Memorialisation option

Edward John Trelawny’s Records of Shelley, Byron, and the Author is, according to blogger Pykk:

a gossipy, wayward, autobiographical book by a moustach’d Romantic who tracked down both poets in 1822 and stayed with them for a while by the Mediterranean. He was still there when Shelley died, and alert enough to rescue the poet’s unburnt heart from his funeral pyre. The cremation, though romantic on paper, was not a romantic gesture; the body had to be carried from the shoreline where it was found to Rome for burial, and the authorities, fearing infectious disease, weren’t going to let them travel through the countryside with an intact corpse.


“In snatching this relic from the fiery furnace,” Trelawny writes, “my hand was severely burnt; and had anyone seen me do the act I should have been put into quarantine.” The heart was passed on to Mary Shelley, who wrapped it in a copy of her husband’s Adonaïs and deposited it in a box on her desk.

[Source]

No going back

That modern death has failed to find its place on the continuum of ordinary life events is something we all recognise and more or less vehemently deplore. For most a funeral is a hermetically sealed, isolated (or devastated) worst-day-of-my-life episode rarely to be recalled, and only then with a shudder. We quarantine the bereaved and shoo them into the care of weird race of cool-blooded expatriates from another planet. Truly, a funeral is a para-normal and intensely private event with more than a touch of the hugger-mugger about it.

Feelings like this are echoed by a recently widowed blogger in Wales: “I found myself standing on stage introducing the Master of Ceremonies for the event – who was none other than the funeral director who buried R.

This situation was made all the more weird by the fact that he was wearing jeans and T-shirt, rather than his sombre funeral garb, sang in a rather excellent tenor voice and told a lot of slightly risqué jokes over the course of the evening. I am not sure what I expected a funeral director to do in his spare time, but it certainly wasn’t this.

But it didn’t end there. The other team performing this evening was led by the couple who own R’s burial field. They are lovely people, and made sure I was OK, but it was all very peculiar, standing there having a post-performance glass of wine with them.”

This being how it is, it was no surprise that there was so much media excitement yesterday about a brand new funeral photography enterprise, Funeography. The sub-text was Why on EARTH would anybody want a funeral commemorated with weepy snaps?

It’s a reasonable position, things being as they are, to take. I’ve just spoken to David at In Our Hearts Images in Lincolnshire. He and his partner Esther have been going for six months now and they’ve not exactly had the world beating a path to their door. For Esther this has been an insight into the Brit way of death. In Holland, where she comes from, they do it all the time. Until yesterday they were one of only three businesses in the UK offering the service.

If you’ve created something wonderful, that you’re proud of, you want to revisit it and share it. The only way to do that is to document it.

Laurel Catts in Sydney, Australia, is extremely proud of the send-off she gave for her son David. The funeral was filmed and posted on Vimeo. I posted it on this blog. Laurel emailed me this morning:  “David was the most incredible person and we wanted the funeral to reflect his wonderful personality and generosity of spirit.  Hence, I am so pleased that you thought the funeral service was a great and very moving send-off.” It was wonderful, wasn’t it? We wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Thank you, Laurel, for sharing it. You show us the way.

WARNING! This blog is about to transmigrate and inhabit a new server. The process of reincarnation may take a couple of days of suspended animation, but reborn we shall be. I can’t guarantee that the new flesh we put on will be incorruptible; indeed, it will probably look dispiritingly like the old. See you after the resurrection!

Not so first as he thinks

From Australia’s Herald Sun:

A CANCER victim yesterday became the first person to be buried upright at Australia’s only vertical cemetery.

Allan Heywood lost his battle with cancer last Tuesday and was buried in the unusual, space-saving grave in the new vertical cemetery outside Camperdown in western Victoria.

“It’s nice to be first at something. Everybody wants their little place in history,” the Skipton man said with the hint of a laugh.

“I’ve attended a lot of funerals over the years and I’ve never attended one that I’ve enjoyed … I’m an atheist as well,” he said.

Mr Heywood paid $2750 – about half the cost of a basic conventional burial – to be buried upright in a biodegradable shroud, conveyed to his final resting place on a steel trolley which is angled vertically to lower the body into a tubular grave.

He said the lower cost and that there was no graveside service, headstone, casket or grave marker meant his children wouldn’t face any financial burden and could arrange their own memorial service at the local pub or footy club.

Mr Heywood’s body was lowered feet first into its hole by cemetery officials. When his body has been joined by 39, 999 other bodies, the space-saving cemetery will be grassed over and grazed.

Vertical burial is approved in some Asian countries and also Holland – but I don’t think any have been carried out there.

Fact: The world’s first-ever vertical burial took place in England (or, as they say in the US, England, England). It was one of two last wishes of the delightfully bonkers Major Peter Billiere who died precisely nine months to the day after predicting he would.

His funeral was held on 11 June 1800 at Box Hill in Surrey in a hole reputedly 100 feet deep. Into this, Major Billiere was lowered head first, according to his instructions, and there he will remain, according to his philosophy, until the Day of Judgement when he will be resurrected right way up in a world turned upside down. The headstone reads: “Here lies Major Peter Labilliere, with his head in the ground and his feet in the air.”

Major Peter Labilliere’s headstone

The good major was an early adopter of the celebration of life style of funeral, so his other final wish was that the youngest son and daughter of his landlady should dance on his coffin. Apparently the lass demurred; the lad larged it.

This is all true, by the way. If you don’t believe me, go google.

Sarah Walton’s memorial birds and birdbaths

Sarah Walton, a potter of 35 years’ standing, whose work can be found in 13 museums in Britain, is a great favourite of the Good Funeral Guide. We admire and like her work enormously.

Here, she tells us about her work:

For years I’ve sold my Birdbaths as simply that. Only recently has it occurred to me to propose them to those looking for a Memorial. Why am I doing this? Because I believe they have the qualities that such a piece requires. I will try to explain.

I began making them in 1985 after having been a potter for the previous 10 years, one who made teapots,mugs, bowls and jugs. Their evolution was slow and co-insided  with a time of reviewing early influences. Some people look at these birdbaths and ask if I acknowledge a debt to Henry Moore and Barbara  Hepworth  and I say ‘Yes, a huge one.’ But I also think it’s a case of those artists having also both looked at the same things as I have; at England’s landscapes, at the axe heads and megaliths of the Neolithic period, at Egyptian, Buddhist and Hindu stone carving, at the art of ancient Mesopotamia, at the surfaces of wood and stone eroded by water and wear, at the flints and pebbles beneath our feet. I saw in such forms and textures a language that I’ve tried to make my own.

When it came to evolving an upper surface that enabled water  to have the necessary room to expand outwards and upwards on freezing it was the dew ponds in the South Downs I’d known since childhood that offered a solution. While a ceramic student I was struck by photos of Tibetan Stupas on Himalayan  mountainsides. These tied in with the cairns I’d seen along tracks in the Lake district and Norwegian mountains, the same landscapes where I’d seen tarns encircled by hills. In my Birdbaths I’ve tried to recreate on a small scale what I saw on a larger one there.

Later  in the work of the Romanian sculptor Brancusi I saw how this artist incorporated the pedestal base so that it became an integral part of his sculptures. I have conceived the bases of these Birdbaths in a similar way; their bases are an essential part of the piece as a whole. There are other people who say there is something ecclesiastic about the Birdbaths and again I say ‘ Yes, certainly.’ Because I’ve criss-crossed England looking at Saxon and Norman churches with their intimate chancels, their deeply recessed windows, their worn stone flags, their polished oak surfaces, their fonts, doorways and towers.

Recently someone said he saw something sad in the birdbaths. I beg to differ. I don’t deny their austerity but I employed this consciously at the very outset believing it could be a safe vehicle for strongly sensual qualities. There’s a gravity in the work of such painters as Giotto,  Masaccio, Piero della  Francesca, Rembrandt and Velasquez  that exists alongside a profound tenderness. From studying them I got a taste for seeing these two things combined.. I’ve seen this combination in all kinds of great art since.

As well as birdbaths I make birds that are hollow and can serve as Cremation urns. For a long time this bird has determinably had its head tucked under a wing in sleep, something I saw beside a local pond some 12 years ago. For almost as long a customer has urged me to try a form with more inherent movement , perhapes a bird about to launch itself in flight. But I see now that what interests me is to find an image that at one and the same moment has both vitality and stillness.

Some practical points.

  1. The Birdbaths are not at all porous being made in high-fired Salt glazed stoneware. They are therefore frost proof. [Those of you reading this in the North of England will be familiar with the robust sinks, pipes and garden ware produced around you for centuries in this technique.] They will withstand English winters – with a caveat. Because water when it becomes ice has the power to crack open the hardest granite, so too ice  if  it stands in these birdbaths for months in sub-zero temperatures, can in a small percentage of cases crack these birdbaths. To avoid any risk of this do the following. Empty the birdbath of its water once heavy frosts arrive. Cover the birdbath so that no more rain can collect  in it. When the hardest weather is past uncover it. Then the piece will last millennia.
  2. Five shapes are produced .But by virtue of their making and firing processes no two pieces are alike or able to be repeated exactly.
  3. Some people choose to have a metal plaque recessed into the wood base on which a dedication may be engraved. Such a plaque can be provided by Sarah Walton.
  4. Sarah Walton’s work may be seen on her website www.sarahwalton.co.uk and she may be emailed on smwalton@btconnect.com She is happy to send digital images of current stock and if a piece has been selected in this way to arrange its dispatch via a courier.
  5. She is also happy to have visitors to the studio at Keeper’s, Bopeep Lane,  Alciston, Near. Polegate, East Sussex, BN26 6UH. where there is an extensive display of her Birdbaths and Birds. This is how the majority of customers have always bought these pieces. She has become adept at getting Birdbaths and their bases into customers car boots!
  6. She recommends that the Birdbath be sited in a secluded part of a garden, but somewhere where a viewer may enjoy the sight of its use from a comfortable armchair indoors – or from the kitchen sink.
  7. The oak bases are very heavy. Strong people are required to locate them. An 18” square concrete slab is best positioned beneath the wood base to avoid it becoming sodden by standing directly on earth or turf. These may be supplied with the Birdbath.
  8. Re-siting a Birdbath after its initial positioning is not unusual. It can take time to discover the very best place for one.
  9. PRICES.

Nos.1,2,3 and 5 shapes [ including their oak base ] are 997 pounds each plus 100 pounds for P & P.

No.4 shape [ including an oak base ] is 1225 pounds plus 100 pounds for P & P.

Provision of a plaque in brass, copper or bronze on which is engraved a dedication is a further 75 pounds.

The Modern Mourner

I wonder if you spent any time over at The Modern Mourner yesterday? If you didn’t, think again and have a gander. It is the creation of Shirley Tatum, a generous spirit who signposts her readers to all manner of more or less wonderful designers. Okay, there’s nothing quite so divisive as taste, but I’m going to nail my colours to the mast here. I love ’em.

Here’s Shirley’s manifesto: My goal is to bring a sense of design to the way we mourn. I’ve noticed how much care goes into the aesthetics of weddings and births, but there seems to be little consideration when it comes to funerals and remembrance. There are so many aspects that need to be overhauled in the funeral industry – from attitudes toward death to industry practices. Design & mourning is a little niche that I’ve chosen to focus on, and hope to make a difference.

Before long I hope she will write a guest post here.

On her site she has an interview with Patrick McNally, aka The Daily Undertaker, whom I think we all admire hugely. If you’ve never been, go now. Here’s Patrick’s response to one of Shirley’s questions:

The word “Undertaker” is actually quite beautiful, but it’s a word most Americans have come to fear. Why is that?
‘Undertaker’ originally described a person who undertook to provide funeral services and goods, not someone who takes your body under the ground, and it had a neutral connotation. However, all words that are used to describe things that we are uncomfortable with end up taking on a negative tinge. When we change the word to remove the negative feeling, though, we solve nothing other than confusing people about what we really do. ‘Mortician’ is a fancied-up job title like ‘beautician’ and Funeral Director was the next step after that, but what does that title even mean? To effect a real change we need to talk openly about death, and stop changing the words associated with it. When you say ‘Undertaker’, everyone knows what you are talking about whether they are aware of the origins of the word or not. It’s plain talk and yes, plain talk has a real beauty to it.

One of the designers and makers Shirley signposts is LBrandt Terraria, which supplies an entirely new receptacle for ashes/memento mori with a strong delight factor,  as evidenced in the pic at the top.

Site I like

There’s interesting work going on over in Boston, Massachusetts. Two women, Ruth Faas and Sue Cross, offer a range of services to the bereaved. They have a reading room where people can sit in comfort and find out about death and dying. They offer advice and contacts to those wanting a green or self-managed funeral. And they have  an art studio where people can come and make something commemorative, or simply work through their emotions.

Have a look for yourself here.

(Hat-tip to The Modern Mourner for this link)

Memento mori

An interesting thread here in a US forum about the custom of stopping to show respect for a hearse passing. I don’t suppose it’s a custom to be found anywhere in Britain any more. Pity. Any reminder that the bell tolls for every single one of us can’t be a bad thing. “We slowly drove, he [Death] had no haste.” That’s the way to do it.

On the subject of reminders of our eventual demise, I rather like this over-the-top urn cover which Shirley (I hope I’ve got that right) at Modern Mourner has commissioned. She says: “I plan to keep my most precious personal possessions in it for now, and when my time comes my ashes can kept sheltered in this most stylish cover. If my ashes are scattered at some point, I hope this wrap can be used to store meaningful mementos.”

Whatever you think about Shirley’s urn cover, wouldn’t it be a good thing if everyone kept their end of life docs in a dedicated hollow object which all members of the family know all about? I’m collecting mine in a wooden ashes pyramid that I bought from Carl Marlow. It’s satisfying to point and say, “It’s all in there.”

Better read than dead

When Eulogy magazine came out in June there was excitement and chatter and speculation. Would it catch on? How long would it last? The lowest estimate I was aware of was a curmudgeonly six issues, volunteered by a funeral director in the west country.

In the event, it seems to have underperformed more grievously. There has been nothing since. I had £250 riding on it for an article I was commissioned to write about… I’ve forgotten. Ah well, where Eulogy has gone we shall surely follow. Ink to ink, ashes to ashes.

Over in the New World, Funerals Today goes from strength to strength, it seems (I’ve never read it).

Pot ash

When ceramist Chris Smedley was asked by a client if he could make a unique commemorative piece using the ashes of the client’s father, he didn’t know what to expect. When he set about experimenting by using the ash in a glaze, he found that it produced a range of colours from green to blue through to purple. “These effects,” he suggests, may “come from minute traces of metal oxides that collect in our bodies during our lifetime.” Fascinating!

Liking what he saw, Chris, in partnership with Kieran Challingsworth, established Commemorative Ceramics in the crowded and ever-expanding market catering to people looking for creative and befitting ways with ashes. There’s plenty of room here for more good ideas.

You like? I like.  A lot. They deserve to do well.

Prices from £300. Good value, I’d say. Better still, there’s a promotion to celebrate the launch of the enterprise running til 31 October 2010: 25 per cent off the entire range.

Find Chris and Kieran’s website here.

Cross patch

We must hope that spending cuts will result in the excision of not just waste but also the sort of local authority insensitivity which manifests as brainless heartlessness.

Here’s an example from Somerset as told by the Daily Mail:

Liz Maggs placed a 26-inch high wooden cross bearing a personal inscription on Rosemary Maggs’ burial plot at the Ebdon Road cemetery in Weston-super-Mare, while the family waited for a headstone to be made. But when Mrs Maggs, 43, returned to visit the grave … just a few days later she found the cross had disappeared … The authority said that because the cross stood about 2ft up from the ground it was a health and safety risk.

But it turns out that, though this was the pretext the council used, this wasn’t what they actually meant. It didn’t mean they they thought the cross presented a hazard to life, limb and the pursuit of happiness. No, what they were trying to get across was that this is a lawn cemetery; everything must be laid flat.

Ms Maggs was poorly advised by those with a duty to advise her. And by the example of many other wooden crosses in the same cemetery. Perhaps an example of belated, retrospective enforcement of regulations?

Whatever, a sorry mess. If you haven’t heard enough, find the whole sorry story here.

Hat-tip to Tony Piper for this.