Monuments Stone-Faced Ghosts of the Confederacy

Eric Calistri

2nd Lieutenant
Joined
May 31, 2012
Location
Austin Texas
From the New York Times:

Photographs by MICHAEL MERGENOCT. 16, 2015

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Credit Michael Mergen

In front of nearly every courthouse or at the main intersection of nearly every town in the South, you will find a Confederate memorial. From the late 19th century to the early 20th, the icon of choice was not a fountain or an obelisk but a young man in the prime of courage. He is Johnny Reb, staring attentively ahead, at something. One of the few acts at Appomattox that moves so many white Southerners to emotion was the generosity of permitting Gen. Robert E. Lee and his officers to depart with their side arms. It was technically a gallant gesture but arguably Grant’s unconscious acknowledgment of what we now know: that the war didn’t end but would merely be engaged on other battlefields: Klan terrorism, Jim Crow, redlining, housing covenants, voting rights restrictions. The most nuanced expression of this unending war can be seen in these stone faces. They do not appear ‘‘at ease’’ (when a soldier can look around); Johnny nearly always has a weapon, eternally ready for the next command.

Building these memorials was the work of the Ladies’ Memorial Associations. Being largely widows’ work, it happened under the radar, so hardly anyone noticed how the taciturn faces of these statues replaced the surly cry of the Confederate soldier, famous for his war whoop, the Rebel Yell. All the noisy arguments for white superiority were replaced by sober talk of states’ rights and the majesty of our Constitution. These faces are the beginning of the most impressive revision of American history in American history.

They also enlarged the boundaries of the Confederacy. Kentucky provided far more Union soldiers to the fight than Confederates. But according to the state’s historic preservation office, monuments specifically dedicated to the Confederacy number 64. The union? 11. And Kentucky is now popularly thought of as situated in the heart of Dixie.

After moving to Virginia in 2011, the photographer Michael Mergen noticed legions of these statues. ‘‘I thought of the idea of portraits,’’ he says. From June to August — motivated by the church shooting in Charleston, S.C., and the gunman’s love of the Confederate battle flag — he photographed nearly 100 of them. All were different, yet similar in their effect of reclaiming the public image of manhood: the stylish mustache, the strong jaw and, of course, the sharp hat. As more famous effigies are reconsidered — Jefferson Davis in Austin, Tex., Nathan Bedford Forrest in Memphis — these truculent defenders of slavery remain at their posts, the serene sentinels of our parks and greenswards, at rest but never at ease. JACK HITT
 
Ever notice how..similar they all look? It's kinda weird.
That's my impression, too--many of them look like portraits of the same man at slightly different ages. As art, some are quite good and some are very amateurish. It's really compelling to see them in a grouping like this.
 
There should be collages of others in surrounding states, some in North Carolina, Mississippi, Tennessee, Maryland too, don't look too shabby either.
 
Thanks for posting those amazing photos. In my visits to Southern towns and cities, I have always sought out the local Confederate monument, which as noted, is usually in the town square or in front of a courthouse. After all this time, those stone sentinels seem to come alive each time.
 
Kudos to the photographer who came up with the idea of capturing so many faces and putting them together for comparison. What a great way to view these memorial statues.
 
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