On a cold January day, or any old day, you can reach out and find art anywhere you care to look.
With the right kind of eye you can find new angles, new art, even in those last and longest-lasting graven statements. They’re carved and eroded, making their eventual impact both intentional and unintentional.
Art doesn’t always have to have a story. But this art is almost entirely story.
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Many others capture this far better than me. Be sure to check out: Hong Kong grave art, Everything Graveyard, The Cemetery Traveler, and My Modern Met.
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What happens when you can’t read the inscription anymore?
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(the stone’s far older)
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boneyard requiem that final wormy dance/from birth to death cradle to grave poor bastard never stood a chance/from embalmed flesh to forgotten dust/coffin nails long turned to rust/til no one living recalls his name/he might not have ever been/
