LIFE AFTER DEATH a Thesis Submitted to the Graduate School

LIFE AFTER DEATH

A Thesis

Submitted to the Graduate School

of the University of Notre Dame in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements

for the Degree of

Master of Fine Arts

Lynette McCarthy

Martina Lopez, Director

Art, Art History and Design

Notre Dame, Indiana

April, 2017

LIFE AFTER DEATH

Abstract

Lynette McCarthy

Life After Death is a photographic body of work that chronicles the daily existence of an elderly widower. The documentation of emotional and physical situations after the absence of a spouse provides insight into the experience of death, bereavement, and memory. These conditions are also investigated through analytical and formalistic observations, offering both data-driven research and theoretical inspection. The results of these investigations reveal gender-specific issues with grieving, acceptance, and identity. Furthermore, an examination of the social attitudes towards aging in Western society affirms a systematic marginalization of this demographic. This becomes a critical issue as our population lives longer, especially if their needs are not foregrounded in the context of today’s culture.

for my beloved daughters and muses, Olivia and Gianna

CONTENTS

List of Figures……………………………………………………………………………………………….…iv

Acknowledgements……………………………………………………………………………………….….v

Introduction……………………………………………………………………………………………………..1

The Bereavement of Widowed, Elderly Men: A Clinical Observation……………….…..4

Social Imaginaries of the Elderly: The Notion of Invisibility and the Abject………....9

The Conditions of Photography: Mortality and Memory……………………………….…..14

Contemporary Practices and Influences………………………………………………………..…21

Conclusion: The Familial Thread……………………………………………………………….....…28

Figures……………………………………………………………………………………………………..……31

Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………………………….....…42

iii

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1 – Lynette McCarthy, The Rifleman………………………………………………….……31

Figure 2 – Lynette McCarthy, Inventory of Bit Sockets……………………………………….32

Figure 3 – Cindy Sherman, Untitled #466, Untitled #470……………………..……….….33

Figure 4 – Lynette McCarthy, Afternoon Reverie……………………………………….….……34

Figure 5 – Nan Goldin, Self-Portrait in bed with Siobhan………………………...... 35

Figure 6 – Lynette McCarthy, Midday Nap……………………………….…………………..….…36

Figure 7– Lynette McCarthy, Lear……………………………………………....………………..……37

Figure 8 – Edward Hopper, Western Motel...... 38

Figure 9 – Gregory Crewdson, Untitled (Ray of Light)...... 39

Figure 10 – Gregory Crewdson, Untitled (Butterflies and Shed)...... 40

Figure 11– Larry Sultan, Mom Peeking out of Curtain...... 41

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge and sincerely thank the members of my thesis committee and advisors, particularly Professor Martina Lopez, Assistant Professors

Nicole Woods, and Jason Lahr. In addition to committee members, I must acknowledge the support and advice of Professors Maria Tomasula, Jean Dibble, and

Richard Gray, Assistant Professor Emily Beck, Visiting Assistant Professor Lucas

Korte, and Visiting Lecturer Heather Parrish. I am also indebted to the department staff, especially Mary Kutemeier, Olivia Williamson, Kristine Galvez Alumbaugh,

Denise Massa, Zach Norman, and Jayson Bimber.

I would like to thank the Department of Art, Art History & Design, as well as the University of Notre Dame and its Graduate School for the generous stipend that ultimately supported this research. It is also not possible to practice in a contemporary moment without critical and creative colleagues. This thesis owes a lot to the support from the following people: Justin Trupiano, Melonie Mulkey, and

Mary McGraw. Thank you!

On a more personal note, I would like to thank my immediate family and my extended relatives, specifically Aunt Louise, Uncle Jim, and Uncle Andy for allowing me into their homes and daily lives. Without their consent, none of this would be possible. I would like to thank Clint Fayling for his continued patience and praise

v throughout this exciting journey. Your encouragement has been invaluable. And, although their professional efforts have already been mentioned, I would like to thank Professor Martina Lopez, Assistant Professor Emily Beck, and Denise Massa again for their constant reassurance, support, and sage advice. And last but not least,

I would like to thank the Chicago Cubs for winning the World Series in my lifetime.

INTRODUCTION

Our golden years are often considered a time of retirement, reflection, and enjoyment. More often than not, they can also be wrought with hardships and challenges. For those fortunate enough to live a prolonged life with a spouse or partner, the experience of widowhood is an unavoidable reality. Within the visual context of Life After Death, my MFA Thesis, I provide an extended look at the physical and psychological shifts that occur when negotiating the role of widower. I am primarily concerned with the experience of death, the issues of bereavement and memory, and how these conditions redefine the self.

My work chronicles one of the eldest members of my family, documenting the everyday while providing a critique of the quiet and isolating conditions of his current stage of life. My photographs predominately speak to my uncle’s lived experience through the domestic space. Visually, I combine an aesthetic of documentary photography with contrasting elements of the banal and the dramatic.

I evoke my late aunt’s presence, as evident throughout the details of their home. Burdened with reflective loss and stagnation, their home operates as a mausoleum of sorts, maintaining the appearance of their married life. My images

1 acknowledge my aunt’s absence and her continuing presence, but also recognize my uncle’s unalterable sense of loss. Paradoxically, the exterior portion of his home provides him with purpose and structure. His outdoor activities also maintain some semblance of his previous life before my aunt’s passing, and, in my belief, facilitate in his prolonged existence.

As an artist whose work concentrates on human interaction and familial relationships, I consider it quite fitting for my thesis work to conclude with one of my eldest family members. Although my images push the boundary of family photography, they parallel the social and emotional communication of the family album. Like family photos, they can be interpreted as ways of understanding the familial, but avoid the cliché, celebratory occasions and instead, provide a visual record of emotionally trying times. My intention with these images is to transgress against the modern discourse of death and grief by capturing subtle but poignant moments as a strategy to confront this stage of life.

To understand the bereavement of widowers, my research concentrates on clinical observations generated through gerontological research. Men may be disadvantaged in the adjustment to widowhood because it is relatively uncommon among them. As a consequence, the research tends to be limited. However, results irrefutably indicate significant changes in physical and psychological behaviors, as well as an inclination to develop deep attachments to the spouses they have lost.

The elderly also face the challenges of a society that values youth over the aged. The very old are culturally labeled as abject and are cast aside at a vulnerable

2 time in life. This cultural marginalization fueled my desire to highlight this demographic for my thesis.

THE BEREAVEMENT OF WIDOWED, ELDERLY MEN:

A CLINICAL OBSERVATION

“One flesh. Or if you prefer, one ship. The starboard engine has gone. I, the port engine, must chug along somehow till we make harbour. Or, rather, till the journey ends.”

-C.S. Lewis1

To effectively understand the emotional and psychological states of loss and bereavement associated with an aging American populace, or more specifically to the experience of a widower, I find it necessary to outline a range of empirical observations associated with death and mourning exclusive to this group. Although not specific to every survivor, these situations provide an abridged view of the conditions commonly associated with men entering the “Third Age” as elders and widowers.2

1 Lewis, C. S. A Grief Observed. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 2001. Print.

2 Peter Laslett developed the term “Third Age” (a.k.a. the Golden Years) in an attempt to reduce the general tendency to associate all post-retirement years with inactivity and fragility. Laslett, Peter. “The Emergence of the Third Age.” Ageing and Society 7.02 (1987): 133-60.

4 “Few life events affect adults more than the death of a spouse or life partner.”3 This type of loss is one of the most severe threats to health, welfare, and productivity that most people will experience during their lives. While the effect of adjusting to life without one’s partner can vary greatly, gender remains one of the largest influences on the experience of widowhood. Although both men and women face distinctive challenges as they cope with a partner’s death, I am most interested in the experiences of the widower.4

In a 2001 article published in The Review of General Psychology, researchers at the University of Utrecht in the Netherlands recognized elderly widowers as an especially vulnerable group, “… one that is at greater relative risk of depression

(and, they argued, consequent physical health detriments) than their female counterparts.”5 The idea being that the identity of a widower is not easily accepted by many and therefore requires a longer adjustment period than the roles of husband or father. Several men experience difficultly with openly grieving or suffer

3 Stroebe, M. S., & Stroebe, W. “Who Suffers More? Sex Differences in Health Risks of the Widowed.” Psychological Bulletin 93.2 (1983): 279-301. JSTOR. Web. 11 Nov. 2016. Web. 09 Dec. 2017.

4 I feel as though I must defend myself before one can begin to criticize the selective research and critical discourse referenced. I am fully aware that I have chosen not to discuss the issues related to elderly women (a subject the majority of researchers investigate) and focus on issues related exclusively to widowed, elderly men. Though there is a propensity to categorize widows and widowers together, some aspects of "widowhood" are unique and require special consideration. I do understand that women have equally important hardships as elderly men, but for the purpose of my thesis I have chosen to outline only the selected research. I have also chosen not to comment on any specific issues related to race or ethnicity.

5 Stroebe, Margaret, Wolgang Stroebe, and Henk Schut. "Gender Differences in adjustment to bereavement: An empirical and theoretical review." Review of General Psychology 5.1 (2001): 62-83. Web. 28 Nov. 2016.

5 an emasculation of sorts as they take up household tasks. Widowers also display a greater incidence of physical and mental illness than widows. While women experience a sense of abandonment, widowers compare the loss to dismemberment, noting a void in solidity and wholeness.

After their wives have died, men often struggle with managing a household, maintaining their health, and seeking out sources of emotional support. Much like the eldest members of my family, this is especially noticeable in generations that adhered to the structure of traditional marriages – where men produce the main source of income and women assume the household chores and caretaking. In general, wives typically monitor their husbands’ diet, remind them to exercise, take their daily medications, or urge them to give up bad habits, like drinking or smoking.

When their spouses die, these healthy reminders slip away. The result is a decline in their overall wellbeing, potentially developing into an increased level of isolation or a heightened risk of mortality.

There are exceptions; however, that can promote longevity and self-worth.

There is a plethora of evidence that suggests healthy physical and emotional habits can aid in adjusting to widowhood and elongating one’s lifespan.6 “These include positive self-esteem, keeping busy with meaningful activity, having adequate

6 Although the adjustment to widowhood varies greatly from individual to individual, there is enough scholarly literature that supports a common experience documented through several factors that are listed but not limited to emotional responses, processes of grieving, and identifying factors that help or hinder the degree of resilience as time passes. Moore, Alinde J., and Dorothy C. Stratton. Resilient Widowers: older men speak for themselves. New York: Springer Pub, 2002. Print. Pg. 81.

6 opportunity for support, a sense of being in control, and confidence in one's ability to cope effectively.”7

As I observe my Uncle Andy’s life after the passing of my Aunt Diane, I witness several behaviors that support the abovementioned research, and either aid or hinder his adjustment to widowhood. Having lived during a time when stoicism and avoidance were deemed proper methods of handling emotional situations, my uncle has sought little to no help with his grieving. Time has played a significant factor in his healing process, but his resistance to professional support has left him with few outlets to express his emotions. His lack of openness also hinders his health, resulting in minor problems escalating to extended hospital admissions.

I can also identify a dichotomy of both progress and stagnation in his daily routine. The division of interior and exterior spaces offers a constant shift of either apathy or activity throughout the course of his day. To him, the house is still my late aunt’s primary space, and because of this, little has changed since her death. And, although she passed away more than four years ago, he continues to respectfully observe her house rules and refrains from such things as cursing or chewing tobacco in the home.

Over the last few years, the home itself has transitioned from warm and inviting to dormant and utilitarian. Inactivity permeates throughout the interior, leaving my uncle and its contents in a state of purgatory. His only pseudo-

7 Caserta, Michael S. “Widowers.” Encyclopedia on Death and Dying. Advameg, Inc, 2017. Web. 8 Jan. 2017.

7 companion, the television, arrests his attention for hours, eliminating the possibility of any physical movement [fig. 1]. There is also the practical nature of his existence

— mounted candle sconces now serving as hooks for mini-flashlights or emptied, pre-mixed cement containers holding Aloe Vera plants.

Contradictory to the home, the garage and his garden provide him with purpose and offer a respite from the constant reminders of my aunt’s absence in their once shared environment. The outdoor spaces continue to provide him the same independent activities he once had while married and continually reinforce his masculine identity, something he may have lost in the responsibilities of the home

[fig. 2]. It is this routine of structure, purpose, and fulfillment that I believe facilitates in his longevity.

While my uncle’s experience of widowhood is in line with clinical expectations, the grieving process itself is very idiosyncratic. As a whole, his adjustment to widowhood is markedly better than most, being financially stable and in good health; however, his lack of communication and socialization has limited his ability to speak freely about my Aunt Diane. This inability to reflect on their life together appears to continually suspend his mourning process, leaving the house and my great-uncle in a state of physical and emotional limbo.

SOCIAL IMAGINARIES OF THE ELDERLY:

THE NOTION OF INVISIBILITY AND THE ABJECT

“Lurking just below the surface of modernity’s relentless pursuit of the new, with its imaginaries of fluorescence and growth, lie chaos, rot, waste, detritus and filth.”

-Allan Irving, The Relentless and the Ruin8

“… because society is stratified along lines of gender, race, class, sexuality, age, disability status, citizenship, geography, and other cleavages, some bodies are public and visually dissected while others are vulnerable to erasure and marginalization.”

- M.J. Casper and J.L Moore, Missing Bodies: The Politics of Visibility9

In the rigid binary of young/old, youth is contrasted with a view of dread, suffering, and otherness of ‘old age.’ The constructed and marginalized world of the elderly as it has been so often considered by modernity, harkens back to the era of the Enlightenment when cleanliness and order resulted in practices that were intended to keep off-putting images of decay, the smell of imminent death, and

8 Irving, Allan. "Fastened to a Dying Animal”: Images of Decay, the Social Construction of “Old Age,” and Mandatory Retirement." Toronto. James Lorimer & Co. Ltd, 2005. Print. Pg.95.

9 Casper, Monica J., and Lisa Jean Moore. Missing Bodies: The Politics of Visibility. New York: New York UP, 2009. Print. Pg. 9.

9 abjection contained in a harshly defined category. Our social imaginaries, too eager to preserve the illusion of ontologically young and healthy bodies, upholds this antiquated and stringent grouping concerning the aged, creating a subset of peripheral solutions, realized as Floridian enclaves or nursing homes.10

This collective desire to conceal or disregard the elderly is not solely predicated on the notion of the unpleasant or unclean, but on the simple idea of growing old. Most Western societies have produced a pervasive cultural distaste for aging, represented as both stigmatized and abject. Since aging in contemporary

America is increasingly represented as something that one can defer, the attitude toward signs of aging is highly stigmatized. Cultivated through a barrage of youth- centric advertising and anti-aging campaigns an obsession with bodily perfection resulted in a multi-billion dollar industry dedicated to battling or overcoming aging.

In response to this mindset, author Julia Twigg coined the phrase “age denial,” referring to the beauty industry and our cultural ethos that supports it.11 What this age denial engineering ultimately produces is widespread cultural ageism.

10 The term ‘social imaginary’ emanated with French theorist Cornelius Castoriadis. In his book, The Imaginary Institution of Society, he contends that all social institutions are structured around an organizing principle (or central imaginary), constructed as basic symbols or universal meanings that relate the functions of social establishments with their symbolic forms. Recognizing that social institutions are essentially human constructs, their objectives are supplied with symbolic meaning, confirming their purpose within broader structures of society. For this reason, social institutions can only be recognized by the organization or system of signifiers and signified that is held within the social imaginary. Castoriadis, Cornelius. The Imaginary Institution of Society. Cambridge, UK: Polity, 1987. Print.

11 Twigg, Julia. “The Body, Gender, and Age: Feminist Insights in Social Gerontology.” Journal of Aging Studies 18.1 (2004): 59-73. Web.

10 The stigmatized aging body can also be labeled as abject. Philosopher and literary critic Julia Kristeva’s work on abjection, a term first used by Bataille in the

1930’s, describes abjection as disgust with the dissolution of form, threatening one’s subjectivity. In her 1982 essay, Powers of Horror, Kristeva states, “… it is thus not the lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order… the in between, the ambiguous, the composite.”12 Old age is an example of a social imaginary that aligns with what Bataille called ‘an abject class,’ demonstrated as a lack of social relevance and a devalued status in society. As such, the elderly are relegated to a state of otherness, segregated from everyday experiences leading to marginalization and invisibility.

This status of cultural invisibility has been one of the essential components of my research and the catalyst for developing my thesis on the elderly. Understanding aging, its representational erasure, and where it is culturally situated furthered my desire to highlight the lived experience of our elderly population. As a photographer,

I am especially interested in the media and its ability to influence cultural views, in this case rendering aging as an unacceptable part of life. Photographer Cindy

Sherman has considered this same subject with respect to her age and work.

Best known for her untitled, film still images that portray her as various female characters, Cindy Sherman’s work consistently examines truths about identity, vulnerability, and power. Although her earliest and most celebrated work

12 Kristeva, Julia and Leon S. Roudiez. Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans. New York: Columbia UP, 1982. Print. Pg. 4.

11 highlights youthful femininity, her images produced in 2000, 2008, and then again in 2016 confront the topic of age. In these select years, Sherman represents a series of characters that have been described as women-of-a-certain-age or, in other words, women who are moving into middle or old age. In general, they are not very old, and yet they all appear to be acutely aware of their bodies’ complicated relationship with a visual culture that appreciates youthfulness and disregards the old [fig. 3].

Unlike her film still images, these are more explicitly about her than ever before — images that confront what aging means to women. In discussing her latest work, fictional portraits of aging, ‘20s-era film stars, Sherman reveals her deeper understanding and connection with these characters:

“I was thinking about how [hard] aging was for some of them… And how sad that was. I just had a lot of empathy for them. I still don’t feel they’re me, but I don’t feel like I’m hiding in them and trying to disappear within the characters the way I’ve been in the past. I’m more present with these characters, I’m like one of them.”13

Her embodiment of these women demanding visibility reveals a disruption between aging and femininity in ways that might elicit compassion and a critique of contemporary Western culture’s obsession with youth. Another reading might say that these stars of the Silent Screen represent an apex of potent womanhood,

13 Vankin, Deborah. "Cindy Sherman Reveals Her Latest Body of Work — and It's Personal."Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 11 June 2016. Web. 15 Dec. 2016.

12 subverting the male gaze with an accurate representation of the contemporary woman.14

In much the same way, I confront society’s bias against the elderly by providing a visual platform for their demographic. When considering visibility as a measure of social acceptability, the effect of cultural disappearance of the aged becomes an important topic of investigation. As Woodward, among others, points out, “… ageism and the related celebration of youth saturate American visual culture,” and, as a consequence, “old men and women are seldom represented.”15

Erasure and abjection can have significant repercussions on the financial, mental and emotional wellbeing of the aged. These become critical issues as our population lives longer, especially if their needs are not foregrounded in the context of today’s culture. As with any marginalized group, cultural visibility creates awareness with the possibility of change. One purpose of my thesis is to address the popular narrative about age while drawing attention to the emotional and physical needs of our maturing society. Advocating for a new way of thinking about our elderly is not only beneficial for them but will eventually benefit all of us.

14 In her essay, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey coined the phrase “Male Gaze” referring to the way in which the visual arts and literature characterize women from a male point of view, promoting women as objects of male pleasure. Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. Eds. Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen. New York: Oxford UP, 1999: 833-44.

15 Woodward, Kathleen M. "Performing Age, Performing Gender." NWSA Journal18.1 (2006): 164. Web.

THE CONDITIONS OF PHOTOGRAPHY:

MORTALITY AND MEMORY

“Life is a movie. Death is a photograph.”

- Susan Sontag, The Benefactor16

Many theorists explain looking at photographs as an experience of absence.

The photo makes us acutely aware of the past and the distance between then and now. This thought is also the subject of several theoretical essays that link the nature of photography to death and its inability to retain the past.

Throughout my research, three distinct voices, those being Nan Goldin,

Roland Barthes, and Susan Sontag have provided insight specifically on this subject and have facilitated in the direction of my work and practice. Addressing our universal engagement with photography, their academic observations enhanced my experience as a photographer, my understanding of image making and memory, and my desire to successfully produce images that convey the experience of death.

16 Sontag, Susan. The benefactor, a novel. New York: Farrar, Straus, 1963. Print.

14 At the end of the twentieth century, a significant group of American art photographers began creating works featuring their own personal experiences with mortality. One such photographer, Nan Goldin, concentrated on extremely personal and candid portraiture, capturing intimate moments of dependency, alienation, love and loss. Goldin’s images act as a visual memoir documenting herself and those closest to her. Perhaps the result of her dysfunctional upbringing, Goldin assumes a

‘chosen family,’ comprised of her closest friends that engage in destructive lifestyles that often ended too soon.17 Goldin’s Ballad of Sexual Dependency concentrates on this select group.18 Through a hybrid of photography and moving-image installation art, Goldin provides a raw and unapologetic portrayal of New York City subculture at the height of the AIDS crisis. Her initial motivation was to document the lives of those around her, but with the passing of several “chosen family” members, her work evolved into what she described as a remembrance of death.19 Reflecting on this work, Goldin also acknowledges the problematic limitations of photography and memory:

17 In several interviews, Goldin describes that she left her “blood family” and created her “chosen family” in order to start a new chapter in her life. Additionally, the afterward in the revised publication of Ballad reveals the many deaths of Goldin’s new “family” due to AIDS, overdose, or suicide.

18 By description “ballad” implies a minimal or basic song or poem that tells a story. According to Susan Stewart in Crimes of Writing, a ballad is “continually marked by immediacy – immediacy of voice, immediacy of action, immediacy of allusion.” The collective image and sound of Goldin’s original production of Ballad- by definition- suggests a narrative construct, a temporal quality controlled by light and music. Stewart, Susan. Crimes of writing: problems in the containment of representation. New York: Oxford U Press, 1991. Print.

19 Author and Professor Dr. Jay Prosser studied the loss inherent in taking a photograph. Similar to Goldin’s perspective and mirroring the scholars mentioned above, Prosser regards the medium as an act in which we unconsciously encounter the dead, making the photo itself a sign of absence rather than presence. Prosser, Jay. Light in the Dark Room: Photography and Loss. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2005, 1.

15 “Photography doesn’t preserve memory as effectively as I had thought it would. A lot of the people in the book are dead now, mostly from AIDS. I had thought that I could stave off loss through photographing. I always thought that if I photographed anyone or anything enough, I would never lose the person, I would never lose the memory, I would never lose the place. But the pictures show how much I’ve lost.”20

This idea of photographs reminding us what has been lost is a poignant subject, especially for French literary theorist Roland Barthes. In his seminal text Camera

Lucida, Barthes launches into a phenomenological description of photography, studying his own reactions to specific images as a way of attaining knowledge about the medium. Written after his mother’s death, Camera Lucida offers as much about our mortality as it does photography. Although never reproduced, it is a photo of his mother as a child that becomes a symbol for a common experience of photography,

“… a certificate of presence, of something that is past.”21 Barthes continues, “The

Photograph does not call upon the past,” he writes. “The effect it produces upon me is not to restore what has been abolished (by time, by distance) but to attest that what I see has indeed existed.”22 For Barthes, the photo is less about memory and more about the authenticity of existence. The very picture that brings her to life also confirms the irreversibility of her death – “that-has-been.”23 The essential nature of

20 Goldin, Nan, Marvin Heiferman, Mark Holborn, and Suzanne Fletcher. The Ballad of Sexual Dependency. New York, N.Y: Aperture Foundation, 1989. Pg. 145. Print.

21 Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and Wang, 1981. Print. Pg. 87.

22 Ibid. Pg. 82.

23 Barthes surmises from the personal context of his own bereavement, the broad conclusion that every photograph embodies the sign of his death, and that the theoretical nature of photography is the implied message: ‘‘that has been''. Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and Wang, 1981. Print. Pg. 76.

16 the medium as an indexical mark creates a photographic dichotomy simultaneously showing us a predictable future – ‘she is going to die’ and an inflexible past – ‘she has died.’ This painful recognition, developed from theories posited by Freud and

Lacan, renders the subject that is photographed as object, thus becoming, “Death in person.”24 American literary and culture critic Susan Sontag furthers this point by saying,

“Photography is the inventory of mortality. A touch of the finger now suffices to invest a moment with posthumous irony. Photographs show people being so irrefutable there and at a specific age in their lives; [they] group together people and things which a moment later have already disbanded, changed, continued along the course of their independent destinies.”25

Although much of her work maneuvered between the extremes of emotion and intellect, Sontag approaches the subject of photography with more of a critical observation than Barthes. She qualifies the photograph to nothing more than a relic, saying:

“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or things’) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”26

In applying these views to my thesis, I consider the photographs I take to be similar to a document of record rather than a catalyst for memories. My intention is to capture subtle moments that speak to my uncle’s lived experience as a widower.

24 Barthes. Pg. 14.

25 Sontag, Susan. On Photography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977. Pg. 54.

26 Ibid. Pg. 11.

17 Although my photographs are rooted in the familial, my interest lies in the emotional understanding of the images and not in their ability to recollect nostalgic moments.

While recognizing the theoretical influences within my work, I developed an understanding of my process through the similarities and differences to that of

Goldin’s Ballad. As photographers, we both provide intimate glimpses into the lives of those closest to us. She, however, is producer and participant, capturing life and ignoring death in vain. I, on the other hand, am solely documenting the sobering realties of life after death. It is through Goldin’s work, however, that I recognize my photographic limitations in compensating for the loss involved, as there is no record before death, only after. This knowledge directed my work to place particular stress on the physical void of the other, that being my deceased aunt, enabling an experience of absence. I accomplish this by focusing on my aunt and uncle’s personal effects; their once shared private spaces, and his solitary existence after her death [fig. 4].

The approach in which we document our familial subjects is straightforward, however, Goldin shows no restraint in chronicling daily episodes of sex, drugs, and abuse. Her subjects, along with the clumsiness and soft focus of her images, elevate a heightened sensation of voyeurism [fig. 5]. While my photos equally provide access to an otherwise private space, my uncle’s situation is more contemplative than dire.

The quiet and melancholy nature of my images produces a level of loneliness, a plausible, raw reality that conveys a fragility of the human condition. I am also

18 acutely aware of the intersection between my objective for a photograph and my level of respect for my subject. My great-uncle’s situation, not being entirely desirable, and our intergenerational relationship increase my need to depict him in a decent and empathetic light.

While Goldin’s approach is more explicit, I employ both candid and constructed methods, paying particular interest in my uncle’s gaze or lack thereof.

The obfuscation of his face directs the viewer’s attention towards the domestic details, allowing the viewer to participate in his world without disrupting his very private grief. Knowing his level of sorrow will always be unattainable to us, I intentionally draw attention to the particulars surrounding him. To appropriate

Barthes’ terminology from Camera Lucida, it is in these details that the experience of a punctum may occur for the observer, creating a much more intimate relationship between subject and viewer.27 These items also provide a secondary narrative, offering other stories lived through these shared or familiar objects [fig. 6].

This body of work also includes two images in which my Uncle Andy directly confronts the viewer. Much has been discussed regarding the gaze of the spectator in both photography and cinema; however, the subject’s gaze is equally significant.

These photographs operate as a disruption from the overall voyeuristic nature of

Life After Death, and, much like my uncle, demand consideration. My formal decision

27 According to Barthes, the punctum “…is [that] element which rises from the scene, shoots out of it like an arrow and pierces me…for punctum is also: sting, speck, cut, little hole—and also a cast of the dice. A photograph’s punctum is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me).” Pg. 27.

19 to include these images is emblematic of a type of photography that gives him agency; he subverts our gaze by looking back at us [fig. 7].

Having spent a significant amount of time with my uncle, I can describe his personality as somewhat stubborn and confrontational. At the height of 6’1”, his stature is equally intimidating. These direct and full-frontal portraits speak not only to those characteristics but also give him an opportunity to acknowledge the viewer.

While allowing us into his personal space, my uncle stares back, reminding us that he is fully aware of our presence.

CONTEMPORARY PRACTICES AND INFLUENCES

“People think because it’s photography it’s not worth as much, and because it’s a woman artist, you’re still not getting as much – there’s still definitely that happening. I’m still really competitive when it comes to, I guess, the male painters and male artists. I still think that’s really unfair.”

– Cindy Sherman28

“The enemy of photography is the convention, the fixed rules of 'how to do.' The salvation of photography comes from the experiment.”

– Laszlo Moholy-Nagy29

Throughout my photographic career, a few select artists have continued to shape my aesthetic awareness. All of them, in one way or another, address ideas of beauty, grief, isolation, and longing. Moreover, they share a primary interest in the intersection between theatricality and the everyday. On the surface, their imagery appears tranquil, and yet, there is a disquieting psychology at work. The polarity of the every day paired with the dramatic induces feelings of solitude or alienation that

28 Hattenstone, Simon. "Cindy Sherman: Me, myself and I." The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, 14 Jan. 2011. Web. 09 Jan. 2017.

29 "A-Z of Modernist Photography." A-Z of Modernist Photography | Tate. N.p., 2016. Web. 11 Jan. 2017.

21 somehow merges with an underlying sense of hopefulness and possibility. These artists are all American and employ what is sometimes called the “American vernacular,” revealing both its beauty and darkness.

The paintings of Edward Hopper evoke the spirit of this practice in modern

American life. “It is almost impossible to “read” America visually without referring to film, photography, and other works that have been influenced by his images.”30

Hopper’s works are contemplative and often convey a narrative in a single image.

They depict unresolved moments that are suspended in a space that hangs somewhere between a moment before and after.

His solo figures appear in anonymous environments that hold equal amounts of apprehension and anticipation. Hopper’s use of framing techniques, visually constructed through various doorways and windows, pull the viewer into private spaces, making us all silent witnesses. While Hopper’s images convey a sense of loneliness and detachment, there is also a feeling of optimism directed through his use of light. Shafts of light or illuminated spaces in otherwise dark environments operate throughout his images, acting as a narrative code, affecting every aspect of the story.

A majority of these techniques are employed in Hopper’s Western Motel. A lone female sits on the edge of a bed, her vacant gaze looking past the viewer. Set on the edge of suburban sprawl, the woman is framed by a large, picture window that

30 Crewdson, Gregory. "In A Lonely Place." Aperture, No. 190, 2008, Pg. 78.

22 emphasizes the theatrical nature of the scene. The objects in the room are strategically arranged, pointing to the sole figure, as if to accentuate her isolation.

As with most of Hopper’s images, nothing appears to happen, and yet this scene is loaded with a quiet sense of anonymity, wonder, and alienation [fig. 8].

Drawing on the influences of Hopper, contemporary photographer Gregory

Crewdson generates a surreal and emotionally charged read into his spectacular scenes in rural settings. A tension lies between beauty and the sublime, a place where rational is effectively discarded. The trademarks of Crewdson’s photographs include complex, fantastical images combined with theatrical lighting arrangements that push his images into new territories of psychologically evocative dramas.

His series entitled Twilight is packed with subtle oddities. Nearly all the images depict scenes of unusual events, including signs of extraterrestrial life. The image “Untitled (Ray of Light)”31 shows a young male figure standing outside a house, at the end of a driveway, near dusk. He is illuminated by a strong beam of light, produced from a source outside the frame [fig. 9]. In the image “Untitled

(Butterflies and the Shed)”32 we find a child in her yard, looking warily at a garden shed as it emits light, illuminating a swarm of butterflies [fig. 10].

Much like the work of Hopper, these eerie pictures seem to tell a story, but the narrative is entirely for the viewer to construct. Although we are aware that something is amiss and potentially frightening in each image, the light overpowers

31 I titled this image, which may be found as “Plate 5” in Crewdson’s book Twilight.

32 I titled this image, which may be found as “Plate 16” in Crewdson’s book Twilight.

23 us, and we are visually taken by something magnificent. Crewdson successfully elevates the viewer from the gallery to the theater with his refined use of beauty. It is this exact quality that informs the viewer on a subconscious level and points to the psychological state in his work – a key element that has direct formal construction of the mise-en-scene.

Almost in opposition of Crewdson’s aesthetic of highly staged photos is Nan

Goldin’s raw, diary-like images, devoid of conventional limits and photographic technique.33 We are immersed in a subculture of violence and debauchery, realized as bruises, overdoses, and death. What makes her similar to Crewdson, however, is the filmic quality of her work. Although Crewdson’s cinematic images display an impregnated and constructed scene for us to consider, Nan Goldin’s photos (in the original context they were exhibited) rotate in a slide projector paired with a soundtrack. This temporal and controlled viewing structure, a nearly hour-long arrangement, mimics that of film.

As both photographers push the limits of the conventional photo, they acknowledge, in various interviews, the influence of Cindy Sherman. Her success in advancing the medium into an academic concept that aligns itself with the narrative structure of cinema can be attributed to her subversion of Roland Barthes’s essay

“The Third Meaning.” Sourcing Einstein’s Ivan the Horrible (1943), Barthes explains

33 I am of course referring to Nan Goldin’s most recognized work, The Ballad of Sexuality.

24 the power of the film still and describes it as the “inarticulable third meaning.”34 The vagueness associated with the individual film still references a narrative, but responsibility is placed on the viewer to unearth it; unlike the moving image, the still contains a “psychology on which narrative meaning operates.”35 For the photograph to successfully convey an entire narrative, Sherman pushes the viewer to provide information and connect semiotic codes to create meaning.

The exposure of Sherman’s Untitled Film Stills series essentially shattered the concept of modernist, traditional photography, paving the way for artists that favored an implied narrative in their work. Sherman’s film stills inspired a large number of photographers to begin working in a genre of constructed realities, classified as “believable fictions.”36 Most relevant to this concept and my thesis is the work of Larry Sultan. In his series Pictures from Home, he photographs his parents and their every day existence in a retirement community. His images straddle the boundary between the documentary and the staged; however, their situations, postures, and occasionally dull expressions relay a convincing atmosphere of family life.

34 Bathes’s “The Third Meaning” can be found in 1977’s Image – Music – Text. Barthes, Roland. "The Death of the Author." Image / Music / Text. Trans. Stephen Heath. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977.

35 Rosalind Krauss, “Reinventing the Medium,” Critical Inquiry, p. 297.

36 “Believable Fiction” is a term Nan Goldin used to describe the contained narrative in a singular staged image. Phyllis Thompson Reed. "Nan Goldin - Dark Diary." Aperture Fall 2004: n. Pg. Web. 3 Dec. 2016.

25 Although his imagery focuses heavily on their relationship, there is a sense of isolation throughout this body of work. The image Mom Looking Through Curtain

(1989) is one that struggles with the balance between the public and the private [fig.

11]. Similar to Hopper, Sultan utilizes the window to illustrate both literally and figuratively the ideal metaphor - a division between audience and subject, between subject and the world.

Voyeurism is a common characteristic of my influences, but none more relevant to my thesis than Sultan. Allowing us to peer into the private lives of his aging parents is a space very similar to mine. Unlike the act of photographing anonymous individuals, these photographs become a collaborative endeavor, a constant negotiation of compassion and critical awareness. Displaying issues of aging and fragility reveal a vulnerability few want to publically share, and yet Sultan manages to balance empathy with optimism and humor.

Sultan also explores the self-reflexive nature of family photography. The relationship between photographer and subject, in this case being child and parent, reverses the social norm and affords Sultan with the opportunity for self-reflection about his life against the decisions his father has made. Sultan elaborates by saying,

“I can remember the peculiar feeling I had looking at the first pictures I made of him. I was recreating him and, like a parent with an infant, I had the power to observe him knowing that I would not be observed myself. Photographing my father became a way of confronting my confusion about what it is to be a man in this culture.” Sultan continues, “I’m married and have two kids, own a house, shop in the malls, read the business section of the newspaper, take my shirts to the laundry, catch myself continually calculating my savings, and worry about dying from various terminal illnesses. Was it that different when

26 he was forty-four? Did he feel the same intensity of doubt and confusion as I do? Was he haunted by all of the things he was unable to be?”37

Although deeply personal, Pictures from Home is not intended to preserve memories, but rather subvert the camera’s role as a tool of domestic ideology, challenging the family photograph. As Merriah Lamb writes in Reconstructing

Family: Larry Sultan’s Pictures from Home:

“Sultan understands the camera’s function as the family’s primary instrument of self-knowledge and self-representation by which family memory perpetuates, using it to re-examine family, but also undermining any claims that photographs and their arrangements are necessarily an accurate form of documentation of family life.”38

Pictures from Home is the reconsideration of one family’s record and skillfully maneuvers the fluid space between reality and invention in both its images and its narrative. Larry Sultan discards the tropes of the traditional family albums, thus exposing an authenticity of his family. By inserting his photographs into a comparative and theoretical discourse, his images not only represent new and artistic work but also ask us explore the iconic power of family photographs in our contemporary cultural dialogue.

37 Angier, Roswell. "Roswell Angier on Larry Sultan - 'Pictures from Home' (2006). American Suburb X, N.p., 09 Dec. 2015. Web. 14 Jan. 2017.

38Lamb, Merriah. "Reconstructing Family: Larry Sultan’s Pictures from Home." CUJAH. N.p., 06 Nov. 2012. Web. 14 Jan. 2017.

CONCLUSION:

THE FAMILIAL THREAD

As I near the completion of my educational experience at the University of

Notre Dame, I have the opportunity to reflect on my work and consider its evolution for the future. My images primarily focus on the complexities of change and the psychological conditions of interpersonal relationships. I concentrate on matters that are part of my lived experience and, at times, directly involve my family.

Common themes of the familial are apparent in all my work.

My earliest series The Journey centered on my twin daughters and the evolution of our relationship. Concentrating on their transformation from children to adults, I place them on a journey that metaphorically speaks to their departure for college. As photographer and mother, I provide not only their path but symbolically guide their future. I intentionally dress them in attire that reflects an era of innocence and nostalgia. For me, this arrests not only their development into adulthood but also provides me with a level of control that I will no longer possess.

Although I comment on the difficult separation between my fully-grown children and myself, motherhood was not an identity I readily accepted. The combination of societal expectations and my lack of maternal instincts led me to

28 believe that I was inadequate for the role. Shortly after giving birth, my husband left on a six-month military deployment, leaving me to care for newborn twins. The struggle to maintain a rigorous feeding schedule both day and night exhausted me beyond belief.

My girls were diagnosed with colic, a condition that causes extreme crying in infants. The combination of severe sleep deprivation and their incessant screaming threw me into a very dark place. I began to have delusional thoughts of throwing them out the window or placing them in the dryer. I wanted to tell someone, but feared that my morbid thoughts would only confirm what I already believed - I was a horrible mother.

I finally broke my silence and was diagnosed with postpartum depression. It was only then that I came to understand that this was a very common diagnosis but fell under a heavy veil of silence. As a society, we expect motherhood to be the happiest time in a woman’s life. When it’s not, women can feel a certain amount of stigma and shame. Moreover, our society tends to categorize mothers into two groups: good mothers and bad mothers. Good mothers care for their children and outwardly express unconditional love. Bad mothers abandon, or worse yet, kill their children. The polarity between the two groups is so severe that good mothers are reticent to reveal questionable thoughts or feelings towards their children for fear of being labeled the other. This experience fueled my desire to address the subject of motherhood, its psychological struggles, and its conflicting realities.

29 My second-year series entitled Delicate Underpinnings explores this spectrum of maternal behaviors. My research addresses the delicate nature of the mind, exploring the balance between sane and insane states in relation to motherhood.

The images, composed in domestic spaces, functioned as visual metaphors for the mind, revealing a possible slip in domestic order and identity. The outcome of this series is to demonstrate the mundane particulars of the everyday while acknowledging the flux of the human psyche.

While Delicate Underpinnings considers the psychological nature of motherhood, its demands, and its societal representations, my thesis work concentrates on the other end of life’s spectrum, that being death. Although a common thread of the familial was intentional, the inherent life cycle present throughout my work was not a deliberate decision, but one that developed as a secondary subject of family life. Life After Death completes a life process, demonstrating the fragility of life, the delicate nature of the human condition, and its inflexible inevitability.

As I consider the future of my photographic career, I rely on my conceptual framework of personal experiences, emotional situations, and family relationships to convey relatable narratives. While the combination of these repeated motifs provide a continual source of new situations and subjects of thought, it is my interaction with people that is the essential element to all of my future projects. The complexity of the people and their sorted experiences, both fortunate and tragic, will always be the cornerstone to my practice.

30 FIGURES

Figure 1: The Rifleman, Lynette McCarthy, 2017.

31 Figure 2: An Inventory of Bit Sockets, Lynette McCarthy, 2017.

32 Figure 3: Untitled #466, Untitled #470, Cindy Sherman, 2008.

33 Figure 4: Afternoon Reverie, Lynette McCarthy, 2017.

34 Figure 5: Self-Portrait in bed with Siobhan, Nan Goldin, 1990.

35 Figure 6: Midday Nap, Lynette McCarthy, 2017.

36 Figure 7: Lear, Lynette McCarthy, 2017.

Figure 8: Western Motel, Edward Hopper, 1957.

38 Figure 9: Untitled (Ray of Light), Gregory Crewdson, 2001.

39 Figure 10: Untitled (Butterflies and Shed), Gregory Crewdson, 2001-2.

Figure 11: Mom Peeking out of Curtain, Larry Sultan, 1989.

41 BIBLIOGRAPHY

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