Anyway...
In part five of this series I'm going to cover the museum itself. It's a huge place, and an unsettling one. When you're in the main lobby/atrium you look up and the ceiling is caged like a barbed wire fence and you just know this place is unlike any other place you've been in your life.
The atrium itself seems like a never ending hall when you stand in it and even though I spent a good bit of time at the museum I did not see all of it, but I'd like to one day.
When I first stood in the atrium I knew this place was different. Something was wrong here, was my first thought. And it is but you can't put your finger on it right away unless you're an architect. The walls are mismatching, the ceiling lets light in yet you're caged. It's like an architectural paradox.
The exhibit is laid out in a similar fashion with the walls getting narrower and narrower as you move through to symbolize the walls closing in as the Nazis gained power over more people's fates. At one point on the first floor there is a blocked off section and to get to it you have to go this really complicated way around. I assume whomever designed the museum had these intentions to make you feel like you're walking along this path.
And it's horrifying.
I can see how clever they were when building the place because the architecture becomes part of the story and the feelings of unease stay with you after you leave. I know I will never forget looking up at the ceiling of the atrium and seeing the sunlight shine on me but never quite reaching me. The architecture, I think, is a huge part of what makes the museum such an unforgettable place. There you feel a small fraction of the pain the victims felt and that feeling stays with you forever.
They say time heals all wounds, but I don't think these will ever heal.
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