Control, pt. 2: Jüdisches Museum BerlinSUMMER 2014

Kristina YuKristina Yu

Reflections on Daniel Liebeskind’s Jewish Museum in BerlinSubject

Professor

Housing and TechnologyHousing and TechnologyCourse

Although narrative architecture is in vogue, the Jüdisches Museum made me question the value of such an approach. Isn’t it presumptuous to assume a building gets to begin its life with a narrative rather than acquiring one over time? If it begins life that way, the narrative paradoxically imparts an inevitable flatness, going the way of planned communities and Potsdamer Platz- lacking a richness that the passage of time and feedback loops impart.

Ultimately, the creation of an all-encompassing narrative experience relays a message of distrust in both the content and the visitors. In the case of the content, the architecture implies that the stories and the subject matter are not enough on their own. This does the stories a disservice by distracting from their substance and Disneyfying it. In terms of the visitor, the superfluous amplification is an insult to intelli-gence and interest. Good museum architecture sets the stage for a mutual exchange between the viewer and the content. It’s not a tripartite relationship between viewer, content and a theatrical architectural experience. It asks the viewer to give a little and trusts the merit of the content to give enough in return.

Besides what I felt was disrespect for the content and the visitor, the architecture is objectively disrespectful of the museological requirements (the exhibition designers admitted it was the most difficult project they’d ever been given). Libeskind felt that a confusing and slightly threatening building was apropos considering the subject matter. Whether one agrees with this design inclination or not, there is no refuting the fact that the building is a wayfinding disaster. When the design intent includes disorienting the public, the public becomes subject to an ego unconcerned with how the average person might find their way around.

Once the fatigue of being in such a space had set in, I experienced frustration at not being able to find my way out. Unable to escape, all I could imagine was this enormous Daniel Libeskind apparition taunting me with a smile, insisting I stay awhile longer to really appreciate his masterpiece.

While I was quick to interpret Daniel Libeskind’s architecture as disrespectful, it was undoubtedly not intended to be so. I think the real issue was Libeskind’s desire to use the platform given for personal promotion over promotion of the content. I’m sure it’s not that he thinks that the content isn’t interesting enough (in fact, he knows just how much of a draw it will be), it’s that he’d rather use the opportunity as a platform for himself than to create a space that lets the content do the talking. Which all comes down to a matter of control, an unwillingness to allow for multiple interpretations and experiences. In that sense, it is rather dictatorial.

The entire experience of this building brought to mind something my studio professor David Brindle said about the desire to make crazy forms for the sake of making crazy forms. When he was in school in post-war Britain, the emphasis was on being polite- creating polite architecture that would respect the context, the client and above all, the user. He was unimpressed, even offended, at the idea of doing anything else. This point cuts to the heart of what one decides it means to be an architect. For some, it may be about placing one’s work at the service of others, while for others, it may be about placing others at the service of one’s work.

Control, pt. 2: Jüdisches Museum Berlin

To be clear, my issue is with Daniel Libeskind specifically as an architect. The building itself was well-con-structed and detailed, a credit to his team. The fact that the exhibition designers and employees of the museum work with the space is also admirable. And certainly the fact that there is such a large Jewish history museum in Berlin is fantastic.

Axis of Exile; Axis of Continuity (stairway leading to nowhere)Courtesy of Stuart Chen Knight-Williamson