Do we still need monuments?

The idea of memorials first settled in my mind after the sculpture competition for Lukiškės Square. Then it drifted away, only to return after the project for the Righteous Among the Nations Park was presented to the public.

I think memorials are created to preserve a nation’s memory. Put more simply, they are meant to create and sustain in people’s minds the memory of events and individuals who shaped the country into what it is today. They bear witness to the courage of those who sacrificed, enlightened others, or challenged an established order. They also remind us of those who were collectively humiliated, violated or destroyed, and who through that experience became part of a nation’s history.

When you think about it, words such as “courage”, “sacrifice”, “change” and “violation” carry emotional weight. Shouldn’t the image created to commemorate such things awaken my senses and emotions as well? I decided to see whether this could actually happen.

Princess Diana is perhaps an almost iconic figure, undoubtedly still present in the collective memory of people in the United Kingdom and far beyond it. A memorial dedicated to her was created in Hyde Park, London.

Completed in 2004, the project was designed by Kathryn Gustafson, Neil Porter, Mary Bowman and a wider team of designers.

The memorial takes the form of a fountain — although not a conventional one. It is an oval water feature set slightly across the existing contours of the site. Its shape is strongly reminiscent of the outline of a heart.

A little farther away, in Australia, stands the National Emergency Services Memorial.

The memorial honours the thousands of men and women who serve, and have served, in Australia’s emergency services. Completed in 2004 and designed by Aspect Studios, it occupies an area of approximately 8,000 m².

At its centre is an abstract sculptural or architectural form: a fluid concrete structure that seems almost folded into shape. Words engraved into its eastern wall express the values and professionalism of emergency service personnel.

As with the Princess Diana Memorial, new technologies were used in its construction. In fact, special fabrication methods were developed specifically for this project — methods that had not previously been used in Australia and that made it possible to create the structure at a scale beyond what conventional techniques would have allowed.

The project description presents the memorial as a form that, on one hand, grows out of the gentle continuity of the surrounding landscape before shifting into the catastrophic events that call emergency services into action. On the other hand, its inward-folding forms suggest shelter and comfort — the protection emergency services provide to Australians in times of tragedy.

If I can touch nature, I activate my tactile senses. An element of surprise can awaken curiosity, while technological innovation may engage the intellect. But these things will not necessarily affect everyone in the same way.

Negative emotions, however, tend to affect us most strongly…

Princess Diana Memorial Fountain

Gustafson Porter’s design expresses the concept of “reaching out, letting in.” According to the project description, this idea was inspired by qualities for which the Princess of Wales was loved — her openness, accessibility and willingness to engage with people.

The open space surrounding the fountain carries an energy that seems to radiate outward while, at the same time, drawing people towards the water. At the centre of this heart-shaped form, the water is highly dynamic — not only because of its flow, but also because of the different textures, currents and movements created within it.

To realise the design, traditional craftsmanship was combined with new technologies. Landscape designers, computer-modelling specialists, engineers, structural designers and skilled stonemasons all worked on the project. Considerable effort went into producing exceptionally detailed 3D models so that the many different stone textures could be fabricated accurately.

For someone outside the profession, however, this is not what matters most. What matters is that the memorial was made for people.

Step into it and you feel the refreshing coolness of the water. Put your hand into the current and you feel its force and movement. Touch the water as it spills like a waterfall or bursts into jets and you feel its vitality and energy.

You are allowed to touch it. It is not an icon placed beyond reach.

Does water draw people in? Absolutely.
This heart, endlessly circulating its blood, would draw me in too.

 

 

Esterwegen Memorial

In order to commemorate the fifteen concentration camps that once existed in the Emsland region and the people who suffered there, WES Landscape Architecture won the competition for the Esterwegen Memorial in Germany in 2007. The project was completed in 2011.

Almost none of the original structures of the concentration camp established on the site in 1933 had survived. To mark the places where the barracks once stood, three clearings were cut into a grove of red oaks planted in the 1950s. Their dimensions correspond to those of the former barracks, while the ground where prisoners were once held is covered with gravel.

Heavy silhouettes and tall steel walls reinterpret the former watchtowers, gates and fences. These stark elements create a disturbing contrast with what might otherwise feel almost like a park landscape.

The designers describe the memorial as a place for active reflection — one that encourages visitors to allow the history, and the topography of violence, threat and destruction, to emerge in their imagination and to connect it with the present.

Rectangular openings in the path reminded me of coffins. As if this were where they had been buried.

When you reach the end of the path, you realise that it leads nowhere. Everything simply stops — here and now.

Neither the trees, standing in rows like soldiers, nor the grass replaced by gravel offers any sense of comfort. The place has been given back something of the emotion it must have absorbed during the war years.

A poetic way of putting it, of course.

Memorialas nužudytiems žydams

Ne tai, kas trauktų užeiti, ar ne? Šaltis ir monumentalumas atstumia. Tiek kietų, prie žemės traukiančių savo sunkumu formų..Tačiau tai, kas nemalonu ir skauda mums į atmintį įkrenta giliai. Įėjus ir pavaikščiojus tais labirintais, o labirintais vadinti negali, nes visi takai čia – tiesūs, orientacija prarandi. Todėl, kad tos betoninės formos nevienodo aukščio ir kartais atsiduri tarp 5 metrų aukščio sienų ir nebegali matyti vaizdo šonuose. Bet esi matomas. Net ir dideliu atstumu vėlgi dėl tu tiesų takų. „You can run, bet cannot hide“…

Šis memorialas skirtas nužudytiems žydams Europoje yra Vokietijoje ir atspindi nacizmo politinę sistemą ir jos elgesį su žydais Europoje Adolfui Hitleriui ir nacionaliniai Vokietijos socialistinei darbininkų partijai esant valdžioje. Memorialą sudaro 2711 cementinių blokų, sudėtų lentelės principu. Vienos plokštės yra aukštesnės nei kitos, kai kurių kraštuose trūksta, kas gali būti paaiškinama kaip išskydimu ir irimu rėmelio kraštuose. Jo autoriai – Peter Eisenman, architektas ir Buro Happold, pastatytas 2007m, užima 19 hektarų.

Architektūros kritikas Nicolai Ouroussoff teigė, kad memorialas “gali atskleisti Holokausto baisybių mastą netapdamas pernelyg sentimentaliu, parodant kaip abstrakcija gali būti galingiausiu įrankiu perteikiant žmonių emocijų sudėtingumą.“

Negana to kontempliatyvaus požiūro į kelionę, medžiagų panaudojimas irgi nėra atsitiktinis ar paremtas pragmatiška funkcija. Jo konceptas siūlo naudoti natūralias medžiagas, iškastas darant iškirpimą Memoralia Sorbraten‘e. Poetiškai ir tiesiogiai medžiagos naudojamos pamatams, ant kurių formuojama Laikina Atmintis, taip pat kaip ir vėliau – Nuolatinė atmintis. Natūralios medžiagos sudaro 1000 kubinių metrų akmens iš iškirtimo. Taip pat medžiai ir augmenija, surinkta statant iškirtimą ir taką per mišką. Takui taip pat siūlo naudoti natūralias medžiagas ir čia taipogi įžvelgia simbolizmą: „Takas atskleidžia kiek judėjimas ir laiko tėkmė yra svarbūs gedėjimo, atsiminimo ir augimo procese. Ši Laikinoji vieta atsiranda greta egzistuojančio tako, kuriuo kiekvieną dieną žmonės eina iš Akersgatos ir Grubegatos. Memorialinis takas pėsčiuosius truputį išveda iš jų įprasto tako. Tai fiziškai susiję su lūžiu, kuris atsirado rutininėje Norvegijos visuomenės gyvenimo tėkmėje. Kita vertus, takas, kaip ir gyvenimas nesibaigia, turi visiškai sąmoningai tęstis.“

Norvegai, norėdami palikti tautos atmintyje įspaudą apie šalies tragediją, nusinešusią daug gyvybių, 2014m. paskelbė konkursą birželio 22-osios memorialo sukūrimui. Jį laimėjo dizaineris Jonas Dahlberg. Ir Jonas Dahlberg, architektas bei menininkas sukūrė  Sorbraten memorialą. Labai smagu, kad radau visą idėjos atsiradimo kelią. Jis pats aprašė koncepto kūrimą.

„Mano konceptą pagimdė pojūčių tyrimas. Lankydamasis Utojoj aš pastebėjau kad pojūtis, vaikščiojant gamtoje skiriasi nuo pojūčio, kylančio einant per kambarius pagrindiniame pastate. Ekstremalaus smurto pėdsakai ir tuščių patalpų vaizdas nukėlė mane ir kitus aplink mane į visiško liūdesio būseną. Toje būsenoje pastatas laikė savyje užrakintą prisiminimą apie teroro aktą, įvykdytą 2011m. birželio 22d. Kaip atvirą žaizdą..

Tačiau nors pastatas sukėlė tuos jausmus, gamtoje buvo kažkaip kitaip. Nors mes stovėjome toje vietoje, kur daug žmonių prarado savo gyvybes, gamta jau buvo pradėjus slėpti tuos pėdsakus. Šis pastebėjimas sustiprėjo žiūrint į Government Quarter. Laikui bėgant, renovuojant ir naikinant pastatus Utojoje ir Osle slogūs pojūčiai, kurie buvo jaučiami pastatų viduje sumažės ir pamažu nublanks. Taip, kaip atvira žaizda yra užsiuvama ir pamažu tampa išblukusiu randu.

Šie pastebėjimai suformavo mano koncepcijos, kuri prasideda Memorial Sorbraten sėklą. Iš jos išaugo Laikini ir Amžini memorialai Vyriausybės ketvertuke .

Mano memorialo Sorbraten konceptas siūlo žaizdą ar įpjovimą gamtoje. Tai vizualizuoja fizinį atėmimo jausmą, kuris kyla netekus mirusiųjų. Įpjovimas yra trijų su puse metro ekskavacija. Ji prasideda nuo kyšulio viršaus Sorbratene ir tęsiasi žemiau vandens linijos bei išsiplečia į kiekvieną pusę.

Dėl šio trūkio uoloje kyšulio galo pasiekti pasidaro neįmanoma..

Toliau menininkas pasakoja kaip jo vizijoje turėtų atrodyti kelionė pačiame memoriale.

„Lankytojai pradeda savo patyrimą mediniu taku per mišką. Tai penkių – dešimties minučių kontempliatyvi kelionė, vedanti į iškirtimą. Takas įveda tiesiai į tunelį, o tunelis lankytojus veda į uolos vidų ir prie dramatiško iškirpimo krašto. Lankytojai atsiduria vandens kanalo dalyje, kurį sukuria iškirtimas. Šiame kanale ant plokščio vertikalaus akmeninio paviršiaus bus iškalti vardai tų, kurie mirė. Jie bus pakankamai arti, kad būtų galima matyti ir aiškiai įskaityti, nors, kita vertus, jie visai nepasiekiami. Iškirpimas yra nepakeičiamumo simbolis.“

Autoriaus teigimu, Memorial Sorbaten teikia aiškiai skirtingus fizinius ir naratyvinius potyrius palyginus su kitose vietose esančiais žadą atimančiais Norvegijos gamtovaizdžiais. Nacionaliniai turistų maršrutai teikia pasitenkinimo jausmą dėl to, kad pasiekei nuostabų peizažą ar istorinę vietą. O šis maršrutas, atvirkščiai, tikisi nuvesti lankytoją į refleksijos per poetinę lūžio arba įsilaužimo būseną. Sunku turėtų būti pamatyti natūralios gamtos grožį kartu nepajaučiant praradimo jausmo. Praradimo jausmas fiziškai paveiks vietą. Žmonės ras savo kelią kraštovaizdyje aplink iškirpimą, žiūrėdami žemyn į kanalą ir į vardus iš aukštesnės perspektyvos arba žiūrėdami į Utoją, kurdami savo paties asmeninius kelius matyti ir prisiminti.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Not exactly something that invites you in, is it?

Its coldness and monumentality create

According to the architect’s proposal, stone removed during the excavation should also be reused to form a shallow channel along the path — a reference to the cut created at Sørbråten. The channel is important for another reason as well: it provides a place for the names of those who died in Oslo and on Utøya.

The opposite side of the channel forms seating and/or steps at different levels of the rock.

“This area will contain trees and vegetation removed from the Sørbråten Memorial. As symbols of recovery, the trees, with the names inscribed along their trunks, will later be relocated to the Permanent Memorial. Over time, they will develop a patina and gain the volume that comes with age.”

What I find valuable here is that the design leaves space for each person to find their own interpretation and their own way of experiencing a moment in memoriam. The memorial creates a space that activates the senses. It is stripped of unnecessary detail and decoration, so whether you want to or not, you are left alone with your thoughts.

My search for emotion and sensory experience in memorials began in Great Britain. It lingered in Germany, passed through Australia and ended in Norway. Quite a journey.

And it left me with the impression that there are many different ways of creating in memoriam.

The most valuable thing in these memorials is the idea.

Let us begin there.

Let us engage our senses — and give it time.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Not exactly something that draws you in, is it?

Its coldness and monumentality repel. So many hard forms, pulled towards the ground by their own weight. And yet the things that are unpleasant, painful, difficult to face are often the ones that sink deepest into our memory.

Once you enter and begin walking through what feels like a labyrinth — although technically it is not one, because every path is straight — you quickly lose your sense of orientation. The concrete blocks vary in height, and at times you find yourself enclosed between walls several metres high, unable to see what lies to either side.

And yet you remain visible.

Even from a considerable distance, because those same straight paths create long lines of sight.

You can run, but you cannot hide.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin commemorates the Jewish victims of the Holocaust and reflects on the system of persecution and extermination carried out under Nazi rule.

The memorial consists of 2,711 concrete stelae arranged in a strict grid. Some are higher than others, while the field itself appears to dissolve towards its edges, as if the structure were gradually losing its boundaries.

Designed by architect Peter Eisenman, with engineering by Buro Happold, the memorial creates an abstract landscape rather than a figurative monument.

Architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff wrote that the memorial is able to convey the scale of the horrors of the Holocaust without becoming overly sentimental, demonstrating how abstraction can become a powerful means of expressing the complexity of human emotion.

Beyond the contemplative nature of the journey itself, the choice of materials is neither accidental nor driven purely by practical considerations. The concept proposes reusing the natural materials removed while creating the cut at the Sørbråten Memorial. In both a poetic and very literal sense, these materials become the foundation on which the Temporary Memorial is formed, and later the Permanent Memorial as well.

The natural material includes approximately 1,000 cubic metres of stone excavated from the cut, together with trees and vegetation removed while constructing the opening and the path through the forest.

Natural materials are also proposed for the path itself, and here again the designer sees symbolism:

“The path reveals the importance of movement and the passage of time in the processes of mourning, remembrance and growth. The Temporary Memorial is placed beside an existing route used every day by people walking between Akersgata and Grubbegata. The memorial path takes pedestrians slightly away from their habitual route. Physically, this reflects the rupture that occurred in the everyday flow of Norwegian society. At the same time, the path, like life itself, does not end. It must consciously continue.”

In an effort to leave a lasting imprint of the national tragedy that claimed so many lives, Norway launched a competition in 2014 for a memorial to the 22 July attacks. The competition was won by artist and architect Jonas Dahlberg, who developed the proposal for the Sørbråten Memorial.

What I found particularly fascinating was that I was able to trace the development of the idea itself. Dahlberg described the origins of the concept in his own words:

“My concept grew out of an exploration of perception and sensory experience. During my visit to Utøya, I noticed that the feeling of walking through nature was very different from the feeling of moving through the rooms of the main building. The traces of extreme violence and the sight of the empty spaces brought me, and others around me, into a state of profound sadness. In that state, the building seemed to hold the memory of the terrorist attack of 22 July 2011 locked inside it. Like an open wound.

Yet although the building provoked these feelings, nature felt somehow different. Even though we were standing in the place where many people had lost their lives, nature had already begun to conceal the traces. This observation became even stronger when looking at the Government Quarter. As time passes, and buildings on Utøya and in Oslo are renovated or removed, the oppressive sensations once held within them will gradually diminish and fade. Like an open wound being stitched closed and slowly becoming a pale scar.

These observations formed the seed of my concept, beginning with the Sørbråten Memorial. From this grew the Temporary and Permanent Memorials in the Government Quarter.”

The concept for the Sørbråten Memorial proposes a wound — a cut into the landscape. It gives physical form to the sense of absence created by the loss of those who died.

The cut would be a three-and-a-half-metre-wide excavation beginning at the top of the headland at Sørbråten, continuing below the waterline and extending outwards on either side.

Because of this rupture in the rock, reaching the tip of the headland would become impossible.

The artist then describes how he imagined the visitor’s journey through the memorial:

“Visitors begin their experience on a wooden path through the forest. It is a five- to ten-minute contemplative journey leading towards the cut. The path enters directly into a tunnel, which takes visitors inside the rock and towards the dramatic edge of the excavation.

Visitors find themselves within part of the water channel created by the cut. On the smooth vertical stone surface across the channel, the names of those who died will be inscribed. They will be close enough to see and read clearly, yet at the same time completely unreachable. The cut becomes a symbol of irreversibility.”

According to the artist, the Sørbråten Memorial was intended to create a distinctly different physical and narrative experience from the breathtaking Norwegian landscapes encountered elsewhere.

Norway’s National Tourist Routes often offer the satisfaction of arriving at a spectacular landscape or historic place. This route, by contrast, was intended to lead visitors into a state of reflection through a poetic act of rupture.

It should be difficult to experience the beauty of the natural landscape without simultaneously feeling a sense of loss. Loss would physically alter the site.

People would find their own paths through the landscape around the cut — looking down into the channel and towards the names from above, or looking across the water towards Utøya — creating their own personal ways of seeing, remembering and reflecting.

According to the architect’s proposal, stone removed during the excavation should also be reused to form a shallow channel along the path — a reference to the cut created at Sørbråten. The channel is important for another reason as well: it provides a place for the names of those who died in Oslo and on Utøya.

The opposite side of the channel forms seating and/or steps at different levels of the rock.

“This area will contain trees and vegetation removed from the Sørbråten Memorial. As symbols of recovery, the trees, with the names inscribed along their trunks, will later be relocated to the Permanent Memorial. Over time, they will develop a patina and gain the volume that comes with age.”

What I find valuable here is that the design leaves space for each person to find their own interpretation and their own way of experiencing a moment in memoriam. The memorial creates a space that activates the senses. It is stripped of unnecessary detail and decoration, so whether you want to or not, you are left alone with your thoughts.

My search for emotion and sensory experience in memorials began in Great Britain. It lingered in Germany, passed through Australia and ended in Norway. Quite a journey.

And it left me with the impression that there are many different ways of creating in memoriam.

The most valuable thing in these memorials is the idea.

Let us begin there.

Let us engage our senses — and give it time.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Not exactly something that draws you in, is it?

Its coldness and monumentality repel. So many hard forms, pulled towards the ground by their own weight. And yet the things that are unpleasant, painful, difficult to face are often the ones that sink deepest into our memory.

Once you enter and begin walking through what feels like a labyrinth — although technically it is not one, because every path is straight — you quickly lose your sense of orientation. The concrete blocks vary in height, and at times you find yourself enclosed between walls several metres high, unable to see what lies to either side.

And yet you remain visible.

Even from a considerable distance, because those same straight paths create long lines of sight.

You can run, but you cannot hide.

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin commemorates the Jewish victims of the Holocaust and reflects on the system of persecution and extermination carried out under Nazi rule.

The memorial consists of 2,711 concrete stelae arranged in a strict grid. Some are higher than others, while the field itself appears to dissolve towards its edges, as if the structure were gradually losing its boundaries.

Designed by architect Peter Eisenman, with engineering by Buro Happold, the memorial creates an abstract landscape rather than a figurative monument.

Architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff wrote that the memorial is able to convey the scale of the horrors of the Holocaust without becoming overly sentimental, demonstrating how abstraction can become a powerful means of expressing the complexity of human emotion.

Beyond the contemplative nature of the journey itself, the choice of materials is neither accidental nor driven purely by practical considerations. The concept proposes reusing the natural materials removed while creating the cut at the Sørbråten Memorial. In both a poetic and very literal sense, these materials become the foundation on which the Temporary Memorial is formed, and later the Permanent Memorial as well.

The natural material includes approximately 1,000 cubic metres of stone excavated from the cut, together with trees and vegetation removed while constructing the opening and the path through the forest.

Natural materials are also proposed for the path itself, and here again the designer sees symbolism:

“The path reveals the importance of movement and the passage of time in the processes of mourning, remembrance and growth. The Temporary Memorial is placed beside an existing route used every day by people walking between Akersgata and Grubbegata. The memorial path takes pedestrians slightly away from their habitual route. Physically, this reflects the rupture that occurred in the everyday flow of Norwegian society. At the same time, the path, like life itself, does not end. It must consciously continue.”

In an effort to leave a lasting imprint of the national tragedy that claimed so many lives, Norway launched a competition in 2014 for a memorial to the 22 July attacks. The competition was won by artist and architect Jonas Dahlberg, who developed the proposal for the Sørbråten Memorial.

What I found particularly fascinating was that I was able to trace the development of the idea itself. Dahlberg described the origins of the concept in his own words:

“My concept grew out of an exploration of perception and sensory experience. During my visit to Utøya, I noticed that the feeling of walking through nature was very different from the feeling of moving through the rooms of the main building. The traces of extreme violence and the sight of the empty spaces brought me, and others around me, into a state of profound sadness. In that state, the building seemed to hold the memory of the terrorist attack of 22 July 2011 locked inside it. Like an open wound.

Yet although the building provoked these feelings, nature felt somehow different. Even though we were standing in the place where many people had lost their lives, nature had already begun to conceal the traces. This observation became even stronger when looking at the Government Quarter. As time passes, and buildings on Utøya and in Oslo are renovated or removed, the oppressive sensations once held within them will gradually diminish and fade. Like an open wound being stitched closed and slowly becoming a pale scar.

These observations formed the seed of my concept, beginning with the Sørbråten Memorial. From this grew the Temporary and Permanent Memorials in the Government Quarter.”

The concept for the Sørbråten Memorial proposes a wound — a cut into the landscape. It gives physical form to the sense of absence created by the loss of those who died.

The cut would be a three-and-a-half-metre-wide excavation beginning at the top of the headland at Sørbråten, continuing below the waterline and extending outwards on either side.

Because of this rupture in the rock, reaching the tip of the headland would become impossible.

The artist then describes how he imagined the visitor’s journey through the memorial:

“Visitors begin their experience on a wooden path through the forest. It is a five- to ten-minute contemplative journey leading towards the cut. The path enters directly into a tunnel, which takes visitors inside the rock and towards the dramatic edge of the excavation.

Visitors find themselves within part of the water channel created by the cut. On the smooth vertical stone surface across the channel, the names of those who died will be inscribed. They will be close enough to see and read clearly, yet at the same time completely unreachable. The cut becomes a symbol of irreversibility.”

According to the artist, the Sørbråten Memorial was intended to create a distinctly different physical and narrative experience from the breathtaking Norwegian landscapes encountered elsewhere.

Norway’s National Tourist Routes often offer the satisfaction of arriving at a spectacular landscape or historic place. This route, by contrast, was intended to lead visitors into a state of reflection through a poetic act of rupture.

It should be difficult to experience the beauty of the natural landscape without simultaneously feeling a sense of loss. Loss would physically alter the site.

People would find their own paths through the landscape around the cut — looking down into the channel and towards the names from above, or looking across the water towards Utøya — creating their own personal ways of seeing, remembering and reflecting.