Ghost Upon the Floor

  

 And run there. And take photographs. And, sometimes, I just read under a tree. I have a favorite tree. 

 This afternoon I went to read there, but ended up taking my camera (and phone) and taking countless photos, too. The ones here are all from my phone.

 This area of the cemetery is one of my favorites. One of the oldest areas on the oldest grounds, which was also used as a cemetery before the cemetery was officially incorporated. Here, in the fading afternoon light, the world, and even October, stands still. Every now and then a leaf will fall to the ground. If you’re listening, you can just hear it.   

     It's been a quite crypt here at Ghost Upon the Floor this year. To our readers, we apologize for the silent graveyard. For many haunted, Halloween hearts, November brings the start of a new year, and in this new year, things will be more active among our tombstones and posts here.

     The falling November leaves, rustling. A setting sun, marble grave stones tilted but standing strong. A mausoleum door creaks, slowly, the dark twilight descending. In the next year, the Ghost and Witch will walk forth from our graves upon the floor.

    I took these photos in the cemetery back this October past. I'd been talking with my good friend Michael who has a fondness for owls and cemeteries, and it occured to me that I had never photographed something interesting in Forest Lawn. There is no shortage of interesting, singular, quiet and beautiful aspects to and monuments within the Lawn. This has left no shortage of photos left to be taken; and so I am always up for the opportunity to document and share new sights with all who may be reading here. With that thought in mind, I took my camera to M A Campbell's monument, thinking I would quickly write up a blog post. I find myself four months later finally coming across the pictures in my camera, and organizaing and uploading them.

    I first came to know M A Campbell's monument when on a tour one beating warm summer afternoon in Forest Lawn's air conditioned trolley, one of my favorite guides began discussing what I have always thought of as "tree stones." These gravestones made to look like old trees, from a mostly older time, spanning a wide period between the nineteenth and earlier twentieth centuries. My guide mentioned the art of these tree stones was popular and symbolic for a considerable amount of time-- and in many instances, the condition of the tree is related to the life a person lived. Cut or broken branches are a sign that the person in memorium died young, cut down in the prime of their life. Such a clear metaphor, one that never occured to me before I was told it. In doing some of my own digging and researching online, I haven't found much on the origin of where these stones might have come from. Some sources credit a society founded in 1890 with the start of this practice; however, I've personally seen many of these that  were made from as many as ninety to one-hundred years before 1890. My own thoughts figure the stones were a common practice, and this society co-opted them and made their own versions for their members, as can be seen here. 


   But I digress. M A Campbell's tree stands in something of a clearing in Forest Lawn. On the original 80 acres, not far from the Pratt Monument I have written about. The tree stands rather by itself, which seems unlike so many places in the older areas of the cemetery. I had walked and ran past it many times, and even took photos of it, but when my tour guide that summer day mentioned that one of the Lawn's tree stones had the detail of an owl looking out a hole in the tree, I took immediately to looking for the stone in question, and quickly found it. What I had loved about M A Campbell's gravestone before was the open book resting on the tree, with the words of a life written on the pages, open. It had never occured to me to look up, really up, and see the owl sitting in the top of the broken tree.


    The feel the owl brings to the stone fits rather beautifully into this spot in the cemetery. The first time I read M A Campbell's dates on the stone I was confused. At first glance, I took the person's name to be "Ma," a likely nickname for a grown woman, quite possibly a mother or grandmother. But a reading of the dates shows M A Campbell was a two year old child at the time of her or his death. A child who was born in 1801 and passed on in 1803. A child who had a family willing and able to construct this elaborate, artistic remembrance. I don't believe a two year old would have been called "Ma," but it is possible. Rather, I believe that M A are "M. A.": the child's initials. Standing for what first and middle names, I may never know. There is nothing I have found on the Internet or beyond. Only this monument, a tree, standing as testament to a life ended so soon after it began-- a life with immense potential and roots large as this tree; a life ended, this broken tree, which nature has reclaimed, with our owl standing guard in his residence above.

    The book of a life, the tree of a life, the natural end to one's life. Simple truth, standing alone in this silent clearing in Forest Lawn.

 You can see my whole album of M A Campbell in October, here: 

M A Campbell, Forest Lawn Cemetery, October 2012

All Photos Copyright Bryan Ball Photography, All Rights Reserved. 

 In honor of Edgar Allan Poe's 204th Birthday on this cold January 19 afternoon, I give you a piece of his work, mixed in with some of mine, in small tribute.

 It is July in upstate New York. Heat and bright pressure leans down, in a dry, lazy haze that seems to have always been, and will never go away. Engulfed in the summer now, my run this morning through Forest Lawn Cemetery involved pushing through air that has seemingly been replaced by raw heat-- everywhere.

 In other words, I miss October. I spent part of this afternoon looking at the vast expanses of my cemetery photography, and found this album I took last October in a small cemetery in a nearby suburb  which is not very far from my city, and not very far from the very rural area which surrounds us.


 St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery was established in 1849, by the Amana Ebenezer Society. Some background on residents of Amana settlements. A religiously-based colony of people from Germany who emigrated to the United States in the mid 1800's, the Amana communities followed a Catholic tradition, and believe in peaceful, quiet work toward one's faith and values, rather than evangelizing the Christian Bible. With these beliefs in mind, the Amana or Ebenezers lived a communal life, entirely self-sufficient, until the 1930's. First living in New York (where this burial ground lies), they later moved mainly to Iowa, and have historically been mistaken for Amish peoples.

 Today, their graveyard lies next door to the Mayer Brothers Cider Mill and Store, an absolute and frequent autumn destination for yours truly. The red buildings seen in these photographs are the cider mill, where each September and October pumpkins adorn the decor, and the smells of cider, apples, pies and maple syrup carry over the darkening light and into the cemetery each October.

 In only mere months these photos will be a year old-- but there's a certain something here, among the orange and the falling leaves between the stones-- that help pass these long, hot summer days. When it feels as if October is so far away.



You may view my Photo Album of St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery here:

St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery, in October

 Earlier in January, I ended up one Saturday in a section of Forest Lawn I'm not often in. Near one of the cemetery's lakes, there is a section filled with large, more modern mausoleums and statues-- some of which I have photographed before. Behind a row of medium sized mausoleums is a growth of trees and a riverbank, which leads to one of the quieter parts of the creek inside the cemetery. The spot is a safe little place ideal for quiet, thinking, calm.

 But I had never noticed what you can see there, up at the top of the hill on the opposite side of the area. One would think I hadn't noticed the mausoleum at the top before because of the heavy trees which, with their leaves, must surround and shroud the hill during the spring, summer and fall months.

 The mausoleum stood at the top of the hill, imposing. As I started to climb up the hill it stands on, I realized I'd never been up there before. And I'd picked the perfect day to start. The photos don't show how steep the hill actually is, I believe, and how difficult it was to climb through a fresh inch of snow up to the top. A newer section of the cemetery, most of the stones along the way were new, fresh and modern-- and contrasted with what lay at the top.

 Up close, the mausoleum is even larger than I'd expected. Though several random, separate markers populate the hill at the top, none appear connected to the mausoleum which bears no name. The Greek symbols/lettering for the Alpha and the Omega decorate the piece above the door-- and that is all. I searched for a name plate, a marker or something bearing a name, to no avail. Barring the slight possibility that something lays on the ground around the structure, the monument appears to be nameless. Once again, as so often within the cemetery, I was wondering. "Who were you?" 


 From the mausoleum, you are able to see much of this area of the cemetery. All of the section around the lake is visible-- and across the creek, to the first of the older sections of the cemetery, such as the one where the Pratt Monument lies. Behind the mausoleum, there is another steep hill down to the creek, with the cemetery's chapel directly on the other side.

 At the top you hear everything. All the sounds of the cemetery. The creek running around you, completely, surrounding you. The ducks and the geese from by the bridge. The wind in the trees. The silence of being in the middle of the vast cemetery. On this hill with what likely is the largest mausoleum in Forest Lawn, the mausoleum without a name.




You may view my photo album of the Hill here:

Forest Lawn, Hill, January 15, 2012

I've been spending yet more time than usual at Forest Lawn. For the last few months, I've fallen back into running, and on the weekends-- or the odd weekday I am not at work before the gates close at 5PPM-- I take my run through the winding, gorgeous hills of the cemetery. A blessing and a curse for me, I often stumble upon striking monuments I have never seen before, and unfortunately am quite a distance away from my car and camera. Some of them I come back for after my run, and most I remember exactly where I found them and am able to take some photographs.

 For a few weeks of running, I kept seeing the top of the Parker Monument, making a mental note of it, and (quite frankly) forgetting about it. Not until I came back with my camera for a stone nearby did I take a second, true look at this monument-- and realize that it is one of the more arresting pieces of statuary in Forest Lawn. I see many standards of monument art, and fall in love with them. Tropes such as the heavenward pointing finger, the books resting on stone trees or even the four angels such as those who adorn the Pratt Monument, are repeated, sometimes often.

 I've never before seen anything like the Parkers' statues. A full, likely male figure-- suited and cloaked-- with a faded stone face, stands atop a base. The large stone bust of an older woman, Laura Parker (1803-1888) decorates the front, and to the sides on her left and right, two differing male busts stand (appearing to float), with halved profiles. The detail on the statuary of the base has beautifully stood the test of time. There is a small stone, impossible to read without a rubbing, which stands in front of the monument. The last fully legible date, under Laura's, name and likeness, is 1888. Unless the monument was erected much later than the last known death, the stone monument is, at the youngest, 123 years old.

 Part of my affinity for cemeteries is, as I've likely written about here, the beauty that is the living's tributes to those who have been lost. I wonder what it was that caused the Parker Monument to be made. Was it Laura's idea? Or one of these men-- her husband? Brother? Father? Sons? The family set up of a father, mother and two sons would appear the most logical-- but noticeably absent are any spouses the sons may have had. I wonder who the artist may have been, in 1880's Buffalo, NY, who had the original idea of the halved profiles. I wonder who these people were; what they did, what may be remembered beyond the stone, and what is not. Some of the stones I find at Forest Lawn are readily available on Goggle, with articles or at least brief summaries with some information on these long ago people. Not the Parkers. Searches on multiple search engines have returned only information on another person with the surname of Parker who is interred in the Red Jacket monument, and an entry in a publication from the Buffalo and Erie County Historical Society which mentions a Laura Parker, who's father was a general in the Civil War. The time frame certainly fits-- and, possibly, it may be the general standing on top of the stone. But I have found nothing concrete to confirm these Parkers are the same Parkers from the stone in Forest Lawn.

 I will keep looking, and post any updates I may find.

 View my Photo Album of the Parker Monument here: 

Forest Lawn, Parker Monument, 12-03 & 12-10-11

  Well, here begins my previously posted about trips to Western New York cemeteries during October. I have been keeping up with the trips, although they haven't as quickly translated into posts. While originally this was conceived as a weekly posting, I believe that this week leading up to Halloween will be Cemetery Week at Ghost Upon the Floor, and I'll update with new cemeteries ever day or so. I think it best to start chronologically, and start with my several trips to Forest Lawn I've made in these last few weeks of October.

 I photographed monuments, stones, angels, changing leaves and graves in what very well be my favorite cemetery. In the photo albums, which are more photo essays now, you will see things I've already photographed. Old friends such as the Pratt Monument and his angels make appearances, as do new statues and stones I discovered around the graveyard.

 While planting some deep fall colored mums in my recently discovered great-grandparents' urn in one of the cemetery's older sections, I discovered the grave pictured above, of Silas Henry Fish. Something just struck me about the way Silas' grave is constructed, on a shady hill, in his single, solitary above ground crypt. A huge cross lays on top of him, as opposed to the few stone flowers which adorn his wife's next to him. The first day of photography, as you can see above, I was there near sunset, and the sun setting shadows reminded me, for some reason, of the last act in Bram Stoker's "Dracula," as Jonathan Harker and company race the setting sun and the Prince of Darkness to his castle. When I returned a few days later for a series I will post later this week, I took several black and white photos of Silas Fish, and the stone work is even more striking and highlighted. I'm partial to the name Silas, too, I might mention, because of the character in Neil Gaiman's modern children's classic "The Graveyard Book." And this Silas lies on one of the most silent, peaceful hills in Forest Lawn.

 Always, I'm drawn back the short distance to the hill where the Pratt Monument stands. I took some shots of Pratt and his Angels in Autumn, and explored their section a bit more than before. Among the new stones I found were this pondering woman, who stands seated in a fenced in area among one of the older, circa 1900 areas of the graveyard. I'm ever fascinated by the artwork that lies within Forest Lawn. And however many times I visit the grounds, I always find some new beauty.


 I could spend hours among the stones, walking with my camera, finding and rediscovering new areas, art and the ways in which we remember those who have lived, and gone before us. I took far more photos than I have uploaded to the photo albums, but I tried to narrow the selection down to something I hope you, too, will find interesting-- a tour of the bright bursting orange autumn fall in this sprawling, magnificent cemetery.

View the photo albums from my first two trips below:

October in Forest Lawn, 2011

 

Fall in Forest Lawn Afternoon, 10-04-11

This week, I was fortunate enough to stop by an open cemetery on a very heavy, snowy evening. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me. But we did manage to take some interesting shots with camera phones... and found more than one orb floating around the graveyard, as you can see in my gallery.

In this very much older cemetery, there is a large house by the gate, inhabited with working lights on, that absolutely belongs in a cemetery. I took a closer picture that sadly did not come out. But you can see it in the background here.


 I so desperately wanted to capture how the mausoleum, pictured here, looked at me from between the trees. I could hear Robert Frost's words. "The only other sound's the sweep/ of easy wind and downy flake/ The woods are lovely, dark and deep."

Stopping By Graves on a Snowy Evening

 This morning when I woke up, the view from my window was cold. Barren trees, patches of snow and a sky a single shade of white dirtied with bleak grey.

Fall is over. To try and combat the coming months of this cold lifelessness outside, I thought I would finally post some photos from my October cemetery outing.



 You can see my album here:

Forest Lawn, October 2010