Fontaine de Jarente, Paris

I had seen the Fontaine de Jarente in Le Marais before. It’s stunning. It is located on Impasse de la Poissonnerie in the 4th arrondissement of Paris. It is listed as a historic monument and was built in 1783. That’s 4 years before the United States had a constitution.

The thing is, it had this big blank rectangle in its center. To me, that proved too tempting. It’s like the world’s biggest, most grandiose frame. So, I altered it with an image of a mourning woman. I felt like with all the things going on in the world today in Ukraine, Gaza, and immigration in the United States, there is a level of cruelty that seems unrelenting. Perhaps it has always been there, but it seems to me as though divisions are rising and communities are being fractured at an accelerated rate recently. In that process, there are countless casualties.

The mourning woman seemed apropos to punctuate this particular moment. I wrote “Les Saints Oubliés” (The Forgotten Saints) on the image. For me, this is a way of challenging history. Collectively, history has a way of exalting some and forgetting others. Some historical figures are raised to mythological levels, some simply discarded. Modernity carries on this tradition in the form of celebrity. Celebrity is a sophomoric ranking system as it often relies less on achievement or contribution, and more on performative controversy, combativeness and shock.

The Forgotten Saints is simply an idea I had after spending a lot of time in Paris. The street names, the churches, the ever present acknowledgement of Saints. One can not navigate Paris without uttering the word Saint a dozen times a day. Conversely, there are The Catacombs where one can wander human remains stacked like soup cans on grocery store shelves. Nameless people, stripped of their identities, and reduced to the generic commonality of a human skull. Unrecognizable and forgotten.

In my own life, I can’t recount a real connection with a renowned person. The people who have had the biggest impact on my life and the people who have reinforced my experience of what it is to be human were not Saints. They were waiters, maintenance workers, office managers, and my friends. These people, of seemingly little cultural importance, have enriched my life. They have taught me, saved me, comforted me and shared my fondest memories. They are my Saints. While I have no objection to the Catholic church’s tradition of canonization, through my worst struggles, Saint Jude never appeared and guided me. The people who aided me in those times will not be honored with statues and city squares bearing their names, and yet, to me, they are the most significant connection I have.

The point of The Forgotten Saints is simply to acknowledge that, for most of us, the most impactful and sincere connections we have are to each other. That in an interconnected world, we often function in our own communities as both the saviors and the forsaken. I think it’s important to understand that function, because it gives a lot of meaning to quotidian tasks of our daily lives. To recognize the importance we all hold and share, mostly in anonymity

While this fountain is in fact a historical monument, history is not a static thing. This period, today, will become history, and it is important to participate in marking that history. I did not damage the fountain in any way, and eventually the image will be gone. I wanted to simply acknowledge this moment with this image. Photos will be taken of this piece and then it will simply cease to exist, but for now in 2025, this fountain has an addendum relating to our current challenges.