I’ve always associated The merry cemetery with the cult of Zalmoxis, with the belief that death is just a passage to a better life and also with the tradition of Celtic “happy death”. Sounds great, but what do you do when you realise that it was only in 1935 when Stan Ioan Patras carved the first cross?

Following your questioning mind, you start looking for answers. You soon find out that the typical cross from Sapanta is indeed an innovation introduced by Ioan Stan Pătraş in 1935 when he began personalising funerary crosses by carving epitaphs. These short witty or satirical poems reconstruct the identity of the deceased, offering us information about his/her life. Some are sad, telling of lives tragically ended by accidents or illnesses, some are funny

One famous epitaph reads:

Underneath this heavy cross
Lies my mother in law poor
Had she lived three days more
I’d be here and she would read
You that are passing by
Try not to wake her up
For she comes back home
She’ll bite my head off
But I’ll act in the way
That she will not return
Stay here my dear
Mother-in-law.

Another interesting grave shows a former local communist leader holding up the red hammer-and-sickle symbol and his epitaph ironically reads:

Here I rest
My name is Holdiş Ion
As long as I lived in the world
I loved the [communist] party
And I strived
To please the people.

It is the vivid blue that makes this cemetery look so lively. Some say Patras used blue for the background of his crosses because it symbolises hope and freedom; or because it represents spiritual awareness, healing and peace. Some say it’s the radiant blue of heaven where souls of the deceased depart after death, while others even talk about the vivid blue known today as “Sapanta blue” as reflecting images of devotion, truth and wisdom. Well, when the craftsman himself was asked about what inspired it, he replied plainly: “the sky”.

Introducing funeral inscriptions and including images to reproduce characteristic scenes of the deceased’s life, are indeed Patras’ innovations, but none of the means he uses are new: he exploited the traditions of local poetry, painting and architecture.

Carved and painted crosses are not Patras’ invention, as they can be found at the entrance of settlements and road junctions in many parts of Romania; the geometrical, floral decorations, and cosmic motifs, the serpent stripe, and the colours he used in his naïve painting are all inspired by the tradition of icons on glass and the textile dying of the area (carpets and folk costumes). The epitaphs are not his invention either, as their prosody is that of all local folk poems (ballads, Christmas carols and laments); also, as part of the funeral practices, the choir leader was supposed to compose a short poem in the name of the deceased to thank those who supported him during his life. This may have been the source of inspiration for his epitaphs as well as the two-three night wake. He made good use of the local popular art and of all means of expression available to him; his innovation consists of transferring local poetry and naïve painting into wood, and intuitively allowing the funeral cross to serve as the support for the epitaph celebrating life.

Patras hired apprentices to succeed him and he carved his funerary self-portrait in traditional dress. His inscription reflects the fact that he had to support his family from a young age after his father died:

Ever since a little boy
I was called Stan Ion Patras
Please listen to me good folks
What I say are not lies
All the days that I lived
I never wished ill for anyone
But all the good that I could
To whoever asked for it
Oh this poor world of mine
So hard was my life in it.

I have to admit I was initially disappointed to realise that the cemetery dates back to the 1930s. I expected it to be an ancient burial place, and not a 20th century cemetery. Having had a closer look, I discovered that I was right to associate The merry cemetery (a fairly recent innovation) with local pre-Christian beliefs; it may have deep roots in the in belief that the soul is not mortal, as the Dacians believed “that they do not die, but that he who perishes goes to the god Zalmoxis”.