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Phil Douglis | all galleries >> Galleries >> Gallery Seventeen: Memories in Metal and Stone: How monuments, sculpture, and tombs express ideas. > Untended grave, Fairview Cemetery, Santa Fe, New Mexico, 2005
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16-JUL-2005

Untended grave, Fairview Cemetery, Santa Fe, New Mexico, 2005

The oldest grave in this cemetery dates from 1862. It belongs to the wife of a clergyman. She must have made the long trek west from New England along the Santa Fe Trail and was only 47 when she died. Her name was Catharine Gorman, and that is all we know about her. I found her untended grave filled with high grass, and made this image of it with a 24mm lens, catching the softly illuminated strands of grass as they flow diagonally across the headstone and then out to the opposite corner of the frame. The delicately glowing strands of grass juxtapose a symbol of life against the eroding stony icon of death. With this contrast of opposites, I express a metaphor for the cycle of life and death itself.

(Three and a half years after first posting this picture, I received an email from Ty Coup of Lawrence, Kansas. He had stumbled upon my image, and he sent me a link to a digitized copy of the 1913-1914 edition of Old Santa Fe Magazine, which featured the life story of Samuel Gorman, one of New Mexico’s first Protestant missionaries. In 1842, Gorman married Catherine A. Turner, a school-teacher in Granville, Ohio. That same year, he was ordained a Baptist minister, and ten years later became a missionary to New Mexico to Christianize Indians. After spending ten harrowing and heroic years in Laguna and Santa Fe, his wife Catherine Turner Gorman died of a brief illness on February 19, 1862. Gorman went on to remarry twice, and after a long and colorful career as a missionary, he died in Dayton, Ohio in 1907. Gorman’s first wife Catherine rests below this stone in a grave nearly lost among the weeds of Santa Fe’s Fairview Cemetery.)

(Further information on Catharine Gorman has been kindly provided by Betty Danielson, historian of the Baptist Convention of New Mexico. She has researched the Gorman family and compiled their life story. She tells me that Catherine had three sons and a daughter. She also told me that her husband had her tombstone freighted by commercial wagon across the prairies to Santa Fe. Betty and her husband have written a full biography of the Gormans, but it has not yet been published.)

Canon PowerShot G6
1/400s f/4.0 at 7.2mm hide exif
Full EXIF Info
Date/Time16-Jul-2005 04:13:03
MakeCanon
ModelCanon PowerShot G6
Flash UsedNo
Focal Length7.2 mm
Exposure Time1/400 sec
Aperturef/4
ISO Equivalent
Exposure Bias
White Balance (-1)
Metering Modemulti spot (3)
JPEG Quality (6)
Exposure Program
Focus Distance

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Phil Douglis23-Oct-2006 20:41
Thanks, Talia, for clarifying her name. And for your kindness to her memory.
Talia 21-Oct-2006 04:16
Her name, actually, is Catharine E. Gorman. I was just at the cemetery today and saw this same grave. I left some candies by the stone: I figure no one has left her anything in a while.
Phil Douglis16-Aug-2005 23:50
Yes, this image was made in the same cemetery where you made your "Beloved" image, which is at:
http://www.pbase.com/mityam/image/33831028 . Your comment strikes at the heart of what I intend this gallery to be about -- how we express ideas about the memorials we create to commemorate our existence so that we appear to be immortal. Your grave is a reminder of a life lived -- yet without any pretense of immortality. It is inscribed in such a way that time and nature will soon obliterate it. This grave is untended, and though the memory of this woman is still etched boldly in stone before us, we get the feeling that nobody is left to remember, or even care, about her memory. Nature itself becomes the only mourner, absorbing her grave in weeds, and by photographing it in this way, I imply that whatever might still remain of her is somehow nourishing those grasses that now rise above her grave.
Tim May16-Aug-2005 23:27
I believe we have been to the same cemetery and felt much the same. My image of a grave Asks a question which you answer here. The grave will be unattended eventually but still there as a reminder of a life lived.
Phil Douglis23-Jul-2005 22:42
Thank you, Marisa, for linking the lyrics to this beautiful song to my image. And thank you too for taking the time to send me the MP3 file of the song itself -- it is as haunting in its way as this image is in its expression of the cycle of life and death. The theme you refer to at the end of your comment runs through many of the other images in this gallery: man's futile attempts to insure immortality by erecting monuments designed to last through the ages. You phrase it uniquely, however, by referring to man's essential place in nature. We are not, you say, as special as we think we are. Everything changes, indeed. Including all of us. This dead woman has long since become part of the earth which now nourishes that grass that grows above her grave. And soon, that grass will become mulch and then vanish, only to nurture new life. I love the way you phrase it: "the eternal feedback of life and death." Exact opposites, yet in the end, unity. (As you can see, I've absorbed and cherish your philosophy of opposites and contradictions, Marisa.)
Guest 23-Jul-2005 19:29
Changes the superficial thing
also changes the deep thing
changes the way to think
changes everything in this world.

Changes the climate with the years
changes to the shepherd his flock
and as well as everything changes
that I change is not strange.

Changes the finest brilliant
its brightness from hand to hand
changes the nest the little bird
changes feeling a lover.

Changes the course the traveller
although this causes damage to him
and as well as everything changes
that I change I am not strange.


Changes everything changes
Changes everything changes
Changes everything changes
Changes everything changes.


Changes the sun in his race
when the night subsists
changes the plant and gets dressed
of green in the spring.

Changes the coat the fierce
changes the hair of the old one
and as well as everything changes
that I change is not strange.

But does not change my love
no matter how far I am
neither the memory
nor the pain of my town and my people.

Which changed yesterday
will have to change tomorrow
as well as I change
in this distant earth.

Changes everything changes
Changes everything changes
Changes everything changes...


I looked at this picture while I was listening to Mercedes Sosa singing 'Todo cambia' (Everything changes), and I felt that the words were so appropiate for this picture...
because what I see here is a stone that remember a dead human being that was buried there, now transformed into new life: a rich soil that nurture the green grass, and a lot of other little bugs hide inside the ground. And we can imagine that the soil was nurtured by the rain, and that maybe the clouds were formed very far from that place, and that this rain and clouds were little parts of other humans, or animals, or trees or far away stars... all of them transformed and changed in an eternal feedback of life and dead and life and dead and life....
If that stone, made by a human to remember the life of other human, wasn't there nobody will know that there lays a human being. Because now she is part of the nature -again.
The stone works for me as a contradiction here and as a desperate try of the human being to be remembered after death.
We are part of the nature but that stone is saying that we are something else, something more... but, are we?
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