...cemetery pipe fences...

Christ Church Episcopal Cemetery, part of the Historic Cemeteries of Alexandria, VA

When I’m walking through a cemetery, I’m attracted to picturesque scenes, those landscapes that resemble a gorgeous painting or some captivating image. While the artwork of gravestones tends to be my main focus along with the natural landscape, I am captivated by ironwork and cemetery fencing and frequently find myself attempting to read the maker’s mark and the inscriptions.

As long as I can recall, I have adored wrought iron and cast iron fencing. Rather hammered or poured into a mold, the designs catch my eye and draw me in. As a kid, I used to love going into the city and seeing the picket and scalloped picket points of the fencing. Forty years later, I haven’t changed much.

 Today when I walk through cemeteries, I admire what’s left of the ironwork. As changing attitudes about what was or was not aesthetically pleasing, many of the old cemetery fences were removed when they were no longer maintained.

Altoona Tribune (May 11, 1922 p. 12)

While we typically think of wrought iron and cast iron when we think of cemetery fencing, I rather enjoy finding intricately designed pipe fences, or gas pipe fences or pipe rail fences. These pipe fences can still be found throughout our local Virginia cemeteries and some of theme can be quite attractive while many are plain pipes with the purpose of signifying the space. 

I always think of pipe fencing as just the right height to trip you if you’re not paying attention. They are nice reminders to stay off the grass and the flowers.

drawing from Chicora Foundation website.

Depending on the style of the pipe fence, there may be double piping such as the example in the historic drawing from the Chicora Foundation or single piping as shown in the example of the family plot in Christ Church Episcopal Cemetery in Alexandria, Virginia.

I have included some photos of other intricately designed cast iron posts that are part of pipe fences.

Oakwood Cemetery, Richmond, VA

Mount Zion Cemetery Washington D.C.

 

Christ Church Episcopal Cemetery, part of the Historic Cemeteries of Alexandria, VA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not quite a decade ago, I became the owner of a piece of 1870s cast iron pipe fencing with an angel when a very rusted and broken pipe fence needed to be removed from a family plot for safety reasons. The family had the option of repairing the fencing, which would have been expensive and nearly impossible since so little of the original fence remained or they could remove the fence and sell the old rusty bits for scraps or through a local antique dealer who could reach out to suckers like me who love rusty pieces of history. With the amount of rust I have inside my house and out in the garden as "yard art," I keep up with my tetanus shots.  

Ethically sourced pipe-rail angel. The other side is completely rusted out.

Just as a reminder, if you purchase anything that is coming from a cemetery, look for reputable antique dealers and talk to the original sellers if possible. Cemetery-related paraphernalia is frequently stolen and sold. A few months ago, I had someone reach out on social media about a gorgeous fence gate with connections to Richmond but the story did not add up and when I pushed in my questioning, they blocked my account from reaching out any further or reporting them. 

Artifacts from historical grave sites, and any grave-related items cannot be sold on eBay. Any government or military medallions or plaques should not be sold or purchased, and such activity should be reported. 

... art from the ashes...

“The phoenix must burn to emerge.”

~Janet Fitch, White Oleander

On November 2 around 6:36pm, I received the most beautiful gift: a resurrected piece of art I thought I would never see again.

But let me back up, sometime in the early 1990s, my friend Sherrie Miller, who is a talented artist and my first “favorite artist”, used to sketch pieces that would end up hanging in my bedroom. I wrote poetry and had written a series of poems about Claudian the Atheist, an imaginary character whom I had created based on my first “love of my life”’s best friend’s “goth” name. His real name is Ben which is just another bit of connection to my fella who also has a best friend with the same name. As a little side note because I’m being tangential, before I realized that I even had a choice of not having children, I believed that I would name my son Claudian Dyvad. He would have hated me, I’m sure.

Anyway, my Claudian poems were about the character’s various journeys to heaven and hell. His afterlife began when Claudian’s Cessna crashed into a church to which he muttered, “God, what an ending.” I cannot recall why or if I asked but Sherrie illustrated the story around my poem. I still have the original.  Later I asked Sherrie is she would do a painting of the piece. I knew that it would be an artistic interpretation of her original sketch and the two look quite different but it was terribly significant since it was the first piece of art that I had ever commissioned from an artist.

I realize that not giving a name to my first “love of my life” is a bit annoying but I want to respect the anonymity of it all and as I shared in a previous post, I don’t want to come across as a creep considering that I’m Facebook friends with his wife. My previous post actually leads to this one. I wrote, “For years he called my mother to check in on me. I didn't know any of this until 2006 when we reconnected. My mother never said a thing.” I realize this reads a bit like The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks but the truth is he stopped calling my mother a few days before my first wedding when my mother told him that I was getting married.  My mother was not thrilled with me getting married the first time and she told me that the night before my wedding. I remember saying, “I can’t do anything about this now” when she announced that both my father and she believed I was too young. How’s that for weird parenting and timing. Everyone of that time period and many of my friends today know that she could have called off the wedding by simply saying, “X called” or “X has been calling.” But she’s a controller of secrets (a whole other story) and I never knew any of this until he told me. When we parted from that reunion, I called her and screamed at her. She muttered something about she thought it was best. Let me be clear, I don’t think I would have ended up with my first fella. We were too young and both had lots of living to do; we also appear to be happy in our current relationships. But she took away my 22-yr-old self’s choice by not disclosing the phone calls.

I could write that my first husband was awful and in many ways he was. My current fella hates him based on the stories. We were just young and without brains being fully grown, we both made poor choices.

In 1996, he burned all of my letters from my first “love of my life” and then set fire to this painting (and nearly the apartment while I was screaming that he was merely burning them into my soul). He was in a state of jealousy and believed that the character in the painting resembled the image of my former love (and to be fair, it does). 

Fast forward twenty years and Sherrie randomly sends me a digital version of the burned painting I thought I would never see again. I had no idea that she had photographed her work. I opened the message and I became a puddle of tears. Seeing this still makes me cry. I remember it burning; I remember the smell of pictures and letters and paint burning. Letters I had read a hundred times which had been kept so tidy and together with a velvet ribbon stored in a precious box went up in flames.

This doesn’t change the past but it certainly is nice to have a piece of that horrible event resurrect from the flames.

Art from the talented Sherrie Miller.