Passing

An epic of transition is death. The body is a vessel of incarceration. There are horrors in the skies that dissent to us a web of illness we are drawn to even as we attempt escape. The disease on the ground, the emaciation of the air draws us inside and therefore closes and seals the process of death. Somewhere between the skies and the earth, somewhere in the bardo do we appear as we really are, clear thoughts amidst a solution of matter both gray and dark. Death always reminds us of where we are going and then we start to think of where we have been. Georges Bataille wrote, “There is no better way to know death than to link it with some licentious image.” Either way you look at it death is a continuing process that if captured in a display of DNA would be a round strand that circles endlessly in a poetic path, tragic and ethereal.
- Chris Mansel