Two Books

Two books which we were involved in arrived at the Museum last week, hot off the presses.  Last Folio: Textures of Jewish Life in Slovakia, published by Indiana University Press in record time --  less than two months -- accompanies our newest exhibition, which opened this week.  Recipes Remembered: A Celebration of Survival, a wonderful cookbook by June Hersh and published by Ruder Finn, has been in the works for several years.  I was privileged to write introductory pieces for both books.  In reading them over this week in their published form, I was struck how, in such different projects, the theme of memory predominates.  Although I wrote them more than 18 months apart, I was struck by their similarities. Here they are:

Photographic Memory

I believe that it is most fitting that this exhibition of Yuri Dojc’s photographs should be inaugurated at the Museum of Jewish Heritage – A Living Memorial to the Holocaust – an institution that is dedicated to remembering those who perished in the Holocaust by celebrating their lives and exploring the legacy that they left.  Consequently, our narrative is devoted not to how Jews were killed, but rather to how they lived.  I can think of no better way to convey the tragic fate of Slovakian Jews, or to commemorate their lives, than to present these remarkable images.  Yuri Dojc has focused his camera-eye with exquisite care, offering us evidence of lives lived that evokes a heartrending history.  

Following the dismemberment of Czechoslovakia in 1939, the independent state of Slovakia was established.  Closely allied with Nazi Germany and adopting its anti-Jewish policies, Slovakia was the very first country outside of Germany to deport its Jews.    The first transport left on March 26, 1942, a trainload of nearly 1000 young women.  There followed a succession of trains, nearly all to Auschwitz, which emptied Slovakia of almost three-quarters of its Jewish population within six months.   Among those who were taken were the boys who attended a school in Bardejov.  I cannot look at Yuri Dojc’s photographs of the abandoned books from that school without imagining the people who left them behind.  My mind’s eye can see these boys closing and kissing their sacred texts and placing them down for the last time before they left forever.  The photographs of these books, whose words once conjured worlds, show them as if they have turned to stone, frozen in the available light, petrified by the passing of time.  There is no question that they have a certain power over us, and it is not simply their undeniable beauty.  

While we have no way of knowing for sure, we can surmise that the last memories of the poor souls, who were torn from their lives by Slovak police and paramilitary, were populated with images of the kind that Dojc has captured – people, places, and things – the basic elements of life distilled.  In the bleak monotone of the cattle car and the sickening fear that engulfed them, one can imagine that they found comfort in calling upon such images of normal life.  Indeed, our memories can produce vivid pictures from our past – like photo albums -- that can link by reflection to other times.          

It should come as no surprise that when we think or talk about memory, we often resort to photographic metaphors.  After all, our memories are, for the most part, delivered to us as images that play in our minds.  Indeed, psychologists have tied certain memory phenomena explicitly to photography.  Consider eidetic or “photographic memory,” which describes the phenomenon of total visual recall, or “flashbulb memory,” which refers to vivid recollections of particularly meaningful experienced events (we all remember where we were on 9/11).  It is believed that, under certain circumstances -- often those associated with traumatic events -- memories can be fixed into a vivid photographic permanence. 

In the context of the trauma of the Holocaust, Dojc has delivered hauntingly beautiful images -- jewel-like tokens -- that link us by imagination to a lost world and time.  Somehow in looking at them, we can “remember” all they represent.  Our uniquely human capacity for empathy and understanding is triggered, and we are transported inward to a world that is animated by our collective memories.  As we look at these images of all that remained, we remember all that was lost. 

Preface

There is no doubt that memories of food and the social context of food -- preparing it and partaking of it-- are among the most potent that humans have.  One need not read Proust to understand the capacity for food to unlock powerful memories and to transport us through time.  Whatever explanation we seek – brain chemistry or something less clinical -- we have all experienced how an aroma or a particular flavor can take us to another place.  This meaningful and warmly written book -- Recipes Remembered -- is perfect proof of this phenomenon.  Here we see how individuals whose lives were disrupted or torn apart by the events of World War II and the Holocaust retain intense memories of the food they enjoyed in happier times.   It is as if food were the grain of sand around which pearls of memory were formed, enduring as tokens of a lost world and time.

We are so very pleased that June Hersh approached us with the proposal to write this book, and we were eager to cooperate in any way we could.  Of course, June deserves all of the credit for the delicious and diligent work that is reflected here, but I would like to think that her experience in our Museum inspired her to approach the complex and tragic history of the Holocaust through the individual stories of those who lived it.  Indeed, our visitors encounter the messages of our Museum through the personal narratives of the people who were lost and of those who survived to build new lives.  Rather than having an impersonal voice guide our visitors through our Museum, they are led from one personal story to another.  They relate to the history we teach by relating to the people who recount it.  In this same way, June has sought out engaging individuals, whose stories and memories connect us to a different time and whose examples of determination and survival are both deeply compelling and inspirational.

Of course, just as recollections of food populate the prewar memories of the people whose stories are told in these pages, memories of the absence of food often plague those who experienced the hardships of war and persecution.  In this sense, the memories—and recipes—revealed in this book have a special significance.   Not only do they link to happier times, but they are, in a way, also antidotes to the poisonous periods of anguish and deprivation.  One of the most powerful stories of our time remains how those who endured the worst –- unceasing hatred, unpredictable violence, unimaginable trauma—found the best in themselves and mustered the fortitude and resolve to choose life and to rebuild their lives.  Surely in this precarious and uniquely personal journey, they were strengthened along the way by warm memories of the kind that animate this book.

March 16

Excerpt from Document Reproduced in Justice Department Report on Mengele

Yesterday we held our 12th Annual Fanya Heller Conference for Educators on the subject, The Medical Profession and the Holocaust. The two hundred or so teachers had the opportunity not only to hear Fanya Heller discuss her own experience during the Holocaust, but also to listen to two scholars on the subject, Dr. William Meinecke from the USHMM and Dr. Michael Grodin from Boston University. We once again provided an opportunity for teachers in middle and high schools to have access to first-rate scholars on important subjects. This program, and other similar ones that we offer to educators from around the region, have earned us a well-deserved reputation for taking teachers seriously and providing them enriching experiences that they can pass on to their students.


As I was listening to one of the lectures, I reflected on the fact that today, March 16th, would have been Josef Mengele’s 100th birthday. As I have written before in this blog, I was actively engaged in the search for Mengele in 1985 and then in the investigation surrounding the identification of his remains. In 1985, we were looking for a 74 year old man – someone who by any actuarial standard would have had a good chance of still being alive at that time. Of course, we did not know that Mengele had already been dead for six years when the investigation went into high gear. He died just before his 68th birthday when he suffered a stroke while swimming in Bertioga, Brazil.

I suppose it was only natural to reflect on how we are on the cusp of new phase in our understanding of the Holocaust and in how we remember it.  Soon there will be no one left who has any personal memory of what transpired.  The world will rely on institutions like ours and symposia like the Fanya Heller Conference for Educators to preserve the memory and educate the public.

Hannah

Hannah Senesh Self-Portrait (Courtesy of the Senesh Family)

We opened our wonderful new Special Exhibition on Tuesday.  Here are my introductory remarks:

I want to welcome you to this opening celebration of our newest special exhibition, Fire in My Heart: The Story of Hannah Senesh. I am fond of saying that our Museum – a museum about 20th Century Jewish History and the Holocaust -- is much more about life than about death. This exhibition about hero and poet Hannah Senesh is perfect proof of that assertion. For many, Hannah’s death was the defining moment of her life. While this exhibition explains the circumstances surrounding her death, its center of gravity is her life – and what a life it was! Tragically cut short, but lived with commitment and purpose and meaning.

Surely this story could be told in other media. It has, in fact, been conveyed to the public through the printed word and, recently, brilliantly on film, and certainly it will continue to be told in new and changing ways. But it has never and can never be so powerfully presented as it is in a museum – in this Museum. Should anyone argue that museums have been superseded by more exciting and flashier media, let them come to this exhibition. Let them encounter remarkable, authentic artifacts in an intimate setting, let them view the pages of Hannah’s diaries and notebooks – the drafts of her poems – the last note to her mother. Let them come face to face with objects that Hannah touched, with photographs that she composed, with letters that she wrote. Let them experience the singular feeling that is only possible in the presence of such objects. Indeed, there is something uniquely human in the reaction we have when we encounter powerful artifacts. The receptors that we possess for empathy and imagination are engaged, and we have the capacity to understand and to sense kinship that has no match in our experience with other media.

And when this profound and human interaction takes place in the context of a story like that of Hannah Senesh, the impact exceeds our ability to describe it in words. We are moved directly as we follow the exemplary life of Hannah Senesh and we are moved deeply as we witness the evidence she left behind.

A Lovely Evening in Sagaponack

     The Rennert's Lovely Dining room

We were privileged and honored to be the focus of a remarkable benefit dinner hosted by Inge and Ira Rennert at their magnificent home in Sagaponack,NY on August 8. The theme of the dinner was inspired by our special exhibition, Project Mah Jongg, and the evening was punctuated with Asian-accented decor and delicious menu. We were so pleased that so many friends came out to support the Museum and so grateful to the Rennerts for having opened their home.

             DGM, Inge and Ira Rennert


(Photos by Melanie Einzig)

The Visit of Wally

     Egon Schiele  (1890 - 1918)
Portrait of Wally Neuzil, 1912
Leopold Museum, Vienna

As you may have read, the disposition of Egon Schiele’s Portrait of Wally has been settled. The Leopold Foundation in Vienna will pay the estate of Lea Bondi Jaray $19 million, and the painting will be returned to the Leopold Museum in Vienna. However, according to the terms of the settlement, the painting will be on temporary display here at the Museum beginning next Thursday, July 29 through August 18.


The painting was taken from Lea Bondi Jaray by a Nazi art collector shortly before Bondi Jaray’s departure to England in 1939, where she resided until her death in 1969. Following the war, Wally came into the possession of Dr. Rudolph Leopold, who subsequently placed it in the collection of the Leopold Foundation which operates the Leopold Museum. When the painting was loaned to the Museum of Modern Art by the Leopold Museum in 1997, Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morgenthau prevented its planned return to Austria on the suspicion that it was stolen property. In 1999, the federal government commenced legal action against the Leopold Foundation with the aim of returning the portrait to the Bondi Jaray family. That action was finally settled this week.  It can be argued that the dispute over this painting was responsible for raising the entire issue of Nazi-looted art and for the establishment of policies and programs designed to identify artworks of questionable provenance and return them to their rightful owners.

We will mark the beginning of Wally’s short visit to the Museum and memorialize the Bondi Jaray family and others like them, whose property was stolen by Nazis, in a ceremony at the Museum next week.

We honor the memory of victims of the Holocaust every day at this Museum and we remember the millions who, while they may have themselves survived, lost their communities, families, homes, and property. While they can never recover what they have lost, it is important to set some things right when at all possible—no matter how long it takes. Compensating the heirs of Holocaust victims and survivors represents a small measure of justice, and we commend all parties for their dedication to this cause. We are honored to host Wally for her brief visit to the Museum where she will help our visitors understand an important element of Holocaust Remembrance and make clear that justice – even delayed – is worthy of pursuit.


 


 



































 

New Americans

                                                  Phong Thanh Nguyen, Franklin Manuel Sans, and Kens Germain


We hosted a citizenship ceremony at the Museum yesterday, during which 127 new citizens were sworn in.  These newest Americans, coming from 47 different countries, took their oath of citizenship from Federal Judge, Robert Katzmann.  I had the distinct privilege and honor of welcoming them to the Museum and joining Judge Katzmann in shaking their hands and congratulating them on this most meaningful event.  I include below my welcoming remarks:

I cannot tell you how honored we are to serve as the venue for your citizenship ceremony this morning.  Frankly, I cannot think of a better place for you to spend your first hours as American citizens. This building stands right on the water’s edge and looks out across New York Harbor. In this building, you stand within sight of powerful symbols of American history. From this building you can see what generations of immigrants saw as their first glimpse of America – the welcoming figure of the Statue of Liberty and the distinctive structures of Ellis Island. You can look out to where the World Trade Center once stood. You are only a few blocks from where the Bill of Rights was ratified and where George Washington took the oath of office as our first President.

When you take your oath in a few minutes, you will take your place within a great and proud tradition that has made this the greatest land in the world -- a land that takes its strength from the diversity of its people. We are moved beyond words to be your host today and send you every good wish. At the conclusion of the ceremony this morning, we invite you to be our guests and tour the museum and especially our exhibition on the third floor – Voices of Liberty – which is about coming to America. It is, in every real sense, your story. Congratulations.

This was a most moving and inspiring event, and I will admit that I was unprepared for how emotional I would find it.  The 127 handshakes brought me in contact with such a rich and vibrant group of people -- young and old, well-dressed and dressed down, nervous and proud, from rich countries and poor. This was surely a uniquely American occurrence.

Project Mah Jongg

                            Illustration by Christoph Niemann for Mah Jongg: Crak, Bam, Dot, a 2wice Books publication


We opened Project Mah Jongg earlier in the week.  It was, by far, the most fun we have had at any Museum opening and included the debut of a commissioned cocktail, the Mah Jongg Martini.  I include below an excerpt from my remarks at the opening which address why we decided to do this exhibition.

I will admit that the reaction to the news that we were doing an exhibition about mah jongg was different than what we normally get. I am quite frankly not used to people laughing when I tell them about forthcoming projects. In the case of Project Mah Jongg, the typical conversation would go something like this:

Museum Director: “You know, we are preparing an exhibition about the game of mah jongg?

Museum Supporter (or just about anyone I would meet): [giggle] “You’re kidding me…”

And so it would go, one after another.

More often than not, however, their next comment would be something like, “I remember my mother used to play….” It became wonderfully clear very quickly that this project tapped a rich vein of nostalgia and warm memories and has proven itself to fit squarely within the mission of this Museum.

Perhaps more than any other we have undertaken, this exhibition proves that this Museum is much more about life than death. To be sure, there is a tragic history at the center of the history we present here, but the context that surrounds that history is animated by the full range of human activity and is stamped by a decided focus on vibrancy, and continuity, and, yes, joy.

In this exhibition, we explore what might be called “small history” – we do not examine world events or the actions of great men and women (the Morgenthau exhibition does that). In this exhibition, rather, we focus on the history that we all take part in, the history that defines our lives. We provide in this jewel of an exhibition a slice of Jewish history that was common to so many. And we also take a look at how history is transmitted. After all, games are about much more than simple play; they are carriers of identity, fantasy, and cultural memory, and they are important vehicles for community building and togetherness. The mah jongg game was a key opportunity for Jewish women to share stories, eat and gossip together, engage in a unique and generous philanthropy, and create life-long bonds.

As new generations learn the game today, it serves as a connector to past generations and to the memories of our mothers and grandmothers. I know that as visitors take in this exhibition, many will recall profound moments in their lives, or a time in their lives, or a person long gone but somehow still near. There is no more powerful history than that which can connect us to such potent memories.

As exhibitions go, the history of Project Mah Jongg is remarkably short. Indeed, we normally mark exhibition development in glacial time -- this one took a New York Minute --- from start to finish, about six months. But in those six months, the stars aligned just so – bringing together a constellation of remarkable talent and good will that one can only dream about.

Then I went on to thank Melissa Martens, the brilliant curator of the exhibition and Abbott Miller of Pentagram, who designed it, and my Deputy, Ivy Barsky, who oversaw the entire project.  And I thanked New York Magazine for being our media partner, and Sylvia Hassenfeld for her financial support, and Ruth Unger and the National Mah Jongg League for their significant financial contribution as well as the remarkable work they have done throughout the years to preserve the game and the wonderful role it played and plays in the lives of so many.