Cemeteries can sometimes feel like outdoor museums—quiet places set aside to honor and reflect on the lives of those who came before. Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that the craft of making headstones became its own form of art. Each grave marker—in its presence or absence, whether pristine or whether its inscriptions have long worn away—shares a small piece of the life it memorializes. The artists who design them create the framework for that story, and in doing so, become a part of it themselves.

One of these artists, Eldren M. Bailey, became renowned in the Atlanta, Georgia, area primarily for his sculptures. Bailey first became interested in art as a young railroad worker watching his boss draw on the walls of boxcars. It didn’t take long for him to leave railroad life behind and find a new career as a cement mason. By the 1940s he’d married his wife, Marjorie, and they lived in her childhood home in Atlanta (just beside the railroad, as it happens) for the rest of his life.

Bailey began his masonry work in partnership with local funeral homes, creating tombstones that would stand in cemeteries around Atlanta like Oakland Cemetery, Rock Springs Cemetery, New Hope African Methodist Episcopal Cemetery, and Mount Zion AME Cemetery. Later he would earn recognition for the collection of art he created in his own front yard, an ever-growing display of concrete and plaster sculptures. It began in 1945 with a 9-foot-tall sculpture of the crucifixion, then grew to include a guard dog by the gate, a swan in flight, and massive funerary urns, among other things. His final addition was a tribute to Hank Aaron’s 715^th home run, completed on the same day cheers rang out from the nearby Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium as Aaron beat Babe Ruth’s long-held record. 

Bailey also kept a personal art collection in his home—smaller scale sculptures, but also paintings and other mixed-media works that explored the layered complexities of race, politics, religion, and mythology. His pieces, both in his home and on public display, incorporated symbols and styles from cultures around the world.

One such sculpture was the result of a design he submitted to the US government as a potential national monument for John F. Kennedy following his assassination. It depicts a bust of Kennedy with a plane soaring high overhead. The plane ties back to flight symbolism often seen in art by Black creators, particularly in reference to deliverance or death; in this case, it symbolized Kennedy’s passage from this life to the next. When Bailey never heard back about the national monument project, he decided to make his own using his favored materials of concrete, plaster, and paint. It stood in his front yard sculpture garden until his death in 1987.

In comparison to his sculptures, Bailey’s gravestones might seem simple. But, as with most things that involve the memory of a person’s life, these markers have significance beyond what might be seen at first glance. They are scattered across cemeteries in Atlanta and the surrounding area, but Bailey’s style is consistent enough that you can learn to recognize one when you see it: a standing rough concrete slab with names and dates hand-carved into a plaster inset.

One especially notable detail about Bailey’s gravestones is that they always include honorific titles. Mrs. Ada Newton. Miss Carrie B. Taylor. Mr. Charlie Price. This is significant in context; when Bailey began his masonry work in 1945, the “Jim Crow” laws enforcing racial segregation were still in effect, and discrimination against Black Americans came in both big and small ways. One aspect of this was the use of honorifics. During the years of U.S. slavery, Black people were required to use titles when addressing any White person as a show of deference, while Black people (enslaved or not) were usually referred to by first names or nicknames. This cultural division carried over into the 20^th century. White names in places like newspaper articles, phone books, courtrooms, and more were given honorifics, while Black names were overtly denied the same courtesy. In view of this history, the inclusion of “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” and “Miss” on Bailey’s headstones, which are primarily found in segregated African American cemeteries, is an intentional and meaningful show of respect.

Most of Bailey’s headstones are also topped by an artistic symbol—frequently a rosette, garland, or sometimes a cross. Each stone is engraved with the name of one of several African American funeral homes with which he worked: Hanley, Ivey, Sellers, Haugabrooks, and others. Today, Bailey’s artwork can be found in several museums across the country. But it is perhaps these unassuming tombstones that best represent his enduring tie to Atlanta’s Black community, with whom he lived and worked ever since the day he left railroads behind to connect humanity in a different way. 

Bailey passed away in 1987 at the age of 83. His grave in Atlanta’s South View Cemetery is marked by one of his own large funereal urn sculptures, a fitting tribute for a man who found a living in honoring the lives of others.

Efforts to restore and preserve African American cemeteries continue around the country. If you’re interested in stories like Eldren Bailey’s, there’s no better way to learn more than by joining in this work locally however you can! Consider stopping by a local cemetery this month to take some photos, participate in a clean-up, or simply reflect on the lives behind the names. Who knows—if you’re near Atlanta, maybe you’ll even spot one of Eldren Bailey’s gravestones while you’re there.