FERN HOCKLEY-TELLES
N0483444 - Interior Architecture + Design
JEWISH MUSEUM BERLIN
Daniel Libeskind - Berlin
‘When I put my hand on one of the walls…I suddenly saw the entire project in a much more emotional way — I saw the ship in which I had arrived as an immigrant; I saw the Statue of Liberty as I had seen it.’ (Saxon, 2014)
Before visiting the Jewish Museum, I had an idea of the importance of context as a foundation for Libeskind’s designs, and the way in which he himself connects to a historically dense environment; visiting a Holocaust museum, the subject of which is itself is a deeply emotional part of history, I anticipated a phenomenological experience largely influenced by a sense of the past and context.
Upon arrival, the external metal sheathing, which has been allowed to age into varying shades of verdigris, made me contemplate the Holocaust as an event in time, constantly exposed to years of scrutiny, whilst the zinc-titanium tunnel within the entrance that submerges visitors to the exhibitions below, was suggestive of the intimidating and confining journey of the Holocaust’s victims.
Context, as an intricate part of the concept, is not only visible in the materials, but is also translated into form with a jagged, zig-zag plan, angled walls, light interventions and sharp, intrusive ceiling features. I certainly felt the effect of these features during my visit, and the intentions of the architect who has defended the discomfort in saying ‘"It's important not to repress the trauma, it's important to express it and sometimes the building is not something comforting" (Mairs, 2015)
This building clearly defines the role of form in creating a certain atmosphere within a space, however, much more expressive than the form, and a key verification of how materials either enhance or diminish experience, was the contrasting materiality from one gallery to another.
Where three slanting beams cut through the space above the stair corridor, I felt that I was passing through a confined passage that instilled in me an element of fear and unease; this was emphasised by the ominous nature of heavy, reinforced concrete that the beams were made of. Their presence was incredibly powerful, and I was inherently aware of gravitational pull as the concrete’s weight and density looked as though it was tearing the walls.
Likewise, in one of the most powerfully moving parts of the architecture, a tall void extending upwards from a floor of war-torn metal faces, the materiality plays a key role in creating an atmosphere, which itself has its own contrasts; impressive, enlightening, uncomfortable and harrowing, yet also strangely meditative and serene. In this tower-like space, the reinforced concrete not only provides the imposing and callous impression like that of a prison, but also has a softness to its texture that rather beautifully diffuses light from the only intervention in the room. The heaviness of the cold metal door, the clang and force with which it shuts, are overwhelming in creating a sense of confinement, which would not exist were the door made of glass or timber. Equally, whilst the image of pain-stricken faces strewn across the floor is disturbing in itself, the cold, course edge of the iron that the faces have been pressed into, only enhances the discomfort.
Most harrowing is the external sculptural garden, ‘architecture that denies the possibility of a passive response.’ (Bonnie, 2012) The simple combination of and contrast between heavy, repressive concrete blocks, and the soft glimpses of nature above, conveyed more emotion than any of the exhibition itself. Reaching out to one of the columns could not relieve the de-stabilising nature of the slanted ground, as the rough textured surface was awkward to touch. Similarly, the uneven, unfinished rawness of the ground incorporates ‘memory and not as a footnote but as a turbulent ground on which our world is based," (Mairs, 2015) It creates the sound of tripping footsteps and scuffs as visitors stumble around, adding to the instability and fear of the experience.
In complete contrast to this are exhibition spaces within the building which, following the same disorientating, confusing form, do not hold the same overwhelming experiential atmosphere. This, I felt, is due to the lack of prominent, characteristic and emotive materials as the rooms and installations are clad with neutral-toned plaster. As a visitor, there can be no real connection to the plain formality of the exhibition’s background paint finish, apart from perhaps the memory of school or institution corridors, which are evoked more from the scuffs and marks on the plaster’s surface than the material finish itself.
Fig.28: Concept Sketch impression of Jewish Museum, Berlin
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Fig.33: Sculptural Garden
Fig.34: Top floor exhibition space
This building strongly exemplifies how materials play as powerful a role as form within emotive architecture.