In San Francisco, interring a body or even cremating it is illegal. There are no cemeteries in San Francisco. The Presidio and Mission Dolores graves found loopholes. Otherwise, we comply by exporting our corpses southbound to Colma, the “cemetery town.” We’re left behind in a weird, bodiless vacuum of a city. And yet, the Diego, as a gallery, is full of the words that occupy churches: the clerestory windows marching up to a round rose window, one long nave ending in the altar of the Rivera mural. Drawing on that vocabulary, I wanted to create something that held onto the body through images of it, to make the stained glass window the space was missing.

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