Seven Bridges Road

First, the disclaimer- I did not take this picture, just found it on the net. It is a photo of one of the many bridges that cross the Tar River in Rocky Mount, NC.

Reason for it is, is that I am obsessing about a mystery this morning, one that will become the nexus for part of my next digital studio work. For those unfamiliar with my 'art' art- that not made for family, consumers or as school examples- my 'art' art focuses on telling the stories of those who cannot. Something that is described in cultural anthropology as the role of the gravedancer. The gravedancer's job is to tell the stories of lives so they would not be forgotten- mostly, it is remembrances, like when you sit around the kitchen table and speak of 'remember the time when-'... that wakes a bit of the persons life, weaves it into yours, creates eternity through stories.

People who are not remembered, or who die unknown, or unresolved are the ones most in need of gravedancing- otherwise they become ghosts. While ghosts are not necessarily a bad thing, it is better for the souls to settle and rest, and telling their stories helps them to do that. *That* is what I do with my 'art' art, I try to tell the stories, help the souls to settle, knowing they are unforgotten. Be it superstition or be it what you will, it fills up part of me, lets me have an illusion at least of doing something. Time forgotten- art is more than pretty-on-the-wall.

So the mystery being the murders of Seven Bridges Road in Rocky Mount, NC, which is a rather dismal place. I have only been to the town a few times, and not the best section- lots of abandonment, disarray- no offense as I am sure that there are nice sections, but it seems an easy place to lose hope. In Rocky Mount, for the past few years, women have been disappearing. Lost women, poor, black, workers in the sex trade, addicts- women few people miss except those who love them. See who they are beyond the labels. Nine women all together- 3 missing, 6 dead, one of which who does not have a name. Murdered and dumped out on Seven Bridges Road, out in the woods and cotton fields, close to the place called Gethsemane. Curious.

I wonder about this. Not just the mystery, but the despair that turns someone into dust, that someone can just drop out of life without there being follow up, without someone looking for them, asking why? where did they go? what happened? How could so much time pass before someone realized what is going on? (In Vancouver it took decades and over 60 missing women before they found Pickton) I don't mean to be depressing- actually, the opposite. When something is noticed, attention can be paid and the issue resolved, steps taken towards prevention. Before tv, songs were made of this type of event, becoming cautionary tales, a memorial and warning all in one. Now there are movies, video, blogs, live feeds... important thing is to remember. Learn. Pass it on.