In conjunction with the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition, we worked with the International Commission and the Vilnius Yiddish Institute to host a 1.5-day teachers seminar called "Everything Speaks: The Inner Life of History."
In total, there were 30 teachers who participated, 3 from Vilnius, and the rest from towns, cities and villages outside of the capital. They were a fantastic bunch and as you will see from the photos, had great fun sharing their ideas and creativity with us! On day 1, we held the seminar at the Tolerance Centre. It wasn't a classroom setting, so the setting was fairly informal and conducive to lots of sharing. Everyone was a real sport, and got stuck in, on the floors, on stage, and every nook and corner they could find to work on their group activities.
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
The day began with a more serious activity which I led called "The Self in History." This explored the use of working with images and selected transcripts to promote deeper understanding and empathy while reconstructing life history biography. After this session, Shivaun led the rest of the more creative (and fun!) sessions; e.g. the teachers created their own visual biography with their own biographical objects and drawings. Since the sharing was quite personal, I won't elaborate here. Suffice to say that some comments received included - "it is amazing how much we can learn about a person just from a few images to the things they use to represent themselves." Some of the artwork was really innovative stuff - drawings that turned into 3D craftwork, narratives which revealed itself along with the artwork that was folded like an accordian...
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
The next day, we moved to the Vilnius Yiddish Institute, and despite the small space, everyone again let their hair down and shared. Some of the ideas for classroom activities were truly innovative. We had great fun and thank all the teachers for participating and for sharing, and of course to Ingrida Vilkiene, from the International Commission, who also actively participated, and Ruta Puisyte of the Vilnius Yiddish Institute. How she does simultaneous translations remains a mystery to me! A true gift and talent :)
To view these photos on Flickr, click on the links below
Day 1 - Teachers Seminar
Day 2 - Teachers Seminar
Tuesday 15 September 2009
H.E. Simon Butt's speeach
Still on the subject of the opening launch of the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition in Vilnius...
As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the speech given by H.E. Simon Butt was really good. So I have reproduced it here:
“I am very pleased that the British Embassy is, with Ireland, one of the embassy co-hosts of this important exhibition opening.
Why important? Because the context of the exhibition is a uniquely horrible event in 20th century history, and indeed the whole of human history- the Holocaust (Shoah), and specifically, the Holocaust in Lithuania. It is an event which must never be forgotten and which must be remembered afresh for each generation.
Second, important because of the perspective, the exhibition and accompanying documentary bring to the narrative of that event, to the process of remembering. It is possible to read all the facts, the terrible lists of locations, numbers killed and on what dates.
But every human life is a collection of experience, of emotions and of individual characteristics. These are all snuffed out when that life is lost. And every community, however small, is a collective experience with its own features which are also lost when the community is destroyed or dispersed. And here, the story is told through an awareness of the importance of that individual and community experience.
This gives the story a greater sense of immediacy, and a more tragic and personal dimension. And so the images may remain with us for longer and add an element of emotion to the experience of learning, understanding and remembering.
Our sense of solidarity with those who survived is also enhanced, along with our respect for the dead.
So I congratulate the organisers of the exhibition and documentary film on their achievement. I hope we can dedicate this event to the contemplation and remembering of what has been lost, as well as to the courage and fortitude of those who survived.”
As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the speech given by H.E. Simon Butt was really good. So I have reproduced it here:
“I am very pleased that the British Embassy is, with Ireland, one of the embassy co-hosts of this important exhibition opening.
Why important? Because the context of the exhibition is a uniquely horrible event in 20th century history, and indeed the whole of human history- the Holocaust (Shoah), and specifically, the Holocaust in Lithuania. It is an event which must never be forgotten and which must be remembered afresh for each generation.
Second, important because of the perspective, the exhibition and accompanying documentary bring to the narrative of that event, to the process of remembering. It is possible to read all the facts, the terrible lists of locations, numbers killed and on what dates.
But every human life is a collection of experience, of emotions and of individual characteristics. These are all snuffed out when that life is lost. And every community, however small, is a collective experience with its own features which are also lost when the community is destroyed or dispersed. And here, the story is told through an awareness of the importance of that individual and community experience.
This gives the story a greater sense of immediacy, and a more tragic and personal dimension. And so the images may remain with us for longer and add an element of emotion to the experience of learning, understanding and remembering.
Our sense of solidarity with those who survived is also enhanced, along with our respect for the dead.
So I congratulate the organisers of the exhibition and documentary film on their achievement. I hope we can dedicate this event to the contemplation and remembering of what has been lost, as well as to the courage and fortitude of those who survived.”
Friday 11 September 2009
We Remember Them - Poem
At the opening of the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition in Vilnius, we included the reading of a poem called "We Remember Them" by Sylvan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer. Shivaun had the idea to have it translated, and Fania Brantsovsky was kind enough to translate it into Yiddish and to read it. Ruta Puisyte felt that it was imperative that it was read in all languages, and by the young, the generation after, and said movingly that this poem reflected how she felt, of the importance of remembering those who were lost and those who are still with us, and that it echoed how she felt within herself and of how those who were lost have become a part of us and of her. Her colleague Indra from the Vilnius Yiddish Institute read it in English. It was so moving to hear those words repeated in Lithuanian, English and Yiddish - we remember them.
"We Remember Them"
At the rising of the sun and at its going down
We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter
We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring
We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer
We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn
We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength
We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart
We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share
We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make
We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.
Fania read the poem in Yiddish...
Ruta read it in Lithuanian...
Indra read it in English
"We Remember Them"
At the rising of the sun and at its going down
We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter
We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring
We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer
We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn
We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength
We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart
We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share
We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make
We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.
Surviving History Opens in Vilnius, 10 Sept 2009
Wow, if I had to pick a word to describe the opening launch last night of the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition in Vilnius, I would choose the word "overwhelming"....
Guests began to arrive 40 minutes ahead of the opening, sending us into a mini state of flux. Ieva, the head of the Tolerance Centre, was - like me - totally surprised - "20 minutes maybe, but 40 minutes?" she said to me, and we scrambled to bring out exhibition booklets and give the exhibition a last minute look over. But I digress...
Why was I overwhelmed? It was like a meeting of old friends. The narrators who had shared their stories with us, who were featured in the documentary as well as the exhibition, and here I have to name them - Berl Glazer, Cholem Sapsai, Fania Brantsovsky, Gita Geseleva, Isroel Galperin, Josef Levinson and Rachel Kostanian - greeted us and all who came with warmth, with open arms, and open hearts.
Those who were not there were sorely missed. Margarita Civuncik, who had passed away on the 23 June. Her daughter Luda came and the moment she saw the visual biography exhibit, filled with her mother's handwriting and poems, and images, and old photos... she just broke down. As I hugged her, I could feel her sadness and her pride, all mingled in her loss and longing.
Dora Pilianskiene, who is too frail to attend the event but her daughter Frida and son came and avidly checked out her photos and her visual biography exhibits. They were beaming.
Chasia Spanerflig, who is away on her annual holiday trip with her daughter...
Gita, who looked like a vision from heaven, she was shining - I can't describe it otherwise. When I greeted her, she hugged me tight and squeezed my hand and I could feel the love, the longing, the... I don't know what else. But I know it was a tremendous surge of energy. She looked at me, her eyes began to glisten and I started tearing... I had no words for her, as I speak neither Russian nor Lithuanian, so all I could do was repeat what I knew, "aciu" (thank you) and she said, "danke" in return.
Cholem, when he came through the door, gave us juicy kisses on the cheek and bear hugs. Who told me later, translated through Ruta of course, that he was pleased, that we had promised and had delivered. And who, of course, extracted from us the promise to drop by and visit when we next came.
Fania, with her ever-present smile, was as always, warm and enthusiastic and even played guide to the guests by showing them around the exhibits!
Rachel, who was effusive, and thanked us for the event, who has played such a big part in the project and who spoke at some events for us in the UK.
What can I say? But a very big and warm and grateful and sincere and loving 'thank you.' Thank you for your courage, thank you for your strength.
Because it certainly cannot be easy. To see your photos on the wall, to see your face adorning a piece of art, to see your life story interpreted subjectively by others, to see your face on screen, as we showed the Surviving History documentary. I think Isroel was a little overwhelmed by seeing himself on the screen of the auditorium. Perhaps he relived his pain; I watched out of the corner of my eye and felt really bad - he seemed a little distressed.
Josef was like a shining knight; he is a man of presence, nevermind his 90+ years. And you will see in the photos how he lit up the room.
Embassy officials were there to lend their support - from Poland, Russia, Japan, UK, Ireland, Germany, Hungary... Members of the Jewish community, some out of town visitors, and students who had trekked over from Vilnius University... H.E. Simon Butt, British ambassador to Lithuania, gave a lovely speech.
Polina Shepherd, who had flown in that day (she woke at 3am to get from Brighton to London Heathrow to catch her flight!) - God bless her! - put on a stirring and moving performance. I really loved the smile on Fania's face as she sang along and Isroel too.
Even Zara, the designer who has worked with us on this project, came too. And she was moved to tears and told me she was touched to be in the same place as the narrators whom she has come to know through the work - but until last night, from a distance.
Jesse covered the floor like a papparazzo, and caught the action from every angle - literally! Shivaun was beaming. What a night! What a night! A BIG thank you to all who came, about 150 in all, the students who filed in and filled the seats on the balcony, the ones who came early, the ones who came late, all who came and were a part of a special night. And especially to the wonderful people who made this project possible and the resulting exhibition and teachers seminar - the narrators, Ruta, Ieva, Ingrida, Jesse and Dan, and if I have missed out anyone, you know who you are :)
Below are slide shows of the photos from the event. Most of the photos are captioned but don't show up in the slideshow. So, if you wish to read the captions to these photos, you will have to go to our Flickr site to view these photo albums individually. (Links below)
Slide show 1
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
Slide show 2
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
To view the photos individually (and with captions)
---------------------------------------------------
Today was the first day of the Teachers Seminar. Shivaun is totally knocked out. For an insomniac, she has been asleep since 8.30pm! More on that in a future blog! (About the workshop, not Shivaun's insomnia :)
Guests began to arrive 40 minutes ahead of the opening, sending us into a mini state of flux. Ieva, the head of the Tolerance Centre, was - like me - totally surprised - "20 minutes maybe, but 40 minutes?" she said to me, and we scrambled to bring out exhibition booklets and give the exhibition a last minute look over. But I digress...
Why was I overwhelmed? It was like a meeting of old friends. The narrators who had shared their stories with us, who were featured in the documentary as well as the exhibition, and here I have to name them - Berl Glazer, Cholem Sapsai, Fania Brantsovsky, Gita Geseleva, Isroel Galperin, Josef Levinson and Rachel Kostanian - greeted us and all who came with warmth, with open arms, and open hearts.
Those who were not there were sorely missed. Margarita Civuncik, who had passed away on the 23 June. Her daughter Luda came and the moment she saw the visual biography exhibit, filled with her mother's handwriting and poems, and images, and old photos... she just broke down. As I hugged her, I could feel her sadness and her pride, all mingled in her loss and longing.
Dora Pilianskiene, who is too frail to attend the event but her daughter Frida and son came and avidly checked out her photos and her visual biography exhibits. They were beaming.
Chasia Spanerflig, who is away on her annual holiday trip with her daughter...
Gita, who looked like a vision from heaven, she was shining - I can't describe it otherwise. When I greeted her, she hugged me tight and squeezed my hand and I could feel the love, the longing, the... I don't know what else. But I know it was a tremendous surge of energy. She looked at me, her eyes began to glisten and I started tearing... I had no words for her, as I speak neither Russian nor Lithuanian, so all I could do was repeat what I knew, "aciu" (thank you) and she said, "danke" in return.
Cholem, when he came through the door, gave us juicy kisses on the cheek and bear hugs. Who told me later, translated through Ruta of course, that he was pleased, that we had promised and had delivered. And who, of course, extracted from us the promise to drop by and visit when we next came.
Fania, with her ever-present smile, was as always, warm and enthusiastic and even played guide to the guests by showing them around the exhibits!
Rachel, who was effusive, and thanked us for the event, who has played such a big part in the project and who spoke at some events for us in the UK.
What can I say? But a very big and warm and grateful and sincere and loving 'thank you.' Thank you for your courage, thank you for your strength.
Because it certainly cannot be easy. To see your photos on the wall, to see your face adorning a piece of art, to see your life story interpreted subjectively by others, to see your face on screen, as we showed the Surviving History documentary. I think Isroel was a little overwhelmed by seeing himself on the screen of the auditorium. Perhaps he relived his pain; I watched out of the corner of my eye and felt really bad - he seemed a little distressed.
Josef was like a shining knight; he is a man of presence, nevermind his 90+ years. And you will see in the photos how he lit up the room.
Embassy officials were there to lend their support - from Poland, Russia, Japan, UK, Ireland, Germany, Hungary... Members of the Jewish community, some out of town visitors, and students who had trekked over from Vilnius University... H.E. Simon Butt, British ambassador to Lithuania, gave a lovely speech.
Polina Shepherd, who had flown in that day (she woke at 3am to get from Brighton to London Heathrow to catch her flight!) - God bless her! - put on a stirring and moving performance. I really loved the smile on Fania's face as she sang along and Isroel too.
Even Zara, the designer who has worked with us on this project, came too. And she was moved to tears and told me she was touched to be in the same place as the narrators whom she has come to know through the work - but until last night, from a distance.
Jesse covered the floor like a papparazzo, and caught the action from every angle - literally! Shivaun was beaming. What a night! What a night! A BIG thank you to all who came, about 150 in all, the students who filed in and filled the seats on the balcony, the ones who came early, the ones who came late, all who came and were a part of a special night. And especially to the wonderful people who made this project possible and the resulting exhibition and teachers seminar - the narrators, Ruta, Ieva, Ingrida, Jesse and Dan, and if I have missed out anyone, you know who you are :)
Below are slide shows of the photos from the event. Most of the photos are captioned but don't show up in the slideshow. So, if you wish to read the captions to these photos, you will have to go to our Flickr site to view these photo albums individually. (Links below)
Slide show 1
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
Slide show 2
Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
To view the photos individually (and with captions)
---------------------------------------------------
Today was the first day of the Teachers Seminar. Shivaun is totally knocked out. For an insomniac, she has been asleep since 8.30pm! More on that in a future blog! (About the workshop, not Shivaun's insomnia :)
Wednesday 9 September 2009
Surviving History Exhibition in Vilnius: Installation Completed :)
Finally, we've completed the set up work for the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition, and we're all ready for tomorrow's opening launch. I must say I am feeling very satisfied after two days of effort.
If you'd followed my Facebook entries, you will know that I was hyperventilating three days ago when I was having trouble with the resolution of the video diaries file (Vilna Video Portraits segment of the exhibition). Today, we tested the video diaries and thankfully, it's looking a lot better than I had expected. I had had a mishap with converting the video file a few days ago and was a little worried about the results but it's holding up - phew!
Rachel dropped by too and Shivaun gave her a mini tour of the work in progress. Some tourists dropped in as well and didn't seem to mind that we were in the midst of setting up.
Here's me adjusting the lighting after setting up the first panel of the photo exhibit.
Yesterday, we had help from staff at the Tolerance Centre to set up most of the structures. So today was spent tidying up, checking over the finer details. I must say I spent most of today down on the floor, taping down wires, tucking them under carpet tiles, connecting cables and lights, and generally, just making the exhibits look as presentable as possible and of course making sure the wires would not be potential hazards. I must have used up to 45m of cloth tape securing wires to the floor!
But a picture tells a thousand words, so I'll let the pictures do the talking rather than describe the installation any further....
If you'd followed my Facebook entries, you will know that I was hyperventilating three days ago when I was having trouble with the resolution of the video diaries file (Vilna Video Portraits segment of the exhibition). Today, we tested the video diaries and thankfully, it's looking a lot better than I had expected. I had had a mishap with converting the video file a few days ago and was a little worried about the results but it's holding up - phew!
Rachel dropped by too and Shivaun gave her a mini tour of the work in progress. Some tourists dropped in as well and didn't seem to mind that we were in the midst of setting up.
Here's me adjusting the lighting after setting up the first panel of the photo exhibit.
Yesterday, we had help from staff at the Tolerance Centre to set up most of the structures. So today was spent tidying up, checking over the finer details. I must say I spent most of today down on the floor, taping down wires, tucking them under carpet tiles, connecting cables and lights, and generally, just making the exhibits look as presentable as possible and of course making sure the wires would not be potential hazards. I must have used up to 45m of cloth tape securing wires to the floor!
But a picture tells a thousand words, so I'll let the pictures do the talking rather than describe the installation any further....
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Photo exhibition section
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Visual biography section
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Shoah memorial section - entrance
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Elevated view of Lithuanian map - centrepiece of the Shoah memorial installation
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Ieva Sadzeviciene and Shivaun
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Close up of bottles and map detailing massacre sites
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We caught up with Ruta later this evening to run through the details for the teachers workshop. However, both Shivaun and I were starving as we'd only had breakfast. So we ended up having a really nice Lithuanian meal, complete with pickled garlic and stewed cabbage for me - yummy! (and I don't want to hear any comments about gas :) Jesse had a dose of 'Zeppelins' - potato dumpling and minced meat - looked good.
Tomorrow, we start off early to do some final checks and prepare for the opening launch in the evening as well as the teachers workshop which follows the day after and ends on Saturday. It feels like a dream. It is almost exactly one year ago that we'd begun on this project. It feels like a dream. Can't wait to see the narrators tomorrow; Cholem, Fania, Isroel, Gita.... everyone :)
Monday 7 September 2009
Just arrived in Vilnius
It’s been a while since we were last in Vilnius. I hadn’t realized that nine months had passed by just like that. If you follow Living Imprint’s Facebook page, you may have come across the status update where I was lamenting that FlyLAL, Lithuania’s main carrier, has gone bust. As a result, no direct flights into Vilnius. And this, when Vilnius is the European Capital of Culture for 2009. What a pity!
All flights to Vilnius have to route via another city, e.g. Prague or Riga. This trip, we're going via Riga.
The opening of the Surviving History full exhibition at the Tolerance Centre is this Thursday, 10th Sept. So we have decided to come in today so we can sort out installation over the next two days.
The day did not begin well at all. At the check-in counter at London Gatwick, I realized I’d brought the wrong passport. Shivaun was trying to console me, that I was obviously tired and frazzled. Plus, and I only realized this when I was at the airport, I hadn’t eaten for over 23 hours. Sleeping only at 3 and 4 am the last two nights didn't help. Obviously, I’d packed everything but my brains.
So instead of carrying my Irish passport, I had brought my Malaysian one. Yikes! Okay, so the check-in lady didn’t make any comments. All seemed okay, but yup, I was still feeling frazzled and annoyed with myself ‘cos re-entry to UK would be a grief. The complications of dual nationality! Thank God that Jesse is coming only tomorrow, so I can ask him to retrieve my other passport and bring it along. So far so good, I thought. Fingers crossed.
So, there I was, tucking into a Magnum dark chocolate at the boarding gate. If you know me, you'd know I normally don't have sweets. But for some reason, I'd gotten myself this ice cream at the vending machine. Maybe I needed a sugar rush.
The flight was leaving on time. But I was still feeling a little nervous. When it came time to board, Shivaun got past the check-in gates while I dawdled at the back of the queue, chomping on my Magnum and suffering severe brain freeze trying to wolf it down. Shivaun walked ahead and I could see her disappearing round the corner. The flight attendant looked at my boarding pass. No probs there. Then he looked at my passport. ‘I think you need a visa,’ he said. Damnit. My brain starts racing a mile a minute - what other EU ID do I have on me that I can use? What flight can I get on later? “Shiv! Shiv!” I yell but Shivaun has disappeared from view altogether. He makes a couple of calls, asks if I have a return ticket, then tells me it’s okay. Little did I know then that this was an omen - a hint of the possible unpleasantness ahead.
We arrived into Riga. Now, I know nothing much about Latvia or Riga but Katya had told me that it was quite beautiful. Not that we would have a chance to encounter its attractions as we were only transiting for an hour and a bit.
It was about 6.15pm local time. I was surprised that even though we were just transiting, we had to go through the rigmarole of passport checks and luggage scans again. The immigration officer takes away my bottle of water. Without a single Latvian lat to rub between us, I start feeling a bit annoyed about this - having some liquids at hand gives me a sense of security.
Another officer asks me if I have a laptop; I pull it out of my bag and put it into the plastic tray. I walk through the detector and it beeps though I have absolutely nothing on me that should set it off. Another immigration officer gives me a disapproving look and says to me, ‘Check, check’ and starts feeling me up and down grudgingly; she gives me a look that says I have created trouble/work for her.
On the other side of the scanner, another officer says to me that I need to take the electronic equipment I have in my laptop bag out so they can scan them – an external drive and a mpeg player. He says this with an accusatory look on his face; as if I tried to sneak one past him by putting them through the scanner inside my bag. I want to protest that no one asked me to take these out of my bag too, only the laptop, but decide against it. I take them out of my case and start putting my laptop back into my bag; I figure he wants to scan the drive and player, but no, he wants me to put it back into my bag and send my bag through to scan again, minus the laptop; he’s annoyed with me and raises his voice. I feel like saying to him, ‘Chill, bud, so I misunderstood…”
The unpleasantness continues. I am tired, grumpy and thirsty. I want to have a cigarette. I go up to a boarding gate counter. There are three officers there; they see me. They ignore me. I wait. They avert their eyes, hoping I'll go away. Instead I say, “Excuse me?” The lady sitting behind the counter goes, “Yah?” with the what-do-you-want look in her eyes. I ask, “Is there a smoking room in this airport?” She tells me about non-Schnengen or something like that. I have no clue what she’s saying but her face lets me know that I should not ask again.
I walk to the transfer desk instead and despite feeling a little upset at the rudeness I have just encountered, I smile and say, “Good afternoon, can you please tell me if there is somewhere I can smoke in this airport?”
She says, “Outside.”
I ask, “How do I go outside?”
She doesn’t answer me, instead she asks, “Where are you going?”
I say, “Vilnius.”
She says, “You smoke in Vilnius.”
I am a bit confused. I stare at her.
I ask again, “So there is no smoking room in the airport?”
She smirks. “You smoke in Vilnius,” she repeats.
I am, at this stage, staring at her incredulously. My brain isn’t computing this unwarranted sarcasm. I start to say, “That really wasn’t necessary, I was just asking if there was a…” and then I give up. This is such a bizarre encounter. I can’t make out why she’s gone out of the way to be mean to me.
I tell Shivaun this. She’s sitting and waiting by the boarding gate. “Maybe they’re racist,” she says. Somehow, I think not. I think this is just business as usual here. Customer service and courtesy are not part of the program. I am, at this stage, feeling antsy and upset. There's a bad taste in my mouth I can't get rid off.
Finally, we get into Vilnius. It almost feels like home; at least I am more familiar with it. We cab it to the hotel, check in, and are out on the streets in 10 minutes to look for somewhere to eat. It is now 9pm. We arbitrarily pick a place called Café Libre.
The food is quite good. The waitress is very nice. She says ‘thank you,’ and ‘please’ and she smiles! At the end of the meal, she even asks if we like the food. I feel like hugging her. I feel like telling her ‘thank you’ for ending this day of horridness with some kindness.
Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow, we begin installing the exhibition. I can’t wait for the sun to rise and melt away the yuckiness that has clung to me since we set off this morning. They say bad stuff happens in threes. Okay, that's the quota up now. Tomorrow should be a great day.
All flights to Vilnius have to route via another city, e.g. Prague or Riga. This trip, we're going via Riga.
The opening of the Surviving History full exhibition at the Tolerance Centre is this Thursday, 10th Sept. So we have decided to come in today so we can sort out installation over the next two days.
The day did not begin well at all. At the check-in counter at London Gatwick, I realized I’d brought the wrong passport. Shivaun was trying to console me, that I was obviously tired and frazzled. Plus, and I only realized this when I was at the airport, I hadn’t eaten for over 23 hours. Sleeping only at 3 and 4 am the last two nights didn't help. Obviously, I’d packed everything but my brains.
So instead of carrying my Irish passport, I had brought my Malaysian one. Yikes! Okay, so the check-in lady didn’t make any comments. All seemed okay, but yup, I was still feeling frazzled and annoyed with myself ‘cos re-entry to UK would be a grief. The complications of dual nationality! Thank God that Jesse is coming only tomorrow, so I can ask him to retrieve my other passport and bring it along. So far so good, I thought. Fingers crossed.
So, there I was, tucking into a Magnum dark chocolate at the boarding gate. If you know me, you'd know I normally don't have sweets. But for some reason, I'd gotten myself this ice cream at the vending machine. Maybe I needed a sugar rush.
The flight was leaving on time. But I was still feeling a little nervous. When it came time to board, Shivaun got past the check-in gates while I dawdled at the back of the queue, chomping on my Magnum and suffering severe brain freeze trying to wolf it down. Shivaun walked ahead and I could see her disappearing round the corner. The flight attendant looked at my boarding pass. No probs there. Then he looked at my passport. ‘I think you need a visa,’ he said. Damnit. My brain starts racing a mile a minute - what other EU ID do I have on me that I can use? What flight can I get on later? “Shiv! Shiv!” I yell but Shivaun has disappeared from view altogether. He makes a couple of calls, asks if I have a return ticket, then tells me it’s okay. Little did I know then that this was an omen - a hint of the possible unpleasantness ahead.
We arrived into Riga. Now, I know nothing much about Latvia or Riga but Katya had told me that it was quite beautiful. Not that we would have a chance to encounter its attractions as we were only transiting for an hour and a bit.
It was about 6.15pm local time. I was surprised that even though we were just transiting, we had to go through the rigmarole of passport checks and luggage scans again. The immigration officer takes away my bottle of water. Without a single Latvian lat to rub between us, I start feeling a bit annoyed about this - having some liquids at hand gives me a sense of security.
Another officer asks me if I have a laptop; I pull it out of my bag and put it into the plastic tray. I walk through the detector and it beeps though I have absolutely nothing on me that should set it off. Another immigration officer gives me a disapproving look and says to me, ‘Check, check’ and starts feeling me up and down grudgingly; she gives me a look that says I have created trouble/work for her.
On the other side of the scanner, another officer says to me that I need to take the electronic equipment I have in my laptop bag out so they can scan them – an external drive and a mpeg player. He says this with an accusatory look on his face; as if I tried to sneak one past him by putting them through the scanner inside my bag. I want to protest that no one asked me to take these out of my bag too, only the laptop, but decide against it. I take them out of my case and start putting my laptop back into my bag; I figure he wants to scan the drive and player, but no, he wants me to put it back into my bag and send my bag through to scan again, minus the laptop; he’s annoyed with me and raises his voice. I feel like saying to him, ‘Chill, bud, so I misunderstood…”
The unpleasantness continues. I am tired, grumpy and thirsty. I want to have a cigarette. I go up to a boarding gate counter. There are three officers there; they see me. They ignore me. I wait. They avert their eyes, hoping I'll go away. Instead I say, “Excuse me?” The lady sitting behind the counter goes, “Yah?” with the what-do-you-want look in her eyes. I ask, “Is there a smoking room in this airport?” She tells me about non-Schnengen or something like that. I have no clue what she’s saying but her face lets me know that I should not ask again.
I walk to the transfer desk instead and despite feeling a little upset at the rudeness I have just encountered, I smile and say, “Good afternoon, can you please tell me if there is somewhere I can smoke in this airport?”
She says, “Outside.”
I ask, “How do I go outside?”
She doesn’t answer me, instead she asks, “Where are you going?”
I say, “Vilnius.”
She says, “You smoke in Vilnius.”
I am a bit confused. I stare at her.
I ask again, “So there is no smoking room in the airport?”
She smirks. “You smoke in Vilnius,” she repeats.
I am, at this stage, staring at her incredulously. My brain isn’t computing this unwarranted sarcasm. I start to say, “That really wasn’t necessary, I was just asking if there was a…” and then I give up. This is such a bizarre encounter. I can’t make out why she’s gone out of the way to be mean to me.
I tell Shivaun this. She’s sitting and waiting by the boarding gate. “Maybe they’re racist,” she says. Somehow, I think not. I think this is just business as usual here. Customer service and courtesy are not part of the program. I am, at this stage, feeling antsy and upset. There's a bad taste in my mouth I can't get rid off.
Finally, we get into Vilnius. It almost feels like home; at least I am more familiar with it. We cab it to the hotel, check in, and are out on the streets in 10 minutes to look for somewhere to eat. It is now 9pm. We arbitrarily pick a place called Café Libre.
The food is quite good. The waitress is very nice. She says ‘thank you,’ and ‘please’ and she smiles! At the end of the meal, she even asks if we like the food. I feel like hugging her. I feel like telling her ‘thank you’ for ending this day of horridness with some kindness.
Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow, we begin installing the exhibition. I can’t wait for the sun to rise and melt away the yuckiness that has clung to me since we set off this morning. They say bad stuff happens in threes. Okay, that's the quota up now. Tomorrow should be a great day.
Saturday 15 August 2009
All Roads Lead to Vilnius – 26 days and counting...
Okay, things are really hotting up now. We are manically preparing last minute work for the opening of the exhibition in Vilnius on the 10 September 2009. I’m still tearing my hair out trying to get the packing list in order. We have different suppliers involved, from flight cases to actual exhibit items, and trying to amass the necessary information on weights, dimensions and packaging is driving me a little crazy. I am wary that we will need to put together a comprehensive list for custom purposes as it may be necessary to get an ATA Carnet (kinda like a passport) for the exhibits, so I am – I admit – being a little anal with the details. Virgo that I am, I relish and abhor the activity at the same time :)
So anyways, a few days ago, we realized we had run out of time on one activity. For one of the exhibition sections – there are five sections in all (you can read about what the exhibition consists of here) – the Shoah Memorial, we have 200+ bottles that need to be labeled. Quite early on, the intention was to have everyone who had participated – the artists, the designers, the team members spread across several countries (you can read about the team members here) – to write these labels by hand. But alas, it has taken a while to get the list of names and finalize this installation. So unfortunately, we’ve had to only involve the immediate team.
Trying to be as neat as I can
As I was writing my share of the labels – the name of the massacre sites and the numbers killed at each location – that while I was rushing this task, I couldn’t help but be mindful of the poignant and sad significance of what I was doing. Each location isn’t just a location – it is a burial site. And the numbers I was trying to print in as neat a hand as possible were people, lives… And then there are those places where no one even knows how many were lost. I cannot help but imagine what it is like be erased as if one had not lived at all.
Throughout this project, at various stages, I have often felt overwhelmed by the material. No matter how many times I have seen, read or heard it. It happens without me realizing it – I could be reading an interview transcript again, or watching a video clip, or looking at the narrators’ photos. The feeling passes over me like a shadow, often fleeting. It dissipates eventually but I feel something akin to a residual, lingering emptiness; it settles gently into the pit of my stomach and stays there. If someone asks me the impact of this project on me, I think I will tell them – it is like a gentle sadness that lodges somewhere in my gut. I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s how it feels.
Only 26 days to go now to the full exhibition opening in Vilnius. And about a week and half to have the items shipped. Again, as in the past, whenever we prepare to go to Vilnius, I am struck by mixed feelings of setting foot in that city once more.
So anyways, a few days ago, we realized we had run out of time on one activity. For one of the exhibition sections – there are five sections in all (you can read about what the exhibition consists of here) – the Shoah Memorial, we have 200+ bottles that need to be labeled. Quite early on, the intention was to have everyone who had participated – the artists, the designers, the team members spread across several countries (you can read about the team members here) – to write these labels by hand. But alas, it has taken a while to get the list of names and finalize this installation. So unfortunately, we’ve had to only involve the immediate team.
Trying to be as neat as I can
As I was writing my share of the labels – the name of the massacre sites and the numbers killed at each location – that while I was rushing this task, I couldn’t help but be mindful of the poignant and sad significance of what I was doing. Each location isn’t just a location – it is a burial site. And the numbers I was trying to print in as neat a hand as possible were people, lives… And then there are those places where no one even knows how many were lost. I cannot help but imagine what it is like be erased as if one had not lived at all.
Throughout this project, at various stages, I have often felt overwhelmed by the material. No matter how many times I have seen, read or heard it. It happens without me realizing it – I could be reading an interview transcript again, or watching a video clip, or looking at the narrators’ photos. The feeling passes over me like a shadow, often fleeting. It dissipates eventually but I feel something akin to a residual, lingering emptiness; it settles gently into the pit of my stomach and stays there. If someone asks me the impact of this project on me, I think I will tell them – it is like a gentle sadness that lodges somewhere in my gut. I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s how it feels.
Only 26 days to go now to the full exhibition opening in Vilnius. And about a week and half to have the items shipped. Again, as in the past, whenever we prepare to go to Vilnius, I am struck by mixed feelings of setting foot in that city once more.
Thursday 6 August 2009
Surviving History documentary – 13,478 views to date
The other day, I decided to check out how many people had viewed the preview of our documentary on our distributor, Journeyman Pictures’ YouTube channel. I was really surprised to see that more than 13,000 views were registered. This does not of course include the trailer clips that have been viewed on our organisation Living Imprint’s YouTube channel, about 700+ views to date.
It’s great to see that quite a few people are interested in knowing about the Holocaust. But I must also say that it is really depressing too. It seems that most of the people who seek out documentaries like ours are fairly narrow-minded and have missed the point of Holocaust awareness altogether. They seem determined to find films like ours so they can deride the Jews and go on anti-Semitic rants for the world to see.
One comment even mentioned Madoff. But what has an American white collar criminal got to do with Holocaust survivors who survived World War II? Just because they are of the same race? By that irrational deduction, should we hate all Japanese for the crimes of their forefathers during the same war as well? Should we hate present-day Americans for the napalm bombing of the Vietnamese? Should we hate all Muslims for the murder of Daniel Pearl? The list could go on and on. It is mind boggling that such irrationality should exist and darn right frustrating!
A few comments were enlightened ones – thank God there are people who understand the point of Holocaust awareness tools like our documentary. What a great disappointment that those who missed the point altogether do not seem to understand that what happened during the Holocaust is a symptom, the tip of the ice berg if you will, of intolerance and misplaced hatred gone horribly wrong and warped. These are not just stories about the Jews. This is a reminder of what blind hatred can lead to. There is great injustice in the world, why are there so many people willing to join the mindless masses that perpetrate such conditions? Every time I bump up against such comments I am flabbergasted. Why are we so willfully blind?
If you’d like to see the short trailers, click here
If you’d like to see the Journeyman trailer, click here
If you’d like to watch the film for £1 on Journeyman’s website, click here
It’s great to see that quite a few people are interested in knowing about the Holocaust. But I must also say that it is really depressing too. It seems that most of the people who seek out documentaries like ours are fairly narrow-minded and have missed the point of Holocaust awareness altogether. They seem determined to find films like ours so they can deride the Jews and go on anti-Semitic rants for the world to see.
One comment even mentioned Madoff. But what has an American white collar criminal got to do with Holocaust survivors who survived World War II? Just because they are of the same race? By that irrational deduction, should we hate all Japanese for the crimes of their forefathers during the same war as well? Should we hate present-day Americans for the napalm bombing of the Vietnamese? Should we hate all Muslims for the murder of Daniel Pearl? The list could go on and on. It is mind boggling that such irrationality should exist and darn right frustrating!
A few comments were enlightened ones – thank God there are people who understand the point of Holocaust awareness tools like our documentary. What a great disappointment that those who missed the point altogether do not seem to understand that what happened during the Holocaust is a symptom, the tip of the ice berg if you will, of intolerance and misplaced hatred gone horribly wrong and warped. These are not just stories about the Jews. This is a reminder of what blind hatred can lead to. There is great injustice in the world, why are there so many people willing to join the mindless masses that perpetrate such conditions? Every time I bump up against such comments I am flabbergasted. Why are we so willfully blind?
If you’d like to see the short trailers, click here
If you’d like to see the Journeyman trailer, click here
If you’d like to watch the film for £1 on Journeyman’s website, click here
Tuesday 4 August 2009
RIP: Margarita Civuncik, 23 June 2009
We received the sad news in late July that one of the survivors we had interviewed for this project, Margarita Civuncik, had passed away on 23 June 2009. Our condolences and prayers are with her family.
Margarita's life is a testimony to the courage of those who did not give in nor give up but found the strength and determination to persevere despite the odds.
Margarita was born Rita Tsives. She was the sixth child in a family of seven siblings. Together with the rest of her family, she was interned at Minsk ghetto and later forced into the streets during a pogrom, where convinced they would be killed, she escaped with her small daughter. She changed her name, forged identity documents, and fled, moving from village to village for the duration of the war, sometimes working, sometimes hiding, sometimes depending on the kindness of strangers. She found herself in Vilnius when the war ended and made it her home.
Her incredible experiences were recorded in her unpublished memoirs and the many poems she wrote for her children and grandchildren. Her family were her pride; she especially pointed out to us how they were a multicultural, multinational family - she told us: "The most important thing is to respect each other. It doesn’t matter what nationality a person is. I am against genocide. It is terrible… people against people. In my family, we are a mixture. We have become an international family, Lithuanian, Russian, Polish..."
We salute the amazing person Margarita was and the life she led. We are thankful for her generosity in telling us her story. The memories she shared, the gifts she gave us, her photos... these will be presented in the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition, opening in Vilnius on 10th September 2009. We are honoured to have met Margarita, to be entrusted with passing on her experiences and the lessons she shared with us.
We salute an incredible woman, survivor, mother, grandmother.
Margarita's life is a testimony to the courage of those who did not give in nor give up but found the strength and determination to persevere despite the odds.
Margarita was born Rita Tsives. She was the sixth child in a family of seven siblings. Together with the rest of her family, she was interned at Minsk ghetto and later forced into the streets during a pogrom, where convinced they would be killed, she escaped with her small daughter. She changed her name, forged identity documents, and fled, moving from village to village for the duration of the war, sometimes working, sometimes hiding, sometimes depending on the kindness of strangers. She found herself in Vilnius when the war ended and made it her home.
Her incredible experiences were recorded in her unpublished memoirs and the many poems she wrote for her children and grandchildren. Her family were her pride; she especially pointed out to us how they were a multicultural, multinational family - she told us: "The most important thing is to respect each other. It doesn’t matter what nationality a person is. I am against genocide. It is terrible… people against people. In my family, we are a mixture. We have become an international family, Lithuanian, Russian, Polish..."
We salute the amazing person Margarita was and the life she led. We are thankful for her generosity in telling us her story. The memories she shared, the gifts she gave us, her photos... these will be presented in the Surviving History: Portraits from Vilna exhibition, opening in Vilnius on 10th September 2009. We are honoured to have met Margarita, to be entrusted with passing on her experiences and the lessons she shared with us.
We salute an incredible woman, survivor, mother, grandmother.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Limmud Day, Brighton, 29 March 2009
Shivaun and I turned up at this year's Limmud Day. The event was sold out well in advance and the number and variety of presenters were formidable. We kinda squeaked in when Shivaun spoke to the organisers a few weeks before the event, and were, quite last minute, assigned a slot to show our 30-minute documentary Surviving History and for Shivaun to give a presentation. She spoke briefly about her research project and gave a short talk on the history of Jews in Lithuania, trying to squish hundreds of years of history into a 20-minute session. The room was packed and people drifted in well after the talk had started and there was only standing room available. It was very touching to hear afterwards that some had been moved to tears, another said, "I could have listened all day," as he had found it fascinating. Most of the audience, like those we had met at the talk at AJR in February this year, commented that much less is known about East European Jewish experience, on account of the Iron Curtain and decades of Soviet rule; so for them, this was quite revelatory. Which kinda sealed it for us, that despite the fact that much has been written and discussed about the Holocaust, there is room for much more, especially when it comes to personal experience and recollection, which are unique to the individual. Kinda like finding the particular within the universal; the human and the individual within the historical.
Then we squished in to hear Julie Birchell speak. I don't know anything about her, but she seemed very popular; the room was literally bursting at the seams. Her comments both shocked me as well as touched me. (You can read a bit about the session here.) Later I got the rundown and realised why she was so well known, she is, as she herself claims, to be a 'philo-semitic'. Which left me wondering whether one needs to take an extreme stand in order to be heard? If you are quite objective and empathetic, do you come across as a fence-sitter, and will others ride roughshod over your opinions? I still haven't come to a conclusion...
Then we squished in to hear Julie Birchell speak. I don't know anything about her, but she seemed very popular; the room was literally bursting at the seams. Her comments both shocked me as well as touched me. (You can read a bit about the session here.) Later I got the rundown and realised why she was so well known, she is, as she herself claims, to be a 'philo-semitic'. Which left me wondering whether one needs to take an extreme stand in order to be heard? If you are quite objective and empathetic, do you come across as a fence-sitter, and will others ride roughshod over your opinions? I still haven't come to a conclusion...
Friday 20 February 2009
Why telling stories about genocide matters...
Today, I read on The Economist, the obituary of Alison Des Forges. It is titled "a witness to genocide." About Rwanda. To me, her life is a testament to why telling stories about genocide, mass murder, even historical ones, matter. Recently, I was at the University of Sussex for Holocaust Memorial Day. The speakers spoke of genocide episodes that have taken place globally. The Holocaust is an epitaph, a monument, a symbolic reminder of democide, killings meted out as state policy. "We must never forget." That is the supreme message we must learn from the Holocaust, as so many of those who shared their stories with us have told us. However, we must have, we must be ignorant of the lessons, or it has not sunk deep enough. To read about Alison, click here.
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