Art of Murder, by Charis Kirchheimer
Following text and photos by Charis Kirchheimer.
If someone could tell you when you are going to die, would you want to know?
Everyone has asked themselves whether they would want to be told when they are going to die. People fumble from an immediate inclination to know to quickly retreating into their mental comfort zone, realizing what a silly question that is and dismissing the inquiry entirely.
But perhaps a more appropriate and less daunting question is if someone could tell you not when, but how you are going to die, would you still refuse the answer?
What if they could show you?
Death is the only absolute we have in life. A conspicuous fascination with it is usually considered to be strange and disturbing, however people remain irresistibly drawn to the manifestations of death. I am one of these people. It awakens something in me; I see beauty in it.
They may assume “normal” lives, buying the latest best sellers, watching prime time, retiring and rising at the expected hours. But every so often we all meander from the conventional and escape into a world of fantasy and horror. My photos transport the viewer to a point in time so wrenching that in any other context it could be appalling. But I aim to preserve a mysterious, thrilling air, supplying just enough to enchant and engross without complete disclosure.
I find this quote by Diane Arbus especially rousing: “A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.” Like Diane who was able to separate herself from other photographers through her chosen subjects, I try to explore areas that are rarely addressed through any medium. The people Diane shot were victimized, characters rarely seen and often excluded.
My photographs whisper tales of make-believe, wonder, surprise, tragedy and brutality. The existence of this one person is held in just a series of photographs, and marks the end of their life’s story and beings the story of their death.
When I look at something I frame it as a photograph. Every glance of mine, each blink and turn of the head is manifested through my camera lens. With my camera, I can capture my mind’s vision through creating tangible proofs of the things I see. They serve as type of museum exhibit, enabling people to enter and explore different collections of photographs out of intrigue and enjoyment. They are individual creations acting as artifacts and specimens, since they hold such an abundance of life and death in one glossed space.
The series here shows a woman seconds before she is suddenly killed. Her night out is abruptly cut short and in the midst of up-keeping her appearance she is quite literally defaced. While scrutinizing her reflection for any flaws or blemishes, death is peering at her from behind, staring at something sublime.
When he first appears in the unlit doorway, there is no hint of ulterior motives. He slinks in as swiftly as she goes. For a fleeting second, she could have seen her death, for the same glass that held her reflection revealed her imminent demise.
In this series viewers can revel in a topic typically considered dim and gruesome. Through the gross documentation that illustrates a night in which anything goes, quite literally, the story of her death will last unparalleled.
The life of this woman is permanently recorded, supplying the indelible proof that she died with no mercy. She went out in hopes of a good time, and it was someone else’s idea of a good time that ended her night prematurely.
