Buddhist Grave Markers and Rainbow, Maui, Hawaii c. 1956 - 1981

Editor: Ansel Adams' "Buddhist Grave Markers and Rainbow, Maui, Hawaii," captured sometime between 1956 and 1981, is haunting. The stark contrast of the gelatin silver print gives the stone monuments a palpable weight, but then there’s the faint promise of a rainbow. What am I meant to feel looking at this? Curator: A fair question. I see a layered narrative, a dance between permanence and the ephemeral. Adams, the master of black and white landscapes, frames these timeworn markers, etched with stories we can’t read, against a Pacific horizon. It whispers of mortality, yes, but that faint rainbow… that’s hope, a transient spectacle against the infinite. Notice how Adams uses light, or rather the *idea* of light, even in monochrome, to suggest depth, almost a tangible aura around the stones. Doesn’t it feel as though the spirits of those remembered there might be closest to us in those very moments after a storm, just as a rainbow appears? Editor: I hadn’t thought of it that way, about light suggesting depth in a black and white photograph. So, you are saying it's not *just* about death. Curator: Death is certainly *present*, palpable. But to focus solely on that is to miss the point, I think. The rainbow is a bridge, isn't it? A connection between worlds, or perhaps, between memories and present moments. What do you think Adams might be trying to connect? Editor: Maybe the past and present, remembrance, like a link between generations? It also makes me think about the Japanese-American experience during that time and what remembrance really meant in light of displacement, of erasure… of history. It's almost unbearably bittersweet. Curator: Beautifully put. Photography at its best captures not just a moment, but the weight of all moments past. It shows us how memory shapes our present. Editor: This was a fantastic deep dive, making me think of time's passage and the lasting power of memory.