Stuart Spence

PASSING PARADE

A funeral procession; trombones, a tambourine, the low thud of a bass drum, the tinny strum of a banjo, so the parade creeps slow and low through the New Orleans backstreets. Is it sad? Maybe, but something else is happening here. In the broken hearts of all, love seems to triumph, a last rejoice seems to gently drape over the shuffling crowd, a farewell celebration.

Passing Parade is a funeral celebration, but instead of the brethren rejoicing, in this photographic series, it’s the dead leaves, sticks and plants that are making their last dance home. Broken bodies painted soft, bright, dabbed, palette knived, as if summoning their last skerrick of élan. I’ve imagined this withered and crumpled crew having decided to go out with a bang, to pass over with style...and with LIFE!

What resilience it would take to hold off that last journey over to the other side, just long enough to find the hues, the stance, the LIFE to leave. In that strange land between light and dark, life and death, so my walking dead cheat death, if only for a few minutes, to remind us all what lucky bastards we are to be alive.

                                                                                                           Stuart Spence, November ‘19