A field in Virginia is drawing hundreds of visitors, not for its pastoral beauty, but for the decaying remnants of a once-ambitious art project: 42 massive concrete sculptures of former U.S. Presidents. What began as a $10 million park near Colonial Williamsburg has transformed into an unexpected attraction, fueled by the very deterioration its creators sought to avoid. The site has become a pilgrimage for those drawn to the poignant symbolism of fading power and the imperfections of American history.
The colossal heads, each weighing at least five tonnes and originally standing twice the height of a basketball hoop, are now succumbing to the elements. Chester A. Arthur is missing his jaw, Ulysses S. Grant has lost a portion of his eyebrow, and Franklin D. Roosevelt suffered damage to his head during transport, reportedly by a Route 199 overpass. Yet, it’s this state of disrepair that has sparked a surge in popularity, with a waiting list now stretching into the hundreds.
The sculptures were the vision of David Adickes, a Texas sculptor who studied in Paris. Adickes, an Army veteran who died last year at the age of 98, had hoped his creations would uncover a home in Washington D.C., but the cost of real estate proved prohibitive. He settled on a location near Colonial Williamsburg in 2004, aiming to attract history enthusiasts and families. Still, the park struggled financially, hampered by the Great Recession, high ticket prices, and ineffective marketing, ultimately declaring bankruptcy in 2010.
Instead of demolition, the abandoned sculptures were rescued by Howard Hankins, a local builder who purchased the land after the park’s closure. “I just couldn’t see crushin’ ’em,” Hankins recalled, opting to move the busts to his farm and industrial property, a distance of 18km. The move itself cost him $50,000, and while he initially envisioned building a modern museum, that plan remains unrealized.
A Symbolism of Imperfection
In 2019, Virginia photographer John Plashal discovered the deteriorating sculptures and, partnering with Hankins, began offering tours of the site. Now, visitors pay $28.35 to witness what the website describes as “neglect and decay.” The unusual attraction has even drawn celebrity attention, with Ozzy Osbourne among those who have made the trip. Nearly 600 people visited over a recent weekend, traveling from as far as Germany and the Dominican Republic.
The appeal, it seems, lies in the sculptures’ vulnerability. “Now they gaze like they’ve got leprosy,” Plashal told a recent tour group, adding that wasp nests often occupy the sculptures’ eye sockets. Yet, this decay resonates with visitors, prompting reflection on American history and the nature of power. “Because they are falling apart,” explained 10-year-old Evelyn Price, articulating a sentiment shared by many. “But, um, life is kinda like that.”
Visitors find themselves connecting with the sculptures on a deeply personal level. One attendee remarked, “That one’s me,” gazing at the jawless bust of Chester A. Arthur. Clinical psychologist Treloar Price observed, “America is really, really excellent at getting things very, very wrong, and then working hard to try to fix it.” For Navy veteran Doug Tempest, the sculptures represented the transient nature of American power, noting that, unlike dictatorships, the U.S. System allows for regular changes in leadership.
A Reflection on American Foundations
The site also prompts contemplation about the nation’s core values. Caren Bueshi, a retired teacher from Florida, expressed concern about a perceived erosion of constitutional literacy, referencing recent reports regarding the detention of immigrants with proper documentation. “We’re forgetting the foundation,” she said, standing near the crumbling likeness of Andrew Jackson. Her mother, Pat Duke, 91, added simply, “It always is,” acknowledging the ongoing challenges inherent in the American experiment.
The experience isn’t solely somber. Families leverage the site as a unique educational opportunity, with parents turning the sculptures into impromptu history lessons for their children. One mother pointed out Chester A. Arthur’s missing jaw to her daughter, while another shared anecdotes about Thomas Jefferson’s reluctance to public speaking.
As the sculptures continue to deteriorate, their popularity shows no sign of waning. The site offers a unique and thought-provoking experience, prompting visitors to confront the complexities of American history and the enduring power of symbolism. The future of the sculptures remains uncertain, but for now, they continue to draw crowds eager to witness the beauty of decay and the enduring spirit of a nation grappling with its past.
The ongoing preservation – or lack thereof – of these monuments will likely continue to spark conversation about how America remembers and represents its leaders. As the sculptures further succumb to the elements, the site will undoubtedly remain a compelling destination for those seeking a unique perspective on American history and identity.
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