New York, New York
August 10, 2005
The memorial is comprised of 20 white stone statues, situated in a triangle sloping down toward the sea. The massive, eight-foot-tall statues are carved into boxy, impressionistic human shapes, shoulders hunched, heads bowed to the ocean. They stand stoically in wild grass grown up to their knees, facing an expanse of blue Caribbean and the hills of Martinique’s southern coast beyond. To the west is the famed Rocher du Diamant (Diamant Rock), a craggy mountain peak jutting out of the ocean, once used as a British armed fort and now a popular destination for scuba divers and hikers. At the entrance to the memorial, just off the road, is a series of signs that explain the story behind it.
In short, the story dates back to Martinique’s long and horrific history of slavery, when the native Carib Indians were wiped out in favor of French indentured servants and slaves imported from Africa’s west coast. Though the Congress of Vienna in 1815 had abolished the slave trade (outlawing the importation of new slaves to Martinique, but not slavery itself), illegal slave ships continued to operate. On the night of April 7, 1830, a stormy sea sent a ship carrying slaves crashing into the rocks along the Diamant coast. Slaves chained together in the cargo holds were bashed against the rocks and drowned, along with most of the ship’s crew. Slavery was officially abolished in 1848, and for the 150th anniversary of the abolition, Martinican sculptor Laurent Valére was commissioned to conceptualize and create a memorial for the hillside overlooking the site of the crash. It was unveiled at its current location in 1998.
Today, walking among the statues is a singular experience. It’s not just the sculptures; it’s the green hillside, dotted with flourishes of red bougainvillea, on which it stands. It’s the vast expanse of sea beyond it and the steady rhythm of waves that sets its surface alive. It’s the silence, the balmy air, and the sheer contrast of brilliant greens, blues, reds, and, the weather-worn white of the stone. Unlike a roped-off sculpture in an air-conditioned museum, this is a living, three-dimensional sculpture that you can touch, move around, and through, experiencing it as part of its landscape. It’s one of the most affecting works of art I’ve ever come across.
From journal An Unexpected Cultural Turn Along the Beaten Path