What you are now we used to be; What we are now you will be (Karla Deel)
Title of Artwork:
What you are now we used to be; What we are now you will be
Les Catacombes de Paris, Paris France
Materials Used: Cyanotype photography, watercolor paper, gold leaf
Price: $650
Medium: Cyanotype print on watercolor
Date created (Year): 2024
Size: 8 x 10 print matted and framed 16 x 20
Rarity: 1/1
Condition: extremely good
Signature: yes
Certification of Authenticity: Yes
Frame: yes
Series: Memento Mori, remember you will die
About the Work:
In the bowels of Paris, in an old quarry originally located on the outskirts of the city, lay the remnants of 7 million humans excavated from their grave beds centuries prior due to sanitation issues. Piles of anonymous skulls and bones quilt together to create labyrinthian corpse corridors coined les catacombes. Traversing the catacombs I found utter silence and utter stillness. A quiet so severe it amplified the sound of my own blood coursing through my body.
I understood, then, that we are simply here until we are not. Death is the great equalizer of our shared existences. Yet, while we know we will die, and this courtship with death is the best ally for living in joy, it must be said that death in war is abysmal, unrelenting, unjust, and cruel beyond comprehension.
Accompanying poem:
Tale of Two Bodies
for the mothers of Gaza
Title of Artwork:
What you are now we used to be; What we are now you will be
Les Catacombes de Paris, Paris France
Materials Used: Cyanotype photography, watercolor paper, gold leaf
Price: $650
Medium: Cyanotype print on watercolor
Date created (Year): 2024
Size: 8 x 10 print matted and framed 16 x 20
Rarity: 1/1
Condition: extremely good
Signature: yes
Certification of Authenticity: Yes
Frame: yes
Series: Memento Mori, remember you will die
About the Work:
In the bowels of Paris, in an old quarry originally located on the outskirts of the city, lay the remnants of 7 million humans excavated from their grave beds centuries prior due to sanitation issues. Piles of anonymous skulls and bones quilt together to create labyrinthian corpse corridors coined les catacombes. Traversing the catacombs I found utter silence and utter stillness. A quiet so severe it amplified the sound of my own blood coursing through my body.
I understood, then, that we are simply here until we are not. Death is the great equalizer of our shared existences. Yet, while we know we will die, and this courtship with death is the best ally for living in joy, it must be said that death in war is abysmal, unrelenting, unjust, and cruel beyond comprehension.
Accompanying poem:
Tale of Two Bodies
for the mothers of Gaza
Title of Artwork:
What you are now we used to be; What we are now you will be
Les Catacombes de Paris, Paris France
Materials Used: Cyanotype photography, watercolor paper, gold leaf
Price: $650
Medium: Cyanotype print on watercolor
Date created (Year): 2024
Size: 8 x 10 print matted and framed 16 x 20
Rarity: 1/1
Condition: extremely good
Signature: yes
Certification of Authenticity: Yes
Frame: yes
Series: Memento Mori, remember you will die
About the Work:
In the bowels of Paris, in an old quarry originally located on the outskirts of the city, lay the remnants of 7 million humans excavated from their grave beds centuries prior due to sanitation issues. Piles of anonymous skulls and bones quilt together to create labyrinthian corpse corridors coined les catacombes. Traversing the catacombs I found utter silence and utter stillness. A quiet so severe it amplified the sound of my own blood coursing through my body.
I understood, then, that we are simply here until we are not. Death is the great equalizer of our shared existences. Yet, while we know we will die, and this courtship with death is the best ally for living in joy, it must be said that death in war is abysmal, unrelenting, unjust, and cruel beyond comprehension.
Accompanying poem:
Tale of Two Bodies
for the mothers of Gaza
A Tale of Two Bodies
for mothers in Gaza
There are bones in the clouds.
There are bones on the ground.
Ground bones in our mouths,
impassive and half-open—
what happens
when the days stay dark?
Bone constellations collect in cul-de-sacs of sky,
condensed pulsations of light and black
bone clouds, burial shrouds—
why did the moon die?
Where is the lightkeeper who enters the scene from one side, carrying a lantern
all the way to you
on the edge of a terrible world?
We want to give you slivers of light. Bathe your babies in warmth. Wash their feet
in clean water, rosy
from so many wounds of war.
we carry the spirit of love, my dove.
we carry the love to you, honeydew.
May you be the flowers that return in spring.
May you know the blooms will come back. May the booms
be snuffed out, blotted
into nothing
by your million fragrant flowers.