Book of the Dead 2001

This photograph, *Book of the Dead*, was made by Arsen Savadov, though I don’t know when. It seems to have emerged from some kind of fever dream. I imagine Savadov caught up in it, thinking, how can I possibly pull all of this together? He’s driven, compelled by something, but what? There’s such an awkward tenderness in the positioning of the figures. They all have their own story, their own private burdens. The man with the beard is staring off into the distance, his expression a mix of sadness and resignation. The pale woman next to him is serene, almost peaceful, but with a vacant expression on her face. Her lips are slightly parted as if about to speak, but no words come out. The one in the foreground is a different thing entirely, seemingly the ‘book’ in question. These characters are all at different stages of coming apart. It’s fascinating how the artist’s perspective can open a space for us to reflect on our own existence and how fragile it is.