"THE EFFECTIVENESS OF COMMEMORATIVE MUSEUMS IN EVOKING A
REACTION TO A TRAUMATIC EPISODE IN A NATION'S HISTORY"
XAVIER GEOFFREY PRATT
BACHELOR OF INTERIOR ARCHITECTURE (HONS)
FINAL YEAR DISSERTATION
UNSW BUILT ENVIRONMENT
UNSW AUSTRALIA
2016 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES Built Environment
Individual Plagiarism Declaration
z3461632 Pratt Xavier Student Number Family Name Other Names
INTA2411 Dissertation
Course ID Course Name
Session 1 2016 Dissertation
Session & Year Title of the Assessment Task to which this Declaration applies
Judith O'Callaghan
Lecturer
NB. if, by prior agreement, this work is being submitted for assessment in more than one course, you must list all those other course IDs in the above boxes …
I declare that: • this assessment item is my own work, except where acknowledged, and has not been submitted for academic credit elsewhere; • all reasonable care has been taken to ensure that no other person has been able to copy this work either in paper or electronic form. I acknowledge that the assessor of this item may, for the purpose of assessing this item: • reproduce this assessment item and provide a copy to another member of the University; and/or, • communicate a copy of this assessment item to a plagiarism checking service (which may then retain a copy of the assessment item on its database for the purpose of future plagiarism checking). I certify that I have read and understood the University rules in respect of Student Academic Misconduct.
Signature Date
Plagiarism is the use another's work pretending that it is your own. More specifically, in an educational context, plagiarism is endeavouring to obtain academic credit in a course of study for work that is either not individually prepared by you or prepared by you, but for some other purpose, whether paid or unpaid. The following web sites expand more fully on the nature and consequences of plagiarism and must be read prior to submitting this declaration. http://www.lc.unsw.edu.au/onlib/plag.html http://www.be.unsw.edu.au/student-intranet/assignments-and-plagiarism/ ABSTRACT
This dissertation has the aim of examining the effectiveness of commemorative museums in evoking a reaction to a traumatic episode in a nation's history. Utilising secondary source material, this idea is achieved through three chapters: the first presents the history of the museum typology, and an introduction to architect who have built in this typology; the second presents the first contemporary case study for the dissertation, examining Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum in Berlin; finally, the third chapter examines Michael Arad and J. Max Bond Jr.'s National
September Eleven Memorial and Museum in New York.
Through the study of two contemporary case studies, it can be said that the commemorative museum typology is effective in evoking a reaction to a past traumatic history. With this understanding, society is able to discuss how to move forward in the wake of a tragedy, allowing for the development of a community or nation.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly, I would like to thank my supervisor, Judith O'Callaghan, for her wonderful and amazing guidance throughout the writing of this dissertation. Without her feedback and insight, the dissertation would be inconsistent and rather incomplete.
I would like to thank my partner, Isabella Garcia-Lamerton, for joining me on library adventures for source material, reading over my writing for grammatical and syntax errors, and maintaining my focus during the busy times of the graduation year.
I would also like to thank my parents, Sara and Roger Pratt, for editing the finished product, ensuring that no errors were missed.
I would like to thank Matthew Meakes and Josh Muncke for retaining my sanity and insisting that I take breaks from writing and get exercise.
Finally, I would like to thank the staff at the UNSW library for their assistance in locating source material.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Figure one: The cabinets of curiosities: the Metallotheca of Michele Mercati in the Vatican, 1719. (Source: T. Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p. 60)
Figure two: The British Museum: Quadrangle Building. Sir Robert Smirke, 1852.
(Source: The British Museum, Architecture, accessed 11 June 2016,
Figure three: Interior of South Court, The South Kensington Museum (later
Victoria and Albert Museum). Francis Fowke, 1862. Drawing: John Watkins, c.
1876. (Source: T. Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p.
71)
Figure four: The Great Exhibition 1851, Crystal Palace, The Western, or British
Nave, looking east. Joseph Paxton, 1851. (Source: T Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p. 62)
Figure five: Military History Museum, exterior. Daniel Libeskind, 2011. (Source:
Studio Libeskind 2016, Military history museum, accessed 17 April 2016,
Figure six: Exterior, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened).
(Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016,
Figure seven: Menashe Kadishman's "Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves)" in the Memory
Void, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened). Photo: Torsten
Seidel. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12
June 2016,
Figure eight: Garden of Exile, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000
(opened). Photo: BitterBredt. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum
Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016,
Figure nine: Holocaust Tower, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000
(opened). Photo: BitterBredt. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum
Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016,
Figure ten: Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, viewed from the western side, with French graves of the Anglo-French cemetary in the front. Sir Edwin Lutyen,
1932. (Source: Greatwar.co.uk 2016, Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, Somme
Battlefields, France, accessed 13 June 2016,
Figure eleven: Southern pool of the 9/11 memorial at night. Michael Arad and
Peter Walker 2011. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: National September 11 Memorial
and Museum 2016, The Lens: Capturing Life and Events at the 9/11 Memorial and Museum, accessed 13 June 2016,
Figure twelve: Names at the National September Eleven Memorial. Michael Arad and Peter Walker 2011. (Source: L. McCrary 2011, 9/11 Postmodern Memorial
Failure?, The American Conservative, accessed 13 June 2016,
Figure thirteen: Snhetta's entry pavilion, steel tridents visible in entry, Snhetta
2014. Photo: Jeff Goldberg/Esto. (Source: Snhetta 2016, National September
11 Memorial Museum Pavilionm, accessed 13 June 2016,
Figure fourteen: The "Last Column" stands in front of the Slurry Wall in the
Foundation Hall, Davis Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: M. Sturken
2015, The 9/11 Memorial Museum and the Remaking of Ground Zero, p. 472)
Figure fifteen: Brick taken from the compound where Osama Bin Laden was found in Pakistan. Davis Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Marita Sturken. (Source: M. Sturken
2015, The 9/11 Memorial Museum and the Remaking of Ground Zero, p. 473)
Figure sixteen: "The Composite", National September Eleven Museum. Davis
Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: 9/11 Memorial Museum and BD+C staff, First look: 9/11 Memorial Museum opens to first-responders, survivors, 9/11
families, accessed 13 June 2016, < http://www.bdcnetwork.com/first-look-911- memorial-museum-opens-first-responders-survivors-911-families-slideshow>)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction 10
Chapter One 15
A History of Museums 16
Daniel Libeskind 19
Michael Arad 22
J. Max Bond Jr. 23
Chapter Two 26
Chapter Three 37
Conclusion 48
Bibliography 53
Appendices 60
Appendix One: Illustrations 61
Commemorative museums are described by James Young in 1997 as "counter- monuments: brazen, painfully self-conscious memorial spaces conceived to challenge the very premises of their being" (Young 1997, 858). These spaces challenge the way in which societies view past events and tragedies. The artists and architects responsible for the design of commemorative museums believe that conventional memorials seal off the memory of an event, rather than embodying the memory for the public to engage with (Young 1997, 858). These new spaces aim to "redeem this past with an instrumentalisation of its memory"
(Young 1997, 857), providing a physical element in which society can interact with. Commemorative museums, like other cultural institutions, have undergone radical transformations during the twentieth century (Young 1997, 855). The aim of this dissertation is to analyse the effectiveness of the commemorative museum type in evoking a reaction to the atrocities of a nation's past. This idea will be investigated in two ways: through a historical analysis of museums, how they diverged into specialty museums, with a focus on the integration of museums into commemorating a tragedy in a societies past; secondly through two contemporary case studies, using physical analysis, studying the effect these commemorative museums have in evoking a reaction a past trauma.
Chapter one provides an introduction into the main argument of this dissertation, introducing the notion of museums in general. It commences with a presentation of the 'cabinets des curieux', the very private first example of a museum space.
It will then discuss how the public was introduced into the museum complex, explaining the emergence of the first public museums. The chapter will then explain how "museums are no longer built in the image of that nationalistic temple
of culture, the British Museum" (Hooper-Greenhill 1992, p. 1), but instead are designed around a variety of items and cultural artefacts. For example, museums can idealise "farms, boats, coal mines, warehouses, prisons, castles or cottages"
(Hooper-Greenhill 1992, p. 1). It is this idea that led to the development of the commemorative museum, and how this is now commonly featured around the world. The chapter will also introduce Daniel Libeskind, the Polish born, American trained architect who designed the substantial Jewish Museum in Berlin. This introduction will provide an insight into Libeskind's works, both architectural and theoretical. The chapter will then introduce Michael Arad, the Israeli-American architect responsible for the National September Eleven Memorial in New York, titled Reflecting Absence. This introduction will provide a brief commentary into the works of Arad, and how the unknown architect moved from the New York
Housing Authority to designing the influential memorial. Finally, the chapter concludes with an introduction of James Max Bond Jr. of Davis Brody Bond, who is responsible for the design of the National September Eleven Museum. This chapter aims to provide an understanding of how commemorative museums can aid in evoking a reaction to the past through a study of the type, and a study of two architects who can be seen to define the commemorative museum typology.
Chapter two aims to provide an in-depth analysis of Daniel Libeskind's Jewish
Museum in Berlin. It begins with an analysis and commentary into the brief set by the West Berlin Senate in 1988, and how it led to the development of Libeskind's proposal. It then will provide a description of the planning Libeskind employed for the space. A description of the exterior of the building follows, with discussion of the redesigned entry visitors use in moving into the building. The chapter then
provides an analysis of the interior of the building, specifically the use of voids to frame the space and their power; the 'Garden of Exile'; and the 'Holocaust Tower'.
The chapter ends with an analysis into how effective Daniel Libeskind's Jewish
Museum is in evoking a reaction to the Holocaust. This chapter aims to provide a contemporary example of the commemorative museum type, examining how the space is able to influence the thinking of visitors, and how this type of museum leads to the discussion of how to rectify the event.
Chapter three provides another contemporary case study of the commemorative museum, utilising it to establish whether the typology is effective in evoking a reaction to a tragic episode in a nations past. This chapter studies the National
September Eleven Memorial and Museum by Michael Arad and James Max
Bond Jr. The chapter commences with a presentation of the brief, examining how amongst 5201 entries into the competition hosted by the Lower Manhattan
Development Corporation in 2003. The competition asked for a memorial to remember and honour those killed in the September-Eleven attacks, and also those who aided the rescue of survivors. The competition was open to anyone, and entries were submitted by "professional architects, designers, and artists, as well as inspired amateurs like Dr. Robert Jarvik, the artificial-heart inventor" (Hagan
2006, p. 20). The chapter then discusses the planning of the memorial, moving into the use of twin voids and how the names were to be arranged around them. It then describes the entry pavilion designed by Snhetta, and how it facilitates the movement between the memorial and the museum. The chapter then describes the design of Bond's museum space, examining the artefacts found in the space.
Finally, the chapter discusses how the National September Eleven Memorial
and Museum can evoke a reaction to the September Eleven tragedy. The chapter aims to provide another contemporary example of the commemorative museum type, and establish whether the new typology is able to evoke reactions to a past event in history.
Over the centuries, the museum as a typology has developed to reflect the present time in which it is designed. Today, museums and there collections are considered "a valuable and irreplaceable community service and have immense educational value" (Hooper-Greenhill 1992, p. 2). They can teach contemporary society how prior civilisations adapted to the changing environments, how technology has developed over time, or how the minds of great artists have been represented throughout the ages. In this chapter, the history of the museum type will be discussed, providing a commentary on the 'cabinets des curieux' of the sixteenth century; the emergence of the public museum; and finally the development of a new museum type, the commemorative museum. This chapter also introduces Daniel Libeskind, the Polish-born, American trained architect, providing an overview of his life, his built works and finally his theoretical studies.
Furthermore, this chapter introduces architects Michael Arad and James Max
Bond, Jr. providing a history of their careers. This chapter aims to provide a brief history to the museum typology, and an introduction to two key architects who are at the forefront of the commemorative museum type.
A HISTORY OF MUSEUMS
The notion of a museum has been around for centuries, however its intended audience has changed drastically overtime. The idea commenced in the form of
"cabinets des curieux" (see figure one): rooms or spaces for the rich aristocrats to view "collections of natural history items" (Cesare 2014, p. 86), with these spaces becoming prevalent in the sixteenth century. Contemporary museums owe their development to the cabinet of curiosity, as the "intense interest in taxonomy,
classification and symbolism" (Cesare 2014, p. 86) stemmed from these spaces.
These cabinets or collections "had trends, they were not just isolated collections"
(Cesare 2014, p. 91); some focused on a study of the natural world, other collections exemplified art from their time period. However, whilst each individuals cabinet varied in regards to content, "the desire to record, copy and archive" (Cesare
2014, p. 92) are shared amongst them. Each example shared two principles:
"private ownership and that of restricted access" (Bennett 2013, p. 73). These cabinets and rooms were to be observed only by the privileged, whether solely for the collector themselves, or at private events and functions. Viewers could gain an insight into the curiosities of its creator through examining the collections; for example Thomas Jefferson's cabinet in the entrance hall at Monticello "included fine art, natural wonders, ethnological artefacts, and marvellous curios of human contrivance" (Robinson 1995, p. 41 cited in Cesare 2014, p. 92).
The nineteenth century saw the emergence of public historical and art collections.
"Museums may have enclosed objects within walls, but the nineteenth century saw their doors opened to the general public" (Bennett 2013, p. 59). The British
Museum (see figure two), opened in 1759, is acknowledged to be one of the first public museums, however its notion of 'public' is limited. "Visitors were admitted only in groups of fifteen and were obliged to submit their credentials for inspection prior to admission which was granted only if they were found to be
'not exceptionable'" (Wittlin 1949, p. 113 cited in Bennett 2013, p. 70). The South
Kensington Museum1 (see figure three) "was officially dedicated to the service of an extended and undifferentiated public with opening hours and an admission
1. The South Kensington Museum, opened in 1857, is now known as the Victoria and Albert Museum, after changing it's name in 1899. s policy designed to maximise its accessibility to the working classes" (Bennett
2013, p. 70). As a result of this, the 'British Museum Complex' was developed by passing the Museum Bill of 1845, whereby local authorities were empowered to establish museums and art galleries, with a public focus (Bennett 2013, p. 72).
At the same time, Britain, France and Germany underwent a "spate of state- sponsored architectural competitions for the design of museums'" enabling the museums to "function as organs of public instruction" (Selling 1967 cited in
Bennett 2013, p. 70). The Great Exhibition of 18512 in Joseph Paxton's Crystal
Palace (see figure four) saw this notion of public explored further. The design allowed for a multitude of eyes to affix to glamorous commodities, with its design intent ensuring that "everyone could see" (Davison 1982/83, p. 7 cited in Bennett
2013, p. 65). It combined the notion of "spectacle and surveillance" (Bennett
2013, p. 65), allowing everyone to see the exhibits presented, as well as view other visitors from the vantage points scattered throughout the space. Museums moved to become public-orientated spaces at the turn of the nineteenth century, allowing for a wider population of the world to view the various displays once privately examined.
The development of the museum type during the 20th century unearthed a new area of museums. The focus on the public retained its importance, however, the image and the content has moved away from the "image of that nationalistic temple of culture, the British Museum" (Hooper-Greenhill 1992, p. 1). Instead, it has been replaced by an idealisation of "farms, boats, coal mines, warehouses,
2. Whilst the Great Exhibition of 1851 cannot be considered a 'museum', rather an exhibition, it successfully presented the world to the people of London, examining how different civilisations lived in the world, and how they technology was used to advance their lives, or how art reflected their culture. prisons, castles, or cottages" (Hooper-Greenhill 1992, p. 1). From this, the idea to acknowledge cultures as a whole instead of in a particular time period, led to the ability to commemorate a culture. This in turn, established the commemorative museum type. These spaces provide a "dictionary of people and places" (Poulot
2013, p. 29), and aim to "produce either an overall study dedicated to its architecture or to the history of growth of its collections" (Poulot 2013, p. 29). James Young defines this new type of museum as "counter-monuments: brazen, painfully self-conscious memorial spaces conceived to challenge the very premises of their being" (1997, p. 858). These spaces dedicate themselves to "historical criminality" (Poulot 2013, p. 34), providing a means in which visitors can engage in a past event. They "locate national objects in an explicit parallel with those of the other - the enemy or the ally" (Poulot 2013, p. 34), providing a contrast in how events are perceived. These museums utilise their architecture to convey the emotions and ideas surrounding their chosen events and topics. "Certain visual forms and spaces within the museums evoke a sense of the sacred..., while at the same time referring to the irrevocable loss and absence at the centre of
... remembrance" (Hansen-Glucklich 2010, p. 210). The museum typology has evolved over the centuries through private and public avenues, resulting in the commemorative museum type. As such, the following sections of this chapter introduce the architects of the most significant examples of this new typology.
DANIEL LIBESKIND
Daniel Libeskind is a Polish born, American trained architect who designed one
of the most important and significant examples of the commemorative museum type. Born in 1946 "in the ashes of the Holocaust" (Bloom & Hamann 2000, p.
9), Libeskind moved to Israel and then to the United States, studying music whilst young. He graduated from the Cooper Union in New York in 1970 with a
Bachelors degree in Architecture, whereby he completed a post-graduate degree in 'History and Theory of Architecture at the School of Comparative Studies at
Essex University in 1972" (Bloom & Hamann 2000, p. 9). As a result of winning the competition for the extension to the Berlin Museum in 1989, Libeskind opened his own practice in Berlin in 1990 (Bloom & Hamann 2000, p. 9). His practice, as a result of winning the master plan for the National September Eleven
Memorial moved to New York. The practice's architecture ranges from "building major cultural institutions including museums and concert halls, landscape and urban projects, to stage design, installations and exhibitions" (Bloom & Hamann
2000, p. 9). Libeskind understands the potential for history development through architecture, stating that "one can put a book away ... but a building and the city are always present across time, across history" (1995, p. 41 cited in Light 2000, p. 18). His buildings, as a result, are designed to last the test of time, refusing to "be swept up in commodity fetishism" (Coragan 2000, p. 11-12). Libeskind's renowned and iconic architecture is a result of extensive training and cultural exposure, producing built works that consider both the past and present society in which it is being constructed.
Libeskind is widely known and recognised for his developments in the museum typology, creating architecture that is emotively powerful. His architecture
"functions like a narrative or text to be read" (Light 2000, p. 17). His works all
share a common interest in meaning: "signs and symbols; with literary, musical and textual references. Voids, dynamic architectural forms, orientations, precisely chosen materials, colour, light" (Light 2000, p. 17). For example, the
Military History Museum in Dresden, Germany (see figure five) was completed in 2011 and features a distinct interruption of the original buildings classical symmetry. A "five story 14 500 ton wedge of glass, concrete, and steel cuts into and through the former arsenal's classical order" (Studio Libeskind 2016). The original, columned part of the building, presents Germany's military history in a horizontal and chronological order. This new addition, cuts the history between
1915-1945, providing new exhibition spaces which "focus on the societal forces and human impulses that give birth to war and violence" (Studio Libeskind 2016).
A viewing platform in the wedge provides views of modern Dresden, "pointing towards the triangulation of the area where the fire bombing began in Dresden, creating space for reflection" (Studio Libeskind 2016). Libeskind does not design
"Architecture for Architecture's sake" (Coragan 2000, p. 12). His architecture requires an engagement from the viewer and that the "viewer be buffeted by it and challenged' (Coragan 2000, p. 12). Libeskind, through his works, uses emotive power to generate interiors and buildings that have developed the museum type into spaces that are commemorative and provide commentary into events in societies past.
In unison with Libeskind's built works, his theoretical works provide an insight into his thought and design processes. Libeskind was head of the Department of
Architecture at the Cranbrook School of Art and Design from 1978-85, "enshewing the traditional route into architectural practice" (Bloom & Hamann 2000, p. 9).
Architecture, as stated by Libeskind, can be reduced to parts of speech or organs of the body "once joined by two lines and a semi-circle" (1991 cited in Libeskind
1991, p. 9). His passion for drawing is apparent in the develop of his architectural language, as without constant re-iterating a scheme, the idea for forms like the
Jewish Museum in Berlin would not have occurred. "Architectural drawings have in modern times assumed the identity of signs; they have become fixed and silent accomplices in the overwhelming endeavour of building and construction"
(Libeskind 1979 cited in Libeskind 1991, p. 14). He states that drawings can embody more emotion and power in some instances, than "in stabilised frameworks of objectifiable date" (Libeskind 1979 cited in Libeskind 1991, p. 14), in other words in built forms. His interests lie in the "profound relation which exists between the intuition of geometric structure as it manifests itself in a pre-objective sphere of experience and the possibility of formalisation" (Libeskind 1979 in Libeskind
1991, p. 14-15).
MICHAEL ARAD
Michael Arad, the Israeli-American architect, is one of the architects responsible for the culturally significant National September Eleven Memorial. Born in London in 1969, Arad moved around the globe, living in Jerusalem for nine years before moving to Mexico City. His father, Moshe Arad, was a Romanian-born diplomat, who emigrated to Israel in 1950, becoming the Israeli ambassador to Mexico City from 1983 to 1987.He then took the family to America, whereby he became the
Israeli ambassador between 1987 to 1990 (Filler 2013, pp. 265-266). Michael
Arad, as a result, attended high school in Mexico City, and then attended
Dartmouth to receive a BA, completing it in 1994 after taking three years to serve his required time in the Israeli commandos (Filler 2013, p. 266). After graduating from Masters of Architecture in 1999 at Georgia Tech, Arad began working for
Kohn Pederson Fox, and spent a year "designing the top twenty floors of a Hong
Kong skyscraper" (Hagan 2006, p. 25). However, after spending three years at the firm, he resigned, taking a design position in the "New York Housing Authority, where he worked on neighbourhood police stations" (Filler 2013, p. 266). It was whilst working at the Authority that he designed the proposal for the 9/11 memorial titled Reflecting Absence. At the request of the panel, it was suggested that he join a practice where he could rely on its resources. As a result, Arad joined Handel Architects in 2004 as a partner, where he "worked on realising the
Memorial design as a member of the firm" (Handel Architects 2016). Whilst Arad has had limited experience in designing commemorative museums, his one built example to date provides an insight into the power that these spaces can provide.
The collaboration with Davis Brody Bond, specifically J. Max Bond Jr., aided Arad in creating a significant site to commemorate the September Eleven attacks.
J. MAX BOND JR.
James Max Bond Jr. was one of America's most prominent African-American architects. It was whilst living in Tuskegee, Alabama when Bond's interest in architecture became apparent. His interest in "the school dormitories and airplane hanger" (Briggs 2004, p. 44) led to his studies at Harvard at the age of 16. He graduated in 1955 with honours, choosing to study a masters in architecture at
Harvard, completing this three years later in 1958. Upon graduating, Bond
experienced the racial hardship of the 1950s and 60s, whereby "firms would be excited over Bond's resume and credentials, then openings would not be available when they met him" (Briggs 2004, p. 44). As a result, Bond applied for a Fulbright scholarship, moving to France and spent a year working with famous architect
Le Corbusier. Upon returning to the United States, Bond worked at a couple of firms in New York before moving with his family in 1964 to Ghana, "working for the Ghana National Construction Corp" (Briggs 2004, p. 44). Bond suggests that whilst living in Ghana, his understanding of cultural issues increased, leading to more considered design schemes: "You could see the modern culture, the villages and a country that was not poor, but still it didn't have the wealth of the United
States. Living in Ghana made me think about cultural issues" (Briggs 2004, p. 44).
When he returned to America again, he collaborated with Don Ryder, another
African-American architect "to form what would become one of the largest and most successful Black firms in the country" (Briggs 2004, p. 44). However, in
1990, Bond's partner left the firm, motivating him to merge with Davis, Brody and Associates, forming the current Davis Brody Bond. Whilst at the firm, Bond proposed the selected interior for the 9/11 memorial, working with Michael Arad to provide a commemoration to the tragedy of the September-Eleven attacks.
As a result of the publics involvement with the museum typology, the interaction and the value of the museum has changed. The cabinets of curiosity of the sixteenth century provided a private and exclusive space in which to interact with all types of commodities: art, ethnographic and natural displays in decadent cabinets or dedicated rooms. The emergence of public museums in the nineteenth century included the British and South Kensington (later Victoria and Albert) museums,
allowing the greater public to interact with world wide artifacts. The development of the commemorative museum type was associated with the expression of a tragic event, as it allowed the notion of absence to be expressed architecturally.
This chapter introduced Daniel Libeskind, Michael Arad and James Max Bond
Jr., providing a biography into their lives and past works.
James Young in 1997 observes that there is a possibility that "art might redeem mass murder with beauty (or with ugliness) or that memorials might somehow redeem this past with an instrumentalisation of its memory" (p. 857 in Ball 2008, p.
73). Commemorative museums, as such, attempt to evoke a reaction to the past.
Typically, museums utilise their collected artefacts to display a culture; however, how can a culture that has little remaining artefacts be displayed to the public?
Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum in Berlin achieves this difficulty: it displays the Jewish culture through a physical representation of the absence of remaining cultural artefacts as a result of the Shoah 1. At the time of opening in 2000, "the exact nature and content of a museum collection was unresolved" (Bates 2000, p. 36) and that there has been propositions that the "museum should never have a collection on exhibit" (Bates 2000, p. 36). This chapter of the dissertation will commence with a presentation of the brief proposed by the West Berlin Senate.
It will then present the planning of the building and a description of the design of the exterior. The chapter will then move into analysing the interior of the Museum, focusing on the entry, the use of voids, the 'Garden of Exile' and the 'Holocaust
Tower'. The chapter concludes with an evaluation into the effectiveness this commemorative museum has in evoking a reaction to a traumatic history.
Held in 1987, the international competition for a new annex to the Berlin Museum was won in 1988 by Daniel Libeskind, with his entry "Between the Lines". The competition held by the West Berlin Senate in 1987 requested that a new wing to the Berlin Museum was to be designed, devoting itself to the presentation of
1. The biblical word 'Shoah', originally used in the Middle Ages as the Hebrew word for 'destruc- tion', became the word used to describe the murder of European Jews since 1940 "Jewish history as an integral part of the city's history" (Schneider 1999, p.
19), in a site that "displayed a chronological ordering of the social, cultural and artistic history of Berlin" (Bates 2000, p. 33). The new wing was to exhibit the history of Berlin after 1879 (Bates 2000, p. 33), providing a "more visible presence for the small collection of Jewish artefacts" (Bates 2000, p. 33). The location of the Jewish Museum marks a special point on the Berlin map: it lies at the "intersection of Markgrafenstrasse and Lindenstrasse lies on the edge of
Friedrichstadt, the district by which the city was expanded to the west in the late Baroque period" (Schneider 1999, p. 17). The architectural brief was full of contradictions (Bates 2000, p. 34), requiring an equal prominence of the separate
Jewish histories of Berlin and to also "tell the story of assimilation and profound influence" (Bates 2000, p. 34). However, Libeskind saw that there was a demand for an 'architecturalisation' of Jewish history: a "spatial ordering that allowed for overlaps, for inversions, for simultaneous moments and events" (Bates 2000, p.
34). This brief allowed Libeskind to build a dynamic Jewish museum in Berlin, filling the gaps and traces created by the Shoah (Libeskind 1999, p. 13). The brief for the new annex to the Berlin Museum was complicated, however it allowed for a powerful architectural answer.
As a result of the complexity of the brief and the subject matter, Libeskind's
"Between the Lines" proposal and design encompasses numerous facets.
Libeskind describes the design in a four fold structure: "the first aspect is the invisible and irrationally connected star which shines with absent light of individual address" (Libeskind 1991, p. 86). The plan is an abstracted Star of David, or the yellow star that Jewish people wore on their chests during World War II. Libeskind
found connections between "figures of Germans and Jews: between the particular history of Berlin, and between the Jewish history of Germany and of Berlin"
(Libeskind 1991, p. 27 cited in Bates 2000, p. 35). He found that "the physical trace of Berlin was not the only trace, but rather that there was an invisible matric or anamnesis of related connections. I felt that certain people and particularly certain writers, composers, artists and poets formed the link between Jewish
Tradition and German Culture" (Libeskind 1996, p. 40 in Mitsogianni 2000, p.
29). Libeskind calls the design "Between the Lines" "because it is a project about two lines of thinking, organisation and relationship" (Libeskind 1991, p.
86), lines that develop architecturally through a limited dialogue, yet disengage and are separate. The second element is the cut of Arnold Schoenberg's 1954 play Moses and Aaron, "which has to do with the not-musical fulfilment of the word" (Libeskind 1991, p. 86). Schoenberg was unable to complete Moses' lyrics, and as a result, Moses simply speaks "oh word, thou word" (Libeskind 1991, p.
86). Schoenberg identifies the "problem of the relationship between form and formlessness, speech and silence, the visible and the invisible..." (Taylor 1993, p. 151 cited in Mitsogianni 2000, p. 30) within the play, which Libeskind translates into the juxtaposition of a vast building with an absence of Jewish culture. This is the third aspect of the proposal: "that of deported or missing Berliners" (Libeskind
1991, p. 86). Finally, Libeskind utilises Walter Benjamin's urban apocalypse along the One Way Street" (Libeskind 1991, p. 86); represented through "the continuous sequence of sixty sections along the zig-zag" (Libeskind 1991, p. 86).
Libeskind's planning of the Jewish Museum can be simplified into four aspects, however each aspect is complex and is evident in the built work.
The complex form of the Jewish Museum provides a unique exterior and series of facades to the building. Clad in zinc and glass, the building contrasts to the late-Baroque Collengienhaus in which the Berlin Museum lies (see figure six).
"The new structure sets a definite contrast to the configuration and style of the old, yet at the same time works as a lateral element that clearly defines the old building's position in space" (Schneider 1999, p. 28). The uniform height of the building does not conform to any eave line or cornice on its surrounding buildings, yet its design and height "reflect the generally prevalent inner-city building height" (Schneider 1999, p. 28). The small projection on Lindenstrasse acts a "spatially effective hinge" providing the "historical relationship between urban space and structure" (Schneider 1999, p. 28). The imposing design of the building leaves little interpretation of the interior of the building: it is "neither [a] skin, nor curtain wall, the facade does not reveal the internal organisation of the museum" (Schneider 1999, p. 36). Libeskind's use of windows "are the actual topographical lines joining addresses of Germans and Jews immediately around the site and radiating outwards" (Libeskind 1991, p. 86 cited in Bates 2000, p. 36;
Libeskind 1991, p. 86 cited in Schneider 1999, p. 27). These windows, however, are an innovation of conceptualisation: "they alter the history of the facade.
They challenge the tradition of facades" (Bates 2000, p. 36). As a result, the facade is able to produce thinness and depth simultaneously. "Thinness, as the space between the inside and the outside seems to evaporate as these windows accumulate and disperse without apparent reason or logic. But also depth as slicing, and bevelling of the cuts and openings push the interior more and more away from the wrapping metallic, exterior surface" (Bates 2000, p. 36). Libeskind deliberately chose to contrast the Jewish Museum's facade to the wide variety of
building styles which surround the site, producing a complementary yet imposing structure.
Libeskind's redesign of the typical entry allows for a more emotional experience to be presented to the visitors to the Jewish Museum in Berlin. The building is sited as a separate entity to the Berlin Museum, generating a void "between the two buildings that clearly functions as a powerful symbol of the separation, the severance of connection that the Holocaust cleaved between the Jews of Berlin from the city and the people" (Light 2000, p. 15). To enter the Jewish Museum, one has to enter through the shared entrance in the Berlin Museum. The new buildings presence is felt in the Berlin Museum: through the "shape of a massive stairwell projecting into the Baroque building" (Schneider 1999, p. 48). Visitors step down into an underground passageway that "links old and new buildings, the cities history with Jewish history" (Schneider 1999, p. 48). Visitors then enter the main subterranean corridor: a space that "gradually ascends, where the great main stairway of the museum which leads to the exhibition floors and therefore an insight into the Jewish-German history, appears in the distance" (Schneider
1999, p. 48). This main corridor is called the 'Axis of Continuity': it connects the old history of Berlin to the new history; a connection of German and Jewish histories.
Along this axis, two crossroads lead off the main corridor. The first corridor, the
'Axis of Emigration', leads to the E.T.A Hoffmann Garden, or the 'Garden of Exile' and the outside world. The second, the 'Axis of the Holocaust', leads to a dead end, the Holocaust Tower. In both these corridors, the floor level gradually rises, whilst the ceiling height remains constant. As a result, a sense of claustrophobia can result. The entry to the Jewish Museum commences the overwhelming
emotional experience the commemorative museum attempts to achieve.
Libeskind's Jewish Museum utilises the void as both a negative space and a tangible object. The museum is "transected by a straight line which is a void, empty and impenetrable" (Light 2000, p. 15), representing absence and highlights the absence of Jews in Berlin, the Jewish world, and to humanity. The void requires the traversal of bridges, as "any step to the future must bridge this ever- threatening unfillable void" (Light 2000, p. 16). Six voids are presented throughout the museum; each one is untreated, lacking in artificial light and unoccupied. The limited light in these voids references Ernst Bloch, the German philospher, in 1935, when he wrote: "there is a night full of new horror stories - a night that is made only more intense by the overabundance of light bulbs, and the lack of the other, more thoughtful forms of illumination" (Bloch 1998, p. 320 cited in Carter 2000, p. 26). Through a decision to rely purely on natural light, Libeskind reduces the horror these stark spaces could provide to the museum. His voids are "full of the silenced chatterings of the murdered victims of the Shoah ... make the absence present" (Light 2000, p. 16). Only one void, titled the "Memory Void", is occupied by Menashe Kadishman's "Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves)", in which 10,000 roughly cut steel faces occupy the void (see figure seven). The occupation of this void serves as an architectural translation of the murder of Jewish people in Europe, evoking painful recollections of the innocent victims. Through a represented lack and absence of artefacts and Jewish culture, the true impact and horror of an extermination of a culture is provided through a "host of signifiers as fragments, brought together through the observor's glimpses" (Mitsogianni 2000, p. 29-30).
As a result, "the intangible 'absence', shapes and registers the visible, the form"
(Mitsogianni 2000, p. 29-30). However, a limited collection of Jewish artefacts remain, in the permanent collection on the upper floors, and in the axes in which personal documents, photos and mementos are presented. The limited artefacts that remain and are exhibited speak volumes about the extermination of the
Jewish culture during the Holocaust. Libeskind's powerful use of voids, reflects this, and also links spaces together within the building.
The 'Axis of Emigration' culminates with the E.T.A Hoffmann garden, or the
'Garden of Exile'. Comprised of forty-nine inclined rough concrete columns in a seven by seven square (see figure eight), presents an inverse to the notion of a garden: it is considered upside down. Visitors move through the garden meters below the willow oak, which are located in each of the columns. Forty-eight of the columns are filled with the "earth of Berlin and stand for 1948 - the formation of the State of Israel" (Libeskind cited in Schneider 1999, p. 40). The final, central column, contains earth of Jerusalem and "stands for Berlin itself" (Libeskind cited in Schneider 1999, p. 40). The square is tilted into the earth, and as a result, the walkway between the columns is sloped. This produces a dizzying effect for visitors, the "surround buildings appear to totter" (Schneider 1999, p. 50).
"What will remain standing and what will fall seems uncertain, and there is no common level with the surroundings that could provide orientation and security. It can be said that the space provides a comment into the disorientation felt by the Jewish culture during the Shoah, at the time where all Jewish people where forcibly removed from their home and exiled from Germany. The thorny rose, which is a symbol of life, is able to both injure and reconcile. In the ancient
city of Jerusalem, roses were the only plants permitted. Libeskind placed a rose arbour around the 'Garden of Exile', representing a "modern inversion of the ancient motif of Eden, the paradisal Garden" (Schneider 1999, p. 40).
As the only direct external connection to the museum and the only means of leaving the museum, the Garden can be said to be a Garden of Eden for the visitors, as it provides a relief from the intense emotional experience inside the museum, albeit a relief that disorients the visitor. The 'Garden of Exile' is an embodiment of the eviction the Jewish people faced when being driven out of
Germany.
After entry, the second corridor that leads off the 'Axis of Continuity' is the 'Axis of the Holocaust', a corridor that leads to a dead end. It moves the visitor into the 'Holocaust Tower', a space that, like other voids throughout the building, is not-lit, not cooled or heated, and is untreated. The space ends the "old history of Berlin" (Libeskind 1999, p. 30 cited in Carter 2000, p. 24), corresponding "to an experience which somewhere else you have called the end of history - the
Holocaust, as the end of history" (Derrida 1997, p. 111 cited in Light 2000, p.
15). The space is dark and cold, with only a fragment of natural light allowed into the space through a small cut in the ceiling plane (see figure nine). Libeskind, inspired by a tale of a lady who survived Auschwitz, made the cut in the ceiling in reference to the ability of light to provide hope for people. "Confined in a railway wagon, on her way to Auschwitz, she saw a light through the grating... maybe it was no more than lamps in a tunnel, but she believed it to be clouds, stars and sunshine. The desire to see that light once more got her through" (Libeskind
1999 cited in Carter p. 26). Sounds of the city are faintly heard in the space, and if children are playing in the school yard in the neighbouring building, their cheers and cries seep into the space. It "exerts an extremely compelling effect on anyone who experiences it" (Schneider 1999, p. 51). The 'Holocaust Tower' provides a blunt end to history as a result of the Holocaust.
The intentions of commemorative Museums, like Libeskind's Jewish Museum in
Berlin, are to provide a space in which discussions about how to progress society after a tragedy. Libeskind states in 1998 that "this Museum is not only a response to a particular program, but an emblem of hope" (cited in Light 2000, p. 16). It provides society a means in which to understand the trauma experienced by those of Jewish culture during the Shoah. Achieved through the interior spaces, the Jewish Museum evokes reactions in its visitors, through the manipulation of the interior environment: "...spiritual testimony contained in each receding shadow of the names; in each ray of light" (Libeskind cited in Light 2000, p. 18).
His architecture contains "the immaterial, the uncertain, the empty" (Mitsogianni
2000, p. 15), acting as an invention of more "appropriate means to cope with new events that come up" (Libeskind 1996, p. 22 cited in Bates 2000, p. 33). In moving forward from the atrocities of the Holocaust, James Young states that it "may be that the finished monument completes memory itself, putting a cap on memory work and drawing a bottom line beneath an era that must always haunt Germany"
(1997, p. 854-855). The building does not provide an answer: it allows society to generate an answer, propose solutions to rectify the history of a nation (Libeskind
1990, p. 50 cited in Ball 2008, p. 75). As a result, Libeskind's Jewish Museum in
Berlin effectively evokes a reaction in each visitor to the site, generating ideas in
moving forwards from the Shoah.
Commemorative museums through their architecture and exhibits seek to evoke a reaction to a traumatic past. Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum in
Berlin attempts to provoke a reaction to the Shoah, attempting to provide an understanding of the pain and suffering the Jewish people experienced during this time. Through an understanding of the brief, the planning and the exterior of the building, large gestures Libeskind proposed to begin the dialogue for moving forward with history have been discussed. Furthermore, an analysis of the interior of the building, with specific focus on the entry, the voids, the 'Garden of Exile' and the 'Holocaust Tower' describe how through these powerful space, reactions to the past are evoked. Finally, the chapter concluded with an examination to whether this commemorative museum effectively evoked a reaction to the past.
In comparison to the Jewish Museum in Berlin, the National September Eleven
Memorial and Museum, designed by Michael Arad and James Max Bond Jr. respectively, is another example of the commemorative museum type that evokes a reaction to the past through its architecture, in this case, the tragic September
Eleven attacks. However, unlike the Jewish Museum, the National September
Eleven Memorial and Museum not only uses architecture to generate reactions, it utilises a wide collection of artefacts and objects to present the tragedy of the event. The spaces display the September Eleven attacks through both the absence of artefacts or space, and the physical presentation of materials. This chapter of the dissertation commences with an overview of the brief the Lower
Manhattan Development Corporation tendered for the design of the site. It moves into discussing the planning Arad used for the site. Furthermore, the chapter presents the entry pavilion designed by Snhetta, which acts an entry to the museum below the memorial. The chapter then provides a presentation and summary of both the design of the museum, and the exhibits on display. The chapter culminates with an analysis into the effectiveness of the site in evoking a reaction to a traumatic event in the history of America.
After the tragedy of the September Eleven attacks, the city of New York, and
America as a whole, required a space in which citizens could come together and commemorate the event. Proposed by the Lower Manhattan Development
Corporation, the brief for the National September Eleven Memorial asked for a
"homage to the human spirit and the human identity" (Simpson 2006, p. 59), remembering those who died, and joining it "with the evocation of an upbeat future" (Simpson 2006, p. 75). It required all entries and designs to accommodate
four ideals: a recognition of the names of each individual who lost their lives on the planes, in the towers, at the Pentagon, and in the plane crash in Pennsylvania; a place for housing the remains of people who could be identified; spatial elements that allowed for contemplation; and significant acknowledgment of those who aided in the rescue and recovery over the nine months it took to search the site
(Simpson 2006, p. 75). Furthermore, the brief required that the designs "make the footprints of the towers visible; to leave the slurry wall exposed; to enable visitors to get to bedrock..." (Stephens 2004, p. 36). Whilst the brief was designed by the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, the client was difficult to determine: the sheer number of stakeholders and "special-interest" groups who required certain elements of the design to reflect their needs, made the overall design process difficult (Filler 2013, p. 266). The Lower Manhattan Development
Corporation curated a brief that required entrants to adhere to four key elements in order to satisfy the needs of all parties involved in the site.
In combination with Peter Walker, the world renowned landscape architect,
Michael Arad's planning for the National September Eleven Memorial began well before the brief was presented. After witnessing the Twin Towers etched in frosting on the top a cake in a pastry-shop, one evening near the Hudson River, the "idea of the reflection of the skyline on the river and these absences being superimposed on it" (Arad cited in Hagan 2006, p. 25; Goldman 2004, p. 90) struck Arad. He applied this to the site, developing the notion of two voids that are sited on the footprint of Minoru Yamasaki's original World Trade Centre buildings.
Titled Reflecting Absence, the scheme "mimics and pays homage to Lutyen's
great memorial at Thiepval1 (see figure ten), also composed of names where no bodies could be found" (Winter 1995, p. 105 cited in Simpson 2006, p. 79), embodying the absence of the buildings and the loss of life. Arad states that he needed to incorporate the future use of the space into his memorial design: in that it is a site dedicated to the memory of September 11, however it needs to accommodate for people as a public space (Arad 2013); he wanted them to be
"incredibly resilient and powerful spaces" (Arad 2013). Developing the idea of the twin voids, Arad developed a design that encompassed two pools of water, with large waterfalls that pour water into these pools or voids (Filler 2013, p. 268).
Around the voids, plaques with the names of the victims who perished on the site are engraved. Focusing on the combination of public space with the memorial type, Arad and Walker designed the site to reflect the need for a memorial to the
September Eleven attacks, however they incorporated the future needs of the city.
The twin pools on the site are key elements of the National September Eleven
Memorial, as they allow people to visually connect with the names of the people and the buildings that were lost. As one moves through the plaza towards the pair of "abyss-like pools" (Filler 2013, p. 265), the calming greenery and grey granite tiles added by Walker, give way to the overbearing crescendo of the sound of falling water into the pools (Filler 2013, p. 265). Determined by the footprints of the original Twin Towers, the voids span "176 feet on each side" (Filler 2013, p.
1. Sir Edwin Lutyen's 1932 Thiepval memorial is located in the 1916 Somme Battlefield. The me- morial pays homage to those soldiers who went missing in action, whereby the names of these soldiers are engraved into panels on the monument. This differs from Arad's National September Eleven Memorial in that is a monument to those who went missing in action during the Battle of the Somme, as opposed to those who were reduced to nothing in the falling of the Twin Towers. 274), and are located in the exact position of the original towers (see figure eleven). Niagara-like waterfalls pour into the sunken fountains, drowning out the sounds of the city around the site (Filler 2013, p. 270). As one looks down into the thirty-foot deep pits, another smaller square extends yet another fifteen feet below the pools surface, evoking a "simplified, monochromatic grisaille version of Josef Alber's Homage to the Square series" (Filler 2013, p. 270). The viewer becomes immersed in the falling water and the twin voids, and as a result, the viewer is not distracted by the surrounding city when examining the names that surround the twin voids (Filler 2013, p. 271). Arad wanted the twin pools to be something that has the ability to be physically interacted with, not just something that one looks at from afar (Arad 2013). However, Arad wanted these points of interaction to reflect how the event had both small and large scales (Sturken
2015, p. 477). The use of twin voids recreates the Twin Towers for the visitors, as their dimensions and the location speak to the original, providing an architectural reflection on what and who once occupied the site.
Surrounding these twin pools, are the names of people who lost their life during the September Eleven attacks. Not only do these names include those who perished in the twin towers, they include the names of those who died on both flights that hit the towers; those who perished at the Pentagon; and those who lost their life in the plane crash outside of Shanksville, Pennsylvania (Reno 2011, p. 3; Filler 2013, p. 271). Purposely "devoid of national symbolism" (Reno 2011, p. 5), the names are cut into bronze plates in Hermann Zapf's classic Optima typeface (1952-1955), so that they "can be backlit after dark" (Filler 2013, p. 271)
(see figure twelve). With over three thousand names, the organisation of them
became problematic for Arad. Arad decided that instead of listing the names in alphabetical order, the term 'meaningful adjacencies' was coined to explain the method used in sorting the names and locating them around the site. Families of victims could request for names of loved ones to be located next to one another, whether they were families, friends, or workers who travelled together everyday
(Hagan 2006, p. 25); it brought "individual human stories into an arrangement'
(Arad 2013). For example, one of the requests they received was from a young woman who lost her father on Flight 11, and her friend who was working in the
North Tower. Flight 11 crashed into that tower, and as a result the two names were placed side by side (Arad 2013). However, in some cases the names had no particular associations to others. As a result, Arad presents the names as individuals, "only as they were in the moments before the planes struck the towers - as individuals going about their daily lives" (Reno 2011, p. 5). In order to mitigate any difficulties in locating names in the site, visitors can type the name they are looking for into a computer or ask a staff member to do so, whereby it locates the name to a void, side of that void and panel. Arad evokes a reaction to the September Eleven tragedy through the powerful names of the victims who lost their lives in the attacks.
The entry to the underground September Eleven museum is facilitated by the entry pavilion designed by Snhetta. The Norwegian firm, named after the Norwegian word for "snowcap", was founded in 1987 by six landscape architects, who are committed to interdisciplinary practice. (Filler 2013, p. 253). Situated next to the twin pools, the freestanding pavilion stands in stark contrast to the elements that surround it (Filler 2013, p. 274). The studio does not adhere to any one design
approach, tackling their designs project by project. However, in this instance, the visual language of Daniel Libeskind's hypothetical renderings for the World Trade
Centre site2 is evident in the design, as a way to mediate the deconstructivist style of the towers to the clean and restrained design of the memorial pools
(Filler 2013, pp. 263-264). However, the design does still fall out of place in the aesthetic of the site: its "exaggeratedly slant roof form" (Filler 2013, p. 264), appears to mimic a "structure falling down, a dreadful miscalculation on this bedeviled site" (Filler 2013, p. 264). However, once inside the pavilion, elements of the September Eleven begin to show through the fabric of Snhetta's design.
Dedicated to providing visitor comfort and orientation, the design for the building allows "visitors to find a place that is a naturally occurring threshold between the everyday life of the city and the uniquely spiritual quality of the Memorial"
(Dykers cited in Snhetta 2016). The first thing visitors see when they enter the pavilion are "the tridents, which are huge remnants of the outer skin of the towers" (Sturken 2015, p. 478) (see figure thirteen). Once visitors are inside the space, they can "look out through the pavilion's atrium to see others peer in, and begin a physical and mental transition in the journey from above to below ground"
(Snhetta 2016). It is in this space, in which the transition from the memorial to the museum becomes apparent, whereby visitors move down the escalators into the museum space.
Whilst the museum space by James Max Bond Jr. speaks a different architectural language to the voids used above ground, the space amplifies the loss of life in
2. Daniel Libeskind is the master planner for the site, however, has slowly been pushed out of designing the site itself, with the multistory residential and office buildings being subcontracted to other architectural firms. the September Eleven attacks. Primarily, the September Eleven museum "tells us a lot about how 9/11 has shaped American culture and society in what we can still define as the post 9/11 era in American history, both in what it does well and what is unable, for political reasons, to do" (Sturken 2015, p. 475). The brief required the museum to provide "meaningful access to certain aspects of the site, including the slurry wall that famously held back the Hudson River that day and afterward and the column footprints of the original twin towers" (Sturken
2015, p. 475). Visitors move through the space along a "'broad ribbon walkway' that brings visitors down toward the huge central space" (Sturken, 2015, p. 477), culminating in the vast Foundation Hall. Shaped by the two large voids above from Arad's design, the space reaches seven stories underground to the bedrock, with the two key galleries housed below the voids (Sturken 2015, p. 477). The scale of the site enables a "form of 9/11 exceptionalism", generating a valuation by the visitors of the three-thousand deaths (Sturken 2015, p. 478). Haunted by the stories of bodies (Sturken 2015, p. 484), visitors experience stories that are chilling, reminding them of the "initial confusion as the events unfolded" (Sturken
2015, p. 481). Throughout the design of the National September Eleven Museum, visitors are forced to react to the sheer scale of the tragedy.
The National September Eleven Museum, unlike the Jewish Museum in Berlin, does not express the loss of life (and culture) primarily through its architecture.
Instead, the focus of this museum is to share a wide variety of objects and artefacts to the visitors. Taking centre stage in the vast Foundation Hall is what is known as the "Last Column" (see figure fourteen).The thirty-six feet high steel colossus, is "covered with messages to the dead, photographs, and memorial inscriptions"
(Sturken 2015, p. 471), inscribed there by the police, firefighters and other personnel who aided in the recovery mission at Ground Zero. When it was finally removed from the Ground Zero site in 2002, "it was draped with a flag and awarded an honour guard escort" (Sturken 2015, p. 471), and now standing in the
Foundation Hall, it will "encourage reflection on the foundations of resilience, hope and community" (Sturken 2015, p. 471). The second object in the Foundation
Hall, is a brick "taken from the compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan, where Osama
Bin Laden was assassinated" (Sturken 2015, p. 472) (see figure fifteen). Whilst it does not exude its historical importance, the brick "sits in the museum as a form of evidence" (Sturken 2015 p. 473), as retribution of the attacks. "Crushed ambulances, an enormous water main valve, bent pieces of steel...are spread throughout the museum spaces" (Sturken 2015, p. 481), along with portraits of those who died in the attacks. However, tucked away in a separate room, is what is known as "The Composite" (see figure sixteen): "a chunk of debris in which approximately four to five floors of one of the twin towers are compressed into an object several feet high" (Sturken 2015, p. 484). Widely controversial in its inclusion in the site, "The Composite" is disturbing "because of its indecipherability, its indeterminancy" (Sturken 2015, p. 484). A repository for the unidentified remains of those killed on September Eleven is located between the two footprints of the voids. It is hoped that in the future with the development of technology, these remains will be able to be identified, and returned to their families (The New York
Office of the Chief Medical Examiner 2016). The artefacts arranged throughout the museum each evoke reactions to the September Eleven attacks in the visitors who move through the site.
Similar to the Jewish Museum, this example of the commemorative museum type aims to provide a means and a physical space in which society can gather and discuss how to move forth in the wake of a tragedy, specifically here the
September Eleven attacks. The location of the site is not a symbolic gesture as the site of the Jewish Museum is: the powerful use of the original footprints and site of the Twin Towers adds volumes to the power this memorial and museum has in commemorating the September Eleven attacks. Whilst the nature of the museum is entirely different to the Jewish Museum, the notions are similar, in that the loss of life is numerable. Both Arad and James Max Bond Jr. managed to create a memorial/museum that "conveys the same sense of inevitability that one senses with all great art - that it had to be like this, and no other way" (Filler 2013, p. 269): no other design option would have done the event justice as the built designs do. Not only do Arad's memorial and Bond's museum provide reactions to the event, these two pieces of architecture allow for the families of the victims to feel connected to those that they lost, and to provide a home for the people that passed. Monica Iken Murphy, a widow of September Eleven, indicates that when she comes to the site she feels his presence; its his home, his "final resting place"
(cited in Filler 2013 p. 273). The spaces are "designed to accrue more stories, to hold conferences and events, and to function as an educational institution"
(Sturken 2015, p. 489), bringing "individual human stories into an arrangement"
(Arad 2013). As a result, both the memorial and the museum effectively evoke a reaction in each visitor that passes through the site, enabling the discussion of how America can move forward in a 'post 9/11-era', remembering those who passed and suffered.
Like the Jewish Museum in Berlin, the National September Eleven Memorial and
Museum by Michael Arad and James Max Bond Jr., effectively evokes a reaction to a traumatic event in American history through both the presentation of absence and artefacts. The use of architecture and the presentation of artefacts, the spaces allow visitors and family members to connect with loved ones who passed in the attacks, or to congregate with community in order to remember those who died.
This chapter commenced with a presentation into the brief, the planning, the twin pools and the names of the victims in Arad's memorial design. The chapter then presented a discussion of the entry pavilion designed by Snhetta, which acts as an entry to Bond's museum below. It discussed the museum and its exhibits, and ended with an analysis into the effectiveness of the site in evoking a reaction to a traumatic history.
Defined as "counter-monuments: brazen, painfully self-conscious memorial spaces" (Young 1997, p. 858), commemorative museums are conceived to evoke reactions to traumatic episodes in the history of a nation. The artists and architects who design this typology believe that the conventional museum shuts down interaction between the tragedy and the visitors, rather than embodying it and providing a means in which society can discuss how to move forward.
This notion was investigated through two means: through a presentation of the histories of museums and how they developed; and through an analysis of two contemporary case studies of the commemorative museum type.
Chapter one provided a history of museums, and their evolution over time into the commemorative museum type. What commenced as private and elaborate areas for wealthy aristocrats to display their collections, the "cabinets des curieux" commenced the notion of the museum, restricting its access to those with either the funds to create their own, or friendships with those that did. The museum moved into a semi-public space, with what can be considered the classic ideal of a museum: the British Museum. Whilst its doors opened to more than the aristocracy, visitors were required to present their credentials, and only fifteen people were allowed in at a time. However, the Great Exhibition of 1851, whilst not a museum as such, presented history and culture to the masses, with Paxton's building designed to allow for all to experience the exhibits on display. This pre- empted the birth of the modern museum and in particular the commemorative museum. The chapter also provided a background to Daniel Libeskind, Michael
Arad and James Max Bond Jr., the architects behind the two case studies.
Chapter two presented the first case study used in this dissertation for the commemorative museum type: Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum in Berlin.
The chapter commenced with a presentation of the brief set by the West Berlin
Senate in 1987, requesting a new wing to present Jewish history as an integral part of the city's history to be designed. It then presented the planning of the building, and the intricacies of the exterior of the building. The chapter provided a description of the interior of the building, focusing on the entry, the use of voids, the 'Garden of Exile' and the 'Holocaust Tower'. The chapter concluded with an analysis of the effectiveness this commemorative museum presented in evoking a reaction to a traumatic history, specifically the Shoah. This example of a commemorative museum is distinguished by its symbolic location of the site, and how Libeskind utilised numerous approaches in the design, resulting in a multi-layered scheme. The building does not provide an answer to the Shoah: it facilitates the discussion in the community and the wider nation as to how to move forward after acknowledging the atrocities that occurred during this time.
Chapter three presented another example of the commemorative museum type.
In this case, the National September Eleven Memorial and Museum, designed by
Michael Arad and James Max Bond Jr. respectively. The chapter commenced with, like chapter two, a presentation of the brief the Lower Manhattan Development
Corporation set for the development of the Ground Zero site. It then presented the planning Michael Arad used in his design, focusing on how the use of twin abyss-like pools and engraved names evoke a reaction to the September Eleven attacks. The chapter then provided a description of Snhetta's pavilion, and how it provides access to Bond's museum. A description of the museum and its exhibits
ensued, with the chapter culminating in an analysis of its effectiveness in evoking a reaction to a traumatic history. This example of the commemorative museum is exemplified and differs from the Jewish Museum by its use of the original site of the Twin Towers. This provides a solid foundation for the memorial, allowing the site to speak volumes about the tragedy of the September Eleven attacks. This space, like the Jewish Museum, does not provide an answer to the September
Eleven attacks: it evokes discussion about the future of American in the 'post-
9/11' era.
Through the studies of Libeskind's Jewish Museum, and the National September
Eleven Memorial and Museum by Arad and Bond, it has been shown that the commemorative museum type effectively evokes a reaction to the past, to traumatic history regardless of its origins. These two museums depict different types of loss of life and culture both in different ways. Libeskind relies on the architecture, specifically the use of the 'void' as a physical object, to evoke this reaction in the buildings viewers. Arad, similarly, uses architectural voids to depict the loss of culture and life. Bond, on the other hand, uses the artefacts retrieved from the September Eleven attacks, in all states of condition, to provide the generation of reactions in each of the museum's visitors. What these spaces all have in common, is that they all provide a space for the community to gather, and discuss how it is best for the society to move forth after such tragic events in each nations past. As a result, these examples are extremely effective in evoking a reaction to the loss of Jewish culture and life in the Shoah, and the loss of life in the September Eleven attacks.
Through the study of the architecture of these two case studies, the principles of architecture that force people to move and think differently will aid in moving forward with a graduation brief and into an architectural career.
CHAPTER ONE
Bal, M 1996, "The discourse of the museum" in Greenberg, R, Ferguson, B and
Nairne, S, (eds) Thinking about exhibitions, Routledge, London, pp. 145-157.
Bennett, T 2013, "The exhibitionary complex", in The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, Taylor and Francis, Florence, pp. 59-88.
Bloom, E & Hamann, A (eds.) 2000, Lineage: the architecture of Daniel Libeskind,
The Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne.
Briggs, J 2004, "J. Max Bond, building a reputation 40-year in design", The Crisis, vol. 111, no. 5, pp. 43-44
British Museum 2016, Architecture, accessed 11 June 2016,
Cesare, C 2014, "The habit of curiosity", Agathos, vol. 5, no. 1, pp. 83-89
Coragan, P 2000 in Bloom, E & Hamman, A (eds.), Lineage: the architecture of
Daniel Libeskind, The Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne, pp. 11-12
Filler, M 2013, "Michael Arad", Makers of modern architecture volume II, The
New York Review of Books, New York, pp. 265-276.
Hagan J 2006, "The breaking of Michael Arad", New York Mag, vol. 39, no. 18, pp. 20, 22-27, 100-101
Hansen-Glucklich, J 2010, "Evoking the sacred: visualing holocaust narratives in national museums", Journal of modern Jewish Studies, vol. 9, no. 2, pp. 209-232.
Hooper-Greenhill, E 1992, "What is a musuem?" in Museums and the shaping of knowledge, Routledge, London, pp. 1-22
Light, H 2000 in Bloom, E & Hamman, A (eds.), Lineage: the architecture of
Daniel Libeskind, The Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne, pp. 13-18.
Libeskind, D 1979, "End space", in Libeskind, D 1991, Daniel Libeskind: countersign, Academy Editions, London, pp. 13-15
Libeskind, D 1991, "Upside down x", in Libeskind, D 1991, Daniel Libeskind: countersign, Academy Editions, London, pp. 8-11
Poulot, A 2013, "Another history of museums: from the discourse to the museum- piece", Anais do Museu Palista, vol. 1, no. 1, pp. 27-47
Studio Libeskind 2016, Military history museum, accessed 17 April 2016,
CHAPTER TWO
Ball, K 2008, 'Deconstructivist architecture between Libeskind and Eisenman: toward a "Jewish" antimemorial genre?, Disciplining the Holocaust, State
University of New York Press, Ithaca, pp. 73-93.
Bates, D 2000, 'The age of the line', in Bloom, E & Hamann, A (eds.) 2000,
Lineage: the architecture of Daniel Libeskind, The Jewish Museum of Australia,
Melbourne, pp. 32-36.
Carter, P 2000 'Avoided spaces: Libeskind, Freud, agoraphobia', in Bloom, E
& Hamann, A (eds.) 2000, Lineage: the architecture of Daniel Libeskind, The
Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne, pp. 23-26.
Libeskind, D 1991, 'The extension to the Berlin museum with the Jewish museum',
Daniel Libeskind: countersign, Academy Editions, London, pp. 85-107
Libeskind, D 1999, 'Preface', in Schneider, B 1999, Daniel Libeskind: Jewish museum Berlin, Prestel, Munich. p. 13
Light, H 2000, 'Lines of faith, of hope and of spirit', in Bloom, E and Hamann, A
(eds) 2000, Lineage: the architecture of Daniel Libeskind, The Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne, pp. 13-18.
Mitsogianni, V 2000, 'The outer', in Bloom, E & Hamann, A (eds.) 2000, Lineage: the architecture of Daniel Libeskind, The Jewish Museum of Australia, Melbourne, pp. 27-31.
Schneider, B 1999, Daniel Libeskind: Jewish museum Berlin, Prestel, Munich.
Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016,
Young, J 1997, 'Germany's memorial question: memory, counter-memory, and the end of the monument', The south atlantic quarterly, vol. 96, no. 4, pp. 853-
880.
CHAPTER THREE
Arad, M 2013, 'Reflecting Absence: an interview with Michael Arad', interviewed by Harel Shapira, Public Books, 20 August.
Filler, M 2013, 'Michael Arad', Makers of modern architecture: volume II, The
New York Review of Books, New York, pp. 265 - 276.
Filler, M 2013, 'Snhetta', Makers of modern architecture: volume II, The New
York Review of Books, New York, pp. 251-264.
Goldman, A 2004, 'Michael Arad', Esquire, vol. 141, no. 5, pp. 88-90.
Greatwar.co.uk 2016, Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, Somme Battlefields,
France, accessed 13 June 2016,
Hagan, J 2006, 'The Breaking of Michael Arad', New York Magazine, vol. 39, no. 18, pp. 20, 22-27, 100-101.
McCrary L 2011, 9/11 Postmodern Memorial Failure?, The American
Conservative, accessed 13 June 2016,
National September 11 Memorial and Museum 2016, The Lens: Capturing Life and Events at the 9/11 Memorial and Museum, accessed 13 June 2016,
New York Office of Chief Medical Examiner 2016, The WTC Repository, accessed 13 June 2016, WTC_Repository.shtml> Reno, R 2011, 'The Failed 9/11 Memorial', First Things, vol. 218, Dec 2011, pp. 3-5. Simpson, D 2006, 'The tower and the memorial: building, meaning, telling', 9/11: the culture of commemoration, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, pp. 55-86. Snhetta 2016, National September 11 Memorial Museum Pavilionm, accessed 13 June 2016, Stephens, S with Luna, I & Broadhurst, R 2004, 'Memorial Competition', Imagining Ground Zero: official and unofficial proposals for the World Trade Centre competition, Thames and Hudson, London, pp. 36-47. Sturken, M 2015, 'The 9/11 Memorial museum and the remaking of Ground Zero', American Quarterly, vol. 67, no. 2, pp. 471-490. 9/11 Memorial Museum and BD+C staff, First look: 9/11 Memorial Museum opens to first-responders, survivors, 9/11 families, accessed 13 June 2016, < http:// www.bdcnetwork.com/first-look-911-memorial-museum-opens-first-responders- survivors-911-families-slideshow> APPENDIX ONE: ILLUSTRATIONS CHAPTER ONE Figure one: The cabinets of curiosities: the Metallotheca of Michele Mercati in the Vatican, 1719. (Source: T Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p. 60) Figure two: The British Museum: Quadrangle Building. Sir Robert Smirke, 1852. (Source: The British Museum, Architecture, accessed 11 June 2016, Figure three: Interior of South Court, The South Kensington Museum (later Victoria and Albert Museum). Francis Fowke, 1862. Drawing: John Watkins, c. 1876. (Source: T Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p. 71) Figure four: The Great Exhibition 1851, Crystal Palace, The Western, or British Nave, looking east. Joseph Paxton, 1851. (Source: T Bennett, The birth of the museum: history, theory, politics, p. 62) Figure five: Military History Museum, Dresden, Germany; exterior. Daniel Libeskind, 2011. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Military history museum, accessed 17 April 2016, CHAPTER TWO Figure six: Exterior, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened). (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016, Figure seven: Menashe Kadishman's "Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves)" in the Memory Void, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened). Photo: Torsten Seidel. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016, Figure eight: Garden of Exile, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened). Photo: BitterBredt. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016, Figure nine: Holocaust Tower, Jewish Museum Berlin. Daniel Libeskind 2000 (opened). Photo: BitterBredt. (Source: Studio Libeskind 2016, Jewish Museum Berlin, accessed 12 June 2016, CHAPTER THREE Figure ten: Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, viewed from the western side, with French graves of the Anglo-French cemetary in the front. Sir Edwin Lutyen, 1932. (Source: Greatwar.co.uk 2016, Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, Somme Battlefields, France, accessed 13 June 2016, Figure eleven: Southern pool of the 9/11 memorial at night. Michael Arad and Peter Walker 2011. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: National September 11 Memorial and Museum 2016, The Lens: Capturing Life and Events at the 9/11 Memorial and Museum, accessed 13 June 2016, Figure twelve: Names at the National September Eleven Memorial. Michael Arad and Peter Walker 2011. (Source: L McCrary 2011, 9/11 Postmodern Memorial Failure?, The American Conservative, accessed 13 June 2016, Figure thirteen: Snhetta's entry pavilion, steel tridents visible in entry, Snhetta 2014. Photo: Jeff Goldberg/Esto. (Source: Snhetta 2016, National September 11 Memorial Museum Pavilionm, accessed 13 June 2016, Figure fourteen: The "Last Column" stands in front of the Slurry Wall in the Foundation Hall, Davis Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: M Sturken 2015, The 9/11 Memorial Museum and the Remaking of Ground Zero, p. 472) Figure fifteen: Brick taken from the compound where Osama Bin Laden was found in Pakistan. Davis Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Marita Sturken. (Source: M Sturken 2015, The 9/11 Memorial Museum and the Remaking of Ground Zero, p. 473) Figure sixteen: "The Composite", National September Eleven Museum. Davis Brody Bond 2014. Photo: Jin Lee. (Source: 9/11 Memorial Museum and BD+C staff, First look: 9/11 Memorial Museum opens to first-responders, survivors, 9/11 families, accessed 13 June 2016, < http://www.bdcnetwork.com/first-look-911- memorial-museum-opens-first-responders-survivors-911-families-slideshow>)