Library Of Dust

I first saw David Maisel's photography through another blog Super Hero Designs a few months ago. Intially his work called Asylum was the one that caught my attention. His photography of an abandoned mental asylum in Oregon was haunting and troublesome to me, probably because of a family member that has been institutionalized [I'll explain later] but after going through his site and reading a bit more his work entitled Library of Dust this series has stayed with me for months now. This seemingly uneventful photography of copper cans in the state of various decomposition is actually part of his asylum series.

according to his website:

Inside a dusty room in a decaying outbuilding on the grounds of a state-run psychiatric hospital are simple pine shelves lined three-deep with thousands of copper canisters. The canisters hold the cremated remains of mental patients who died at the hospital from1883 (the year the hospital was opened, when it was known as the Oregon State Insane Asylum) to the 1970’s, and whose bodies remained unclaimed by their families. The copper canisters have a handmade quality; they are at turns burnished or dull; corrosion blooms wildly from the seams of many of the cans. Numbers are stamped into each lid; the lowest number is 01, and the highest is 5,118.

This story left an empty space in my heart for all the people who have gone unclaimed and probably unloved for their entire lives. Now the remains of their physical bodies speak through color and decay in these photos, each one being as unique as I'm sure that individual was when they were alive. At the time that this asylum was functioning, I'm sure there were people who needed to be there, and many who with modern medicine or modern love would not [down syndrom children were often left at birth at places like these]. What if one of these people was a family member of yours? how would that make you feel?

Back to my families story...My eldest uncle [in his late 60's now] suffered oxygen loss at birth that caused mental retardation. My grandparents kept him at home for as long as possible [into his teenage years] before placing him in a home. They were both very involved with his care and development [my grandmother still is as much as possible]. But just as you hear in stories, things happen in these places that I'm sure none of us want to know about. A few years ago he was beaten by an orderly and had massive head injuries that placed him in the hospital and nearly killed him [he recovered]. My knowledge of the situation is vague, as of course I don't know the full story, but still... there was this incident. I'm sure he is not the first, nor the last. I pray that people in these systems find love in their own ways with their friends and hopefully sometimes a caretaker. I also hope that those who are brave enough to be caretakers for these people realize that they are human beings and show them dignity and respect.