I don’t have a poetic opening, so I’ll be direct. Saving Graces by David Robinson is a photography book about erotic statues of women in cemeteries.
Some might find that sleazy or off-putting, but I find these statues to be an intriguing and important aspect of cemetery and art history.
Now, now, before you get too bothered, I will tell you that the image on the cover is the most risqué of the entire collection. There are a few examples within the pages that are almost on par with the cover. But most of the ladies featured in the book have their carved clothes on. Not to mention plenty of strategically placed wreaths over sensitive places.
This book is older, with a publication of 1995. It has a small trim size, unlike most coffee-table sized photography books. But that does make it affordable and accessible. I bought my copy used for under ten dollars.
All the photos are black and white. Aside from the philosophical introduction from Joyce Carol Oates (of which I found myself agreeing with a bit and disagreeing with quite a lot) there is no text or information about the cemeteries or monuments. Thus this is not an informative book, and taphophiles who are interested in history, the monuments, the people/families, or the cemeteries depicted in the book will be disappointed. This is definitely a drawback as there is surely information about the statues or the people who chose to have them placed at their eternal resting place. Perhaps the deceased themselves, or living parties made the decision later. Either way, even the sparest of details could have added a lot in the realm of social and art history to the book.
Though purely visual and not very informative, the book is still worth a spot on your shelf if you are interested in cemetery statuary and art. If that’s you, you can find the book on Amazon here.
I found myself inspired by the muse of these statues and wrote a poem on the theme of this book. Here is Femme Fatale from my book Romancing the Gatekeeper:
Not all graveyard angels have wings
Some have bared breasts and loose locks of hair carved in stone
Their cheeks, lips, and curves astonishingly smooth
but their hands
are a surprise
One finger bent just so gripping the stem of a flower
lifelike
Grief makes us disheveled and reveals the most tender places
where the judgements of polite society cannot reach us
Only the matters of Heaven touch us in the graveyard
Here we can live with
the thought that perhaps our bodies are not a sin
Perhaps that which we
caress and crave and finally lay to rest really does deserve
to look up into a gaze as beautiful as this
