8 benches on a graveyard

I once had a lover who told me I should take a walk in the nearby graveyard. I never went there until we split up, having almost forgotten it existed. Even though, along with Burger King, it is the only “attraction” in the area where I live: the outskirts of Munich. The “Waldfriedhof” is huge - the second largest of its kind in Germany. Too big to see every corner of it, at least for me with my poor sense of direction and unstructured way of approaching things.

So I took the same paths over and over again without realizing it immediately. It felt as if certain objects repeatedly caught my attention, calling my name, leading my way. Upon my walks, I realized that my fascination with graveyards and funerals might be an obsession with pathos, mysticism, and darkness, but something else lies beneath. It’s about “bearing witness.” I need the graveyard to believe that life actually ends.

I need the funeral in order to understand that a loved one now belongs to the past. And in all this mortality, something shifts. While circling the graves, approaching death – I end up approaching life. During my walks there were different witnesses: other trespassers or relatives bringing flowers to a certain grave.

Yet none has recorded the weight of this place like the benches. Through their varying designs and materials, they mark the passage of time while serving those who are still alive. These benches are in between the people who died and the people who miss them – they are neighbors to the dead, but they belong to the living.