Large monuments have been around for as long as human civilizations have. There are a few theories as to why mankind often chooses to build so big. One of them suggests that it’s conspicuous consumption: the demonstration of prosperity by intentionally wasting resources on big, uninhabitable things.
A more popular notion is that of collective memory, where objects must be grand enough to carry the weight of a generation’s beliefs, hopes and fears into the future. Whatever the reason, monuments are fascinating because while they are not architecture, they are highly architectural. They make the body aware of its presence in space and time; they mediate relationships between landscape and human. As the projects below demonstrate, the biggest things can represent the most concise ideas, rendered real in bamboo, concrete, metal or stone.
Bunker 599 by Atelier de Lyon & RAAAF, Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Situated on a military line of defense that was functional from 1815 to 1940, this project slices a bunker owned by the New Dutch Waterline into two mirrored halves. Walking between the two pieces along a wooden boardwalk, visitors are guided to the edge of a pier to observe the flooded area before them. The eerie calm of the shallow plain of water is meant to denote not a natural occurrence but the reality of consistent wartime inundation.
An Occupation of Loss by OMA, New York, N.Y., United States
Built for a performance piece at the Park Avenue Armory by artist Taryn Simon, OMA’s arrangement of 11 concrete silos is nothing short of stunning. Each silo invites the viewer to enter inside and, according to the artist, express a sentiment of grief. The somber tones of raw concrete and the dramatic, spindly tube lights within the silos emphasize the seriousness of its function. While the sincerity of Simon’s project might be questioned, the physical installation leaves a lasting impression.
Rock Strangers by Studio Arne Quinze, Ostend, Belgium
This striking set of red boulders was installed on the Belgian coast as an investigation of public strangeness. How do we react when we’re suddenly confronted with the unusual, the monument asks, and how does this strange thing bring us closer to the strangers who see it too?
Big Bambú by Starn Studio, New York, N.Y., United States
Commissioned by the NYC Transit Authority for the South Ferry Subway Terminal, the artists — a pair of identical twins — used 2000 freshly harvested bamboo poles and 30 miles of mountaineering rope to build a chaotic, monumental nest. There is, however, a method to the madness: the structure was completely stable and contained two arches on which one could traverse.
“We need to make it so big in order to make us — all of us — feel small, or at least to awaken us to the fact that, individually, we’re not so big as we think,” Doug Starn, one of the artists, said. “Once we’re really aware of our true stature we can feel a part of something much more vast than we could ever have dreamed of before.”
A R C by Bernaskoni, Dzerjinskiy, Russia
Built in a national park in Russia, A R C stands on an edge between a forest and a field, two topographical opposites that are mediated by the dark, monumental gate. Contained within the arboreal triumphal arch is a spiral staircase, an observation deck, a bar and a well. While it thus might seem a surface dividing two distinct natural environments, the monument has a depth of its own, containing an interior environment that complements its lush setting.
Skyspace by James Turrell in collaboration with OAP Architektur und Projekte, Zuoz, Switzerland
James Turrell, arguably the grandfather of sound and light installations, has been building Skyspaces since the 1970s. Simply defined as an enclosed structure with an oculus that can fit around 15 people on an internal bench, the Skyspace may not always be monumental in the singular, but as a vast collection of objects scattered around the world, it becomes monumental in its geographical range. Whether lit in Turrell’s signature neon hues or simply the light of the sun, the Skyspace achieves the hallowed reputation of a monument via its minimalist and meditative form.
Belly of the Beast by Burn Ritani, Matakana, New Zealand
On a more lighthearted note, this project plays with the notion of genuine architecture and the typically static connections between audience, meaning and object. One can climb to the top of the sculptural monument, which is shaped like a giant tree and made out of recycled tyre tread shingles, essentially becoming part of it. By reconciling the gaze of the audience with the sculpture itself, the project ceases to be an inanimate thing, instead taking on a life of its own.
Structures of Landscape by Ensamble Studio, Fishtail, Mont., United States
Situated on the cusp of Yellowstone Park, these “structures of landscape” were based on research into the existing natural conditions of the site and the various geological process that made it the way it is: weathering, crystallization, erosion, sedimentation. Continuing these processes, natural elements, and their organic structural properties, the project comprises surreal installations that dot a vast and humbling landscape. In their invitation to intimacy, the megalithic objects amplify the immensity and loneliness of the earth from which they emerged.