Thursday, October 22, 2009
On Thursday our class made an excursion to the Jewish Museum in Berlin. This museum consists of two buildings which appear separated from the above ground, but are connected by underground tunnels. The oldest building was constructed as a courthouse in the 18th century; the newer building, designed by Daniel Libeskind, was finished and opened in 2001 (nearly a decade after its design).
The newer portion of the Jewish Museum is well known for its unique architecture, though some of its more interesting and complicated architectural features were changed or abandoned during the construction process to cut costs. The structure of the building is supposed to have an effect upon those inside of it. In fact, when the amazing structure was finished, debate arose over whether or not the building should remain empty and serve as a memorial instead of being filled with relics to function as a museum. Eventually the decision was made for it to become a museum as intended.
Upon first entering the museum I was not significantly affected by the architecture; though I thought it was very creative, it did not communicate a specific message to me about Jewish experience. This changed, however, upon my entering the Holocaust Tower. This structure stands apart from the remainder of the museum structure but remains connected to it by a hallway called the Axis of Holocaust. I remember being suddenly aware of the darkness and the cold when I stepped into the tower. Even the slightest noise made within echoed for several seconds. The only source of light was a small opening at the top of the tower, though the light entered indirectly, discouraging the idea that this was a possible way out of the tower. I felt trapped and alone, despite the presence of some 30 other tourists within the Tower. I now understood the hype about Libeskind’s architecture, which truly affected me.
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