Art, Soul, Humanity, History

Why do we build memorials? What is their purpose? How does their design influence our experience not only of the memorial itself, but also our understanding of the significance, both historical and human, of the event or person being memorialized?

When I first visited Maya Lin's Vietnam Veteran's Memorial in Washington, DC, I was unexpectedly struck. I was awed by the power of the emotions that were elicited as I traveled down the walk, essentially underground, along with the people whose names were carved into the hard stone. Even though my father was a Vietnam veteran, I had never truly experienced the depth of the human cost of the war. After all, he'd come back, twice, physically unscathed. During the walk down the wall, there was a silence, even in the noisy crowd ~ a silence so loud, of voices gone forever.


I feel that the purpose of memorials should be more than to simply elicit remembrance and emotions, or to impart knowledge. The vision of a memorial is best served by weaving the past to the present to the future. We should come away from a memorial changed. Our hearts and souls can drink in the passion of the ideals that fueled the greatness of the person or event being memorialized.

At the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial in Washington DC, I was again in awe of the power of art to shake my soul. As I walked along the path through the four terms of his presidency, I already knew the facts. The genius of the art showered light on the history and the connections between what happened then and who we are as a country now.

In no place is this more evident to me than the last view we have of FDR at the memorial. He is sitting in his wheelchair, circled by his great cape, his Scottish Terrier, Fala, by his side. Unlike the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorial statues, he is not enormously more than life size. He is accessible. He is literally within our reach.

The art..... oh, how amazing the art is. He is reachable and touchable, and he is changed by our touch. Just about everybody who goes to the memorial touches FDR's outstretched finger, puts their hand on his knee, and pets Fala. Our touch leaves a gleam ~ a collective gleam on the statues just as our touch as citizens, as humans, leaves a gleam on our world.

Few understood that more deeply than FDR.