I have a thing for cemeteries. Not in some morbid, death-obsessed way. I just find them to be fascinating places, full of untold stories - stories just waiting to be dug up, if you will pardon the pun. As I gaze upon a tombstone, I cannot help but wonder just who this person was, what kind of life they led, how they died... It must be the historian/archivist in me. In my wanderings, both near and far, I have sauntered through some very interesting and beautiful cemeteries. Through the camera lens, I have tried to share a part of their tale...
Lviv/Lwów, Ukraine - November 1996
This one haunts me still. In a fairly wide open section of the Lychakiv Cemetery (or Cmentarz Łyczakowski) lies the tomb of Józefa Markowska. It literally took my breath away and helped me forget how frozen I was on that cold and damp autumn day, at least momentarily. I regret only taking one photo, but it was the pre-digital age and I was rationing my film as much as possible. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I have recently learned the following: Not far from there, there is one of the most poetic tombstones. A sleeping young woman, Józefa Markowska, who died in 1877, attracts eyes and provokes weird narrations where for some reason she is referred to as Barbara and several versions of her demise are voiced. One argues that she was an actress and died on the boards, another one claims that she had poisoned herself on discovery that her sweetheart was betraying her. (http://www.castles.com.ua/lychakow.html) Good news: It appears that she has gotten a little bit of a scrubbing since I visited her. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/oligator83/2707225705/in/photostream/)
Bury St. Edmunds, England - June 1999
Bury St. Edmunds is one of my favourite places in England. As my friend Jon hails from the quaint Suffolk town, I have had the pleasure of visiting on a few occasions. In the town centre lie the ruins of the Abbey - once one of the richest Benedictine monasteries in the country. Here in 1214, the Archbishop of Canterbury read out the Charter of Liberties which was later signed by King John as the Magna Carta. With the change of fortunes the Catholic Church faced in the reign of Henry VIII, the abbey was dissolved and destroyed. If memory serves, these gravestones are to be found on the grounds of St. Mary's Church, which lies a few moments away from the Abbey Gardens, near the imposing Norman Tower. The gravestone on the right is that of Sarah, wife of Ed. Worton, who died on 7 November 1698. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/tasa_m/2831125702/sizes/l/)
Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, Paris - June 2008
On my most recent - and hopefully far from last - trip to Paris, I finally made a point of visiting the (in)famous cemetery, the final resting place of (amongst many, many others) Édith Piaf, Molière, Maria Callas, Honoré de Balzac, and Chopin. The place is huge and easy to get 'lost' in, especially when one does not bother to get a map of the layout. Personally, I was quite content to wander somewhat aimlessly, discovering tombstones as we went. My companion that day had but one mission - to track down Oscar Wilde's monument in order to snap some photos for a friend. After countless twists and turns, it appeared, rather majestic, before us. As taken as I was with the graffiti and lipstick-kiss covered tomb, I positively loved the statue that adorns the gravestone across from Wilde's final resting place. If this one had a theme song, it would surely be Sinead O'Connor's I Am Stretched On Your Grave. Sadly, I forgot to note the name of the remembered. Guess I will just have to go back. (http://www.pere-lachaise.com/)
Amazing!
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