Stolpersteine and the Judisches Museum

Although these fall somewhat out of chronological order in my posts, I figure I may as well continue with a few more memorials to the Jews of Berlin and their persecution/deaths during World War II. It's hard to know what else is appropriate after my visit to Sachsenhausen.



The Stolpersteine (literally: stumbling stones) are a memorial project placed throughout the city. They are polished metal plates set into the cobblestones of Berlin's sidewalks. It took me a while to notice them, but they are everywhere. Each Stolperstein carries the name of a Jewish person who lived in Berlin and was deported and often murdered during the Holocaust. Their birth and death dates are included on the stones, along with the name of the concentration camps in which they were interred.

In this closeup, you can read the names of an entire family. The last Stolperstein on the right commemorates an infant - only a year old when they were deported to Auschwitz. Her sister wasn't any older than 4. These Stolpersteine were just down the street from the Goethe Institute.




I also spent a full afternoon/evening at the Judisches Museum. It deals with a history of Jewish exile and persecution specifically (so not exactly religious history). The new addition to the building, designed by Daniel Libeskind, opened in 2001. It is incredibly striking modern architecture, as thought-provoking as the exhibits inside. From what I've heard, the space of the museum is meant to make as much of an impression as the material presented. There are lots of long narrow corridors, sharp corners, and empty, echoing architectural fragments.

The most effective of these spaces was a triangular 'void' that remained open through all 3 floors of the building. On floor level, it served to hold the installation "Shalechet" or "Fallen Leaves" by Israeli artist Menashe Kadishman. This was a thick carpet of steel ovals, each punctured and welded to form human faces with mouths open. Visitors were invited to walk across the installation. It was rather awful. Not just the thought of attaching human identities to the abstracted sculptural forms, but the precarious act of walking and the sound. You had to move slowly and watch each step. The noise of the steel faces (the fallen leaves) hitting one another and shifting beneath your own weight was incredibly grating. It hurt my ears, and I don't think I'll ever forget the experience.

Zinc-coated facade of the Libeskind building;
lots of lines and random zigzags.

The juxtaposition of old and new buildings that make up the Judisches Museum

Olive trees planted in the "Garden of Exile."

This was another contemplative architectural space, not quite as jarring as "The Void," but also disorienting due to a sloping ground line. I never actually got around to the Holocaust Memorial, dedicated in May 2005 and located south of the Brandenburger Tor. Like the new addition to the Judisches Museum, it is abstractly conceived - an undulating field of nearly 3,000 concrete stelae. That leaves something for my next trip to Berlin, I suppose.