Memorials are, by their very nature, personal and--though traditionally religious and often expressed in public--very private. So, how--without becoming experts in ritual and momento mori--can Landscape Architects be sensitive to the human need--to grieve and cherish, remember and revere, face and find solace in memory--and bring objects of remembrance into designs for daily life?

Instead of reserving memorials for public figures and war heroes--though we are finding new ways to remember our war dead, we seem to be finding more and more public expressions that honor the memory of individuals, like those who have died from cancer, Alzheimer's disease, and other causes. In the process, our memorials for public figures also appear to be making our great leaders more accessible in death, like the memorial promenade incorporating the philosophies of Martin Luther King, Jr. pictured.

With its wall of names, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is a striking example of an interactive outlet where the living can grieve and gain closure about individuals who died or disappeared in combat. Viewed from the other direction, the monument is a "living memorial, " a land form representative of "green pastures" and spiritual recovery from war. Though originally constructed without a sculpture, the absence of a representational object was perceived as a lack, and a traditional sculpture eventually provided; likewise tradtional sculpture graces the long overdue Korean War Veteran's Memorial (featured also on LASN's December 1995 cover) and the Women's Vietnam Memorial. (Each evokes far different sensations than a cemetery for American soldiers in Italy that I visited with my father: in the driving rain, it was particularly like a sea of crosses.)

Rather than memorials that focus on death, we seem to be creating new concepts that continue the spirits of the dead with memorials that benefit the living. "In Loving Memory . . . "--words that often evoke sentiments of those who have passed away--seem to be less and less frequently associated with funerals and flowers and more and more frequently associated with donations to charity and research or with objects that publically reflect who the deceased were, what they enjoyed in life, and how they wanted to be remembered.

Not every memorial needs to be grand. Fortified with seawalls and jetties and strewn with tumbled rock known as "shingle," the beachfront in Sussex, England, now presents a more hospitable shore to vacationing French schoolgirls than the coastline that William (soon-to-be) the Conqueror faced in 1066. Not far from the seacliffs that repelled most invaders, among the rows of benches that line the seawalk at Eastbourne, for instance, is a teak bench placed there "In Loving Memory of Reginald and Elsie Lomas." The stretch from the bandstand to the promontory known as Beachy Head --with its promenade of color gardens--was quite an expedition, even for a visiting sixteen-year-old,. . . and a fitting place for a bench. Indeed, in lieu of a headstone, my grandmother broke with tradition and requested that bench be placed along the public walkway. In a distant country that some call the last bastion of tradition, that bench seems to have an elevated importance. In any case, the Cleansing Inspector in the office of the Amenity Contracts Manager, Department of Environmental Services, was very sensitive; seemingly attuned to the functions memorials serve for the dead and the living, he sent photograph to my mother showed both views of the bench and its inscription as well as from the bench.

If one object of memorials to focus private moments, especially in a public place, there is a place in every project for remembrance.

Slide/Caption:

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial was designed by Maya Lin as a interactive "living memorial." Photo courtesy of the Washington, DC Convention & Visitors Association.

Slide/Caption:

Much like the tribute to the soldiers who raised the nation's flag on Iwo Jima, the Women's Vietnam Memorial is a traditional representational piece. Women's Vietnam Memorial photo by Highsmith; both photos courtesy of the Washington, DC Convention & Visitors Association.