A monument is created to occupy a public space and convey a message, but that message never remains the same. The change in the meaning of monuments is a phenomenon that concerns both art history and the cultural market that revolves around artworks, restorations, and public collections: when the perception of a work changes, the way it is protected, displayed, or evaluated by institutions and collectors also changes. This is illustrated by three very different cases — in Rome, Ethiopia, and Bristol — analyzed by the artist Cosimo Veneziano and commented on by curator and scholar Lisa Parola.
How the meaning of a monument changes over time
A monument can remain physically intact and still become unreadable if its history is not told. This is the starting point of this analysis: it is not enough to preserve a work, it must be made understandable to those who look at it today, with tools different from those of the people who commissioned or created it.
The role of public perception
Over time, a work placed in public space can become controversial, partial, or no longer shared by the community that observes it. The material of the monument does not change, but the way in which society interprets its values, origin, and function does. This is where the real issue lies: not preservation in itself, but the tools through which a work remains legible.
Why a context is needed to read them
Without information on the context of creation, on the reasons for its placement, or on the transformations it has undergone, the reading of a statue is left to the individual knowledge of the viewer. Information panels, archives, and educational paths are not an accessory detail: they are the tool that allows a work to continue to communicate, even when its original message has become uncomfortable or outdated.
The case of the Apotheosis of Fascism in Rome: concealment
In the Foro Italico complex, inside Palazzo H, there is the Apotheosis of Fascism, a large fresco measuring about 12 by 13 meters created by Luigi Montanarini, begun in 1936 and completed after Italy entered the war. The work depicts Mussolini at the center of the composition, surrounded by fascist hierarchs, militiamen, and people, among tricolors, black flags, and war trophies.
After the fall of the regime, the fresco was not destroyed but covered. In 1944 it was hidden by a blue drape, replaced in 1951 by a green cloth when the complex passed to CONI. It remained concealed for fifty-three years, until 1997, when restoration began and the work was re-exhibited thanks to the initiative of Francesco Zurli, then superintendent for Architectural Heritage.
This story shows a precise strategy: not to eliminate, but to remove from sight. Concealment does not erase the monument; it suspends its legibility. Its reappearance, however, raises another question, far from rhetorical: how is a work born as propaganda read today? Without interpretive tools offered to the public, the fresco risks being perceived as a simple monumental image, with its original function and decades of invisibility relegated to the background.
The Stele of Axum: restitution to Ethiopia after decades
If concealment acts on visibility, restitution intervenes on place. The Stele of Axum, built between the 1st and 4th centuries AD in the Kingdom of Axum, is one of Ethiopia’s identity symbols: 23.40 meters high and weighing about 150 tons, it was transferred to Italy during the fascist regime, dismantled and taken from Eritrea to Naples, and then installed in Rome in 1937, at Porta Capena.
It remained in Italy until 2003, when it was returned to Ethiopia after a long diplomatic negotiation. Dismantled again into three parts, it was transported and relocated in its original context, next to the twin stele. In this case, the change does not concern visibility but geographical location: yet the transfer reopens the entire history of the work. The material restitution, in fact, does not erase the Italian presence in the stele’s biography, but integrates it into a broader narrative that includes the colonial theft, the transfer, the long stay in Rome, and the return home. One question, however, remains open: how much of this history is actually conveyed to those who look at the work today in Axum?
The statue of Edward Colston: demolition and musealization in Bristol
The case of the statue of Edward Colston, a work by sculptor John Cassidy placed in the port of Bristol, introduces a third possibility: the direct interruption, by citizens, of the presence of a monument in public space. In 2020, during the Black Lives Matter protests, the statue was toppled by demonstrators.
The story did not end there. Recovered, the statue was exhibited in 2021 at the M Shed museum, after a process that included a public consultation on its fate. In 2024 it entered the permanent collection of Bristol Museums, where it is still visible today. Here the change is more radical than in the previous cases: it is not just a matter of moving the work, but of overturning its function. From a symbol of public celebration to a tool for critical interpretation, inserted into the narrative of the transatlantic slave trade and Colston’s historical role.
Why public art never tells a definitive story
The three cases show very different modes of intervention — concealment, restitution, demolition followed by museum recontextualization — but they share a central point: every intervention also changes the meaning of the work. A hidden, returned, or musealized monument does not produce the same effect on the public: context, information panels, archives, and educational paths determine how it is read.
This is where the reflection of Lisa Parola, curator and author of the book Giù i monumenti (“Down with the Monuments”), comes into play: “It is interesting to ask what a monument can say about a community and how this communication can change over time. When a monument is placed in public space, whom is it addressing? Who is speaking? What narrative does it present and what memory does it help to construct?” For Parola, the interpretation of a work is never definitive, but changes with society, knowledge, and awareness of the past.
According to the curator, the case of Colston’s statue is emblematic: in public space the work was accompanied by little information, a plaque with name and dates, elements sufficient to identify the figure but unable to convey his historical complexity and role in the slave trade. Inside the museum, instead, the statue is part of a different narrative. Since 2024 the city has chosen to preserve it not in an upright position, but lying down, accompanied by texts and materials that highlight its contradictions. Even the pedestal, which for a long time defined the monument’s authority, becomes part of the story: deprived of its original location, it is observed from a completely new perspective, no longer as a simple technical support but as an element that tells how a society chose to represent and legitimize a public figure.
For those who deal with public heritage, art, and conservation, these three episodes indicate a clear direction: the management of a controversial monument is not limited to the choice between preserving or eliminating it. Institutions that decide how to treat a contested work — covering it, returning it, or reinstalling it in a museum — also influence the cultural and symbolic value that the work will continue to have, with consequences for how public collections and museums construct their narrative paths and justify investments in conservation and display.
FAQ
Why can the meaning of monuments change over time?
Because monuments are interpreted through public perception, which evolves along with society’s values, knowledge, and historical awareness.
What are the most common ways societies intervene on controversial monuments?
Interventions may consist of hiding the work (concealment), returning it to its place of origin (restitution), or recontextualizing it in a museum after removal.
How did the meaning of the statue of Edward Colston change after its removal?
Removed during the 2020 protests, the statue became part of a museum display with texts that highlight its controversial history, and it is now exhibited lying down to change the viewer’s perspective.
What does Lisa Parola consider essential for interpreting monuments today?
She emphasizes the need to provide explanations, multiple points of view, and narratives that question what kind of memory the monument constructs and whom it addresses.
Content created with the assistance of artificial intelligence and with human editorial review.
As expert in digital marketing, Amelia began working in the fintech sector in 2014 after writing her thesis on Bitcoin technology. Previously author for several international crypto-related magazines and CMO at Eidoo. She is now the co-founder and editor-in-chief of The Cryptonomist and Econique.
She is also a marketing teacher at Digital Coach in Milan and she published a book about NFTs for the Italian publishing house Mondadori, while she is also helping artists and company to entering in the sector. As advisor, Amelia is also involved in metaverse-related project such as The Nemesis and OVER.
