One of the things that I love is graveyards. Give me some unique old tombstones to photograph and I am happy as a lark. It is so humbling to remember that in the end I am nothing more than the dust. Keeps me grounded.
Pictured above is a fantastic marker in Boston. I could have spent days and days photographing in those cemeteries! Buried alive, so to speak.
The women, in particular, really stood out to me. So many of them died young, likely due to childbirth. Most of the graves were marked as Mrs. John So-and-so or Mrs. William Such-and-such. No other identity. Who were they really. What did they think? How did they feel? How exactly did they die?
Even more striking, I saw a painting of a family in the 1700’s where the father was seated in a chair. His wife stood behind him with one hand on his chair and the other on a painting of his first wife on a pedestal, while the children played in the floor or performed on the piano.
Made me think how blessed I am to be alive today and how blessed some other woman will likely feel looking upon my tombstone in 300 years…