An Anatomy of Melancholy

"An Anatomy of Melancholy" is a cinematic meditation on mortality which takes the form of a special anatomy book - one in the process of being made. As hand-drawn illustrations appear slowly and painfully on the pages of the book, showing us parts of a dissected human body, we witness both the act of creation and a testament to our own passing. Accompanying the simple but powerful images of the human body, we hear the words of Keats' Ode on Melancholy: "Ay, in the very temple of Delight. Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine..." "An Anatomy of Melancholy" is a cinematic meditation on mortality which takes the form of a special anatomy book - one in the process of being made. As hand-drawn illustrations appear slowly and painfully on the pages of the book, showing us parts of a dissected human body, we witness both the act of creation and a testament to our own passing. Accompanying the simple but powerful images of the human body, we hear the words of Keats' Ode on Melancholy: "Ay, in the very temple of Delight. Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine..." "An Anatomy of Melancholy" is a cinematic meditation on mortality which takes the form of a special anatomy book - one in the process of being made. As hand-drawn illustrations appear slowly and painfully on the pages of the book, showing us parts of a dissected human body, we witness both the act of creation and a testament to our own passing. Accompanying the simple but powerful images of the human body, we hear the words of Keats' Ode on Melancholy: "Ay, in the very temple of Delight. Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine..." "An Anatomy of Melancholy" is a cinematic meditation on mortality which takes the form of a special anatomy book - one in the process of being made. As hand-drawn illustrations appear slowly and painfully on the pages of the book, showing us parts of a dissected human body, we witness both the act of creation and a testament to our own passing. Accompanying the simple but powerful images of the human body, we hear the words of Keats' Ode on Melancholy: "Ay, in the very temple of Delight. Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine..."