Heterotopia and Palimpsest
Burial sites often exist in our periphery. They are counter sites to the bustling spaces of life that surround us. To borrow the concept from Foucault, these “other” spaces are examples of heterotopia. They are spaces that contest, represent, and invert the culture in which they exist. Foucault uses the metaphor of the mirror to explain this idea. Heterotopias, such as the cemetery, mirror our familial values, hierarchical divisions of class and wealth, the politics of gender, kinship connections, aesthetic trends, spiritual beliefs, and environmental issues within our world. As isolated places, they also simultaneously contain fantasies of an idealized society that are subverted by material reality. For example, the cemetery exists in and outside time. It is populated with rhetoric that perpetuates an illusion of eternal rest and memory, but decay is rampant. Additionally, any violence that existed in a person’s life or spurred their death is obscured in the cemetery. A tragedy can be transformed into a shiny monument and inequity within life is ignored or concealed. It is possible to read the evolving cultural ideals over time through the aesthetic shifts in the design of monuments. Through this project, I wish to center what lies outside our typical fields of vision and make space for the rich lessons the reflections within this mirror.
In every society, burial sites are needed practically. They are where we bury, burn, inter, contain, and release the dead. For logistical sanitary reasons, bodies are traditionally put below ground so that they can decay naturally without spreading disease. In addition, these spaces are layered with other functions and meanings. They are sacred sites, destinations for religious pilgrimage, and tourism. They are gardens, wildlife habitats, picnic spots, and exercise routes. They are labyrinths of monuments, architectural phenomena, and ruins. They can be adopted into spaces for protest, a refuge for the displaced, and sanctuaries for the ostracized. They are archives with disordered timelines as dates swirl their surface. They are encyclopedias. They are palimpsests. They contain a bricolage of connections to our daily lives on their surfaces. They are time capsules for future archeologists. They are historical museums, records of culture, and theatres of memory. They are galleries of monuments highlighting the affluent and famous. They are spaces of haunting. They are complex ecosystems that employ loss as their landscaper, rich in compost. They are echoes of the politics within their surrounding communities. They are islands passed by, over, and through. They are places of absence. They are worlds.
Amidst all these lenses a common thread runs through these burial spaces: they are places of death that are made, maintained, and instilled with meaning by the living.
Death stays alive with these acts of the living.
In each cemetery, I look for signs of the living. I wonder who else might have recently traversed my path when I am walking alone. I ask how long ago it was that they visited. I find gestures of remembrance.
Who gets to be remembered?
This question is partially answered through watering cans, hoses, shovels, scrub brushes, brooms, and rags. Maintenance tools are evidence of care and commitment. I capture images of the piles of composting flowers and discolored seasonal decorations in waste bins. I document all of it, as well as lawnmowers, tool carts, and work gloves. All of these are byproducts of preservation. I am reminded of the intense labor and time this requires.
When these efforts are exhausted or abandoned, what becomes of these spaces?
Burial sites often exist in our periphery. They are counter sites to the bustling spaces of life that surround us. To borrow the concept from Foucault, these “other” spaces are examples of heterotopia. They are spaces that contest, represent, and invert the culture in which they exist. Foucault uses the metaphor of the mirror to explain this idea. Heterotopias, such as the cemetery, mirror our familial values, hierarchical divisions of class and wealth, the politics of gender, kinship connections, aesthetic trends, spiritual beliefs, and environmental issues within our world. As isolated places, they also simultaneously contain fantasies of an idealized society that are subverted by material reality. For example, the cemetery exists in and outside time. It is populated with rhetoric that perpetuates an illusion of eternal rest and memory, but decay is rampant. Additionally, any violence that existed in a person’s life or spurred their death is obscured in the cemetery. A tragedy can be transformed into a shiny monument and inequity within life is ignored or concealed. It is possible to read the evolving cultural ideals over time through the aesthetic shifts in the design of monuments. Through this project, I wish to center what lies outside our typical fields of vision and make space for the rich lessons the reflections within this mirror.
In every society, burial sites are needed practically. They are where we bury, burn, inter, contain, and release the dead. For logistical sanitary reasons, bodies are traditionally put below ground so that they can decay naturally without spreading disease. In addition, these spaces are layered with other functions and meanings. They are sacred sites, destinations for religious pilgrimage, and tourism. They are gardens, wildlife habitats, picnic spots, and exercise routes. They are labyrinths of monuments, architectural phenomena, and ruins. They can be adopted into spaces for protest, a refuge for the displaced, and sanctuaries for the ostracized. They are archives with disordered timelines as dates swirl their surface. They are encyclopedias. They are palimpsests. They contain a bricolage of connections to our daily lives on their surfaces. They are time capsules for future archeologists. They are historical museums, records of culture, and theatres of memory. They are galleries of monuments highlighting the affluent and famous. They are spaces of haunting. They are complex ecosystems that employ loss as their landscaper, rich in compost. They are echoes of the politics within their surrounding communities. They are islands passed by, over, and through. They are places of absence. They are worlds.
Amidst all these lenses a common thread runs through these burial spaces: they are places of death that are made, maintained, and instilled with meaning by the living.
Death stays alive with these acts of the living.
In each cemetery, I look for signs of the living. I wonder who else might have recently traversed my path when I am walking alone. I ask how long ago it was that they visited. I find gestures of remembrance.
Who gets to be remembered?
This question is partially answered through watering cans, hoses, shovels, scrub brushes, brooms, and rags. Maintenance tools are evidence of care and commitment. I capture images of the piles of composting flowers and discolored seasonal decorations in waste bins. I document all of it, as well as lawnmowers, tool carts, and work gloves. All of these are byproducts of preservation. I am reminded of the intense labor and time this requires.
When these efforts are exhausted or abandoned, what becomes of these spaces?
Foucault, Michel, and Jay Miskowiec. “Of Other Spaces.” Diacritics 16, no. 1 (1986): 22–27.