ARCHITECTURE of the AFTERLIFE

The Pyramids of Giza and the Taj Mahal represent the executive end of what mausoleum moolah can buy you.

- Ian Kirke

If you aren’t a god on earth or a favorite wife of a Mughal emperor, then I guess your ambitions need to be reassessed. Other than a brick in the wall at Meadow Lane, home of the mighty Notts County, to commemorate my demise I have no lofty exit goals. But what about you? And why are some folk fixated on grander graveside galas?

 

According to many historians the significant marking of graves became commonplace around 3,000 BC, although unlike today these structures denoted burial chambers containing groups of the deceased rather than a solitary grave. The racy Romans took this art to another level, however the stone tombstones and memorials seen in graveyards across the country only became vogue in the 1650s as church burials boomed. In the nineteenth century plain, factual inscriptions, including name, age and date of death were a familiar sight, until the Victorian era ushered in the appearance of more extravagant erections.

But who are these tributes actually for? The deceased? An attempt to achieve a form of immortality, or at least, lasting fame? Or alternatively, for those who remain? My personal vision of simply vaporizing my remains once I have kicked the bucket and having my ashes spread across the second bend at Eastbourne Speedway (or the nearest operating track), potentially ending up on someone’s anorak after the first heat, may not necessarily chime with you. Death can be a delicate debate and, in an attempt to treat this inquiry with the requisite degree of reverence, I decided to undertake some field research on a chilly January day at one of the most iconic London cemeteries – Highgate.