Holocaust Memorial
As someone who came to live in Berlin long after the Wall had gone, I find it impossible to imagine the full impact it must have had on people living here when it was first built and how it would have affected the lives of those who grew up with it.
Whenever I visit places like Checkpoint Charlie or Bernauer Straße, I find I'm unable to get my head around how something so utterly idiotic was even conceived, let alone allowed to happen. But even that brain inequilibrium doesn't come close to how perturbed I feel when I try to grasp the full horror of the Holocaust.
How ordinary people living during that time must have felt when they realised what was going on I have no idea. Fear would probably have been predominant, but when I read about the unimaginable atrocities and the sheer statistics of people murdered by the Nazis, it just bends my mind when I try to answer the question...
How could anything like that possibly have happened?
Since the late 1980s, some of Berlin's prominent citizens were asking themselves another difficult question. Is it time we built a memorial to honour and remember the victims of the Holocaust?
The idea was pushed forward and selected artists were invited to submit designs but it wasn't until 1999 that the project was officially sanctioned by parliament. The original winning concept had already been rejected by Chancellor Helmut Kohl, which led to Peter Eisenmann's idea being chosen in a second competition. The essence of his design was to create a vast labyrinth of stone pillars.
As part of celebrations marking the 60th anniversary of VE Day, the completed Memorial To The Murdered Jews Of Europe was dedicated on 10th May 2005.
Scaled down from the original plans, the memorial consists of 2,711 rectangular stone stelae, arranged in a grid like pattern over an area of 19,000 m2. They vary in height. Along the edges some are as low as your ankles but as you venture into the center of the field, they become taller and taller until they rise over you.
It's easy to describe how the Holocaust Memorial looks and you can see the photos but that doesn't convey any sense of feeling you get when you visit. Peter Eisenman said his aim was to create an atmosphere of confusion and uneasiness which is exactly how it makes me feel, although I can't really explain why.
There is no wall or fence surrounding it, no designated way in or specific opening hours. Visitors have access from any direction, at any time, to just wander into the maze of blocks. It's eerie inside. The ground is uneven. The dark grey slabs loom over you. Some of them slant and appear as if they're leaning menacingly toward you. You'll probably lose your friends. You can become disorientated and there's a slight sensation of relief as you head back towards the lower slabs around the outside.
A lot of people ask if there's any significance to the number of stelae or a reason why some of them are slanted. There isn't. The idea of the memorial is to stimulate quiet contemplation and find your own personal interpretation of how it commemorates, in my opinion at least, human history's worst ever atrocity.
I might have said this before about one or two or nine or ten other locations, but the Holocaust Memorial is one of my favourite sights in Berlin to photograph. The stark simplicity of the design and architecture, complemented by its monochrome tones, provides a lot of scope for creativity.
Standing close to the edge and using a wide angle lens allows you to include many of the stelae in a composition that encompasses repeating patterns and strong parallel and vertical lines. Having them run diagonally across the frame will give a dynamic feel to the photo but in flat light, the similar looking grey tones won't offer much contrast, giving images that disappointing, washed out look.
You could try underexposing but the best solution is to visit on a sunny, cloudless day. Strong, directional sunlight, which unlike a lot of other genres is often beneficial in architectural photography, will boost contrast and emphasise the texture of the stones. Conversely, a rainy day opens up the possibility of interesting cloud reflections in the smooth, wet concrete slabs.
Further inside the field, I try to capture images that relay the somber mood I feel when I'm enclosed by the stelae. For example, using a shallow depth of field to progressively blur the stones as the eye follows them into the frame. Or underexposing the scene to make the image feel more imposing. The varying heights of the stelae means you can shoot them from above or below for different perspectives.
It's tempting to climb onto the stones for a higher viewpoint but you're not really supposed to do that. Children of course find this particularly difficult to resist much to the chagrin of security staff who spend a lot of their time chasing after them while they leap from one stone to another. In fact, this is part of the biggest photographic problem you'll face. The memorial is swarming with people.
As ever, patience is the key. Frame up your shot and be ready for that one second every 15 minutes when no-one is passing through it. Having said that, including a single person in the shot adds a strong storytelling element to your photograph. For that to work well they should be doing something that befits the mood - looking thoughtful maybe, rather than taking a selfie. Even better if they're positioned at one of the rule of thirds intersections.
If at all possible I'd recommend an early visit and I mean early. At 6am during the summer months, the sun will be up and you'll only have the odd road sweeper for company. A more serene atmosphere for both your photography and your reflections.
