Peter Eisenman stands as a pivotal figure in contemporary architecture, renowned for his intellectually stimulating and often challenging designs. His portfolio boasts iconic structures such as the Wexner Center for the Arts, the Aronoff Center for Design and Art, and the conceptually ambitious City of Culture of Galicia in Spain. However, among his most profoundly impactful works is the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin, a stark and evocative landscape of remembrance situated near the Brandenburg Gate.
This article delves into the genesis and significance of the Berlin Holocaust Memorial through the insights of Peter Eisenman himself, exploring his personal connection to the project and the complex layers of meaning embedded within this powerful monument.
Confronting History: Eisenman’s Personal Journey and the Memorial
Eisenman’s involvement with the Holocaust Memorial was not initially driven by a deep personal connection to the Holocaust. Born in 1932 in Newark, New Jersey, to a family that had emigrated from Alsace-Lorraine in 1848, he recounts a detached upbringing from Jewish identity in his early years. “Nobody we knew was in the Holocaust,” Eisenman stated, highlighting the distance his immediate family had from the direct impact of the atrocities. He even recalls his grandmother’s anti-Semitic sentiments, illustrating a complex and ambivalent familial relationship with Jewish heritage. It wasn’t until the age of ten that Eisenman became aware of his Jewish identity.
This initial distance played a role in his hesitation to engage with the design competition for the Holocaust memorial in Berlin. “I almost didn’t enter because at the time, I didn’t have any feeling for it, or any sense that I should do it.” However, a significant period of self-reflection through twenty years of psychoanalysis brought him face to face with his “own ambivalence about being Jewish,” fostering a cultural, though not religious, identification. This introspective journey ultimately informed his approach to the profoundly sensitive task of creating a memorial for the victims of the Holocaust.
Navigating German Identity: Philo-Semitism and the Weight of the Past
Eisenman’s experiences in Germany surrounding the Memorial have been marked by a unique encounter with German identity and the nation’s grappling with its past. He describes a striking phenomenon of “philo-Semitism” he often encounters. “It happens always that I leave the U.S. as an American architect and return from Germany as a Jew,” he observes. This transformation highlights how the German context subtly shifts his own sense of identity.
He elaborates on the German tendency to proactively address guilt and historical responsibility. “You say ‘Hello’ to somebody, and immediately they say ‘Oh my grandfather wasn’t involved.'” This preemptive defensiveness, while perhaps stemming from a desire to acknowledge past wrongs, can feel overwhelming. Eisenman notes, “On the part of many Germans, there’s this overweening sense of guilt, and of trying to compensate, that makes one feel more Jewish than does anything else.” This observation underscores the complex psychological landscape of post-Holocaust Germany and its impact on Jewish identity within that space.
The Genesis of a Monument: Controversy and Political Will
The path to realizing the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe was far from straightforward. Eisenman recounts the project teetering on the brink of cancellation when Helmut Kohl’s government was replaced by Gerhard Schröder’s, who initially opposed its construction. Furthermore, the design itself faced significant controversy, particularly within the Jewish community in Berlin and among Israelis. A primary point of contention was the memorial’s lack of explicit Jewish imagery.
However, a turning point arrived in the form of an anti-Semitic speech by German writer Martin Walser. Ironically, this act of prejudice galvanized the Berlin Jewish community to advocate strongly for the memorial’s construction. Michael Naumann, then editor of Die Zeit and former German Secretary of Culture, played a crucial role in navigating this shift. He skillfully ensured that the decision regarding the memorial’s fate would be made by the German Bundestag, thereby enshrining its creation in law.
Eisenman submitted three distinct designs for consideration, with the current structure ultimately being selected. He vividly recalls the “very exciting” day in June when the Bundestag’s decision solidified the memorial’s future.
A Landscape of Remembrance: Design and Experiential Impact
Eisenman believes the Memorial has profoundly altered Berlin’s urban landscape. “I think you changed the landscape of Berlin. Do you agree?” he was asked, to which he responded, “Yes. I didn’t realize how much it was going to do so until I actually walked through the Memorial myself.” He acknowledges the powerful spatial experience the memorial creates. He draws a chilling analogy to the encounters Holocaust survivors had with Dr. Josef Mengele, stating that in certain areas, the memorial evokes “a sense of how it would have been to walk into a room and face Dr. Josef Mengele.” This unsettling comparison underscores the memorial’s capacity to generate visceral and emotional responses, prompting reflection on the horrors of the Holocaust.
Reactions and Enduring Engagement: From Apology to Continued Study
The Memorial has elicited diverse reactions, even from unexpected corners. Martin Walser, whose anti-Semitic remarks inadvertently fueled support for the project, publicly apologized to Eisenman on Vatican Radio after the memorial’s opening. Walser acknowledged the monument as “an amazing thing” and expressed regret for his past criticisms, demonstrating the memorial’s power to provoke introspection and reconciliation.
Eisenman himself remains deeply engaged with the subject of the Holocaust, continuing to read extensively on the topic and watch related films. He cites Saul Friedländer’s writings, particularly “The Years of Extermination,” as influential, highlighting his ongoing intellectual and emotional investment in understanding this dark chapter of history.
The Information Center: Intellectual and Transcendental Memory
Initially, Eisenman opposed the construction of the Information Center beneath the Memorial. However, his perspective has since evolved. He now recognizes its crucial role in complementing the above-ground monument. He articulates that the site now operates on “two different types of memory; one, the intellectual memory, and the other, the spiritual transcendental memory that you cannot memorialize.”
The Memorial itself, with its abstract field of stelae, embodies the “spiritual transcendental memory,” evoking a sense of unease and reflection without explicit narrative. The Information Center, on the other hand, provides “intellectual memory” through historical context, personal stories, and factual accounts of the Holocaust. Eisenman appreciates how these two elements work in tandem, offering visitors a multifaceted and profound encounter with the history and memory of the Holocaust. The continuous stream of heartfelt correspondence he receives from visitors further affirms the Memorial’s enduring impact and its ability to resonate deeply with individuals across diverse backgrounds.
In conclusion, Peter Eisenman’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe stands as a testament to the power of architecture to engage with complex historical trauma. Through his personal reflections, we gain a deeper understanding of the memorial’s layered meanings, its challenging genesis, and its enduring impact on both the landscape of Berlin and the collective memory of the Holocaust. Eisenman’s work prompts ongoing dialogue about memory, identity, and the responsibilities of remembrance in the contemporary world.
