In Search of Angels

We knew no bounds

of social or religious etiquette.

Fueled by a right brained

fanatacism for

capturing the spirit

or ethereal essence

of those unkown

and past

on film.

Armed with Hasselblad, 4x5 view camera,

Holga toy camera,

tripods, backdrops

and perhaps a bottle of wine

and sandwiches

if remembered.

Roseland Cemetery, Bohemian National Cemetery, Rosehill Cemetery

 were all destinations

 depending on light.

The holy grail

was always

 our beloved angels.

Each subject

in some way

raveged by Chicago winds and winters,

moss, cracks, and the general

deterioration of

all things associated

with the dead or abandoned.

During early morning first light

the Mexican groundskeepers,

waiting for grasses to dry

to begin an

  endless day of  lawn mowing and trimming,

staring 

leaning up against the masuoleum wall

and watching with

either curiosity

or disdain.

At times, stopped by security and asked,

"What are you doing here?"

We acclimated to working

like hypervigilant voyeurs

as we became lost in the maze of rows or

 small roads between monuments and sculpture

available in no other earthly venue

known to us.

Running wildy ecstactic

like an ADHD child unmedicated-too many possibilities for

art to remain static.

Clicking away and changing 120 film in

a continuous but fluid frenzied motion.

When done and after days of developing and printing

always returning to the city

to continue the quest for

a more beautiful subject.

In retrospect

I wonder how much of our souls

were traded and remain

amongst the stones and

large dark oaks and maples

of a hundred years

in fair return for

our

intrusion.

K. Carter