. Uncle Frank drove me to the place where his friend was buried after the Christ Church earthquake. Noriko invited me to process through Koyasan on Kobo Daishi’s birthday after emails with Keiji. Jake recorded the sounds of the highway in Rendville while Harry brushed the dirt off a stone.
The list goes on, trickling off into an endless void of the many names I can’t recall or never was given. Throughout this project, I am also always standing behind the camera with the support of others besides me, even when the images I produced were devoid of living figures. While traveling I stayed with countless host families and was given the generous hospitality of strangers. These hosts guided me to these sites, shared their personal stories, and explained what these places meant to them. We laughed and cried together. We debated together. We cooked meals and sang together. We sat in silence together. We lived together. We. These interactions transformed the way I understood these spaces. Some of them are lessons I carry forward and experiences that I cannot share through words.
Returning to Robert Pogue Harrison, “To resolve upon my mortality means first and foremost to acknowledge that its fate belongs as much to others as theirs belongs to me…
Where does my mortality end and the other’s begin?
Precisely because I am mortal my mortality crosses over into my neighbor’s, just as his or hers crosses over into mine.”
Harrison, Robert Pogue. The Dominion of the Dead. United Kingdom: University of Chicago Press, 2010.