Since the Neolithic Age, humans have left stones at burial sites. As an enduring and weather-resistant material, everything from pebbles to megaliths have been used as grave markers. Tombstones as we think of them today – carved with names, birthdates, deathdates, a message of remembrance – date back as far as 3000 BC. When we walk through a cemetery (of which Berlin has 228) and scan the names of strangers, we rarely think about the person who carved those names in stone. The artistry behind burial rituals is often lost in grief. But for someone like Ratak, a 29-year-old stone carving apprentice, an appreciation of the craft is exactly why he would visit a cemetery in the first place.
I had no idea one could get so creative with tombstone design.
It was the search for a vocation that led Ratak to the stone carving trade. “I was always drawn to the artistic side of design, handmade visuals and typography, with minimal involvement of computers,” he tells us. After studying graphic design in France and writing a thesis on the evolution of handwriting, he was pulled to Berlin by the experimental and avant-garde design scene. What he found was tombstones. “Two years ago, I visited a cemetery in Berlin, and was stricken: it was so different from the French ones with their conservative lines of crosses, so conceptual, bold. I had no idea one could get so creative with tombstone design.” While Ratak had always been fascinated by the design element of cemeteries, it had never been his intention to work so closely with one. But it was in a Berlin cemetery that his vocation arrived, sudden and unexpected: “Right there, I had an epiphany – that’s exactly what I want to do!”
Once he had the vocation, Ratak only needed the venture. Turns out, there was a stone carving workshop beside the cemetery offering just that. He walked inside and simply said, “I want to learn how you guys do what you do.” On the spot, the workshop offered Ratak a two-month internship in tombstone sculpting, which he’s just finished. Now he works as an assistant and plans to start a full-time Ausbildung soon. That walk through a cemetery one day changed the course of Ratak’s life and career. “It confirmed I was in the right place,” he tells us.
The workshop in Tempelhof-Schöneberg that Ratak walked into that fateful day is called Scherhag Steinmetz. It’s been around since 1894 and is the second-oldest stone carving workshop in Berlin, according to its director, Marcus Karnatz. They do far more than carve tombstones, which only makes up 60% of business. As Marcus reveals, “30% are orders for construction elements: stairs, bathrooms, kitchens, facades, fireplaces, tables. And the remaining 10% are historical restorations.” In fact, the scope of work is comprehensive, ranging from rough work that requires physical force, to delicate carving that requires artistic skills, to construction that requires precise measurement and patience. “Most stone carvers are prone to either one or another and specialise in it,” Marcus explains.
To become a full-time employee at Scherhag, Ratak – and other candidates – must complete formal stone mason training (Steinmetzausbildung). It’s a dual programme, according to Berlin’s Masonry Guild, of which Scherhag is a member. This means the course consists of practical learning at a workshop and theory at a school. Four official schools in Germany – one in Lower Saxony, one in Rhineland-Palatinate and two in Bavaria – offer a full-round education in stone masonry, covering all aspects of the craft. Depending on the school, a student can study the theory in one go over several months, or study the theory one day a week while working the rest. The programme lasts for three years. Trainees are compensated by the workshop that provides the training in accordance with professional rates: €925, €1,025 and €1,175 a month for each consecutive year of training. A trainee can additionally apply for BAFöG, the German state scholarship, or a rental subsidy.
In the programme you can choose one of two directions: stone masonry or sculpture. Marcus takes students in both areas. This year, there are about five people in Berlin undergoing the training. “It’s a big commitment for a workshop,” Marcus tells us. “You’re investing not only money, but also the time of the employees who have to teach the trainees. That being said, a workshop would gladly provide a spot to a person with true interest and discipline. It’s a long-term investment.”
Marcus himself studied at an educational centre in Berlin that’s now closed. During his 22 years at Scherhag, he’s been the director for the past four. “We don’t really do advertising – we actually have orders on a waiting list. Traditionally, stone masonries even have a signature. For special orders, we carve our name on the side, like sculptors do.” Instead of advertising, Scherhag depends upon existing networks: recommendations or returning clients. For tombstones, they cooperate with funeral homes. Family members who used their services in the past will also likely return again and again. “We take existing tombstones to carve a new name on them if another family member dies and wishes to be buried in the same place,” Marcus explains. “Some families are clients for generations. Some who ordered tombstones before would return to order a fix on a fireplace.”
Reconciling with death is a part of our work.
One thing someone like Ratak also has to reckon with before choosing the stone carving profession is the emotional element. For such a tough, hands-on trade, it’s permeated by one of life’s most sensitive subjects: death. “You’re dealing with human stories,” says Marcus. “Unfortunately, people don’t always die at an expected biological age.” The stone carvers at Scherhag have had to carve tombstones for children, communicating with grieving parents about the details. “You can imagine how it feels,” Marcus says, leaving us to envision the brutal pain of it for ourselves. “Reconciling with death is a part of our work.”
In terms of making a living, a stone carver in Berlin can count on earning somewhere between €29,000 and €40,000 a year before tax, according to Stepstone. Scherhag pays €17.34 per hour. “One’s earnings depend largely on their productivity and enthusiasm,” says Marcus. If a stone carver studies for a Meister (a further three years of education), gets promoted to a managerial role or opens their own business, the compensation increases accordingly. Perhaps it’s for this reason that there’s low employee fluctuation within the profession. At least there used to be. “We have two technical pensioners – one is 71 and the other one is 74 – who are still working,” Marcus tells us, “and they both started when they were 16 or 17. Another colleague who started at 16 is going to retire in two years.”
For someone who has been in the game as long as Marcus, it’s easy to notice patterns in employment. For example, the past few years have seen an influx of apprentices in their late 20s or 30s, which means they tried something else before turning to stone carving. “That never happened in the past. I guess it’s become a bit easier to change fields these days, and maybe there’s a bit more consciousness about not staying in a profession one doesn’t enjoy.” Stone carving provides someone with the opportunity to experiment and explore their creativity, and it often leads to offshoot career paths. “I know a few people who went on to study further and focus on historical restoration of buildings. That’s a separate area, a different skill.”
Marcus thinks the profession will stay stable in terms of technological advancement – for now. “There are machines involved in stone carving, and our craft is becoming more mechanised, especially in terms of design,” he admits. “But more automation requires more skills to control the machine from the human end. From our business perspective, it also doesn’t make sense to buy an expensive machine at the expense of multiple workers.”
In the end, the future seems safe for someone, like Ratak, freshly entering the profession. After all, petroglyphs are humanity’s oldest art form, and a craft that dates back 200,000 years isn’t easily undone, even by our rapidly digitalised society. Carving a person’s life story into stone requires more than just dexterity. It demands time, attention and a surprising amount of empathy: a craft in its most fundamental form. As Marcus phrases it, “One can still see the craft in the quality of the result.”
You can commission stonework from Scherhag at scherhag-gmbh.de
