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| First crocus in the French cemetery, February 2015 © Emmanuelle Chaze |
Saturday, 28 February 2015
Friday, 27 February 2015
Thursday, 26 February 2015
Wednesday, 25 February 2015
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
Monday, 23 February 2015
Sunday, 22 February 2015
Saturday, 21 February 2015
Friday, 20 February 2015
Thursday, 19 February 2015
Wednesday, 18 February 2015
Berlin Cemeteries: Some Facts
***I
retrieved these informations on Berlin City Council’s page
on cemeteries. ***
There are
224 cemeteries in Berlin, on a surface of 1 125 hectares. There are
divided as follows:
-
86
state-owned
-
119
evangelical
-
9
catholic
-
5
jewish
-
5
others (Muslim, British, Orthodox
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| Well in St. Thomas Cemetery, November 2014 © Emmanuelle Chaze |
Berlin is home to several types of cemeteries, there are:
- 37 parish
cemeteries in Berlin. The eldest in town are the Dahlem cemetery (1230) and the
Karow cemetery (1240).
- 49 garden
cemeteries, on 451 hectares, throughout the city. This type appeared in the beginning
of the 19th century.
- 105 Alley
Quartier Cemeteries, on 436 hectares. As stated in the name, these cemeteries
are divided into alleys and lines. There are divided hierarchically, with
upper-class families buried in mausoleums on the side lanes, while middle-class
families occupy the borders of the lanes. Less important people are found in
the middle of the squares.
- 24 Woodland
cemeteries, on 225 hectares. They were grounded in the beginning of the 20th century, in
Dahlem und Zehlendorf for example.
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
Monday, 16 February 2015
Sunday, 15 February 2015
The beginning and the end
How did I get to set up a tradition of walking through cemeteries? am I in any way a morbid being? I don't think so.
I remember as a child having gone to the town cemetery every week, with my grandmother, who made a point to put flowers on the graves of beloved ones. During week-ends, it was my mum's turn to bring me to another such place to mourn other relatives. I would always stand by, and didn't quite understand why people around looked so upset while looking at a stone.
Growing up, I understood the meaning of mourning, sadly. Yet I never quite got around to processing my own sadness by visiting resting places. It never really mattered to me to feel physical closeness with people I held dear but untimely lost.
However, one day, out of curiosity, I visited a place in Paris - the famous Père-Lachaise cemetery. I felt that I was surrounded by serenity and beauty, as I walked by hundreds of graves of famous and anonymous people. I didn't feel sad, because of the poetry of the place. The silence was only broken by children's laughs, singing birds and rustling leaves. I realized remembrance didn't have to make one feel sad: some of my favorite artists, writers, painters, politicians, were buried there. Suddenly, I felt a closeness to the arts, by the sole mention of familiar names.
Little by little, I began a journey - as I grew up, I let this interest for the past and for departed people grow in me. I like to think I'm a spiritual person, even though I am an atheist. I try to bear that in mind as I wander through resting places. I try to be careful and respect people's mourning and beliefs as I shoot pictures of what I see as beautiful. I am not a believer, yet as I walk through these gardens of remembrance, I think of those verses from the Book of Revelation: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.
Cemeteries are obviously places of finiteness, but they are also places of continuity and renewal. Each grave tells a story: beyond that of a loss, it celebrates a life that has been, a love that has lived and outlived the physical disappearance of a being. Likewise, each cemetery bares the traces of its own past, and is a witness of vanished times. Added to one another, each of these testimonies contribute to a larger entity: history.
I remember as a child having gone to the town cemetery every week, with my grandmother, who made a point to put flowers on the graves of beloved ones. During week-ends, it was my mum's turn to bring me to another such place to mourn other relatives. I would always stand by, and didn't quite understand why people around looked so upset while looking at a stone.
Growing up, I understood the meaning of mourning, sadly. Yet I never quite got around to processing my own sadness by visiting resting places. It never really mattered to me to feel physical closeness with people I held dear but untimely lost.
However, one day, out of curiosity, I visited a place in Paris - the famous Père-Lachaise cemetery. I felt that I was surrounded by serenity and beauty, as I walked by hundreds of graves of famous and anonymous people. I didn't feel sad, because of the poetry of the place. The silence was only broken by children's laughs, singing birds and rustling leaves. I realized remembrance didn't have to make one feel sad: some of my favorite artists, writers, painters, politicians, were buried there. Suddenly, I felt a closeness to the arts, by the sole mention of familiar names.
Little by little, I began a journey - as I grew up, I let this interest for the past and for departed people grow in me. I like to think I'm a spiritual person, even though I am an atheist. I try to bear that in mind as I wander through resting places. I try to be careful and respect people's mourning and beliefs as I shoot pictures of what I see as beautiful. I am not a believer, yet as I walk through these gardens of remembrance, I think of those verses from the Book of Revelation: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.
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| Sankt Thomas Friedhof, November 2014, ©Emmanuelle Chaze |
So it begins...
Here will be posted articles on specific persons, graves and other curiosities I "met" during my
walks. You might be familiar with some of the names evoked, others will be former
anonymous that touched me as I passed by their resting place.
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| Sankt Thomas Friedhof, November 2014 ©Emmanuelle Chaze |
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