In 2002, mob boss John Gotti Jr, the don of the notorious Gambino family crime syndicate died in prison. What proceeded can only be described as a spectacle for his funeral with 22 limousines and 19 flower cars that snaked through Ozone Park in Queens, NY. There was local outrage that a man convicted of 5 murders, conspiracy to commit murder, racketeering, obstruction, tax evasion, gambling, extortion and loansharking was given such a grand farewell. I watched the funeral on television in total amazement and then a crazy idea entered my head.
Some people simply are not good people. They lie, they steal, they abuse or worse. Everyday people are now being called out for their present and past inappropriate behavior. No longer can people hide behind their power and influence to intimidate victims into submission. So why do we still feel compelled to praise these people when they die? Where is it written that we be polite and aggrandizing in death about people who were not worthy in life? Is this reluctance to judge born out of a societal tradition or is it born out of the fear of our own failings in life and how we indeed might be judged in death?
In Memoriam questions why we show respect for CERTAIN people when they die by unapologetically displaying the worst aspects of the human condition in the form of unconventional funeral wreath motifs. Admittedly harsh, though beautifully crafted, It challenges the status quo of how we react to death. It challenges the viewer to reflect on their own character and that of people around them in how human failings relate to their own lives. It questions the idea of legacy by boldly commenting on how some people will ultimately be remembered after the ceremony is over.
Although the idea for In Memoriam was sparked out of the death of a notorious gangster, it was not until the death of my own father many years later that I fully felt the gravity of this concept and understood why I needed to fully execute what is a difficult project for many to acknowledge, let alone fully comprehend.
I grew up in a misogynist and occasionally violent household. It is something that never fully leaves you. My father was a very bright, opinionated, charming medical doctor who was also a deeply troubled man. He had grown up during the second world war south of London and as a result had developed two life defining characteristics. First, he was deeply conscious of how fortunate we ALL WERE, AND Second, he had developed a deep dislike for his mother and it would seem women in general. Why exactly I will never truly know. My grandmother was ADMITTEDLY cold and a bit mean. She had taken care of 5 young boys mostly on her own, spending nights in a bomb-shelter the size of a Suburban for weeks on end whilst my grandad was literally off scheming in Churchill’s war room. It clearly effected them all irreparably. The 5 brothers scarcely ever spoke to each other in adulthood and not surprisingly, none of them ended up living anywhere near the UK.
When my father died, I remember feeling relieved for everyone, him ESPECIALLY. At his funeral I cried at the fact that the real tragedy was that my relationship with him had sadly ended MANY YEARS before. It was not possible to say that he was a great guy. He wasn’t. He was a deeply destructive human being to himself and those immediately around him. Years on it is that which I remember. It is ultimately his legacy and there is no false sentimentality that will ever make that change. That is why I decided to finally unravel this contentious and EMOTIONALLY charged project.