What you are now we used to be; What we are now you will be (Karla Deel)

$500.00

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.