Graveyards- A window on both the past and soul.

Often when travelling, I take the opportunity to visit small country graveyards. At the time, I always intend to return and make some rubbings of various grave stones, to record their weathered faces before the ravishes of time obliterate their existence. One of my favourites is the early settlers burial ground at Ross, an early Tasmanian town in the midlands. The last time I visited, the sky was bleak and overcast reenforceing its feel of Scottish heritage. This picturesque Georgian village, built from hand cut sandstone is both historic, and a living testerment of the pioneering spirit of its early settlers. The substantional European trees that line the main street add to the impression of  permanence and Scottishness.


My purpose at the time was to climb the hillock behind the town  and visit the original early settlers burial ground. Perched on top of a rocky hill ,it was only accessible via a narrow stone walled track. The wind blows with force up here, so  many grave markers acti as weather vanes. The graves date from the early 19th cent., when death during childbirth was very prevelant, plus a good overlay of accedental death suffered by settlers extending their strength beyond endurence. One feature of interest, was that all the grave stones facing the prevailing wind had their faces eroded, while the lee sides were still able to tell their stories.These were mainly on the southen side were text and textured stone jostled to make their presence felt.


One grave stone caught my eye, it had a relief sculpture of the "Tree of Life" with an ax embeded half way through the trunk. It is possible to speculate about the meaning as the text had gone, did the relief refer to a life cut short or the finality of life itself. It could have refered to the life and effort of the early settlers, and the long back breaking work required to carve out a farm for themsleves. In many ways these stones are a symbol of the earth itself. After all the disintergation of matter is what provides us with the soil to mantain life.


When I make rubbings of these monuments to the past, I rework both text and abstract stone pattens to try to express the meaning of the present. To contemplate on the journy of life. To conect past,  presnt, and future. This morning I visited our local village graveyard, only to discover that someone had removed the heavy marble cover off a recent dug grave. I am puzzled as to the reason, I only hope grave robbing is still not alive!