Neighbors and a Most Unusual Cemetery
In a small Salamanca town, morille cemetery exists without flowers, photographs, or Sunday cleanups. The atmosphere is anything but solemn; it buzzes with life and energy, leaving outsiders surprised by the vivid, almost festival-like mood that accompanies memorials here.
The surprise deepens for first-time visitors: this place does not hold ordinary graves. Here, literary texts, plastic fragments, audiovisual documents, musical instruments, film sketches, and other non-biological objects fill the spaces that would usually cradle bodies. It is a concept some call wild, and founder Domingo Sánchez laughs at the label. He held the first funeral eighteen years ago, and more than two hundred sessions later the project continues to astonish new audiences as it did at the start.
The origins trace back to 2001, when Sánchez joined forces with the late Javier Utray and sketched out a bold idea sparked by the death of thinker Pierre Klossowski. He recalls a trip to Paris to retrieve Klossowski’s ashes, noting the mixed reactions from colleagues who doubted the plan yet could not ignore its provocative appeal. Klossowski, described by Sánchez as the enfant terrible of philosophy and a controversial figure, became the catalyst for what followed.
Denise Morin-Sinclair, Klossowski’s widow, served as a connecting link between the couple and the broader circle. Months of correspondence gradually shaped a plan for the philosopher’s legacy, revealing during a letter a striking blueprint for what would come next.
The project would eventually flourish beyond a single event. The creator recalls a moment when he proposed a provocative performance: Nick Cave performing during the funeral. It sounded audacious, yet it reflected the spirit of the undertaking. Although the singer was not proposed to participate, the ambition remained a marker of the unconventional path chosen. The partners pressed on, while others pursued more conventional memorials, such as preserving a classic car in a different setting and sharing memories through art.
To crystallize their mission, the idea took root in a quiet Corner of Campo Charro in Castilian Leon, a mining district once notable in the 1950s and home to a population around 230. The plan gained momentum when the project’s advocates discussed it with local leaders, including the mayor, who recognized the potential of a space where creativity and memory could mingle in new ways.
Neighbors on Parade
The first two funerals unfolded within a vast 90,000 square meter area granted by the City Council. On those spring mornings, a hearse carried the central vessel as neighbors, relatives, friends, and fans gathered in numbers that reflected a shared curiosity and support. Before the tomb lay a stone bearing a stark inscription, a reminder of the project’s audacious blend of remembrance and imagination.
Adjacent to the main vehicle, another vault lay only a few feet underground. Time passed with a quiet lull, then interest surged. Sánchez began cataloging each item that traveled from living memory into the memorial space, noting a waiting list of hundreds of requests to participate in the project.
Among the exhibited artifacts are manuscripts from a playwright, poems from a singer, a bust of an actor, a famous portrait of a journalist, and reels or photographs from a filmmaker. Objects of diverse origins populate the tombs, representing music, cinema, sports, and literature. These artifacts will not be recovered for public display in museums; they are meant to endure within the memorial itself as living material for future reflection.
Early on, the team envisioned a project for the future’s sake, telling the story of a contemporary mausoleum in a country where death tends to be highly regulated. This narrative drew the town into the idea, turning doubt into a shared commitment and turning curiosity into communal participation. The founder notes that the town gradually embraced the concept as it gained momentum.
A Dome and Many Plates
Visitors should not expect a typical tourist stop. This is not a conventional cemetery. It is a plot of land marked with informative signage and a newly erected dome that serves as the operations center, with plaques indicating the exact locations of the interments. The real spectacle unfolds along the grave paths themselves.
Each artist leaves a mark on the site, he explains, shaping the emotional tone and the formal presentation of the tributes. The relationship between the creator and the artworks explains the location’s purpose: to provide space for works in progress, so those in the midst of a creative surge do not fade from memory. The project becomes a living gallery of memory and art, an attempt to render mortality in a form that sustains cultural dialogue.
Visitors are invited to picture the stories the rocks preserve, a puzzle that may not reveal its full meaning on the first encounter. The minimalism invites curiosity, and as the path unfolds, a deeper richness emerges. The founder reflects with pride that the project was built through collective effort and hints at a forthcoming book about the experience of running such a large, unusual venture.
In this cemetery, artistic content and the physical space fuse, defying simple categorization. The founder admits there are no favorites among the funerals because each event carries intense significance. He often looks forward to the moment the visits conclude so the group can unwind at the local bar and let the experience soften the day’s heaviness.