Kariouk Architects, as part of the Groundworks collaborative team, earned second place in a national design competition for Manhattan’s African Burial Ground Memorial — a project dedicated to honouring the lives and lasting contributions of the enslaved individuals who helped build New York.
At Kariouk Architects, we relish any opportunity to take part in creative competitions that push our thinking and approach to building spaces. They offer more than a chance to design — they allow us to engage differently as a team, explore meaningful ideas, and stretch our imaginations. While our chances to enter large-scale competitions in Canada are rare (see “Why Public Competitions Matter” in the right-hand column), we seek out opportunities that align with topics we’re passionate about, such as landscapes and the complex relationship between memory and memorialization. (Our Cemetery Marker and (a)way Station, featured on this website, are two examples.)
The competition for this public memorial in lower Manhattan was an ideal opportunity for us to explore, and to take positions, on a heated debate that was ignited when thousands of “unknown” remains came to light in 1991 at a construction site. Years of community concern, protests, archeological digs and studies led to the commissioning of a competition for a monument on part of what came to be known as the African Burial Ground.
In the first phase in 2001, our team was shortlisted with four other architectural teams and then, following extensive public debate and consultation, a second design iteration was submitted by each team in 2004. (Two-stage competitions are a common practice that allows architectural teams to incorporate feedback from the public and juries into the final design.) In the following, we show the initial shortlisted entry followed by the final submission.
Why Public Competitions Matter — and Why Canada Falls Behind
Public architectural competitions serve a critical function; creating space for debate. More than a proving ground for architects to push creative boundaries, they invite citizens to engage with the built environment — to voice opinions, question decisions, and influence the spaces designed for them.
In Canada, however, this democratic ideal is largely absent. Québec stands alone as the only province committed to open architectural competitions. As a result, the average Québécois is more aware of what’s being built around them, holds strong opinions on both winning and losing designs, and benefits from a more vibrant architectural culture than in other provinces (and most American states). The rest of Canada, by contrast, often relies on closed processes: small groups of officials select a shortlist of firms (based primarily on past work) to respond to RFQs, then RFPs, then the project is awarded to the lowest bidder. This system effectively excludes emerging, dynamic offices — ensuring that only established, risk-averse firms secure public commissions.
A telling comparison: when Sydney, Australia, sought a world-class music hall, local officials selected a conventional design. But Louis Kahn, one of the era’s most respected architects, reviewed the submissions and salvaged a discarded entry by an unknown Danish architect, Jørn Utzon. Kahn recognized the design’s brilliance and persuaded the panel to reconsider. The result? The Sydney Opera House — an architectural masterpiece that might never have been built without the openness of competition.
The African Burial Ground Memorial Competition
This federally sponsored competition sought to honor a 17th- and 18th-century burial ground hidden beneath Manhattan’s financial district — a resting place for approximately 20,000 enslaved individuals. Once part of a five-acre site, much of the burial ground is now lost beneath skyscrapers. A 10,000-square-foot section was preserved for the memorial, with the goal of creating a reflective, spatial refuge in the heart of the dense urban landscape.
The competition entry was a collaboration between Paul Kariouk and Mabel Wilson (New York City), public artist John Outerbridge (Los Angeles), Dean-Wolf Architects (New York City), and landscape architect Walter Hood (Berkeley) — collectively known as Groundworks.
Making Memory Visible
The African founders and builders of New York — forced beyond the city’s social and physical limits — were erased from history, from sight, and nearly from memory. This project is an act of reclamation. It honors those lives by making their contributions visible — acknowledging their endurance and humanity.
Both of our proposals aim to inspire and uplift the living and future generations, especially those who descend, in body or spirit, from the people laid to rest in this ground. The designs speak to those who were once rendered invisible, declaring that their descendants — with humility and determination — will ensure their legacy is never forgotten, and their contributions never dismissed.
Site Location
The African Burial Ground (ABG), established in 1712 was a burial site primarily for Blacks (92%).
It is located in New York City, in the neighbourhood of Tribeca, in lower Manhattan.
Historical Background
Enslaved Africans were first brought to New Amsterdam in 1626. By the 1700s, enslaved Blacks comprised around 20% of New York City’s population.
Black individuals, both enslaved and free, were buried in African Burial Grounds to the south of the city limits as they were excluded from being buried in churchyards.
This area served the growing Black population until its closure in 1794. Burials followed African traditions where possible, though traditional burial ceremonies were banned after slave uprisings in the 1700s.
Honouring Lives, Symbols and Stories
Approximately 20,000 people were buried at the site. Not a single name is known. The burial ground would have filled up faster than white cemeteries since African lifespans were 10 years shorter (they are now 5-7 years shorter).
Individual coffins in the ABG were found 3 layers deep due to space constraints and high mortality rates. Some coffins featured carvings and symbols of African origin, including the Sankofa symbol — a heart-shaped emblem from the Ashanti culture, meaning “return to the past to inform the future”.
Burying History
In the 18th century, 30′ of fill was placed over the existing burial places to level the ravine that constituted the ABG. For this reason, subsequent construction foundations were nearly always still above the bodily remains.
This is emblematic of societal efforts to obscure the contributions and suffering of African people at the time. The rediscovery of the site in the 1990s, during construction for a vast federal building, sparked a reevaluation of its historical significance.
Design Competition Mandate
Most of the original burial ground’s five-acre site will remain forever beneath existing structures, however, a federally-sponsored national design competition set aside approximately 10,000 square feet on the federal building’s site for the construction of a memorial.
The competition required the design of a public area befitting the site’s conflicted history. Additionally, a burial crypt for the future re-interment of several hundred skeletons was to be included in the proposal.
Groundwork’s competition entry was one of the five short-listed entries selected from over three hundred entries.
The United States federal government had allocated $25,000 to each of the short-listed design offices to develop their schemes. Five public ‘hearings’ took place over the summer of 2004 whereby local community groups and descendants of those being memorialized could voice their reactions to each of the final schemes before a final selection was made.
Sacred Ground - Initial Proposal
This initial design proposal envisioned a sacred sanctuary within the urban landscape, evoking both remembrance and renewal. Inspired by the image of a clearing within a grove, the memorial would recall the forests that had historically served as places of refuge for those fleeing enslavement. Lush plantings would mark the full five-acre extent of the burial ground, ensuring its presence could be felt throughout the cityscape.
At the heart of the memorial would stand the Spirit Catcher, an illuminated vessel serving as the burial crypt. Drawing from African traditions of lighting grave sites with lanterns and bonfires, this beacon would shine through the darkness, calling forth the presence of the once-invisible ancestors. The Spirit Catcher could transform the burial ground into a site of collective memory, where the historically disenfranchised would be recognized and honoured.
At the lowest point, resting at the level of the original burial ground, the vessel of light would serve as the final sanctuary for the reinterred ancestors. Slivers of colored glass embedded in its walls could create dappled light, evoking a grove’s protective canopy. This space would not just be a place of burial, but of renewal — igniting a new era of memory. The act of re-interment would mark a pivotal moment in history, as the ancestors would finally be returned to their heirs in full public view. At this ceremony, a portion of the iron shroud — matching the Spirit Catcher’s dimensions — would be removed from above and placed as a permanent seal over the crypt. The void left behind on the shroud would bear an inscription, forever marking the exact moment the ancestors had found their way home.
A final symbolic element, the twig (referencing the grove metaphor), would be embedded within the design. As a fragment of a tree, it would speak to both loss and regeneration — the 10,000 children buried here, yet also the promise of new life. It would be a reminder that memory is not static but continually evolving, passed from generation to generation.
Sacred Ground - Final Proposal
The premise of this design was also to create a spatial setting in the dense urban area that served as a refuge. As the forests outside early Manhattan served as the sanctuary for escaped slaves, the project created a lowered gathering place set within a mature grove of trees.
The area would be excavated approximately six meters to within two meters of where numerous unexhumed bodies will forever remain. In this manner, the proposal creates a space separated from immediate urban noise and through bermed earth, provides a coherent, circular area for the regular enactment of ceremonies, also providing a place of coolness and quiet for everyday locals.
The entrance to the “grove” is marked by a tall passageway ramping down from the sidewalk, fabricated of steel and a tapestry of brass and bronze “ribbon” that calls to mind African patterns (made to help divert menacing forces). A required perimeter fence made of smaller, rough steel elements calls to mind broken branches signifying the vast number of the deceased, but these stand in dialogue with the hope proffered by the grove at the back of the site.
Sacred Ground creates a dignified, spiritually charged gathering place where people of African descent from across the diaspora can come together to celebrate, dance, sing, honor, learn, heal, and remember the immense sacrifices of the ancestors laid to rest in this sacred ground.
The proposal envisioned an extensive tree-planting initiative along all streets and available outdoor public spaces to define and honor the full extent of the African Burial Ground. This living boundary would reinforce the site’s sacred significance while creating a natural sanctuary for reflection. At the entry of the memorial, the Bronze Shroud would bear inlaid place names, symbols, and maps, telling the story of the ancestors and the African diaspora. Surrounding the Ceremonial Lawn, a vibrantly planted Memorial Garden would mark the area of re-interment, providing a space of beauty and reverence where visitors could gather, remember, and honour those laid to rest.
