Memory: Void
02 | Modern Architecture + the Modern City | Berlin
Berlin | Modern Architecture + the Modern City | 03 By Morgan Christina Strickland
Memory: Void
World War II marked an era of loss: loss of human lives, loss of human dignity, loss of home and country and culture. No matter what is lost, loss carries with it an endless emptiness, echoes of an existence never to be completely regained. It is a living vacuum, varied in scale and lacking in a physical, material presence, yet a memory can re-materialize anything for the mind that yields it. Although “void” typically means empty of content, the void that I discuss yields an invisible yet rich layer of historical and emotional content that lives through memory. My defining of “void” is not only an absence of matter in the architectural sense, but also a ghost of vacancy that demands the mind’s acknowledgment and requests memory’s preservation. This void is effectively haunting and emotional as the brain strives to fill and correct its absence. Void was and is a powerfully emotive and innate element of Berlin both during and after the Cold War. Its presence is prevalent among the monuments, museums, and memorial sites of modern day Berlin. A first impression, while walking down the streets of Berlin, you can touch and see the multitude of bullet holes from a hatred not long passed. Some of the facades have been plastered over and refinished, but many maintain their true war worn facades. Chunks of the walls are missing entirely, proudly displaying the narrative of their lifetimes.
Daniel Libeskind’s Jewish Museum is designed around voids in hope of preserving the emptiness left from the Holocaust. The museum’s foundation is made of a concrete shell which encompass five large voids that slice through the entirety of the museum from floor to ceiling. Each void is four-sided, though their forms are varied, contributing to the sense of chaos. Corners of voids with acute angles that force us to share in the
Berlin | Modern Architecture + the Modern City | 03 By Morgan Christina Strickland
Memory: Void
World War II marked an era of loss: loss of human lives, loss of human dignity, loss of home and country and culture. No matter what is lost, loss carries with it an endless emptiness, echoes of an existence never to be completely regained. It is a living vacuum, varied in scale and lacking in a physical, material presence, yet a memory can re-materialize anything for the mind that yields it. Although “void” typically means empty of content, the void that I discuss yields an invisible yet rich layer of historical and emotional content that lives through memory. My defining of “void” is not only an absence of matter in the architectural sense, but also a ghost of vacancy that demands the mind’s acknowledgment and requests memory’s preservation. This void is effectively haunting and emotional as the brain strives to fill and correct its absence. Void was and is a powerfully emotive and innate element of Berlin both during and after the Cold War. Its presence is prevalent among the monuments, museums, and memorial sites of modern day Berlin. A first impression, while walking down the streets of Berlin, you can touch and see the multitude of bullet holes from a hatred not long passed. Some of the facades have been plastered over and refinished, but many maintain their true war worn facades. Chunks of the walls are missing entirely, proudly displaying the narrative of their lifetimes.
Daniel Libeskind’s Jewish Museum is designed around voids in hope of preserving the emptiness left from the Holocaust. The museum’s foundation is made of a concrete shell which encompass five large voids that slice through the entirety of the museum from floor to ceiling. Each void is four-sided, though their forms are varied, contributing to the sense of chaos. Corners of voids with acute angles that force us to share in the