I find it curious how we can sometimes find the architecture of dead
animals disgusting and sometimes view it as a trophy to hang on our walls.
What bring this to mind, is this: I have a friend who, years
ago, did a series of “Roadkill Portraits”—photos of dead animals in various
stages of decomposition. I have one of a bunny and my coworker had one of a dog
or coyote, which has since ended up with me. There is a curious beauty to these
pictures once one gets past their gruesome nature. Oddly however, where many
people are repelled by these honest images, others celebrate a trophy kill and
have an animal stuffed and mounted. Granted these “trophies” are much more
attractive than my friend’s photos, but they are both a weird sort of
commemoration of death.
I personally enjoy
sometimes finding an intact skeleton of an animal in situ. One time, while
looking for my runaway husky, I found the vertebra of a snake, loosely coiled
as it might have been in life. I collected these vertebrae and have used them
as a sort of bead in certain art pieces. Another time I found the skeleton of a
bird, with the feathered wings still intact. It was a beautiful thing, an
elegant framework of flight, reminding me of the framework of early planes.
The friend who did the roadkill series later did photos of
“dead” dog toys. Much more humorous and easier to digest. I have one of those
portraits too, a dog toy shaded the most subtle shade of pink.