A massive monument of General Robert E Lee that once sparked riots in the Virginia city of Charlottesville is now a pile of melted-down bronze, artfully displayed in a Los Angeles museum.
Next to the sculpture are barrels of toxic slag leftover from the melting process.
Around the corner, there is a massive, graffitied equestrian statue of Lee and Thomas Stonewall Jackson – the two most famous Confederate generals in the US Civil War, which the Confederacy lost in 1865 and ultimately led to the end of slavery in the United States.
They fought for slavery, says curator Hamza Walker, who has been working for eight years to acquire and borrow the massive monuments amid lawsuits and the logistical challenges of moving tens of thousands of pounds of bronze and granite to Los Angeles.
The idea of lionising those figures. What did they believe? They believed in white supremacy. Period.
Coming at a time when President Donald Trump is ordering statues and paintings of Confederate generals to be reinstalled, the warring narratives of American history are at the heart of Monuments, which opens 23 October at The Brick and at the Geffen Contemporary at the Museum of Contemporary Art.
The 18 decommissioned Confederate monuments are displayed alongside pieces of contemporary art. The massive, graffitied statue of Lee and Jackson, for example, stands next to a giant replica sculpture of the General Lee car from the iconic TV show, The Dukes of Hazzard.
President Trump has often spoken of General Lee's bravery, and he and others have criticized the removal and toppling of Confederate monuments, saying it's revisionist history. White nationalists marched in Charlottesville, Virginia in 2017, triggering deadly clashes, to keep the statue from being removed.
Following the Unite the Right rally, where a 21-year-old white nationalist killed counter-protester Heather Heyer, the narrative surrounding Confederate monuments shifted dramatically. Activist Jalane Schmidt reflects on the significance of these representations and the urgency of their removal.
The show's centerpiece, Kara Walker's Unmanned Drone, transforms the legacy of Stonewall Jackson into a critique of white supremacy, demonstrating how contemporary art can engage with complex historical narratives.
