The art of restorative mortuary beautification, once a revered craft, is fading into obscurity. This decline mirrors broader shifts in how we approach death, from the rise of cremations to the diminishing role of traditional funeral rituals. But what does this loss signify for our relationship with mortality?
A Craft in Crisis
Restorative art, the process of preparing bodies for open-casket viewings, is facing an existential threat. Once a cornerstone of the funeral industry, it’s now often seen as expendable. The reasons are multifaceted: shifting consumer preferences, the financial appeal of cremations, and the consolidation of the funeral industry under profit-driven corporations.
Personally, I think what’s most striking is how this decline reflects our evolving discomfort with death. Cremation rates have soared, with direct cremations bypassing any form of ritualized farewell. This isn’t just about cost—though that’s a significant factor—it’s about a cultural shift away from confronting mortality head-on.
The Economics of Death
The financial disparity between traditional funerals and cremations is stark. A full funeral service averages around $8,300, while direct cremation can cost as little as $795. This gap has fueled criticism of the funeral industry as exploitative, a narrative popularized by Jessica Mitford’s The American Way of Death. Mitford’s exposé highlighted how grieving families were often upsold unnecessary services, painting restorative art as a frivolous luxury.
What many people don’t realize is that Mitford’s critique wasn’t just about money. She saw embalming and restoration as death-denying practices, masking the reality of mortality with cosmetics and ceremony. This perspective resonates with today’s ‘death acceptance’ movement, which advocates for natural, unprocessed farewells. Yet, even these alternatives have become commodified, with services like human composting costing thousands of dollars.
The Human Element
Despite the decline, restorative artists like Anthony Saldivar and Danielle Colquitt remain passionate about their work. Saldivar, a military veteran turned mortician, sees his craft as a way to honor the dead and provide solace to the living. Colquitt, one of the few Black women in the field, is determined to revive interest in restorative art, even founding a company, Embody Grace, to train specialists.
In my opinion, their dedication highlights a deeper truth: restorative art isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about dignity, both for the deceased and the bereaved. Colquitt’s work, for instance, often involves restoring bodies ravaged by disease or violence, allowing families a final moment of recognition and connection.
A Broader Perspective
The decline of restorative art also intersects with larger cultural trends. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated the shift toward private, virtual memorials, further eroding the role of public mourning rituals. This has led to what some call ‘disenfranchised grief,’ where death becomes a solitary, rushed affair.
If you take a step back and think about it, this trend reflects a broader atomization of society. As we become more disconnected, even death—once a communal experience—is increasingly privatized. This raises a deeper question: are we losing something essential by abandoning these rituals?
The Future of Farewells
While restorative art may be on the wane, its legacy endures. The techniques developed by pioneers like Joel E. Crandall revolutionized the funeral industry, making open-casket viewings a standard practice. Today, as the craft faces marginalization, figures like Colquitt are fighting to preserve it, not just as a profession but as a way of honoring the dead.
What this really suggests is that our approach to death is a reflection of our values. Whether through elaborate restorations or simple, natural burials, we seek to make sense of mortality in ways that resonate with our beliefs. The decline of restorative art isn’t just the loss of a craft—it’s the erosion of a particular way of saying goodbye.
In the end, the question isn’t whether restorative art will survive, but what its disappearance says about us. Are we moving toward a more honest acceptance of death, or are we simply avoiding it? Personally, I think the answer lies somewhere in between—and that’s what makes this moment so fascinating.
