A Meditation of Death

A Meditation of Death

“A Meditation of Death” invites viewers to contemplate the profound impact of conflict through a poignant marriage of technique and symbolism. Comprising 12 8x10” prints, this body of work employs a meticulous process, with each print bearing the image of approximately 2000 holes meticulously pierced into black card, that is then used like a stencil over light-sensitive photo paper when exposed. These minute shadows, resembling a cosmic constellation when printed, transcend their aesthetic allure to convey a sombre narrative. Each piercing acts as like a personal active protest, when most of the global north’s reaction to what is happening in Gaza, is completely inert.

The resulting lumagraphs serve as a visual metaphor for the countless lives lost in Gaza, embracing the innocence of children, the vulnerability of babies, the resilience of women, and the sacrifice of men. Each dot of darkness is a poignant representation of a soul extinguished by the ravages of war, as of the 3rd January 2024. In this symphony of tiny shadows on the photo paper, the artwork bears witness to the human toll exacted by conflict, urging us to confront the harsh realities of our shared humanity.

Once digitised the lumagraphs are imanipulated so that shadow becomes light, and light becomes dark. The dark now becomes night with a constellation of 24,000 little deaths.

The conceptual foundation of “A Meditation of Death” draws inspiration from the Maranasati meditation, a contemplative practice centred on the inevitability of death. This meditation aligns with the artwork’s overarching theme, encouraging introspection on the consequences of humanity’s dark history of violence and the impermanence of life.

As an artist, my intent is to challenge the notion that war resolves anything; instead, it perpetuates cycles of suffering, breeding hate through acts of terror and barbarism. Through the delicate, labor-intensive process of creating each lumagraph, “A Meditation of Death” seeks to evoke empathy, fostering a collective awareness that transcends borders and ideologies. It beckons viewers to reflect on the shared fragility of life and the urgent need for compassion in the face of profound loss.

Palestine, under the occupation as represented by a series of digitised lumagraphs. This series represents the diminishing size of land left for the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip. Forced to evacuate from the north into ever decreasing “safe” pieces of land. In reality the remaining Palestinian people who are still alive, are crowded into smaller and smaller areas, so the smaller the wedge the more the people. I created the shape of the watermelon by piercing holes in black card. I lay the card over photographic paper in the sunshine for 15 minutes each time. I created the shape of the ever decreasing wedge by underexposing different sized wedge shapes.

The watermelon is a symbol of Palestinian unity, hence the shape used in this work. The Israeli government banned the Palestinian flag and its colours red, green and black in the 1967 war. During the Oslo Accords in 1993, the Israeli government lifted the ban. It is a powerful symbol for the Palestinian people. People are not allowed to have drawings with watermelons on it, OR to even carry a slice of watermelon.

Permanent Ceasefire Now!

The Flour Massacre

Using flour from my pantry I have created two works representing the horrific “Flour Massacre” in Gaza on 29th February 2024. Aid trucks were allowed into an area of Gaza. Over 100 people were shot by the IDF and many more injured. BBC Verify investigation here

I created two lumagraphs above: the top one using flour and water thrown directly onto the photographic paper along with a ‘target’ cross out of black card, to mimic the drone footage.

The second lumagraph I placed the unexposed photographic paper in between perspex and then threw flour on top of that.

Both images were made in bright sunshine with exposures ranging between 10-15 minutes. The lumagraphs were then photographed and digitised to reflect my response to the inhumanity.