I haven’t actually gotten close to the point where my various online lives are revivable (as it turns out, regenerating your entire online life is hard), but I couldn’t let this pass by today without comment.
Danielle Corsetto’s work today does a stunning, beautiful thing. The art is gorgeous, of course, but also evocative. Note how the face of the child — implied to be Corsetto herself, of course — is facing forward. We see her, clearly. The grandfather, though… his face is looking down. We don’t get a clear sight, because of course this is coming from Corsetto’s memory — if she’s remembering his face, it’s because he’s looking down, not forward. Looking with love.
The writing alongside this evokes so much as well — both in tone and content, of course, but also in appearance. Corsetto manually centered the poem. Do you have any idea how hard that is?
And all of that comes together to give us this glimpse, this snapshot of a life. I called out the poem, but “Quaker Meeting” isn’t the only poetic element here. Not by a long shot. Every line evokes imagery. Every word is perfectly placed.
Grief is hard, because so much of what you grieve is presence — not just immediate presence, but a lifetime of presence.
This piece is presence, bound up in a tiny glimpse and given to us. And for that I can only thank Corsetto, and offer my deepest condolences to her and her family.