The Jewish Museum in Berlin may be one of the best well-designed museums I have seen. Featuring an unconventional architecture, the museum dedicates different sections to the Jewish community before, during, and after the Holocaust. It is a space for reflection and for hope.
The path of the museum starts with the underground, called the Entry Void, which leads to three paths. The Holocaust Tower is a dead end, illuminated only by a sliver of light. The Garden of Exile and Emigration leads visitors outside the building, into an unleveled garden and away from the main path. The Path of Continuity leads visitors to the rest of the museum, signifying the paths that Jewish communities had to take during the Holocaust.
Continuing on to the museum, one current exhibition on headwear links the Jewish community to the Muslim community as the next marginalized group in the contemporary world. The exhibition celebrates and gives voice to the Muslim community and criticizes the recent hijab bans in Europe. The exhibition was thoughtful in linking events in history to the contemporary world, as well as in giving off the message that marginalized communities should protect each other. It makes visitors realize that such race-based violence has a dangerous future, as we have seen in history.
In the Memory Void section, Menashe Kadishman’s Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves) is a striking installation. In this installation, 10,000 face-shaped iron plates cover the entire floor. The faces have terrified expressions, some screaming, some emotionless. Visitors have to step on them to walk through, making jarring clanking sounds of discomfort. The installation forces visitors to realize, much of the ground we step on currently used to be a site for violent history and painful deaths.
However, heading towards the next sections of the museum, there is hope and joy. Some sections celebrate the Jewish community’s contributions to Germany’s culture, while others celebrate the rebirth of the community itself. Unlike the previous sections, the sections now have color and film and even a section for children. The sections symbolize that there is happiness and celebration can be found despite the past terror, but it can only be done when history is acknowledged.
The museum is a reminder that the Jewish community is integral to Germany’s history, and it is too powerful to be erased. As Libeskind said in an interview, “The way to (understanding the world) is by incorporating memory and not as a footnote but as a turbulent ground on which our world is based…And it is turbulent when you look at the news and all that’s happening, all the events in this world, we can’t just pretend that we’re living in another era.”
In designing the museum, Libeskind had three main insights: “it is impossible to understand the history of Berlin without understanding the enormous contributions made by its Jewish citizens; the meaning of the Holocaust must be integrated into the consciousness and memory of the city of Berlin; and, finally, for its future, the City of Berlin and the country of Germany must acknowledge the erasure of Jewish life in its history.” As I write this, such insights remind me of the recent riots at Charlottesville, how America has long way to go in acknowledging that its foundation is based on the brutality with Native Americans and African-Americans. I await the day that such marginalized communities will finally be celebrated, and the past and current atrocities against them finally acknowledged, so that such violence in history will not be repeated.
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