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Toppling the statue of Queen Victoria in July 2021 did not end the reign of colonialist memory on the Manitoba Legislature's grounds, but simply marked the removal of its most accessible symbol. This paper examines the sculptural programme of the Legislative Assembly and how its engagement with the classical world glorifies the role of European settlers while erasing the contributions and experiences of Indigenous people. It details the exclusionary narrative told by these statues through the lens of ancient art and modern architectural history, tying Beaux-Arts architecture and the City Beautiful movement to the White supremacist classicizing aesthetics of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair. It argues that the imagery used on the Legislative Building was intended to recruit White settlers into a colonial and capitalist vision of Manitoba. More specifically, it examines the connections between images from antiquity and the idea of Manitoba as the centre of a powerful colonial enterprise, through an architectural nostalgia that distorted the realities of both the ancient past and the present. Using the ancient Roman practice of damnatio memoriae ("condemnation of memory"), this paper contends that statuary like that found on the Legislative Building offers a pretense of permanency and authority that has in reality been challenged as long as monuments have been used for this purpose. Ultimately it considers more dynamic forms of commemoration, such as the orange flags planted around the plinth where Queen Victoria once stood, and how communal memory can be more responsive and reflective of the people it represents. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

Monuments and statues are forms of commemoration. They typically pay tribute to people or events and aim to serve as a permanent marker, a link between present and past generations, committing them to memory and assigning them with importance and meaning. While commemorations can be beneficial in terms of recognising a legacy of the past and helping foster relationships between opposing groups, they can also be divisive and painful, failing to acknowledge other dimensions of historical fact and further hardening the boundaries between groups in conflict. Essentially, what we choose to commemorate reflects what we as a society actually value. This paper focuses on the unsettled fates of the Captain Cook statue that stands with prominence in Hyde Park, Warrane, and other colonial monuments in Australia. It also discusses the emotionality surrounding such commemorations. We question whether Cook's actual achievements constitute the notoriety that has been bestowed upon him. A range of commentators have put forward ideas around what to do about the Cook statue which we discuss while also considering what the future might look like if the truth of colonial history is known and open conversations can be had. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]