To last for a very short time.
I am fascinated by death. More specifically, the transitionary period during which something becomes something else. A lifeform moves from a state of living to a state of dying. A pop-up newsletter goes from active to inactive. The love felt for someone shifts from storge to pragma, from affection to convenience.
This deep intrigue was sparked while in Colorado with my father, back in August of 2023. I have continued to contemplate and read about death, in various manners, since then. Today, my interest has rekindled, the flame ignited though flickering, uncertain whether a breeze will snuff it out.
There was nothing in particular, so far as I can tell, that brought back these thoughts. Most of my day was spent sat at the desk, sending emails, populating my website (ten days to go, Manu), and listening to an interview. Was it Mabel, the little raptor, who kicked off these musings when she ripped from its pot my succulent? Or has my mind simply revolved around the idea of “the end” since Tuesday?
No matter. These thoughts are here, and I hope they will remain. After all, the very specific journal I purchased a year or so ago will not fill itself with my ideas around ephemerality.
The photograph above was taken while relaxing on the side of a trail in Shenandoah National Park. A scraggly tree of unknown identity stands out from the lush background. For what is it reaching? Why does it still stand when death, if not already upon it, is imminent and resting upon the forest floor would be much more comforting? Question upon question along these themes meander throughout my mind when photographing subjects such as what you see here.
These questions become all the more pervasive while studying, and consequently photographing, the skeletal remains of dead animals. Grotesque to some, fascinating to others, I am pulled in by these locked-away stories. Stories which I will never be told, questions I will never have answered.
The plain truth is that all things natural are equally ephemeral. We will not last forever and, in the grand scheme of the universe, our time is really quite short. To think we, as a species (Homo sapiens), have walked this earth for a mere 300,000 years (give or take), and yet the earth itself has existed for an estimated 4.5 billion years. Truly, we are but a blip.
This should be a reassuring fact, not a nightmare-inducing abnormality. If not for ephemerality, there would be no value in anything. Our lives would become stale as we grow tired not only of others but of ourselves. The human race alone would grow out of control — more than it already has — leading to an overabundance of people and a drastic insuffiency of resources. Everything would become plastic: lasting far beyond its usefulness, its presence obstructive.
Death may bring an end to our experiences but without it, our experiences would be meaningless. Embrace the ephemeral.
— C