10-22-2021, 12:09 AM
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Hi TqB,
three problems, for me. The use (and repetition) of 'or' (when really I think you mean 'and'), 'painter's canvases', weren't these photographs? And the lack of a conclusion. Doubtless I'm dense, but what's the point here? Apparently
In an eloquent article in the October 20, 1862 New York Times, one writer contrasted these images to the tallies of the dead printed each day in the newspaper: “Each of these little names that the printer struck off so lightly last night, whistling over his work, and that we speak with a clip of the tongue, represents a bleeding, mangled corpse. … Mr. Brady has done something to bring home to us the terrible reality and earnestness of war. If he has not brought bodies and laid them in our dooryards and along the streets, he has done something very like it.”
Be nice to have some sense of this, or whatever your own take on the Exhibit is in the piece.
less than a month after the slaughter
the Dead of Antietam opened on Broadway
and 10th, to rave reviews. October 1862 .................................. not sure why you've included the date, it's not a history report.
Confederate artillery men piled ........................ does it matter that they were Confederate? If so, why? (Apparently, again, the photographs themselves had no distinctions between sides.)
like bags sacks of grain about a caisson
in front of before a pockmarked Dunker church,
bodies scattered along a fence row,
heaped together in on a worn rutted road ............what distinguishes a rutted road from a worn, rutted road?
alone in the disordered pose of death.
all awaiting shallow mass graves,
prisoners of death locked inside a frame ............ do photographs have 'frames'?
in a lush gallery with velvet couches
the nameless enemy forever unburied ................ this, if I may presume, seems to be part of the point of the piece, why not end here?
and lit by chandeliers
where living bodies wander and gaze
seeing for the first time displayed
like a painter’s canvases
the aftermath of war’s artistry. ........... this doesn't feel like an ending.
Best, Knot.
.
Hi TqB,
three problems, for me. The use (and repetition) of 'or' (when really I think you mean 'and'), 'painter's canvases', weren't these photographs? And the lack of a conclusion. Doubtless I'm dense, but what's the point here? Apparently
In an eloquent article in the October 20, 1862 New York Times, one writer contrasted these images to the tallies of the dead printed each day in the newspaper: “Each of these little names that the printer struck off so lightly last night, whistling over his work, and that we speak with a clip of the tongue, represents a bleeding, mangled corpse. … Mr. Brady has done something to bring home to us the terrible reality and earnestness of war. If he has not brought bodies and laid them in our dooryards and along the streets, he has done something very like it.”
Be nice to have some sense of this, or whatever your own take on the Exhibit is in the piece.
less than a month after the slaughter
the Dead of Antietam opened on Broadway
and 10th, to rave reviews. October 1862 .................................. not sure why you've included the date, it's not a history report.
Confederate artillery men piled ........................ does it matter that they were Confederate? If so, why? (Apparently, again, the photographs themselves had no distinctions between sides.)
like bags sacks of grain about a caisson
in front of before a pockmarked Dunker church,
bodies scattered along a fence row,
heaped together in on a worn rutted road ............what distinguishes a rutted road from a worn, rutted road?
alone in the disordered pose of death.
all awaiting shallow mass graves,
prisoners of death locked inside a frame ............ do photographs have 'frames'?
in a lush gallery with velvet couches
the nameless enemy forever unburied ................ this, if I may presume, seems to be part of the point of the piece, why not end here?
and lit by chandeliers
where living bodies wander and gaze
seeing for the first time displayed
like a painter’s canvases
the aftermath of war’s artistry. ........... this doesn't feel like an ending.
Best, Knot.
.