Graveyard Girl - 8.08.20.

This afternoon I took a walk to the Rosary Cemetery, the most romantic of Victorian graveyards. It is where festoons of ivy drape themselves over the elaborate tombs, angels peek out from the thick brambles, and epitaphs are slowly eaten away by the elements. It may be overgrown, but not it is not unloved.

Walking along one of the many paths, I came across a young woman asleep on a grave, two empty wine bottles by her side. She looked so peaceful lying in the dappled sunshine, despite the circumstances which had led her to be there. I didn’t know if it was right or not to take her picture. Would it be intruding on a personal moment? Was it distasteful? But despite my reservations, I felt compelled to capture her*.

This girl, all alone in a graveyard, raised so many questions. What drove her to drink two bottles of wine today? Why did she choose to drink here? What in her life had led her to this moment? Why was she all alone?

Although it was a sad sight, I also considered that maybe this was the only peace she had had for a long time, a chance to escape, albeit temporally, from whatever was troubling her. In that moment she had found some serenity, even if it was in the strangest of places and ways. Beautifully uncomfortable, she was peaceful yet heartbroken, and I wondered if I had taken a different path, could that have been me? Everyone’s story is different, I just wish I could have come to learn hers.

Sitting here writing this, I have even more questions to ask of myself. Should I have done something to help? Should I have called someone? But I didn’t do either of those things, I just took a photograph and called it art. But is it actually art, or is it simply voyeurism?

I recently took some off-the-cuff self-portraits after experiencing a particularly challenging day. I questioned myself as to why I took them, why I shared them, and why I wanted to document it? But I think I just wanted to see if it was possible to capture the feelings I was experiencing. Could you tell what was going on inside my mind from my face? Was there something hidden in my eyes?

It’s not the done thing to take such pictures, we are encouraged to record the good and not the bad. We file anything away that is not agreeable in the back of our minds, never to see the light of day. But these moments, however dark, can have a beauty. They can show us how far we have come, teach us about ourselves, and explore vulnerabilities.

The girl in the graveyard reminded me of a famous photograph entitled

“The most beautiful suicide”. Taken in 1947, it depicts the body of Evelyn McHale, lying atop the roof of a car after she had jumped from the Empire State Building. It is a beautiful and captivating image, with Evelyn looking as if she has merely fallen asleep, still clutching the pearls about her neck. The photograph was taken by Robert C Wiles, a photography student, who happened to be across the road when Evelyn jumped. What made him in that moment take out his camera and document such a tragedy? Did he even think about or did he simply act on instinct? But whatever the reason, I am glad he did.

For me these examples, for whatever reason they were taken, reinforce the notion that beauty can be found in the darkest of times, we just have to be brave and fearless enough to capture it.

*I hasten to add that I did check she was ok first and on approaching her found her snoring very contentedly.

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