Entering the University of Richmond grounds from the east via Richmond Way, a C-shaped road shimmies past Robins Stadium and the Weinstein International Center. The downhill lane then passes two of the original buildings on campus dating to 1914: Residence Hall #1 and Residence Hall #2. These generic monikers have identified the architecturally distinguished buildings since 2022, when the names Jeter and Thomas were stripped from the Collegiate Gothic-style dorms. The Rev. Jeremiah Bell Jeter (1802-1880) was a prominent Baptist cleric and founding college trustee. James Thomas Jr. (1806-1882) was a tobacconist, trustee and philanthropist who kept the school afloat financially during the lean, post-Civil War years. Both men enslaved Black people.

These dormitory name changes, following the death in Minneapolis of George Floyd in 2020, were UR’s reactive response to its racist legacy. But a strikingly proactive place of reckoning and remembrance awaits those who continue along Richmond Way past Westhampton Lake, Fountain Hall and the old power plant at the foot of the hill. There, on April 23, the university dedicated a permanent memorial that acknowledges the indigenous and enslaved people who once occupied the woodlands and farmlands before the campus was moved to Westhampton 111 years ago.

The Burying Ground Memorial, equally tender and stalwart in spirit and design, is built of steel, bronze and multihued Virginia Mist granite, a local product. Most importantly, the memorial incorporates a gently sweeping grassy hillside that contains the graves of African Americans who have long been interred there. The physical memorial, designed by architect Burt Pinnock of the Baskervill firm, consists of a granite oval terrace divided into two outdoor “rooms” by an 8-foot-high brutalist wall built of hefty stone blocks.

The outer, and larger, arrival terrace is defined on one side by a curved retaining wall that doubles as a bench and opposite by the granite wall of two conjoined parts. The shorter sectional supports four bronze plaques containing in-depth narratives of the people who once lived on the surrounding acreage. The longer wall is punctuated by a bronze, sculptural gate through which one passes to reach the more intimate terrace at the base of the burial lawn. While the stencil-like, cut-out forms that make up the bronze panels of the gate appear to be modernist and abstract, they are graphic symbols of African spiritual expression. Themes represented include the existence of a supreme being, knowing the past as preparation for the future, and the bonds between family and community. Another symbol suggests the power of fences to provide protection and safety.

The symbolic panels on this 21st century bronze door brought to mind another – world-famous – doorway. This was the 10-paneled Gateway to Paradise doorway (1425-1452) at the Duomo complex in Florence, Italy. The Renaissance-era panels by Lorenzo Ghiberti depict such Old Testament figures and events as Adam and Eve in the garden, Noah and the flood and Moses receiving the Ten Commandments. While centuries and oceans separate the Richmond and Florentine gates, each symbolizes and celebrates human experience and spiritual growth.

Moving through the Richmond gateway from the outer terrace to the inner space reveals an intimate and contemplative place. A waterfall emerges gently from the granite wall and gurgles along a narrow bed of pebbles. Towering oak, pine and poplar trees form a majestic canopy over the emerald lawn.

On the wall of this “inner sanctum” are recorded the family names of those buried here, or perhaps elsewhere, on campus: Bradford, Burleigh (Burley), Burrell, Carter, Fleming-Parrish, Holmes (Homes), Leecost (Lecost), Lewis, Overton, Pryor (Prior) and Warden (Worden). In addition to these specific recognitions, there are three composite and symbolic renderings of faces representing Black women, men and children that lived here. Terry Davis, Ryan David and Marlow Jones Jr. were the illustrators. These symbolic gestures and others at the memorial resulted from years of research, study and collaboration that began around 2018 when a researcher on campus, Shelby Driskill, discovered the cemetery location and completed a report on her findings. The university picked up the ball and embraced input, information and ideas from university and descendant communities alike.

With completion of its moving and richly landscaped Burying Ground Memorial, the University of Richmond joins other Virginia schools that have recently developed monuments to enslaved people (identified and unidentified) connected with their campuses.

In 2021, UVA unveiled a Memorial to Enslaved Laborers that recognizes some 4,000 enslaved people who physically built the world-renowned campus. Situated east of the Rotunda, the 80-foot-wide, circular, minimalist space suggests a broken ring or shackle that is slightly sunken in the ground – or is it emerging from the earth? The Boston-based firm of Howeler + Yoon was the architect.

William & Mary unveiled Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved, in 2022. It honors those who were enslaved over 172 years within the vicinity of the school’s oldest buildings, the Wren Building and Brafferton Building. The monumental structure, an oversized hearth, symbolizes an everyday center of domestic enslavement. The theme was suggested by Will Sendor, a 2022 W&M graduate. The designer, like that of the UR memorial, was Burt Pinnock and the Baskervill firm (Pinnock was also the architect of the Reconciliation Monument in downtown Richmond at East Main and 15th streets).

And this past April, Roanoke College installed a bronze, cube-like sculpture depicting stacks of books to memorialize Authors and Architects. The book spines are embossed with the names of 800 enslaved laborers who had ties to the college. The closed books symbolize stories and records that will never be known. It was designed by Richmond-based artist Sandy Williams IV, who teaches art at University of Richmond.

A powerful element of the Burial Ground Memorial in Richmond is the bold use of granite. The architect and the dozens of folks UR engaged in creating this sensitive and powerful place of reflection were wise to reject red brick as a building material (or any hint of Collegiate Gothic design that’s so ubiquitous on campus). Brick edifices of any sort probably didn’t exist on this site when those being memorialized lived and worked here. In fact, the brutalist stone blocks are laid smoothly on the interior of the monument, but slightly unevenly on the outer, road-facing side. This rustication is a reminder that there are still issues and feelings to be connected, smoothed out and realigned in our community’s quest for social, economic and racial justice.