To statue or not to statue? Rethinking how we memorialise historic figures

As the shortlisted designs for the Queen Elizabeth II memorial have been unveiled, an age-old question resurfaces: how do we best commemorate a historic figure? Do statues, grand, enduring, and often idealised, truly serve as accurate vessels of history, or is it time we rethink what remembrance looks like in the 21st century?

The Queen Elizabeth II memorial shortlist

The five designs, recently unveiled for public consultation, reflect a range of creative interpretations. While it’s encouraging to see many designs exploring landscape, symbolism, and multisensory experience, three still feature statues of the Queen, some even on horseback, capturing her known love of equestrianism.

Here’s a brief look at what’s been proposed:

• A tranquil royal garden by Foster + Partners and artist Yinka Shonibare, featuring a natural stone path, a unity bridge, wind sculpture, and a statue of the Queen alongside Prince Philip.

• A ‘togetherness’-themed memorial walk by Heatherwick Studio, centred around a limestone sculpture of the Queen under a sculptural canopy of lilies.

• A symbolic bridge by J&L Gibbons, set among soil and tree roots, likening Elizabeth to the “bedrock of the nation.”

• A life-sized oak tree cast by Tom Stuart-Smith, with sonic soundscapes and bronze objects from her life.

• A thread of pathways with elegant bridges by WilkinsonEyre, offering a more abstract, meandering tribute.

It's refreshing to see more experimental, interactive and symbolic approaches included, but the reliance on statues in some proposals still prompts a broader question: is a statue really the best way to encapsulate a person's life and legacy?

Image © Foster + Partners

The problem with statues

Statues have long been used to commemorate, but increasingly, they are seen as problematic. As journalist Gary Younge put it, "Statues are symbols of reverence; they are not symbols of history." They elevate individuals, sometimes controversially, without context, creating simplified, often glorified versions of complex lives.

The murder of George Floyd in 2020 and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement sparked global protests, including in the UK, where longstanding grievances around colonial legacies and racial injustice were brought to the surface. Statues became focal points for this debate.

One of the most visible acts of protest occurred in Bristol, where the statue of Edward Colston, a slave trader, was toppled and thrown into the harbour. It wasn’t just about removing a figure; it was about rejecting the values that figure represented and challenging how history is publicly remembered.

Soon after, attention turned to Robert Milligan, a slave trader who built the West India Quay docks, whose statue stood outside the London Museum Docklands, a site directly linked to the transatlantic slave trade. As someone involved in the discussions around the removal of the statue, I saw first-hand the urgency and care with which the Museum, Tower Hamlets and the Canal & River Trust responded to the moment. The statue was removed, and now, a new memorial, The Wake, is being commissioned by the Greater London Authority. This seven-metre-tall bronze cowrie shell, to be installed in 2026, will be the UK’s first national memorial to the victims of the transatlantic slave trade.

These conversations helped shift focus from who we remember to how we remember.

Representation and the public gaze

Public backlash isn’t limited to statues of slave traders. The unveiling of Maggi Hambling’s statue of Mary Wollstonecraft, portrayed nude, drew widespread criticism. Many questioned why, with so few statues of women in the UK, this rare tribute to a pioneering feminist focused on her body rather than her intellect and achievements.

Such examples force us to confront broader issues such as who is represented in public space? What message do these statues send? And are they educational or simply celebratory?

A 2020 audit by Art UK found that only 2% of named public statues in Britain commemorate people of colour, and only 17% depict women. In the wake of 2020's protests, nearly 70 memorials in the UK were either renamed or removed, suggesting that the public is reassessing not just who is remembered, but how.

New forms of memorialisation

Rather than immortalising individuals in bronze or marble, artists and architects are exploring more nuanced, participatory, and inclusive ways of commemorating.

Anti-monumentalism is an approach that resists heroism. For example, Jochen Gerz’s 2146 Stones- Monument against racism features paving stones with the names of Jewish cemeteries destroyed by the Nazis engraved underneath. The stones were installed with the inscriptions facing downwards, rendering them invisible to the passerby, a subtle and powerful memorial designed to make people search, pause, and reflect.

Digital and interactive memorials are also gaining ground. Projects like the Kinfolk App use augmented reality to place virtual monuments in public space. These virtual memorials can evolve with time, offering flexible, layered storytelling that adapts as our understanding of history deepens.

Community-led art offers a powerful alternative to traditional monuments by inviting deeper reflection and dialogue. Artists like Yinka Shonibare use vibrant textiles, rich cultural motifs, and layered symbolism to reinterpret historical narratives, prompting audiences to engage with the past in more critical and inclusive ways. These contemporary forms of commemoration don't simply preserve memory, they invite questioning, re-evaluation, and learning. 

It’s particularly compelling to see Shonibare involved in the Foster + Partners proposal for the Queen’s memorial. His inclusion brings a thoughtful, culturally resonant lens to the project even more so given that the design also incorporates a statue, highlighting the tension between traditional representation and more progressive approaches to memorialisation.

Public memory, public input

What makes the Queen’s memorial particularly significant is that the public is being invited to vote. This creates a unique opportunity: not just to pick a design, but to reflect on what values we want to pass on.

Do we want a statue that enshrines her physical likeness? Or a landscape that encourages contemplation of her reign, her role in British history, and the institution she represented?

Queen Elizabeth II is revered by many, but she also presided over a monarchy with colonial roots that many feel needs deeper reckoning. Any memorial that seeks to represent her must hold that tension with honesty and care.

So... to statue or not to statue?

It’s not about erasing history, it’s about how we present it. Memorials are not just for today; they are for future generations. Do we want them to see symbols, or stories?

The shortlisted designs offer a spectrum, from the traditional to the conceptual. What remains to be seen is whether we, as the public, are ready to move beyond the pedestal and toward something more participatory, layered, and reflective of the full scope of a life and a legacy.

The question we must ask is not just, “What did she look like?” but rather, “What did she mean?”