Off With Their Heads

"Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith."

- Steve Jobs

When I visit cemeteries, I often come across statues that have been affected by both the passage of time and acts of vandalism. While I can't alter the effects of time, I also feel helpless in the face of vandalism. Despite the somber nature of this subject, it's something I want to discuss here.

This is the current appearance of the Whitlock memorial in Oakwood Cemetery, Syracuse, NY. It serves as the final resting place for Arthur P. Whitlock, J. Robert Whitlock, and J. Robert's wife, Mary Root Whitlock.

The monument is situated on a hill overlooking Oakwood’s Dedication Valley, the cemetery's oldest section. From this vantage point, you can hear the continuous hum of vehicles traveling along nearby Interstate 81 as it winds through the city.

The Whitlock monument did not always appear this way.

When J. Robert, Arthur, and Mary were laid to rest in 1888, 1899, and 1911 respectively, sculptor J.C. Esser vision was quite

different.

Initially, an ornate urn with a fabric drape adorned the monument. The central statue was an angel modeled after J.C. Esser's daughter. Over time, the angel lost her wings and eventually her head, and the urn has also vanished.

What remains today is the body, with hands holding a wreath. She has been moved and repositioned over the years, facing different directions, and at one point was even lying on the ground.

Nonetheless, she makes an intriguing subject for photography, don’t you think?

One of my other favorite statues at Oakwood

Cemetery suffered a similar fate.

This is Ella Rosa Burt who passed away from

illness in 1872. She was just 19 years old. Ella sits in repose on another hill, not far from the graves of her parents, Oliver Teall Burt, and Rebecca Johnson Burt.

This is the only picture I could locate of Ella Rosa in her original form. The quality of the picture isn't great, but she still looks serene and lovely.

The present depiction of Ella Rosa is on the left.

She is dressed in a flowing robe, with a cape fastened around what used to be her slender neck. The hands are so lifelike that if you were to reach out and touch them, you might expect them to feel warm and soft.

Her head is absent. Where has it gone? Another mystery that might remain unsolved.

Approximately three miles from Oakwood in Syracuse's Valley area lies St. Agnes Cemetery, home to a statue that carries profound personal meaning for me.

I captured this image of an angel early in my photography journey, during a time when film was prevalent and digital cameras hadn't yet gained widespread popularity. 

The angel is nearly as tall as I am, with her head inclined downward, her chin resting on her right hand, and her eyes closed. Whenever I gaze at her, I notice such human characteristics: contemplation and melancholy. I frequently anticipate her wings unfolding and carrying her into the sky at any moment.

It's an image I revisit time and again to reconnect with my creative core, my meaning, and my purpose as an artist.

The photograph on the left was taken a few years back. I had known for a while that the head was missing.

On that day, I stood on a hill opposite the site, observing it from a distance. My heart sank. It took some time before I finally gathered the courage to go over and examine it more closely.

Upon seeing the crushed hand where the head once lay, it was evident that a great force had been used to destroy this beautiful creature. The urns that once held flowers were also gone. I searched the area and even ventured partially into the woods but found nothing. The head was either shattered beyond recognition or stolen.

When I was a teenager, the cemetery where my paternal grandparents are interred was vandalized. The angel on their headstone had its head, fingers, and part of a wing damaged.

For years, the head and other pieces remained on a closet shelf until my dad discovered how to reattach them. I clearly recall opening the closet and seeing the head staring back at me. Since I didn't know about the damage at that time, it was certainly unsettling.

I will never comprehend what compels individuals to go to such lengths that they deliberately ruin both personal belongings and beautiful artwork.

People often say that karma eventually reaches those who deserve it. I can only wish for fate to step in. Maybe it already has.

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Christine Shephard is a photographer, writer, and avid taphophile. She makes her home in Central New York.

Images captured by Christine Shephard Photographic Design and the written content cannot be utilized in any other format or publication without explicit permission.

Vintage pictures of the Whitlock and Burt monuments at Oakwood Cemetery reproduced from

Shades of Oakwood.

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