But, wait! You might say. Aren’t the Soviets and the Germans the bad guys?!
You’re not wrong. Unspeakable atrocities were committed by German and Soviet citizens against the Lithuanians and the Jewish. But I ask you to consider this: even the “bad guys” experienced loss of life.
That notion was the theme I held to while trying to portray German and Soviet points of view. Please understand that viewing these stories in this light is in no way intended to lessen the severe trauma suffered by the Lithuanians and the Jewish. I can’t imagine being a member of any of these cultures, looking at history through these lenses.
The red-tinged rose with prominent veins symbolizes the bodies of fallen Soviet soldiers and attempts to visualize the pain their families experienced. Under Soviet rule, fathers, brothers, and sons lost their lives for a cause they didn’t necessarily believe in and for a leader who demanded utmost obedience. Survivors honor those they have lost by placing flowers on memorials, especially on the Monument to the Port Liberators in Klaipeda, Lithuania.
The lock is for the Germans, who will forever be locked in their bloodstained history. This era showed us all just how dark ordinary men and women can go. I imagine survivors coming out of the war years, slowly realizing exactly what was done, held captive in regret. This lock is on the gate to the German Cemetery in Klaipeda.
The stone face with the cobwebbed lips is for the Lithuanians, who had their story silenced for so long: the occupations, the deportations, a history of quiet domination in a world that didn’t pay attention. This memorial isdedicated to those who were tortured, exiled, and killed in the Gulag deportations.
And finally, the feathers tipped in blood are for the Jews. A single photo, a lone paragraph, one person, cannot even begin to show the depth of the pain experienced by this people. This photo is unique out of this set. While in the German Cemetery photographing the lock, I watched a larger crowlike bird attack and eat a smaller wren-like bird. These are the remnants of that event. I in no way intend to sound callous or irreverent towards this culture, but I imagined the wren as a metaphor for the trauma experienced by the Jewish people.
While all four of these points of view contain expressions of pain, I want to be explicit in highlighting hope as well. I have hope that Russian and German citizens will be firm in saying, “Never Again.” I have hope that the world will hear Lithuania’s story now, that we will weep with them over their losses and rejoice with them in their newfound freedom.
And I have hope that because Jacob still breathes as a people, they will eventually find healing.
