Ars moriendi

The Art of a Beautiful Death

20. March 2026. – 04. April
MegnyitóOpening: March 19, 2026, 6:00 pm
MegnyitjaRemarks by: Csókay András

For many years, I have been collecting material for this exhibition, photographing cemeteries of all denominations, conditions, and sizes located throughout (Greater) Hungary and Europe. Whenever I travel somewhere, I always visit the cemetery as well, because I believe that one cannot truly get to know a people or a culture without doing so. The richness of the human soul is reflected in the various graves and symbols; the structures, headstones, stone tablets, crosses, obelisks, etc., are therefore not merely sculptural forms to me, but represent the people’s attitude toward death and the afterlife. As many cultures, so many kinds of symbols.

I believe that in every human soul there is a resistance to the idea that existence might cease forever; at the same time, the culture of our age is all about avoiding suffering and excluding death. Prosperity and comfort have an alienating effect; the focus of our consumer society is on life, and the overvaluation of worldly pleasures pushes aside the idea of transience, which is why people today are most often left to face this alone. If we are to be honest, when walking through cemeteries, we inevitably think of our own death, of where we are headed. Passing away is a law of nature; awareness of it distinguishes humans from other living beings. And humanity’s awareness of death is a force that shapes culture.

So, in the course of my work, I tried to get to know the person who mourns and buries; to do this, I began reading cultural anthropology, theology, and literature, and I accumulated more and more written material, which will be available to read at the exhibition. The texts are diverse, but I believe—in some way—each one leads toward the Afterlife. I hope they reveal that as long as we treat the subject of death as a taboo, we are not truly taking our lives seriously. This is particularly relevant now, during the season of Lent, I believe.

Eszter Walton