Rube Vandebril

The memorial card — a small, rectangular piece of paper. A name, a date, a face. It is given when something has to be let go: an administrative act, wrapped as a memory. But what if there was someone whose job it was to create that final image? Lilith is a photographer specializing in portraits for memorial cards. She is contacted when people believe the end is near. From nursing home rooms to cramped kitchens, she moves through the uncomfortable space between existence and farewell, where routine and mortality strangely and effortlessly intersect.

No synopsis available yet.

The memorial card — a small, rectangular piece of paper. A name, a date, a face. It is given when something has to be let go: an administrative act, wrapped as a memory. But what if there was someone whose job it was to create that final image? Lilith is a photographer specializing in portraits for memorial cards. She is contacted when people believe the end is near. From nursing home rooms to cramped kitchens, she moves through the uncomfortable space between existence and farewell, where routine and mortality strangely and effortlessly intersect.

The memorial card — a small, rectangular piece of paper. A name, a date, a face. It is given when something has to be let go: an administrative act, wrapped as a memory. But what if there was someone whose job it was to create that final image? Lilith is a photographer specializing in portraits for memorial cards. She is contacted when people believe the end is near. From nursing home rooms to cramped kitchens, she moves through the uncomfortable space between existence and farewell, where routine and mortality strangely and effortlessly intersect.

No synopsis available yet.

No synopsis available yet.