A body caught between memory and erasure. Antemortem traces the soft residue of life before it slips into silence.
What remains just before disappearance? Antemortem captures the moment the body is suspended between presence and absence. It is the lament of flesh, poised at the edge of being forgotten.
These images are heavy with silence. Bodies collapse inward—exhausted, vulnerable, and almost translucent. The textures are pale and powdery: tulle veils, abandoned interiors, blood-tinged light. Burak Bulut Yildirim constructs an atmosphere of soft vanishing. There are no screams in these photographs, only surrender. A woman leans like a toppled statue, another floats like a soul mid-departure. The rooms they occupy echo with loss: cracked tiles, soft decay, the faint shadow of something once alive. The work feels sacred, private, and ceremonial. There’s something votive in the way light touches the skin—as if each image were a silent offering.
In Antemortem, the body does not die—it retreats. The viewer becomes a mourner, bearing witness not to violence, but to vanishing. The nudity here is not sexualized—it is the vulnerability of existence itself. Time feels halted, as though each frame were suspended in a breath between memory and erasure. Shot across decades, and curated into a fluid yet consistent body of work, these limited edition prints offer collectors something rare: quiet grief made beautiful, and absence transformed into presence.
https://burakbulut.org/antemortem/
