TW: Vegetarians and vegans beware: many bloody animal meat photos to come.
A perfect combination of factors made this photoshoot one of my favorites of the year. My husband is in a band with a Classics professor at Carleton College, Jake Morton. Jake studies ancient animal slaughter and sacrifice through a very experiential lens: he recreates the process and rituals and documents what he observes. Since animal sacrifice practices were a very communal event, he invited a circle of folks to join him at Spring Wind Farm, including professors in adjacent disciplines (hey, liberal arts!), his students, farmers, and friends.
It was a windy but perfect Friday fall evening just north of Northfield. We only showed up for the butchering, cooking, and feasting portion of the event. Earlier in the day, Sarah, the butcher of Cannon Valley Butchers Block, patiently looked a 7 month-old lamb in the eye and waited for the most clean, quick, and painless shot through the head. From there, they immediately started preparing the lamb for cooking and sacrifice, with the intent being to move quickly and cook the mean before rigor mortis set in.
By the time we arrived, they were well underway with prepping the different cuts of meat. Some went directly onto the fire, some into a stew pot, and others including the organs were reserved for the “altar,” the ritual itself. The thighbones were wrapped in the most beautiful webbing of fat preserved from earlier in the day, and were a key part of the sacrifice, going onto the fire after we made a request of god. Jake obviously has papers written on the subject, which are a better place than this for a more comprehensive overview of all that took place. A reporter was also there, and I’ll link to the story once it’s live.
Jake, a former chef and current (beloved) teacher, both butchered and explained the process and meaning as he went. He also played host throughout it all, serving us stew when the time came, and wine and the most wonderful bread made by his wife Morgan. I loved everything about it. As a meat-eater, I felt gratitude for getting a closer look at what it takes to deconstruct and prepare an animal, and a reminder of all the parts that make us alive. As a photographer, I was struck with the shades of reds of flesh and organs, and the textural creaminess of the fats. And as a person who believes our best spiritual lives are developed in the context of community, I was brimming with gratitude to be part of this one.
We moved to Northfield two years ago, just a few months before the pandemic shut down a lot of community-building opportunities. Standing in a circle, watching incense and blood being flung onto a fire already sizzling with lamb fat as kids and animals and neighbors looked on, made me feel part of this place. I’m a big believer in having more meaningful gatherings, and this was a high benchmark to aspire to.
