OBJECTS
I want to walk into each room where this object has lived, to feel the volume of space, to know what pictures were on the walls, how the light fell from the windows. And I want to know whose hands it has been in and what they felt about it, and thought about it – if they thought about it. I want to know what it has witnessed.
- Edmund de Waal, The Hare With Amber Eyes
Building on the Hasidic teaching which suggests that everything in the material world has its own melody and meaning, I asked each of the narrators to show me a personal artefact and to explain its significance. I was given a wide range of life accessories: a collection of notes for a book, a silver spoon, a gold powder compact, a drawing, an amber pendant, a violet brooch, an invitation, each of which had its own story to tell. As companions to the life experiences of their owners, these objects , inevitably, carry us, as viewers, into the heart of destruction. But they also carry us somewhere else. Behind the palette of obliteration that they so palpably present, we also find the pulse that once beat in Jewish Vilna; we find stories of partisan courage and acts of reverence, remembrance and artistic expression. We find, ultimately, what they have witnessed.
In each segment below, you will find images of the narrators' biographical objects, their explanation of what those objects mean to them, images of the 'visual biographies' and 'memory boxes' created by artists using those objects and a statement by the artist about the artwork created.
- Edmund de Waal, The Hare With Amber Eyes
Building on the Hasidic teaching which suggests that everything in the material world has its own melody and meaning, I asked each of the narrators to show me a personal artefact and to explain its significance. I was given a wide range of life accessories: a collection of notes for a book, a silver spoon, a gold powder compact, a drawing, an amber pendant, a violet brooch, an invitation, each of which had its own story to tell. As companions to the life experiences of their owners, these objects , inevitably, carry us, as viewers, into the heart of destruction. But they also carry us somewhere else. Behind the palette of obliteration that they so palpably present, we also find the pulse that once beat in Jewish Vilna; we find stories of partisan courage and acts of reverence, remembrance and artistic expression. We find, ultimately, what they have witnessed.
In each segment below, you will find images of the narrators' biographical objects, their explanation of what those objects mean to them, images of the 'visual biographies' and 'memory boxes' created by artists using those objects and a statement by the artist about the artwork created.
Fania Brantsovsky
 Memory box by Katie Dell Kaufman
Fania works part time as a librarian at the Yiddish Vilnius Institute and also as deputy chairperson at the office of camp and ghetto survivors at the Jewish Community Centre. Shortly after the war broke out, her family was interned in the Vilna Ghetto. While there she became involved in the partisan resistance movement and eventually escaped to join the partisan forces in the forests, leaving behind her mother, father, sister and extended family. Today, she tirelessly propagates the story of Jewish Vilna and is determined to commemorate the memory of “those who are dead and cannot stand up (to tell their story).”
Biographical Objects Powder Compact: “A former partisan, he gave me this compact as a gift. I didn’t use the powder very often. I used it more as a mirror. I have a naturally clear complexion. Even in the ghetto there was nothing to wash with except green soap like meat in aspic, my skin still shone. So I used it as a mirror, over the years it’s got broken, but it’s not worn out, although I was given it in 1945…” Violet Flower Brooch: “These flowers, my husband used to go to work in Moscow and he used to bring me back brooches, he had very good taste and I have a whole collection of them. I still wear them.” Artist Statement The face of Fania’s cupboard shows the forest where she fought as a partisan during the war. The cupboard openings reveal an interior view of an underground fort. Fania’s powder case and brooch of faux African violets are framed in the passage way that leads out of the fort. The wall panels show photos of Fania’s family and friends; superimposed over book pages, showing lists of Vilnius’s pre-war Jewish population. It is the mirror, hidden inside the powder case, that ultimately is the inspiration for Fania’s cupboard. When she signed her ‘self’ over to the partisan cause, she also parted with the self that clings to personal survival. When she returns to Vilnius, she sees another ‘self’ reflected back at her in the mirror. She sees a new beginning and someone with the vast inner resources to address what challenges may come. This knowledge of self radiates from the center of the work, along with the gift of love, symbolized here by her husband’s violets. This inner talisman bears significance of her self knowledge, born of courage, in her fight for justice and truth. - Katie Dell Kaufman |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Rachel Kostanian
 Memory box by Lynsey Cleaver
Rachel is the indefatigable deputy director of the Green House Vilna Gaon Jewish State Museum. Originally from Šiauliai, her life has been dedicated to ensuring that the message “never again” remains alive. During the war, she fled to Russia with her mother and found herself in a Russian orphanage, where she endured constant hunger and incredibly harsh conditions. She is passionate about her work because she views it as: “to fight for being Jewish, for the right to be Jewish and for not forgetting (the) genocide.”
Biographical Objects Invitation to formal embassy dinner: “The first time I was embarrassed, I used to feel shy, as if to say, who do I think I am, a little maidele from Šiauliai at a big, fancy reception… and then I got used to it. It’s already years now that I’ve been attending these receptions. … In a way, I have arrived, as a person, as a Jewish woman, after so long as an outsider, a second class citizen, who held no rightful place in this country. …I represent the museum and my work there, to keep Jewish history alive, to keep their memory alive … for future generations.” Amber ring: “My first brooch, and ring… I bought them in Palanga, in the resort, where it’s cheapest, and I bought them while I was a student. And I wore it during all the days of my student life, yeah, isn’t it nice? Amber, this is metal. Yes, it’s strong, you could hurt someone with that, like a hooligan if they harass you… and after I got it and wore it, I felt like a normal girl with jewellery, a girl with jewellery, like anyone.” Artist statement During the conceptualizing and construction of this work I have come to see Rachel Kostanian’s role as one of a gatekeeper or preserver of a people, a faith and a culture. I wanted this work to be full of the faces of the people she represents and to be representative of the museum itself. The box mimics a dolls house not just for contradictions between child-like innocence and the vile events of the Holocaust but also to represent a safe house, where the memory of those lost is cared for and remembered by her and her team. Rachel describes herself as having been a rootless Jew for so long in her early days, trees in this work symbolize not only a laying down of roots through her work in the museum but they also symbolize growth and protection. – Lynsey Cleaver |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Josef Levinson
 Memory Box by Lynsey Cleaver
When the war broke out, Josef and his brother enlisted with the Lithuanian division of the Red Army. While in service, he learned of the massacres taking place in his home town. Upon his return, Josef vowed that what had happened would be made known. He has dedicated more than 20 years of his life to commemorating the Holocaust. His painstaking research led him to participate in an initiative to memorialise more than 200 massacre sites in Lithuania; he is the author of Shoah: Holocaust in Lithuania and Skausma Knyga: The Book of Sorrows.
Biographical Objects Skausma Kynga (Book of Sorrows), notes, pen, ruler: “After this book was published I received letters from people whose relatives were murdered in Lithuania, saying that the book is something more eternal, because as times goes by, the book, it stays, it doesn’t disappear. You never know what will happen to the monuments, and when the monuments disappear, then everything that is connected to it also disappears from the memory of people.” “I gained a very big, terrible impression when I first was in Veisiejai… and I listened to the stories of the people. And I was terrified when I listened to them, and I thought to myself this should not be forgotten, this should be memorialized for future generation... Fifty years passed until I found the opportunity to realize this. I spent long years sitting in the cellars, libraries and archives, and I collected all the material, and in winter time, I would sit maybe the whole night with these documents, and it happened to be a very hard time for me, because during this time, my wife died and I would sit alone, and I could not sleep at night. I would sit down in the evening and stay nearly until dawn. I put all my feeling and my emotions into this work. And I want to say that reading these all these documents in the archives, sorting through them, I cried, not just once.” Artist statement The exterior of Joseph’s box is covered in text and corrections from his own workings and reworking on paper; in the interior, there is a map of the burial sites over a Perspex box filled with stones and soil. On the walls are excerpts from his book. One drawer is full of his paper work, the other full of family photographs. – Lynsey Cleaver |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Chasia Spanerflig
 Memory Box by Katie Dell Kaufman
Shortly after the war broke out, Chasia was interned in the Vilna Ghetto along with her husband, their five-month-old son and her in-laws. Her husband, Boris Friedman, led an escape to join the partisans. Chasia took a similar route later. By then, Boris had been betrayed, ambushed and killed. Today, she volunteers her time at the Jewish Community Centre in Vilnius. She says that this gives her great joy. It also brings back fond memories, for the centre is located in the same building where she attended the famed Tarbut school as a young girl.
Biographical Object Amber Pendant: “This is a tear for my closest ones, for my family who died not knowing the reason, especially for the little children who went to die because they were born Jews. This is an eternal tear. . I asked the artist, what is this, what is the meaning of this piece, and he explained to me that it was nature crying.” Artist Statement An amber teardrop necklace – ‘a Lithuanian tear’ – defines the center of Chasia’s cupboard. The amber is beautiful, yet it also refers to the trees of the forest Chasia lived in as a partisan during the war. Formed by the sap, the blood and ‘tears’ of the trees, the amber brings us back to the life-changing events that took place between the ghetto and the forest. The two doorways in the cupboard represent her impossible choice - between staying with her son in the ghetto prison or joining her partisan husband in the forest. Then the punishment she endures of losing them both, and being forever caught between the worlds of regret and longing. Between the two doors, tears surround the necklace, obscuring the entrance to the mikveh (in Hebrew, ‘a collection of waters’), the sacred purifying bath. For Chasia it’s the desire for purification and self forgiveness. The elements of a bird cage - an arched doorway and bars – allude to her caged interior world. – Katie Dell Kaufman |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Dora Pilianskiene
 Memory Box by Katie Dell Kaufman
When the war began, Dora was working as a seamstress in Ziezmariai. She was a newly wed and three months pregnant. Her first thought was: “I have to run, run, run.” She escaped to Russia for the duration of the war. She and a brother are the only survivors from their family. Dora is an avid artist and has poured her memories into her watercolour paintings and pencil sketches, because, she says, “I have no more words.” Of a painting of children loaded into the back of a truck, she tells us that her Lithuanian neighbor threw them in “like day-old cabbage.”
Biographical Objects Paintbox: “You ask me, what helped me survive? God and nobody else. Deep in my heart, I believed, I believed. If God gives, it will happen, and I will live. But you ask me what brings happiness to me now? I don’t know what to say. I will tell you the truth. I cannot laugh. Laughter has disappeared from my life. I have no words left.” Painting: “And here, women and children were locked in this synagogue. And the synagogue was set on fire. This synagogue is overflowing with blood and tears. And who will cry for them? There is no one left to cry for them. So the birds cry, only the birds cry for them.” Artist statement In creating her cupboard, my inspiration is Dora at her desk with only her paints and her memories. The image in Dora’s painting of the captive women and children trapped in the synagogue, I link to another, more subtle, image of the captivity of the artist herself. Dora is here a bird, caught within the frame. Her tears well up and overflow into the watercolors in the drawer below. Below the weeping bird are the empty dovecotes, intended to evoke all the empty spaces, and the loss and longing, which is the survivor’s fate. There is both loneliness and responsibility associated with being the one left behind to tell the story. – KD Kaufman |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Berl Glazer
 Memory Box by Dwora Fried
Berl is a widower who lives alone. He lost his sight in later life due to diabetes. He was born in Nemaksciai and comes from a religious lineage: his grandfather, great-grandfather and great-grand uncle were rabbis. He lost most of his family during the war; his aunt, cousin and grandmother were the only survivors. During the war, he was a soldier in the Red Army with the Lithuanian 16th Division. For this, he has been decorated with the highest honor bestowed by the Soviet Army, the Order of the Patriotic War First Class. He attends synagogue twice daily, and visits the Seskine Cemetery often, where before losing his sight, he tended the grave of the Vilna Gaon.
Biographical Objects Medal: “The medal for the Great Patriotic War is an important one; it is covered a little bit with gold. I was a gunman… I was good at standing in my position… You know we moved backward more speedily than forward. The Germans were going forward and we either stood in our positions or fled. The snow was up to here (his shoulders). No meal, no sleep, we would sleep while walking. A machine gun was hanging off me… I rested my hands on it and I slept. I moved forward and slept. We would lean against each other and sleep. We were so terribly tired.” [Berl had misplaced the medal he received. In its stead, he showed us a medal he had received as reward for being an exemplary Soviet worker.] Eye glasses: “The greatest challenge for me has been losing my sight. I couldn’t work any more. I lost it due to glaucoma, I had three surgeries, and that’s it. I lost it in 1974.” Yarmulke: “In my family we had many Rabbis… I helped build monuments for two famous Vilna Rabbis in the cemetery, because the monuments they had were only fit for little children, not Rabbis. I saw that the gravestones were so little, so I went to the workers… made them much larger, and I made a board, with inscriptions to say that this gravestone had been made by this certain man and by Berl Glazer.” Artist Statement Berl is frail and strong at the same time. His strength comes from praying. His arm is supported by the Sidur from the Choral Synagogue, where he prays twice a day. There are two images of the Gaon of Vilna as well as his Haggadah on the counter. Before he lost his sight, Berl used to tend to the Vilna Gaon’s mausoleum. The glass cabinet in his apartment is filled with an accumulation of his life. The larger Berl is praying, the smaller Berl is on his way to the cemetery. The clock on the left is larger than life; it is the clock that hangs in his home. – Dwora Fried |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Gita Geseleva
 Memory Box by Katie Dell Kaufman
Gita lost her entire family during the war, save for an aunt and grandmother. She was born in Glubokoe, Belarus. On the night her ghetto was liquidated, she hid in the basement with other apartment residents and later fled into the nearby fields. She ended up in a partisan stronghold and remained there until the end of the war. Upon liberation, she returned to her village to search for relatives and friends. “Everyone looked shabby and so poor, I was completely barefoot,” she told us, “I had no shoes, only trousers made from a parachute from the partisan fort.” Eventually, she found work as a nurse at the local hospital and later relocated to Vilnius where she married and raised her children.
Biographical Objects Thermometer, Temperature Gauge, Embroidered Linen Napkin: “First time I came to a wounded person to dress his wound I had a pain in my heart. I couldn’t touch him. I felt as if this was my wound. He was comforting me… He said, ‘I don’t feel this pain,’ because he saw that I was close to fainting. I dressed the wound and later his mother brought me a basket with cherries. I was sensitive to sick and wounded people because I myself suffered a lot, so I was sensitive to the pain of others and this is true until today.” Artist Statement Gita was young when she lost her family. The cupboard’s interior is a child’s view of the house she escaped from where her parents were murdered. Family members are represented as holes, in the shape of Star of David, burnt in linen fabric. The fabric of Gita’s family is destroyed by these devastating events. The suspended linen napkin is a metaphor for her parent’s sacrifice. The postcards represent those she sent and received in her search for relatives after the war. The thermometers are used as staircase hand-rails and show the key to the ‘way out’ for Gita. As she ministers to others, she revisits her own wounds. In her compassion she finds the way toward her own healing. Through the attic window, a metaphor for her father’s watchful gaze, we see blazing amber and a silver charging knight. The amber symbolizes the burning of the ghetto. The ‘charging knight’, the coat of arms of Lithuania, symbolises ultimately finding a safe haven in Vilnius. – Katie Dell Kaufman |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Margarita Civuncik
 Memory Box by Katie Dell Kaufman
Margarita escaped from Minsk ghetto with her baby daughter Liudmilla. She changed her name, forged her documents and passed herself off as a Russian, moving from village to village to escape detection. She arrived in Vilnius just as the Soviet flag was raised on Gediminas Castle, announcing the end of the war. She later remarried and worked for a newspaper. In her retirement, her favourite pastimes were crocheting and crossword puzzles. Her pride and joy was her large “multicultural” family; and she revelled in her many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Margarita passed away on June 23, 2009.
Biographical Objects Crocheted Napkin/Pillowcase: “I learned to sew when I was a child, we used to make things. I also play piano, when nobody is home, this relaxes me too. I didn’t learn music, but I sit by the piano and play when there is no one here. Before I used to do everything, but now I just do little things...” Grand-daughter’s drawings: “I was always writing funny songs for them to sing. I raised up all my grandchildren.” Poem: “Dedicated to my Great Granddaughter Victoria on the Occasion of her One-Year Birthday… Your grandmother Luda was four years old, I believed she would grow up and would understand everything, five decades have passed since that day, you will grow up, everything will be right, your grandmother will tell you about your great-grandmother, how she loved little children, how she loved her grandchildren, you little girl, by the name Vica and three boys, Victoria, Victoria, source of my joy, that is why you were given the name of Victory” - Great-Grandmother Rita, 10th May, 1997 Artist Statement The image of Margarita and Liudmilla, evading discovery while being targeted by the Nazis, served as the inspiration for her cupboard. Inside the cupboard, a map of the surrounding region is superimposed on a layer of cork, referencing the dartboard which obscures the war-torn terrain below. The center canvas is a map between Minsk and Vilnius. The central image is of a faceless mother and child representing the many who sought refuge. In the case of Margarita, anonymity has meant the difference between life and death. The circles of the target lead us in toward the camouflaged Liudmilla. This represents a manifestation of Margarita’s love and alchemy; the dart does not pierce the cork but points the way to Vilnius. On the cabinet’s face, the puzzles symbolize Margarita’s ingenuity in negotiating her way. And on top are lines from her poem, celebrating her granddaughter Victoria. For shape-shifter Rita/Margarita, ‘Victory’ has been transmuted into the treasure of seeing generations of her family flourish despite intended annihilation by the Third Reich. – Katie Dell Kaufman |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Cholem Sapsai
 Memory Box by Dwora Fried
Cholem thought the end was near when his family was ordered into Kaunas ghetto. “I thought my heart would stop,” he said. He had witnessed the event known as the ‘Big Action’ at the Kaunas Ninth Fort, where 11,000 men, women and children were massacred. Along with his father, he survived Dachau concentration camp. In 2002, he received official confirmation that his mother had been murdered at Stutthof concentration camp. Cholem’s small living quarters are filled with beautiful things; vases, lamps, clocks, flowers, and many of his wood sculptures which have been exhibited at several shows. Of the creative process, he says, “When I take a piece of wood, I feel it, I see it, and I reveal the beauty in it.”
Biographical Objects Hand Crafted Woodwork: “I feel great satisfaction when I make these wood carvings. I like to do it so much. When I take a piece of wood, I see that there is something in it, when it is still just the wood. I look for wood which has interesting colors and interesting textures, something interesting inside it, so this is my passion. I find the beauty in the wood, I feel it and I see that there is really something in it and I reveal the beauty of the wood.” Button: “I am very attracted to delicate things, feminine things, even though I am a man... I like to surround myself with such things.” Artist Statement Cholem is sitting on an armchair, going through old documents and letters. He is surrounded by artificial flowers, which reflect his affinity for nature and beauty. Cholem tells us, “I like delicate things. I am like a woman in that way.” His mother used to grow vegetables and they had a small front yard which he helped her tend. His memories of liberation are entwined with his love of flowers: “It was May, beautiful and warm, the fields were blossoming.” Even his wooden sculptures, which he made when he was a carpenter, allow him to ‘see the beauty of the wood and I reveal it.’ In a restaurant, he points at some flowers on the table: “God's work. See how radiantly beautiful they are. Only God could come up with such beauty.” He touched the petals. “They're plastic?! Oh well,” he laughs. From a different angle, the garden turns into a cemetery, facing the red triangle from Dachau. – Dwora Fried |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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Isroel Galperin
 Memory Box by Dwora Fried
Isroel was only a few years old when his family attempted to escape the Minsk bombings. In the ensuing chaos, they were separated; his father joined the Red Army, his mother was interned in Minsk Ghetto, while he and his twin brother were taken in by an aunt. After the war, his family was reunited and moved to Vilnius. He was a chess champion in his factory days and embraced Judaism and learnt Hebrew in his later life. He is a widower and spends most of his time volunteering at the Choral Synagogue and visiting the cemetery, where he prays for his own family members and on behalf of those who cannot say the prayers themselves.
Biographical Objects Chess Piece (Queen): “After all this time and so many of my people were sick and died; this was very difficult time for me. During this time I was thinking a lot and I never lost my hope because chess actually teaches you to be stubborn, to go for the goal… My family members died one after another. I was especially shaken by the death of my wife; it was so unexpected, very difficult. I stopped playing chess because of that. I got sick for a long time after that. I had to fight for my own survival.” Eye Glasses: “These eye glasses are from my father. They are almost 50 years old, so the top glass is for watching and bottom one is for reading and my father preserved these eye glasses for a long time. I use them to read Torah at home.” Artist Statement Isroel is sitting, playing chess, next to a picture of himself and his twin brother in a recreation of his flat in Vilnius. “Chess,” he tells us, “helped me to survive.” The window shows a view of Irkutsk, the city in which he was hidden as a baby and survived the war. On the chair is a scroll of the Prayer for the Dead; on the wall under the window, a photo of his wife. In the background, his kitchen, and behind him books. He loves to read and books fill every corner of his house. The picture of the animation cat is Leopold, from the 50’s-era Russian cartoon, a favorite show of Isroel’s. Leopold’s motto was “let's live together in friendship.” “So this is my favorite proverb,” Isroel tells us. – Dwora Fried |
Visual biography 'wallpaper' by Mike Moran and Birgit Muller
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