A few years ago at American Photo, I received a portfolio from Celia A. Shapiro containing twelve photographs of meal trays. The text that accompanied the images explained that they were exact reproductions of the last meals requested by serial killers before their execution. Shapiro has been unjustly neglected. The series The Last Supper has been stolen and plagiarized, but she has never protested. She doesn’t really care. She doesn’t have an agent or a gallery, and no exhibition or her work has ever been organized. She lives in New York and Brazil, and continues down her inner path, which you will understand better once you’ve read her text.
Jean-Jacques Naudet
She was pounding on my back with her fists. I spun around and decked her with a right jab to the jaw. She lay on the asphalt playground with blood trickling from her lip and screamed, “I hate the jews”.
When ants entered the space where we played jacks, I insisted that we move the game rather than squish them. I was an extremely gentle girl. Then one day on the playground someone pulled Cara’s hair from behind. I was standing with my back to her and when she spun around she thought it was me and proceeded to pound my back with her fists. In a flash I turned. My right arm jutted out and landed a solid punch flat on her jaw. I watched her fall backwards to the ground. She lay there motionless, a spot of blood on her lip. I had just flattened a classmate without even realizing it and my blow had even drawn blood. How did I do that . . . and why?
Everyone on the playground came round to gawk. Confused, impressed and shaken I stood in silence, waiting for reality to set in. We all waited. Suddenly Cara, sputtering with rage, shattered this suspended moment with her angry scream “I hate the Jews”. Feet shuffled, eyes widened and the silence deepened.
BZZZZZ…the playground buzzer announced the end of recess. In an instant the circle of tension broke away as everyone ran off of the playground and back to class – everyone eccept me. Alone in the bright California sun, I stood motionless, staring at my shadow and struggling with who I was; the angry jew?; the vengeful jew?; the insecure jew?; the minority jew?; the broken hearted jew?; the prideful jew? I was all of them, but most of all and shocking to myself, I was the violent jew, and now I wanted to kill her.
How did all of this happen and what should I do? As I stared down at the ground the fluttering of my green girl scout dress suddenly caught my attention. It was 1957 and I was 10 years old. I was a squad leader in the girl scouts and one thing I knew was that I could sell more girl scout cookies than anyone else on the playground. The mint flavored wafer cookies covered with crunchy chocolate were the best.
There is a theory that Homo Sapiens outlived Neanderthals not because we are smarter, but because we are more violent. Maybe so. Our brains are seemingly still programmed with the archaic software that has repeatedly triggered violent behaviors for thousands of years. We need an upgrade or we will self-destruct.
Violence still leaves us stunned, immobilized and silently staring at our own unfathomable brutality.
Why ?
Celia A. Shapiro
Embedded : 6 series of photographic works created while investigating human violence.
