Monumental rogues

What should be done with statues of slave traders? 

Written by Dan in June 2020 after Edward Colston was dumped in Bristol Harbour.

 

OK, so we’ve pulled down Colston. Good riddance. Now what? What if we created new forms of public art that said something fresh about the kind of world we want to live in? What might they depict?

The effigy of 17th Century slave trader Edward Colston – in truth, a mediocre example of Victorian civic art – has gained immense power since it was ripped down and rolled into Bristol harbour.

Artist Mark Quinn attempted to fill the void, guerrilla-style, with his resin statue of activist Jen Reid and her black power salute, only for it to be removed the next day by Bristol council.

Marvin Rees, the mayor, insists that whatever happens next must be decided by the people of Bristol: “An empty plinth is really powerful because it captures where we are. We’re searching for answers. It would be presumptuous to step into that space and say I’m the one with the answer.” 

A less generous interpretation is that this implies black lives remain invisible.

Quinn’s piece at least demonstrates that temporary art can have as much impact as permanent monuments. Perhaps the ‘Fourth Plinth’ principle is the way forward, with opportunities for artists from every background getting their fifteen minutes of fame in the public realm.

Fellow artist, Thomas J Price has been critical of Quinn’s guerrilla tactics: “It was a strategy designed to increase his own profile, despite what he says about wanting to show allegiance,” says Price.

Price’s latest statue, Reaching Out, depicts a black woman on her mobile phone. He explains, “It was important to me not to have to fulfil the expectation that you would have to be a top athlete, or a Black Panther or a politician to be up there.”

On Instagram, Banksy has come up with a typically provocative compromise. He suggests putting Colston back on his plinth and commissioning life-sized statues of protestors in the act of pulling him down to commemorate the events of 7 June 2020.

Or how about a re-mix? We could melt down the offensive statues and invite artists from the black British community to repurpose the metal into their own tributes. A memorial to Stephen Lawrence perhaps? Or maybe a set of precious coins for the Windrush Generation to spend as they see fit?

Or we could re-cast all the former slavers into one giant bronze landmark that simply says SORRY.

Perhaps the time has come for every public memorial of an enslaver to be replaced with the statue of a slave? Guardian art critic Jonathan Jones suggests replacing the Colston statue with a re-creation of the cargo deck of a slave ship to dramatise the full horror of those who suffered.

That sounds amazing but expensive. A DIY alternative would be to invert slave-traders, symbolically over-turning the past.

Many see the erasing of historical evidence as a slippery slope. Instead, what if we editorialised by adding plaques to every slave-trader statue, listing their crimes in full?

Why stop at plaques? Could we commission other forms of intervention and comment? Lighting effects, animatronics, satirical accessories. In Glasgow, the statue of The Duke Of Wellington now wears a permanent traffic cone on his head.

Or could Colston join a sculpture park of shame for anti-heroes, preferably outside a motorway service station?

And while we’re at it, isn’t it also time to reverse the male domination of civic art by commissioning 16 statues of women for every one of a man in future?

Footnote: Tschabalala Self’s fabulous Lady in Blue will grace the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square from 2026.

Crazy statues

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