“Loss”: A Critique
Seven knotted pillars jut out of the sea and bask in the warm glow of the sun. While their purpose is not initially clear, their impact on the viewer lacks no strength.
Since we’re in the thick of the season of make-believe, a more expected theme for our previous gallery might have been black-and-white photographs of ornate, antiquarian stockings or of artsy ornaments handcrafted from the same metals as those 1950s robots now found at vintage toy stores. Nevertheless, when the baleful incisors of Jack Frost sank deep into the ribs of every Chicagoan and seemingly drained the city of all its life, a warm distraction appeared appropriate and even necessary. So we decided to feature Sarah Hadley—whose photography, at first glance, takes the viewer to a soothing and uncomplicated place, to an Italian landscape that, in her styling, seems a paradise of Edenic simplicity. Yet at second glance, one will notice something dreamlike, something wondrous and mysterious, playing within her photographs.
As an example, take Hadley’s “Loss.” Seven knotted pillars jut out of the sea and bask in the warm glow of the sun. While their purpose is not initially clear, their impact on the viewer lacks no strength. The pristine sky blending seamlessly into the sea establishes a distinct foundation for the subjects of the foreground. It does for the seven pillars what a blank canvas would for several thick stripes of charcoal, or what a stage would do for seven spindly ballerinas gathering en pointe into a memorable feat of geometry. As we shift our concentration from the background and into the foreground, we notice that the seven pillars are positioned in a rather curious arrangement.
The three pillars farthest to the left, like the two pillars in the back row on the right, all angle themselves towards the pillar that stands front-and-center of the remaining six. The pillar in the front row to the right of the center pole seems to be angled towards the right, the opposing direction, slightly away from the center pillar. It appears that the five pillars standing behind and to the left of the front two adopt an almost reverential pose, as if mimicking that of six virgins mesmerized, say, by Odysseus on the beach. The ambivalent pillar, facing away from the center one, seems like the ever-present Penelope, always forefront in the mind of her husband, ignoring the advances of both his and her respective suitors. While the position of the pillars is important to consider, they may, of course, have been placed in a completely arbitrary manner.
Crusted and lanky, these seven figures may be poles to which fishing boats are tied—a distant image signaling shore and safety for a weary fisherman at the end of his day at sea. Yet a second glance shows this to be an unlikely possibility, since the seven poles are both too close to shore and too close together to leave room for multiple boats. Another possibility may be that the seven poles stand in memory of lost loved ones. Given the title of the piece, “Loss,” each pillar may represent a fallen family member—and the close arrangement of the staggered pillars, as well as the absence of other such structures in the distance, may indeed attribute this memorial to a family in the region. Moreover, the absence of other pillars suggest that this is either a more recent tradition or a less common tradition than utilizing a land cemetery to commemorate the dead—though the appearance of the wood, and Italy’s cultural awareness of its history, makes the former possibility the likelier. For example, if these pillars stand as memorials, they may be used to remember the fallen members of a fishing family by preserving the memory of their love for the sea. This would fill the same function as scattering the ashes of a loved one in a place that once had significance in their life.
Whether or not the title is a hint as to the purpose of the seven pillars, our uncertainty of the photograph gives us an opportunity to use our imagination to construct our own stories about the seven pillars. In a season when imagination sometimes seems to be the last thing on an adult’s mind, it is important to remember that sometimes, when we least expect it, the reality of our world can surprise us and re-instill a feeling of a happy mystery. It is not quite the feeling of believing in Santa as we did when we were young, but it does allow us, even for just a moment, to be charmed.
