:: p a
s s i o n ::
the man of
sorrows
...the Sacrifice...
|
...He
is dragged into an underground room, the false prophet duly bound, and
beset with blows, they spit upon his face... They remove his clothes
and bind him, naked, to a column... The lashes fall upon his back,
on his shoulders, on his loins. They fall upon his thighs and calves,
creating deep grooves in his flesh and long blue bruisings beneath the
skin. The flagrum is finished with small pieces of sheep bones attached
by braided leather thongs upon the end. Satan is there, breathing hatred
into them. At each stroke, the body gives a painful shudder. They flog
him until his back is in ribbons, until he faints and blood falls from
him like rain...
'...Et
factus in agonia, prolixius orabat. Et factus est sudor ejus sicut guttoe
sanguinis decurrentis in terram... (And being in an agony, he prayed the
longer. And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the
ground...)'
(Lk.
XXII, 43, 44.) |
...And,
bearing his cross he goes forth into a place of the skull called Golgotha...
And, there they crucify him with two thieves on either side... Driving
iron nails between the small bones of both wrists they secure him to the
wooden cross and there the weight of his body is held... With knees bent
the hammer falls again and again driving nails through the arch of his
feet so they press back flat against the wood... but the agony has scarcely
begun... and he thirsts...
And,
it is now the third hour and they crucify him still... His face is gaunt
and drawn, his pale face streaked with blood from the crown of thorns that
impales his skull... His throat is on fire and he thirsts... A swarm
of great yellow and blue harnel-house flies engulf him, lighting upon his
wounds to bury their eggs into his rotting flesh... And now it is the sixth
hour, and the sun falls from the sky and a great darkness comes over the
land in a cloud of locasts... Vultures steal down and pluck out his
eyes, ripping tender morsels from his flesh...
...
And, it is now the ninth hour, and he feels the chill of death creeping
through him. He whispers, his voice rasping like cobwebs, "I am poured
out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned
to wax and has melted away within me. My strength is dried up like ashes,
and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of
death..."
His
breath hisses in a slow exhale: "it is done", then slack-jawed, his face
becomes vacant and lost... He has given up the ghost...
...the Resurrection...
| ...And
three long days did pass, since his lifeless body was wrapped and layed
inside the cave... from womb to tomb and back again...
...And when the sabbath was
past, Mary Mag'dalene came when it was yet dark unto the shadows of the
sepulchre, bringing spices to anoint his flesh... And, like the Gods Osiris
and Dionysus before him, he had risen from the dead... birthed newborn
from the virgin's earthy womb, an animated corpse, his flesh sewn like
a patchwork quilt with the blood of his fateful wounds... raised from the
sorrows of Hell...
...And, there inside came
a ghostly light that spoke to her and told her: "Be not afraid... Do not
seek the living amoung the dead..." But she was very afraid and her
body trembled as she was filled with a terrible fear...
...the walls were silent
to her final scream...
|
|
...the Ascention...
 |
..The Messiah came, and
he led them by the hand, far away to Bethany... Then he kissed them
and raised his hands and said: "See my hands and feet that bleed with Stigmata...
See me, a spirit wrapped in flesh and bones that does not breathe..."
...And, his countenance was
like lightning, and his flesh pale as the moon, as he grew suddenly tall
and towered over them... They gazed at him... And for fear of him
they did shake, and became as dead men, and whispered not a word...
..His eyes burned them like
firey ice, piercing into their very being... And as his flesh began to
slough away in wet ribbons, and his muscles glistened and trembled on his
bones, they ran from him in madness and holy terror, and some fell to their
knees and kissed his bloody feet... |
....And his flesh was shed
like the husk of a chrysalis; shed like the scales of a snake devouring
its own tail; shed in death and resurrection... And, all about him mothwings
beat the air with luminous light and his bones fell away and his body crumbled
into the dust... ashes to ashes...
... And, he rose up, up,
in the moth's dusty flight and fled towards the light, towards the dawn
of a new day, towards eternal life... And his children wept...
...about these images...
This series is part of a
works-in-progess inspired by The man of sorrows. These images were
created through experiemental photography and hands-on techinques, rather
than graphic manipulation through the computer. Each Image uses various
techniques including distressing of the negatives and prints, multiple
printing, montaging, collaging, ripping, bleaching, sewing, layering and
reworking the surfaces with various medium (paint, inks, acrylic gels),
then re-photographing the finished composition with colour slide film...
© 2002 DUANA R.
ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Graphics, webcreation, multimedia, imagery
& wordscraft created by duana © 1999-2002