SPRING HAS SPRUNG

STONE COLD HANDS

Today we see a twist on the idea of a hand made life.

I love a cemetery.

I spent lots of my childhood playing in them.

I love the sense of clam and history

There is one near here that is an unsung glory amongst London Cemeteries.

West Norwood Cemetery.

It has it all, Huge mausoleums, Victorian grandure, over grown spooky bits, a smattering of famous local people and lots and lots of statuary.

I was taking lots of pictures trying to capture the atmosphere when I realised this would make a perfect hand made life.

Stone cold hands.

Some one, somewhere back in the mists of time some very talented stone mason took chisel in hand and stood before a large slab of stone.

100 and odd years later here I am two noisy boys on scooters in tow snapping away and pondering.

Pondering on the talent and skill that went in to creating them.

But also the men who did the creating, where they were made, the tea breaks taken, the after work pints in the pub.

And what of the histories these beautiful angels could tell us.

The many things that have happened since they were placed in commemoration of someones life.

Two world wars, umpteen recessions, one depression, coronations, changes of parliament, the introduction of the motorised vehicle, the decline in the use of the horse drawn carriage, telephones, aeroplanes, televisions, electric street lights,

ankle length skirts, knee length skirts, short skirts.

jobs for women!

When you start to list it like this it really becomes mind blowing.

Not all public art is made by some one famous, not all public art was supposed to be public art.

But all of it has been made by someone.

This one in particular spoke to me.

I think may be I'm all to familiar with the head in hands despairing attitude.

On a lighter note this did really tickle me.

Love Nora xx