-

 Commemoration as an act of mourning, of honoring and not forgetting lives lost, and of saying “never again” was a part of my upbringing. Dedication to "we will do better." Born into literal and metaphorical rubble and ashes of post-war Germany, I know what it means to bear the shame and guilt of a people that have perpetrated unimaginable horrors. The Holocaust. More later on how I feel and perceive the connection here to my birth country’s history. But for sure, Remembrance and Commemoration sit deep in my bones.

A year later, I am still painting on the Memorial, alone or with dedicated artist friends. By now hundreds of hours of our hands measuring, drawing lines, spacing & sketching words, calligraphy with brushes in various sizes, three layers of matte dark grey paint. Who would have thought we are still with the mural. But then, how could memorializing ever have an end to it?

Comments

  1. Alex KJuly 3, 2021 at 8:56 PM

    Like many people, I was impassioned with grief and anger by the murder of George Floyd and inspired by the demonstrations and rise of BLM. I committed to more deeply educate myself about the violence and dehumanization inflicted on African Americans by their own country and to pay attention to what I can do to change this. And I did for several months. Over time my feelings subsided and I found myself again having a sense of tolerance about the daily cruelty that African Americans live with.

    The wreath of words surrounding the dead in your mural touch me deeply and connect me to them in our common humanness. The mural and your creation of it teaches and reminds me that commemoration is an ongoing act done with care, devotion and attention. I thank you for this.

    ReplyDelete
  2. KarinaJuly 5, 2021 at 11:46 AM

    Alex, thank you for your response. Could you tell us more about your ethnic background?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Alex KJuly 5, 2021 at 12:18 PM

    Yes, I am Jewish and the son of holocaust survivors. Over the years, I have come to understand more deeply the life altering affects that trauma has not only on the direct victim but all those related by blood and love and community as a whole. And so you're including the bonds and ties of the murdered reminds me of this in a very immediate and poignant way.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible an...
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent...
Read more
-
Image
  Looking at you… f aintly the handwriting reads:    Karina & Bob, Here’s looking at you in 1994 With best regards, Howard   Back when he studied T’ai Chi with me for a few years, Howard was already older, a fine, eccentric gentleman. And a very good and well-known artist. With a deeply philosophical side to him which made him enjoy my way of teaching the Art and Principles of this ancient practice. He’d have questions, comments, always delighted by insights, his or mine.   In the hallway I often pass his small watercolor, with its (faded by now) inscription to Bob and me. Bob’s birthday will be in three days on May 18.  If alive, my late husband – who died in October of 2016 – would turn ninety-five this year. Suddenly I feel the presence of time in my heart, swirling about back and forth, swooshing from chamber to chamber, expanding. Howard’s greeting from 1994 – thirty years later, I am now seventy, about the age he was back then.  Suddenly I am...
Read more