For each of the museums you visit, consider the following questions. You may, of course, also create your own questions.
How does each site "remember" the Holocaust? Consider if there is a narrative in the way the exhibits are arranged? What is the purpose of that narrative? What effect does it intend to evoke? Was it successful for you? Does the architecture of the site speak to "memory"--e.g., does it evoke an emotional response that is related to a larger narrative?
Side-note: apparently, there is a word limit to these comments, so my response will appear in 2 parts. :)
ReplyDeleteYesterday, I visited the Museum of Tolerance for the first time. I did not know what to expect or how I would feel, but nothing would have prepared me for the experience I would have. From the aesthetics, to the devastating history, to the live testimony by an actual Holocaust survivor, this “memory” is now deeply entrenched into my consciousness. It was not just the recreation of the past or the narration of the tragedy that makes this experience so moving; it is, also, the fact that I went there with a Jewish friend. Of course, one does not have to be Jewish to feel the pain when hearing and seeing such horrors, but seeing my friend, who had not been to the museum before, react to the videos made the experience more intense and more meaningful. James E. Young rightfully asserts that the art of public memory does not just encompass the “aesthetic contours, or their places in contemporary artistic discourse,” but it also includes “the constant give and take between memorials and viewers, [and] the responses of viewers to their own world in light of a memorialized past.” My own reactions, coupled with my friend’s – who perhaps feels closer to the catastrophic events than I do – created and recreated my “memory” of the Holocaust.
Before our tour began, we were given a card with a picture of a child on it. We would learn about this child’s family, experiences, and at the end, we would find out whether or not he/she survived the Holocaust. My card had a picture of a sweet little girl on it, Agnes Ringwald. As we entered the double doors leading to the most intense “tour” I’ve ever had, we held on to our cards – we held on to these kids. And as we heard about the events leading up to the atrocities and saw images of the murders and tortures, we hoped that these children, whose faces appear on these white, cold cards, made it out alive. After seeing and hearing about the death of millions of people, I still felt a thrash of anguish when learning that Agnes, along with her parents, was immediately taken to the gas chambers and murdered. She was almost eight and a half years old.
This addition to the museum experience adds another layer of connection for the visitor. In fact, the interactive nature of the museum plays a critical role in recreating the memories of the Holocaust and helping form new ones. The tour is unique in many ways. Firstly, as we walk from one “site” to another, we are told about the images we are seeing on the screen by 3 characters. These characters represent us, for they are observers as well. In most of the scenes, they too are facing the screen, emphasizing the notion that all of this history is being observed from the outside – it is both reachable, yet not reachable. It is both there and not there. Filled with paradoxes, the deliberate placing of these figures helps us realize that we are all distanced witnesses. As we pass through this virtual timeline, the setting, décor, images, sounds, and colors change. Though nobody can ever experience what the people experienced in those camps, the visitors of the museum find themselves in dark rooms full of images and sounds from these nightmares. The architect’s intent, in designing this tour without visible exits, may indeed be to evoke fear and shock for the visitor, for them to feel, even for a millisecond, that this could happen to anyone. Anywhere.
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ReplyDeletePerhaps the most surreal part of my visit, however, was listening to Agnes Kun, a Holocaust survivor, speak about her experiences. The fact that Agnes Kun shares the same name as the little girl on my card somehow made this even more painful. Hearing Mrs. Kun speak about her past was an inexplicable experience for me. I’ve read many texts written by survivors of the Holocaust or other genocides; I’ve watched many oral interviews on television or online, but nothing hit me harder than seeing Mrs. Kun sitting 2 feet away from me sharing her most personal and horrific memories. As she spoke, all I could think about was that this person sitting right in front me has been to hell and back. She has seen, felt, and experienced things that we can’t even imagine. Before she began sharing her history, she said, “The person I speak of is not the same person sitting in front of you now.” She has been through the unimaginable and has lived to tell about it. Surreal, it all is.
It is obvious that Mrs. Kun has told this story many times. She did not read off of any notes, yet she spoke in such adept perfection that it almost seemed as if she was reading a text. Still, there were moments in her remembering when the pain and hurt were transparent. No matter how many times she tells the same story, the pain never subsides. In “Holocaust Video and Cinemagraphic Testimony,” James E. Young asks, “Can memory ever have closure?” Mrs. Kun proved that it does not. Toward the end of her speech, she talked about the death of her mother and father. They both died during the Holocaust when she was only 18 years old. She said that the pain of losing her parents gets worse every single day. So, can memory ever have closure? In Mrs. Kun’s own words, “the pain never goes away.”
My visit to the Museum of Tolerance has been, among other things, a true learning experience. It brings to life the history and the people. It helps shape our memories of this catastrophic chapter in our history. By presenting photos, videos, and texts about the millions of lives lost, the museum helps shape our understanding of not only this particular history, but also of humanity. Written on the wall inside the museum in large text are the words, “These photographs are remembrances of what was lost. They are the echoes that remain.” Indeed, photographs and other archives help keep the memories alive while simultaneously acting as forces of unification. In their symbol of a tragedy, they bring people together – for some, it is in the identification of a culture, a family, or a specific past. For others, it is the understanding or knowledge they gain from learning and remembering. These are all important for the psyches of a people, both personally or indirectly impacted. Above all, learning about these traumas, we learn the power of resilience. “Hope lives when people remember,” Simon Wiesenthal says, and he is right. We have read about and seen violence, murders, and torture beyond the imaginable, yet, in our acts of “remembering,” we remain hopeful. This is the limitless power of human understanding.
Before my visit to the Museum of Tolerance I was very curious to see what the facility had in store for its visitors. The Museum has four main exhibit areas which include the Holocaust section, a section for finding our families and finding ourselves, the tolerance section, and finally a section for the special exhibitions. From the moment I stepped foot into the museum a sense of what really happened during this time hit me. It is one thing reading and seeing pictures about an historical event, and another thing when you are actually immersed into a building with pictures videos and guides to walk you through section after section, becoming immersed into the lives of those that were lost during the Holocaust. What really struck me was at one point in the tour we were each given a different photo passport card which had the story of the child whose life was changed by the events followed by the Holocaust. Throughout the tour, the passport becomes updated and finally we are able to see what happened to the young boy or girl. While walking through the museum with my photo of a young boy in my hand, I felt very close with this child, almost as if we were friends in another time. Towards the end of the tour, it became clear that this child didn’t survive, and I was crushed. I expected to go into this museum with a better understanding of the Holocaust, but what I didn’t expect was to have lost complete control over all of my emotions. I couldn’t hold it together, and suddenly while looking around me I realized that I was not the only person who was going through this. There were tears from older men and women, to young adults, and a close bond was formed between us all. We stared at the pictures in front of us, and shook our heads to how these lives were cut so short. There was one particular visitor there that day who claimed that her great-grandmother was a Holocaust survivor. She had witnessed the brutal murder of her brother and father when she was only 10 years old. Her mother and she were taken to a concentration camp, and she was one of the very few lucky ones who made it out. As she was telling me her great-grandmothers story tears started filling in her eyes. She looked upon her picture of a young little girl, and uttered what if my grandmother knew her. It was a harsh reality that may have been true, and as she finished telling her story I remembered the documentary on Shoah; the part with the Barber in the hair salon. What struck me to remember this scene from the movie were this woman’s eyes, which also had the same silent way of looking about as did the man in the documentary. What became clear in this instant was that these memories not only affected those who were in it, but it has affected their children’s children as well, and will continue to haunt them. Having a great-great grandmother who was the survivor of the Armenian genocide I realize this all too well. The memory of what happened to those in the Holocaust not only haunts their ancestors, but haunts all of us who are able to see the tragic events that took place. I will never forget my experience at this museum. After leaving I had to take a few moments to recollect myself; and in the end it was a great addition to learning and being able to see and hear more about this time in history.
ReplyDeleteThe Museum of Tolerance has focused the remembrance of the holocaust on an interactive exhibit that creates empathy through various levels. Though the external of the building itself evokes no unique tribute, the interior design embodies the emotional journey of the Holocaust.
ReplyDeleteThe spiral ramp that slowly descends to the Holocaust exhibit represents the perilous descent from the bright lobby to the dark, windowless rooms that house the holocaust rooms. This spiral ramp is
symbolic of the journal that many in Europe experience from a happy life well lit by humanity into the dark world of the concentration camps.
As opposed to the glass encased exhibits of the upper-levels, the Holocaust room is an open-air, three-dimensional space that forces each viewer to hear, feel and see the same events as the people of
Europe. The only encased displays are those of the historians that tell the story which turns the conventional display on its head. The viewer cannot access the historian but he/she can sit in gas chamber and walk through the gates of Auschwitz.
Though the display produces a great emotional response, the final exhibit of liberation is very biased towards showing the Americans as the only heroes that liberate the people from the horrors of the
Nazis. In the final display that shows video footage of the Normandy Beach and the death camps, the former mention of how the US denied entry to Jewish refugees is forgotten in the face of the smiling
soldier.
I only got to visit the Museum of Tolerance (MOT), but although most elementary or junior high school students make it there, I never did. The first thing that surprised me about the MOT was that it was not just about the Holocaust, although that exhibit was probably the most popular. I and those with me saw exhibits that were completely unrelated to the Holocaust, including one about bullying in school. The crowd that happened to view this video were mostly older, which probably swayed the results and made it less relevant (it was centered around high school students), but nevertheless I appreciated that the MOT did not seem to focus entirely on the Holocaust.
ReplyDeleteWithout a doubt, the MOT's presentation of the Holocaust is a narrative. Viewers are walked through the events of the 1930's and '40's in Germany in chronological order. This presentation was effective; the use of visual aids from the period as well as the setup (e.g., the figures of people, the props around each scene) created a mood that led to a more thorough understanding of the Holocaust.
The entire setup seemed to attempt to make the Holocaust personal (and I know that I am not the first to have this impression). First by the "passport cards" that each viewer is given at the beginning of exhibit, the curators make the Holocaust present; by reading the biographies of "your" child, each viewer becomes sympathetic to one particular individual, hoping throughout the exhibit that that child survived. Then, by providing the viewers with the three researchers who appear often throughout the exhibit, the viewer is further given a common thread to follow, a distinct human face with which to correspond. Finally, there are many scenes where individual Holocaust people speak, although their words are made up. I will discuss one in particular that affected me.
One scene that stuck out particularly in my mind was the scene at the cafe, where several groups of people cluster around tables and chat. At first, I was not impressed by this presentation, as I assumed the groups would be imagined people, but I was surprised and more interested when the narrator told the fates and lives of the people, who apparently had once lived.
In the end, the MOT presented a very effective exhibit of the Holocaust. Its successful personalization of the events that happened created an atmosphere of sympathy for the Jews, especially for the child with whom the viewer experienced the events. If the child survived, the viewer rejoiced and if he/she dies, the viewer mourned because even if unconsciously, a connection was made with the child. The connection, not just between the Holocaust child and viewer, but throughout the museum's exhibits, made it effective. This is ironic because the entire museum is centered around how people simply cannot accept one another.
I visited the Museum of Tolerance a few weekends ago. I hadn't planned on visiting that Sunday, but I ended up in that area with a few hours to spare, so I decided to stop in. It was second trip to the museum-- my first having been a high school field trip. My friend, Mig, was with me, so he agreed to accompany me. This turned out better than I had hoped, since his familiarity with the Holocaust is limited. Having him with me allowed me to observe the shock and revulsion that is evoked in someone who has had little exposure to the history of the Holocaust.
ReplyDeleteThere is, of course, a narrative that is told by the Holocaust exhibit. As mentioned by some of my peers, the "guided" tour takes the visitors through the chronology of what we now call the Holocaust. The tour began with an introduction to the danger that faced Jews with the rise of Hitler and the Nazis. As the tour continued, we moved forward to a new display that exhibited the diminishing and disrupting the lives of Jews from normalcy to utter chaos. By the end of the tour, we had seen countless images, heard numerous stories, and were directed to sit in a "theater" to watch the conclusion of the tour. It seemed to me that the arrangement of the exhibit is to create a sense of angst, frustration, and finally, some sense of catharsis with the revelation of "your" child's fate.
The Sunday that Mig and I went to the museum was extremely hot outside-- over 100 degrees. Inside the exhibit was not much better. There was no air conditioning, which made the experience all the more uncomfortable. After we'd completed the tour, I asked Mig what he thought. He replied, "I felt like them... hot, tired, and no water." I found it ironic that he would compare his experience at a museum to those who went through the Holocaust, but it got me to think if the exhibit was set up to make the visitors feel as if they had gone through something beyond description. There were physical markers, boundaries, and displays that we had to go through to get to the end of the tour, but it didn't seem too significant at the time. Now, I see that those markers are meant to almost ingrain an "experience" that is more personable to the visitors in order to be a bit closer to understanding the Holocaust.
I found my experience at the Museum of Tolerance to be "enjoyable." I can't say that it was fun, but I enjoyed the aspect of observing the effect the museum had on a first time visitor, as well as noticing the narrative that the exhibit develops.
I visited the Museum of Tolerance about 2 weeks ago with my fiancé and my brother. I have to say that initially I was very put off by the people who worked there. It seemed to me that their disinterested attitude almost mocked what the museum stood for. Aside from that two of the floors were closed because of lighting issues, and the air conditioning didn’t work which resulted in 90 degree temperatures on the lower floors.
ReplyDeleteThat being said, I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. I had never been there, and to be honest with you, my fiancé and my brother were probably not the best choice of people to bring with me,, both of them being guys who can’t take anything seriously if they tried. However, once we descended the spiraling ramp, there was a noticeable change in their usual demeanors. Both of them took in the information and were greatly moved.
I was appreciative of the information being conveyed there, but I was unsure of the way the museum was laid out, particularly the holocaust exhibit. I was a little put off by the fact that at all times you could here remnants of the previous exhibits. I thought it was a little distracting. I wasn’t sure if this was for aesthetic purposes or not, creating sort of a pastiche?? In any case, I’m not sure how effective this was for me.
The highlight of my visit was getting the opportunity to hear a visitor speak. The day that we went; Mr. William Harvey told us the harrowing story of his life during, but more importantly his life after it. I was unbelievably impressed by his resilience. He discussed the importance of living through pain and suffering. The thing I took away from it the most though was how much perspective you gain by listening to someone like him. All of my problems and the things I am dealing with pale in comparison to anything he saw and experienced. If he can go on living, anyone can
The Los Angeles Museum of the Holocaust (LAMH) is physically structured like a cement tomb that has only gray and black as its color scheme. These monochromatic features add to the solemn, quietness that is felt both without and within the building. The outer memorials of the museum have thick block font on black and gray blocks that give the tone of a cemetery tomb which helps the message of remembrance of those who have passed. this circle of names of the camps on the ground form two circles. The inner circle, which contains the names of the camps in Poland is vastly smaller than the outer circle of names of camps in Poland. This visual of the camps gives a sense of entrapment that must have been felt in any of these camps. From just the outside of the museum one is made to feel the three dimensional space that is being used to remember people so that one cannot step, sit or walk anywhere without noticing a new name or date. This tactic was very successful to drive the meassage of never forgetting the holocaust since tragedy can lurk in everything.
ReplyDeleteThe actual exhibits are kept in the black and white theme except when the Nazi paraphernalia is displayed. With so many photos and poster that are black and white, the red of the Nazi flags stand out almost violently. This collection of clothing makes the best impact in the display of the photographs of the Olympic games with the entire assembly of Nazis. One thing is to see the photos of the Nazi assembly an another is to see the bright red of the swastika next to such photos. This juxtaposition in the exhibits puts some life back into the historical photos. This is also seen in the display of the victims of the camps with real striped prisoner uniforms on display.
As a newly opened museum, the LAMH has various parts of its exhibit that is still not running, but that which is operative is highly interactive and witness based. Many of the screens are touch-based and allow the visitor to select the information he/she seeks;giving some agency to the viewer which is not available in other museums. As opposed to the Museum of Tolerance (MOT), the LAMH does not cater to the American view of the War. The MOT has the final display of American heroism in the liberation of the camps. However, the LAMH overtly criticizes the US’ lack of involvement in WWII refugees. There are three displays that are dedicated to expressing the history of anti-semitism in the United States that prevented the refugees from being admitted. Moreover, the audio-tour also makes solid statements that clearly place the blame of many deaths of refugees on the United States refusal to help before many died in the camps. An overt allegiance the the United Kingdom and British-run Israel is made throughout many exhibits that restates the help that was provided on their parts to save many lives.
In all, if these were the messages intended by the creators, than they have succeeded.
I went to the museum on a rainy day how appropriate. I was surprised at the guard at the entrance and that I had to open my trunk and have my car inspected. I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the whole thing I guess the fact that someone would inflict harm or pain in one of the most painful museums is beyond me. When I entered the museum I thought it was beautiful. I thought the pictures of the Holocaust survivors on the spiral staircase was very impactful.
ReplyDeleteGoing down to begin my tour I got a card of a child that was in a camp and you get to read the history of that child. The children are very hard for me. I felt how brave these people were and how remarkable it is that we are permitted to share these memories now after all of these years.
I found the narratives very helpful and informative. The individual settings was very powerful and the images were almost real. I almost felt haunted in some instances. When I went there were only three people in my tour and everyone seemed so quiet and subdued. A group of younger students came by and they were laughing and cracking jokes and I suddenly felt like grabbing them and telling them to be quiet that they were being disrespectful to the meaning of the museum and to respect all of these people who died so innocently.
At the end of the museum I sat on the cement slat and looked at the images for a long time with tears in my eyes. It was very difficult to watch the video's and look at the images on the wall. As the other students loudly walked away I was grateful for the memories that were resurfaced and able to present us with the truth and history of the Holocaust. I felt a bit melancholy for a while after wards and sad but I realized something as awful as the Holocaust was there are slimmers of hope, and there were people who helped so I have not lost all of my faith in humanity.
I attended the Museum of Tolerance and like Legia experienced the overwhelming feeling of discomfort when the security guard checked my car, although for security reasons I also felt that it was a bit ironic that this place of understanding and of acceptance is a possible target for terrorism. On my initial visit to the museum I was turned away from the exhibit because it was near closing time and I was unaware of the hours specific to the Holocaust exhibit. I sort of chuckled thinking how tolerant is that but am glad that I was then given the opportunity to come back and really take my time through the exhibits. Once arriving into the museum I was amazed at the organization and the feeling of being connected to the museum. There were a lot of interactive activities that you could participate in and learn from at the same time. One of my favorite parts, I’m not sure if it would be considered an exhibit, was that of the spiral ramp that lead you to the Holocaust exhibit. I looked at each and every one of those photos of Holocaust survivors who where supporters and sponsors of the museum. Some of the pictures told a story in itself; some people showed their number tattoos, some were holding pictures of others whom I assumed was their significant other, some stared blankly into the camera, each picture had a past. Upon entering the Holocaust exhibit each individual was given a card to follow the story of an individual who went through the Holocaust, mine was a little girl who I later found out was killed in a concentration camp. The exhibit itself seemed modern mixed with some attempts to recreate the scenes of buildings such as the gas chambers and the tunnels that lead to them. I really disliked the vignette aspect of the museum, I didn’t like that I was stuck to one area and had to listen to the audio track before being let into the next portion. My personal belief is that people take away different information from different mediums and this was not working for me. I knew the history and the background of the war and it was not of interest to me so I found that frustrating. I would have liked to see more artifacts in the museum, there were a few scrolls, toys, and uniforms but I wasn’t able to get that emotive response that I was hoping for. I remember going to the Holocaust Rememberance Museum in Washington D.C. and crying at every room that I went into. For me there has to be the visual and physical connection to an event, upon seeing that pile of shoes and the pile of glasses my heart and brain were finally able to understand some glimpse into what occurred during the Holocaust. From the Museum of Tolerance I didn’t get that, I think that it wasn’t my style. However, I stayed to hear a survivor’s testimony and that changed my entire perspective of the Holocaust. I have never seen or met a survivor in person. I felt privileged that she would come here every weekend so that people understood and knew what happened. Such courage, such bravery, such heartache. I realized that I need that human connection in order to understand, to sympathize, to really know what happened.
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