As I drove out to the old graveyard, I was fairly sure I could get over the six-foot fence at a point where it bordered another property. I certainly did not want to attract attention by climbing over the front fence, even though tractor-trailer boxes were parked along the road, offering partial cover. Besides, I didn’t necessarily want to leave my car on the road in this part of town.
So I drove through the light snow squall to the back of the adjacent property until I found a section of the fence that seemed scalable (in both directions, which was key). The radio said the turnpike was closed due to the current blizzard, a multi-vehicle accident the unfortunate result. The snow was not headed my way. While snow would have perhaps accentuated the old landscape of this cemetery, I certainly did not want to leave tracks. I also didn’t necessarily want to get paged for work while trying to be quiet in there. I imagined myself having to talk on my cell phone to help resolve some work issue while standing waist-deep in thorn bushes. Luckily, my pager only went off once during my escapade, and it was before I hopped the fence. I made sure to snap all my communications devices into their little holsters, as the last place you want to lose a pager or cell phone is in an abandoned cemetery (believe me, I’ve done it).
I thrashed through the dried mile-a-minute foliage and dead poison ivy until I reached a road, of sorts. I could see large monuments through the trees, as well as another, better-kept cemetery off in the distance. It was cold. The brambles and tangled rose bushes beckoned a forked greeting. It was all very dissonant yet reassuring at the same time. Like stepping into a different, albeit friendly, dimension - the fabled Elysian Fields where the favored photographer can enjoy perfect happiness, visiting the home of the dead who were judged worthy.
The sky was mostly cloudy, with occasional sun peeks,
prompting me to jump between 400 and 100 ISO a number of times. This is
digital, so the change is simple. I do my serious work with film, but I didn’t
really want to lug the heavy stuff through this dense overgrowth. It also takes
time to change film rolls and I did not want to be encumbered with that. I
wanted to travel light and quick. It was
spooky in there, with not so much as a bird or squirrel about, just cold
reckless winter. Which is why I was quite startled to glance up and see what appeared
to be a human form ahead of me!
I really didn’t need the Lady of the Weeds (in the photo above) to bring
appropriate gravity to the situation, but there she was, facing me like a
gunslinger. Strange how the dead vines and ivy still cling to the bases of
monuments, the faces of angels, the bodies of other mourning figures. The
winter has not killed off the red and yellow berries – they add a splash of
color to the muted hues of winter, of death. The mausoleums look small amidst
the huge overgrown trees and other foliage – they seem anything but grandiose.
The granite pyramid with its obscure marble statues stands reticent facing the
street, its meaning obscured by years, by trees, by the tangle of current
events. I find cover under a large evergreen, to zoom in to the pyramid
while keeping out of view of the cars driving down the road. I'm wondering if anyone really cares. Well, at least I care. The weeds are
matted down here, like maybe they might have been cut back before winter. In
fact, one area seems like it was somewhat cleared, with tombstones uprighted, small
trees cut back, flags placed near some small military headstones.
After hanging my largest camera up high on a rusty metal post, I am relieved to find that the old vines have
shrouded the barbed wire, making it safe for my legs to go over. You would
think that a six-foot man would not have much trouble getting over a six-foot
fence - but you would be wrong. I’m no gymnast, I think to myself, as I scale
the vines– ow – cramp in my leg! Kind of
bizarre that I'm doing this, being on the wrong side of fifty. Crush-proof and
flight-ready, I am not. But, in the name of art, I throw my bulk over the fence,
grab my camera, and drop down to the ground. I think I ruptured a spinal disk.The only thing more ridiculous than my graceless exit out of that graveyard was my exit out of the SAME graveyard two days later! More on that next week.
Please click here to read part two of this story:
Elysian Fields – The Second Coming
