Iridescence

"I believe we are reincarnated, not from soul to soul, but from memory to memory. I think humanity has always looked to the dead for answers and contemplation. I only hope that as viewers look at my work, the portraits of the victims are reincarnated or resurrected, in the present moment."

-- Binh Danh

I saw the Binh Danh exhibit, "In the Eclipse of Angkor," at the North Carolina Museum of Art yesterday. It was a small room with no more than twenty displays on the white walls. Above is a photograph of one of his works, part of a collection titled Iridescence of Life. Binh Danh used a chlorophyll process to print portraits of victims of the Cambodian genocide onto nasturtium leaves, displaying each alongside a butterfly specimen. Looking at each face, you start to remember that the 2 million people who died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge are not just faceless statistics -- these are actual fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters whose lives were cut short. It's especially painful when you see the portraits of the children on those beige nasturtium leaves and realize that these kids had a whole life ahead of them. The butterfly, the symbol of the soul, seems to have been frozen in time.

Today is the anniversary of the day EC died. Even now, people are still writing messages to her on her Facebook wall, telling her that there isn't a day where they don't think of her. I wasn't close enough to her -- I can't recall any distinct memories I have of her, other than the general remembrance that she was sweet and fun-loving girl with great tennis footwork. I really do hope the tradition continues, that her friends continue to write on her wall each year. It sounds cliche and overdone, but it's true -- you're not gone until you're forgotten.