Tale From A Crypt . . .

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It's funny how one thing leads to another in life. By a series of chance coincidences a few years ago now, early on in the blogging days, I came across TomB's blog on blogger, and was seduced by the quality of his photography and especially his choices of subject matter. Sometimes things just resonate. His blog migrated to a Tumblr site, which is active today, and where the excellent work continues to appear, following his trips to a wide variety of sites where abandon is the key word, and his photography of them is poetry in practice. Lest I wax over enthusiastic in use of superlatives, I shall refrain from further praise, and simply encourage you to go take a look for yourselves. But thanks to his blog, and exchanges of comments there, little by little a correspondence developed, so when I was in the USA in 2010, we were able to meet for a day, and go visit two abandoned factories in Pennsylvania, about which I blogged about at the time, and he kindly, very kindly, gave me information which allowed me to visit a third site on my own, a coal breaker factory, which has also appeared in these pages. So when I learned that Tom and his travelling companion Jennifer would be in Europe on whirlwind tour of London, Paris, Germany, Belgium and Holland in May, it was only natural that we should try to meet again. Thus on a sunny Saturday afternoon two weeks ago, we set up a rendez-vous near the northwest entrance to Père Lachaise Cemetery, and were able to spend two hours strolling in that vast open air museum, before spending the evening over drinks and dinner in the 5th. So Tom and Jennifer, what can I say, it was wonderful to see you, and I hope the entire trip was full of good times and great photo locations. By the way, Jennifer, also is active on the web, her vintage business is thriving; you can see more of her work here on Sally Jane Vintage and here on her Flickr page... enjoy.
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We wandered in Père Lachaise seeking out some notable tombs such as Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison, and Oscar Wilde, but also just randomly looking for the exquisite details which abound there... like these old ceramic flowers, or a pelican sculpture which I'd never noticed before.
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It seems the latest fad at Jim Morrison's tomb, since it became forbidden to cover adjacent tombs with graffiti, is to stick chewing gum on the tree just in front of his grave, often with a cryptic message imprinted in the gum. This is fairly recent, as the tree in question wasn't covered with gum like this the last time I was there, and photographed a bit of graffiti written on the bark in black marker. I don't know what the tree thinks of this "decoration".
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Speaking of one thing leading to another in life; with Tom over dinner we were talking about other people who are passionate about abandoned buildings and photography of such places, the realm of urban exploration. One site we talked about is the fabulous Opacity project, to which there has been a link in my sidebar for a long time, but following our conversation, I went back and took a look to refresh my memory. During which visit I stumbled on a report about a location in Belgium, which is the page linked to here, where there is a large underground burial area beneath a cemetery. This is far more than just a small crypt below ground, it is composed of several gallery tunnels that stretch out for some considerable distance, which are lined with hundreds of burial chambers in the walls, each covered with an engraved plaque. On the Opacity page it is referred to as "La Crypte des Fleurs", and the location is not revealed, but there is a link from Opacity to another urban exploration website called Forbidden Places, where there is also a report about the site in question, titled the Abandoned Crypt. Although he does not name the community where the cemetery is located, he does provide a map link, where it is clearly indicated. With that information in hand, I went looking for the place this past Friday, when I had to be in Belgium for work for a day... and was thrilled to be able to find it, and to be able to descend into the underground crypt and return with photographs of this extraordinary and highly unusual cemetery.
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Already just the above ground part was well worth a good stroll around. Near the far rear of the grounds there is a large copy of Rodin's Thinker installed on a tomb, the likes of which I've never seen in a cemetery before. And there were many other remarkable sculptures and portrait photos, which I could have spent hours exploring and photographing, a few examples of which follow here, but I was focused on finding the underground section, which took me some time to finally locate.
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But at last I stumbled on a ramp going down below ground, not all that far from the main cemetery entrance, which I hadn't gone by on my way in, as I'd set off in another direction. There were barriers in front of the entrance, but nothing flagrantly saying "No Entry", and nothing to deter a curious visitor, so I ventured down the ramp to take my chances. And no regrets, as the underground crypt is a most remarkable place, have never seen anything quite like it. Many beautiful old portrait photos in varying states of photographic decay there, and many fascinating stories glimpsed on the plaques covering the chambers in the walls. Heartfelt thanks to Opacity, Forbidden Places, and especially TomB who was again the catalyst here. More photos to come, as soon as time allows. Which may not be for a little while, as will be travelling in Italy in the coming weeks.
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Down By The River . . .

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What a crazy few weeks it has been. January is usually a quiet month at the straightjacket factory. But somewhere in the middle of the month things started going haywire. We got an order for 200000 straightjackets from the Ministry of the Interior in Tunisia. Then a week later we got another huge order for one million straightjackets from the Egyptian Bureau of Internal Affairs. This is the equivalent of our usual annual production. This explains why I haven't been around to your blogs these past several days, nor updated my own much. I've been busy trying to outsource subcontracted production of straightjackets from Haiti to Malaysia to China. We've had inquiries from the governments of Yemen, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon. We were already doing brisk business with most of the industrialized world, where, for reasons at present poorly understood, more and more people are losing their marbles, but this latest round of collective upheaval caught us by surprise. We will of course rise to the challenge. We cannot allow people requiring the protection of a straightjacket to go un-jacketed. It's going to be a very good year for straightjackets I believe. Let's uncork a bottle of bubbly now to celebrate, what ?
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In the meanwhile, to try to clear out the mind the other day, and forget about the madness for a moment, la Grenouille and I set out to take a very quiet walk down along the banks of the Oise River, despite the bitter cold of a winter afternoon. We had barely stepped out of the house when I spotted a lifeless bird at my feet, camouflaged against the brown gravel with his brown feathers. The victim of some violence I fear. Most probably a cat.
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We got to our setting off point by the river, and took a quick look inside the lobby of the Hotel de l'Oise, which I'd never set foot in before, although I did a post about it a while back, which you can see here. In the vestibule there was a framed copy of a story which appeared in Paris Match magazine in the spring of 1991. The caption under the photo of Jim Morrison explains that the Oliver Stone movie about the Doors would soon be released in France, and mentions that 20 years previously, on June 28th, 1971, Jim and Pamela Morrison sat at a table in front of the Hotel de l'Oise, in the town of St Leu d'Esserent, and drank a beer. Five days later Jim died in the bathtub of his Paris apartment. So it's been nearly 40 years that Jim has been sleeping in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. His music lives on.
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The river was oblivious to all, was just minding its own business, that of flowing, reflecting light, murmurring.
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On the path along the river's edge, a magnificent dog came racing toward us at an unbelievable speed. It turned out to be a Spanish Greyhound, which are much larger than plain Greyhounds. He had certainly the longest nose and longest neck I ever saw on a dog. I thought he might be part giraffe. He'd make short work of our cats I suspect.
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A navigational aid for river traffic, could maybe help riverside walkers also navigate the years of their lives.

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I don't know what the botanical name of this plant is, but it is quite common in these parts. With the setting sun behind it, I stopped to take a closer look, and was simply floored by the beauty in its curving forms.
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Nature goes to such incredible lengths to produce seeds and the means to spread them far and wide, on the wind, or clinging to a passing animal's fur. "Wildflower seed in the sailing wind..." !
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No, nature never ceases to amaze, with her subtle forms and shining light.

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I wouldn't want to forget a visit to James' Weekend Reflections to present these tree trunks on the water, for whatever they may be worth. Nothing fancy.

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Saint Leu !

While rambling around Saint Leu d'Esserent this afternoon, as mentioned in below post on the Hotel de l'Oise, almost immediately adjacent to the Hotel where Jim Morrison had french fries and beer a few days before he died in 1971, I stumbled into a large abandoned industrial building facing the Oise River that had obviously seen better days, and had been converted into a wreck of a hall, no doubt used for illicit rave parties. . . Some of the graffiti artists working these walls had an obvious penchant for some well known American characters . . .

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Hotel de l'Oise

After visiting Jim Morrison's tomb in the Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris the other day, I was reading an account of the last days of his life on this web site, and was surprised to see that he had visited the Chateau at Chantilly, my home town, on June 28th, 1971, just a few days before he died on 3 July, 1971. That same day he also went to the small town of Saint Leu d'Esserent, which is just a short distance from Chantilly. So this afternoon, just out of curiosity, and because it was the first really nice Spring day we've seen so far this year, I wandered over to St Leu to poke around a bit. According to the above mentioned web site, this is the Hotel de l'Oise where Jim, Pamela, and a friend Alain Ronay had french fries and beer. . . this photo is a little better than the one on that site. . . I found no trace or reference to Jim's passage here shortly before he left this world.

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Pere Lachaise. . .

This image is the door of a tomb in the Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris. As mentioned below, I was there this past Wednesday, making the pilgrimage to Jim Morrison's grave. After communing with Jim's ghost, I wandered a while in the quiet cobblestone lanes of Père Lachaise. . . a pure pleasure anytime. It is a beautiful place by any standard. The late afternoon sun transformed this slightly rusty, weathered door into pure gold.
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James Douglas Morrison 1943 - 1971 . . .

This past Wednesday we went into Paris and decided to take a stroll in the Père Lachaise Cemetery which is one of my favorite places. Although named "Père" ("father" in French) one could say, using the popular expression, that it is the mother of all cemeteries. In any case, it is one of the most incredible cemeteries in the world in its quiet beauty, the astonishing array of art forms in sculptures, mosaics, bas reliefs, inscriptions, its lovely trees and cobblestone paths, and in the high density of famous folks laid to rest there.
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Not having done so for quite a few years, we decided to go visit Jim Morrison's tomb, which as you can read at considerable length on this web site, is one of the most visited sites in Paris. I can remember going there back in 1985 and again in 1986, and seeing his tomb, plus a large number of tombs around his, totally covered in graffiti of all descriptions and colors, as well as candles on all possible surfaces in the area, melted pools of wax that had run down tombstones, flowers galore, scraps of paper with poems and prayers covering his tomb like confetti, and young hippies who seemed to hang out there for hours on end. The alleys in the vicinity had all sorts of arrows or other signs scrawled in visible places to help you find your way to Jim's grave.
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It has changed considerably since then. There is almost no graffiti visible anywhere, all the tombs in the area are spotlessly clean, and only a few mournful flowers adorned his plot. If you read the site (link above) there are security cameras now, anyone caught writing graffiti is fined, and the grave is cleaned daily of flowers and so forth. Nevertheless, despite the "clean" aura, which is far more respectful of the surrounding graves than previously, it is still a pilgrimage to make for anyone who loves the Doors music and/or who grew up steeped in the 1960's of American culture.
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On our way to Jim's grave I saw only one small marking on a cobblestone showing the way. . .

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Quite a few people had left flowers that day. . .

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The quote in Greek on the plaque on his headstone has been interpreted in different ways depending on the website you visit. The site link above gives this explanation for "Kata Ton Daimona Eaytoy" : "Old Greek" TO THE DIVINE SPIRIT WITHIN HIMSELF. In "New Greek" it means HE CAUSED HIS OWN DEMONS.

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And at the base of a tree growing close to Jim's grave the same pen that marked the cobblestone above had written this . . .

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