The Window Seat: Berlin... click "read more" at the bottom to see all the pictures!

Berlin. What a city. It was a gold mine for two loves of mine: history and art. This first post is dedicated to the fascinating history of Berlin. The next will be about the current art scene, especially public art and graffiti in the city... akin to my portfolio of the graffiti in Florence. Stay tuned!

Berlin's history is tumultuous, to say the least. As the capital of Germany it was a vital center for both Nazi Germany and the Soviets following (especially a particular Wall…). As a visitor I was curious to explore the remnants of this history. I was especially curious about the question of reconciliation: how does a country, not just a generation, deal with a recent history as terrible, cruel and destructive as this? When I decided to visit Berlin I was curious in reference particularly to the Holocaust, but as I considered the question more, I realized it applies to the DDR (Deutsche Democratic Republic aka the Soviet Union's socialist state in Germany) and other countries as well. For example, it applies to the Czech Republic who in both recent and ancient history has been "betrayed" by allies and repeatedly invaded. You can see traces of this history sometimes when Czechs discuss politics or in their national characters, like the good natured but ultimately ambivalent and self-serving Good Soldier Svjek . But back to Berlin...

the New Synagogue, Berlin.

"Man from the Dreams"

"Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe," Berlin, Germany.

After visiting Berlin, its memorials, and meeting some Berliners I struggled with a thought: could the Holocaust be repeated? No, not in Germany I think. Not in Western or Central Europe. Not today, I don’t believe. But I couldn’t get past the truth: despite the beautiful memorials made in Germany and around the world to The Murdered Jews of Europe, genocide is not impossible today. Since WWII there have been conflicts registered as genocides in 4 places that I can name off the top of my head: Cambodia (1.7 million Cambodians were murdered by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge between 1975 and 1979), Bosnia-Herzegoviana (200,000 deaths of Muslims by Serbs between 1992 and 1995), Rwanda (800,000 Tutsis killed within 100 days in 1994 by Hutus), and Darfur (a continuing conflict since 2003). Clearly, prejudice so severe it leads to “ethnic cleansing” is not outside of our reality (for more info: here1 and here2). To quote Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Eli Wiesel: "Now people know. And so they have no excuse for their passivity bordering on indifference." To think that 3 of the 4 of the genocides I mentioned above happened within the last 20 years, within my lifetime, scares me. What else needs to happen to “teach the world a lesson”? When will we learn? Isn’t there another way?

I think the best I can take away from visiting these memorials is not grief or simply reflection, but the resolution that this cannot be allowed to happen again, anywhere. After my trip I discovered that this is also the stance of organizations like Jewish World Watch: “Fight Genocide. Do Not Stand Idly By.”

When walking in Berlin you stumble on these metal plaques in front of addresses where Berlin's Jews used it live. These particular plaques say that two brothers, Jakob (b. 1892) and Felli Bergoffen (b. 1893) left Prague in 1938. They were in France in 1939 and deported from Berlin in 1942 to Auschwitz. Jakob died on my birthday, August 31, in 1942. Felli died in Auschwitz. Their house is now a billards hall (not pictured).

In Opernplatz, the square in front of Humblodt University, is my favorite memorial. In this square on May 10, 1933 socialist students of Germany burnt works of hundreds of writers, novelists, philosophers, and scientists. Heinrich Heine, one of the best German poets of the 19th century. In his play Almansor, from 1821, he writes "That was but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people also." His works were among those burned that year by students in Opernplatz.

To commemorate this act, in the floor of the square is a window looking down into a room: an empty room walled with empty shelves. Enough shelves for 20,000 books, the estimated number burned. The pictures I made of the memorial are of regal Humboldt University's main building reflected into the glass panel of the memorial, placing the empty shelves in the "sky" above. The scratches seen are to be expected of glass on the floor and exposed to the elements. Although 80 years ago, I wanted to ask the question that the memorial continues to ask: What separates an institution of knowledge and truth from one of prejudice, violence, and oppression?

Below is a picture of a ongoing booksale across from the memorial: the students at the university now sell books in German and English to offset the loss of books destroyed in 1933.

Humboldt University.

"The Dangers of Photography: Beneath the Feet of Toursits"

Checkpoint Charlie: the entrance to East Berlin from the American sector of West Germany.

Exhibit in the Jewish Museum, Berlin. The clanking sound under your feet (yes you're supposed to walk on them to get to the next point) is dreadful and poignant. I took video I will post soon.

Jewish Museum: wishes for the future. Sweetness for Rosh Hashanah. You write them on pomegranates and hang them from a tree int he museum. Lovely idea.

Soldiers medals from the DDR. Found in an antique market.

Koppenplatz Memorial: a room left suddenly. A chair knocked over eternally. There I met an Israeli woman named Marion. She asked me how I reconciled being Jewish and visiting Germany, the very question I have been thinking of so much. Funny too, I had wanted to ask her! We had a lot in common, a lot to talk about, and spent the next day at the Jewish Museum together.

The infamous gold star.

The Otto Weidt museum was a memorial to a man who started a factory for brushes and brooms. He hired the most vulnerable Jews, those who were deaf or blind, and most likely to be murdered in the concentration camps. He gave them jobs, protected them as the persecution in Berlin worsened and even hid a family in the back room of his factory. You can see this room, windowless, where the Jews hid when the Gestapo came for inspections (behind the fake closet). I stopped at the entrance and imagined the silence and fear that must have overwhelmed and defined that room. I could hear my weight shift, the floor boards creek, and the echo of my breath and heart. Hiding in that room it must have been scary to even think. I don’t even know what that would be like, and rather than just think it I said it out loud because I could and if anything, Jews no longer need to be quiet in that room.

Next door to the Otto Weidt Museum is the memorial to Silent Heroes, a center dedicated to the German resistance to the Nazis. There have been thousands of people “officially thanked”; their names wallpaper the room. The figures are estimated that for every 1 Jew helped, 10 non-Jews were needed to support them. The memorial has 10 video stations with stories: great narratives with pictures and bios on the sides boxes with actual mementos belonging to the people, in the back of the box. You really understand the role each supporter played in the underground community. These silent heroes were men and woman, old and young, married and single, religious or not. Two men stuck out to me. They were a graphic designer and a photographer. The designer became a master forger and created new lives out of thin air for those living underground through his craft. The photographer was a leader in the resistance movement and also maintained communications through printings and news. Who knew art could help so much? (Maybe Bono did?... Hi Sam J.)

Above is the story of Schindler. You may have seen a movie about him. That parchment on the shelf is the original "Schindler's List."

This green guy is the Berlin "walking man" signal to cross the street. Now he is a cult icon and pops up on everything, from t-shirts to graffiti to napkins at trendy cafes.