The Show Must Go On . . .

In my blogging travels, by coincidence I suppose, or hazard if you will, around the same time last Spring I stumbled on two blogs out in California, both run by the female half of a mixed nationality couple, and in both cases the male half of said couple was French, and to add to the coincidence, both of the Frenchmen in question are experienced in one way or another with the stone trade... the art of cutting, carving, or building with stone, as in cathedrals, or gravestones, or beautifully carved fireplaces, and everything else under the sun that could be crafted from stone. The first blog in question, which as the name implies is now balanced between two continents, is "Halfway to France", which is one of the all around finest blogs I've had the pleasure of coming across to date. . . give it a try, perhaps you'll see what I mean.
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The second blog in question is another pure pleasure to read, billed as "Where's My Effing Pony". I was thinking about stones and stone carving for the simple reason that while on vacation in August out in the city of Morlaix, in Brittany, I chanced to find a small abandoned stone-cutting site, which had obviously specialized in gravestones. It appeared to have been shut down from one day to the next, with work in progress, and half-finished projects laying about all over. God only knows why the owners and workers just walked away and left it, open to vandals and the elements . . . large pieces of lovely polished granite laying there for the taking. Me, I only take photographs, and I didn't have my truck there that day, but it was tempting . . . good granite and marble is not cheap . . .
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And there is one other blog that is an absolute must for anyone interested in abandoned buildings of any sort and cemeteries, which is the absolutely excellent "Tom B. Photography". . . Please do drop by and leave Tom some comments, he is doing simply amazing work documenting places before they get demolished . . .
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There were scrap piles of smaller pieces of cast-off cut stones, this one with a thermometer laying on it. A broken thermometer showing temperatures off the bottom end of the scale, which seemed somehow appropriate for a place specializing in the industry of death. Although I've been visiting various graveyards around the globe for years on end now, I rarely had thought much about just how big an industry death is, probably numbering in the billions of dollars, or euros or whatever currency you reason in, annually. But while spending an hour or two that afternoon poking around in this place, I got a much better inkling of some aspects of the business . . .

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Large machines are needed to hoist huge blocks of stone around in order to cut and carve them down to size, some of which were lying on the ground starting to rust . . .

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In one corner of a work area some posters depicting various models of gravestones were lying on the ground. Posters for gravestones . . . what a thought . . . not sure I want them on my wall at home . . .

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This mysterious piece of metalwork was laying there, I have no idea at all what this could have possibly been used for. If either of the gentlemen stone experts referred to above have an idea, or anyone else out there, I'd like to hear your ideas on this . . .
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There were abandoned bits of sculpture which hadn't quite made it onto a finished product before the end came . . .
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There were tools scattered about, and I was surprised to discover that there even exists a glossy color magazine for the funeral industry in France . . . this one with a heartwarming picture of an older man and his dog on the cover . . .

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Another copy had been left on the footplate of a forklift, depicting a cemetery in England . . . The metal plate above the gauges says "Prière de rentrer l'engin à l'abri le soir", which translates as, please bring the forklift back inside for shelter in the evening. . .

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Some of the larger machines had elaborate control panels. This one, if you look closely, has two red buttons at the upper left, with graphic images of a turtle and a rabbit, I suppose to make the machine run slower or faster ? I imagined a Dr Frankenstein sort of character here starting up the heart of his monster with these controls . . .
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It really looked like one day the people working here just walked off and left everything, the measuring gauge laying on a length of stone, the large machine saw just rusting . . .

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A yellow machine control box hanging in suspense . . .
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Two heavy gears still well greased. I didn't notice the spiderweb when I took the photo, just saw it this evening when preparing the image for publishing here . . .
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Another control panel, this one with the word "marche" on it, as in the French expression "Marche ou creve", which means "Keep moving or die", and also the word "Pompe" is visible, which could be for a pump, but also the term "Pompe-Funebres" which refers to mortuary services . . .

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This was perhaps the most startling find that afternoon . . . the magazine was laying open to a story about make-up products for corpes, with a photo of a rubber-gloved person applying lipstick to a cadaver, under the title, "Promise à un bel avenir", or "Destined for a beautiful future", or something to that effect, which had me just totally floored. I'd never thought that there might exist make-up products for the deceased. Isn't normal lipstick for the living suitable for cold lips ? Talk about getting a case of cold feet ! And the first line of the story, which is hard to read here, I admit, makes reference in English to a television show called "Six Feet Under" ! Macabre !

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In the wrecked office of the place a refrigerator was gaping open, the last article in it, an empty bottle of port . . . in case any thirsty ghosts might come around . . .
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This last piece is another I'm hoping a stoneworking expert can enlighten us as to how exactly these would be used. This piece of furniture had several shallow drawers, each containing an entire alphabet of letters, each drawer had a different sized alphabet in it. The letters were plastic. Were they used with ink of some sort to mark the letter on the stone, to be chiseled afterwards ? In any case, this entire place was fascinating, a real eye-opener for me, while thinking about eyes that will never open again . . .

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