The Unravelling

For my genesis piece, I felt I needed to get something created that’s been stuck in my mind since the day it happened. This piece takes us to the scene of one of the saddest and most moving things I’ve ever seen. A child traveled to a distant city in hopes of taking the same Hippocratic Oath his mother, father and sister took. Instead, he tragically reached the end of his short journey alone, within the cold embrace of a bathtub. The week leading up to the funeral was full of dread. We knew it had the potential to be the dismal of gatherings. Losing a child must be the biggest calamity a human being can experience. It is not until one sees firsthand the rubble and psychological carnage that we can begin to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy. What you're about to see was inspired by the image that was forever chiseled into my memory when I laid eyes on the grieving mother at her son's wake. Once we made our way to the epicenter of the sadness – the chapel, the mood instantly sank into a drastically lower level. The sobbing got louder; the lighting became dimmer – this is where the hurt was. There, at the end of the room crumpled up in a dark corner – a strong, smart, and vivacious woman was now reduced to a puddle of unrecognizable anguish. With body language that resembled the way a mother gently places her child in a crib, larger than usual hands ensure the precious cargo arrives safely if at least for one last time. But her posture simultaneously indicates the intense force that’s pulling her down… into that tub….into that coffin… into that water… into that hole in the ground along with her child. If not careful, those dark tentacles of depression can ensure that’s the case. The most painful of clichés: she was holding on to an old, weathered teddy bear one can assume belonged to her baby boy. And that is precisely how she cradled this inanimate object, like a baby. This type of pain comes in waves… it is as relentless and stubborn as the ocean, as portrayed by the cresting wave approaching her. Five candles for a family of five – the mother, father, and the three children. Four candles remain lit and struggle to light this chapel. They offer comfort and warmth to the departing child. He was and is loved. His final resting place, a tub of infinite black, is nestled within an impossibly dense forest of sympathy flowers a reflection of how different it is to say goodbye to someone this young who touched people of all ages. The reflection in the water provides yet another clue as to where this tragedy took place. Those tall concrete buildings in the Empire State bore witness (as also depicted in the Valhalla gridline in the faint background). Death – the heaviest and most overwhelming thought, weighs tremendously over her head and is manifested as a recognizable grim figure in the shadows along with the caduceus medical symbol. In what seems like a bit of cruel poetry, The gates of Valhalla took him. As customary, the mother was enveloped in black. Black hat… black sunglasses…. black face mask… black scarf… black dress. All we could see courtesy of the flickering candles were slivers of pale skin. It looked like an incomplete puzzle as if she was coming apart at the seams – because she was. Those black garments and accessories made her visible humanity appear like a ribbon that was unravelling – because it was. The Unravelling that took place on this day forever changed the lives of many. Everything created in this piece, from the visuals to the animations and sounds, have been produced by me and the passion I felt during this grave day.