Vietnam Veterans Memorial

Sometimes, understatement is the most eloquent expression. Amid the dramatically beautiful memorials that ornament the west end of the National Mall, the sunken black granite of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is poignantly subdued. The bold exclamation point of the Washington Monument soars above one end of this nearly 500-foot wall, and the calm nobility of the Lincoln Memorial glimmers at the other. Like many of their neighbors, these two structures commemorate sacrifice, but their architecture is celebratory, exulting in triumph and worthy ideals. The Vietnam Wall overwhelmingly invokes loss, and honors by name the 58,267 United States service men and women who perished during the war.

The architect, Maya Ying Lin, was an undergraduate in 1980 when she designed the Wall and submitted her plan to a national design contest seeking ideas for a memorial. She envisioned a sheltered, quiet place at peace with its natural surroundings. Cut into the earth, rather than looming above it, the memorial seems to take refuge in its environment and is nearly invisible from a distance but for the soft glow of the lights that line its path. Pacing the Wall's length is a somber journey of remembrance that Lin viscerally enforces by leading you through scarred earth to the names of those who died. Each day, families and friends leave tokens of love along the panels or press their hands to an etching in granite. The memorial is a cradle for relationships and the remarkable strengths and weaknesses of humanity.

Under a billowing American Flag, a sculpture of "Three Servicemen" stands sentinel over the gleaming rampart below. The soldiers appear tired, war-worn, but alert and strong. Their stances are startlingly real and, like the Wall, evoke the devastating consequences of patriotic duty. As with many of Washington, D.C.'s memorials, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial is especially stirring after dark when the city is muted, and echoes seem to linger.

- Tess Hart