Keeping Souls

The exhibitions that I curate are part of this impulse. These include
the exhibition of Thomas Merton’s photographs in James Memorial
Chapel last spring. Currently on view at a Chelsea gallery is a show
I organized of works from the collection of John Ashbery. John
decided that upon his death his entire art collection, mostly works
given to him by friends, would be sold. The proceeds will go toward
supporting experimental artists in various fields. I realized once the
show was hanging that its true subject is friendship and the lives
that these artists lived.
Someone told me recently that the word “curate” comes from the
Medieval Latin word curatus, which is translated as “one responsible
for the care (of souls).” A curate is better known today as
a person with ecclesiastic responsibilities to a parish priest. My
calling in hospice and my role as a curator is part of a whole. I am
caring for lives by remembering the dead. It is spiritually entering a
sacred space.
What I do in hospice is no different. I walk alongside patients while
they are alive. I engage in life review and learn about their lives. I
try to remember as I sit bedside that the patient was once young
and vibrant. They have had full lives with accomplishments and disappointments,
challenges and struggles. I want to hold on to their
stories, and by doing so to not be afraid to enter the space between
the living and the dead. I spent an hour with an eighty-seven-yearold
woman the other day. It was my third visit. Her decline has
been steep. Her spirit, however, remains strong. I learned so much
from her about how to live a life fully and treat others with compas-