Critics’ Forum
Visual Arts
A Monumental Purpose: Armenian Heritage Park
By Jean Murachanian
After 12 years of planning and hard work, Armenian Heritage Park (also
referred to as the Park), located in downtown Boston, Massachusetts,
on the recently created Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy Greenway (hereafter,
the Greenway), was finally dedicated on May 22, 2012. Built on public
land, the ambitious project was conceived and funded by the Armenian
community as a gift to the City of Boston and the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts. The purpose of the project is to represent the
contributions of Armenian immigrants, acknowledge the Armenian
Genocide, and recognize the immigrant experience as a whole. The mere
location of the Park signifies these intentions in explicit terms –
situated in the heart of Boston’s historic district near the Freedom
Trail and within walking distance of the New England Holocaust
Memorial, itself dedicated in 1995 to foster reflection on the Jewish
Holocaust.
With the completion of Armenian Heritage Park, I took the opportunity
to include it in an art history undergraduate seminar I led this
Spring on Holocaust/Genocide Museums and Memorials at the University
of New England. Our class made a field trip to Boston to visit the
memorials, as well as the Armenian Library and Museum of America
(ALMA) in Watertown, Massachusetts. It was a fruitful day, made even
more memorable by our private tour of ALMA by curator Gary
Lind-Sinanian. I was proud to have such prominent Armenian sites to
take my students to and pleased with the prospect of direct comparison
afforded by the juxtaposition of Armenian Heritage Park to the New
England Holocaust Memorial.
I find it noteworthy to add some important but telling facts about the
class. My course was fully enrolled because the students were
fascinated by the Jewish Holocaust, but … they had never heard of
the Armenian Genocide. The students were primarily seniors, from a
variety of majors, who were taking the class in fulfillment of an
advanced class outside their majors.
Perhaps I should not have been surprised that my students had not
heard about the Armenian Genocide, but it still gives me pause,
particularly as an educator, that university students, even at the
senior level, do not know about our greatest tragedy. Have we been so
immersed in our collective pain and our quest for recognition that we
have failed to make known the Armenian Genocide to the general public?
Or have we simply not been vigilant enough in insisting on its
acknowledgement? What is the role of each of us in this predicament?
What can we, our institutions, and our memorials do to remedy this
lack of knowledge outside our own community? And finally, what can we
learn, if anything, from the example of the Jewish Holocaust?
In comparing Armenian Heritage Park to the New England Holocaust
Memorial, my class unanimously concluded that the Jewish memorial was
far more effective, both in terms of its didactic program and its
emotional resonance. I was saddened by this obvious conclusion but
believe we can learn from this example how individuals respond, both
intellectually and physically, to memorials encountered within the
cityscape. In general terms, my students found that the design of
Armenian Heritage Park was too abstract to readily convey meaning, and
it woefully lacked information about the Armenian Genocide and the
Armenian people. This last point is particularly important, since –
as suggested by the make-up of my class – the public remains largely
unaware of the Armenian Genocide. Conversely, the design of the New
England Holocaust Memorial was meaningful both in terms of its
allusion to the death camps and its personal references. In addition,
even though most people are aware of the Jewish Holocaust, the
memorial, nonetheless, provides didactic information.
To be fair, Armenian Heritage Park is not strictly a Genocide
memorial, but it incorporates a memorial in its design. The Park is
comprised of two fundamental sections – an abstract sculpture and a
labyrinth. The abstract sculpture, a black split dodecahedron
(12-sided globe), “commemorates the immigrant experience” and is
“dedicated to lives lost during the Armenian Genocide of 1915-1923 and
all genocides that have followed,” as noted on the monument’s website.
The sculpture is designed to allow for annual reconfigurations to
reference “all who were pulled apart from their country of origin and
came to these Massachusetts shores, establishing themselves in new and
different ways.” In other words, it represents the dispersion and
continued reformation of the Armenian community post-Genocide and, in
an effort toward inclusion, also alludes to the immigrant experience
as a whole. The sculpture sits atop an elevated 16-foot reflecting
pool wherein “its waters wash over its sides and re-emerge as a single
jet of water at the Labyrinth’s center.” Benches curve around the
base of the pool closest to the street, providing visitors with a
space for contemplation, while overlooking the sculpture and the
labyrinth beyond. An inscription along the base facing the labyrinth
reads:
“Boston and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts have offered hope and
refuge for immigrants seeking to begin new lives. The park is a gift
to the Commonwealth and the City of Boston from the Armenian-American
community of Massachusetts. This sculpture is offered in honor of the
one and a half million victims of the Armenian Genocide of 1915-1923.
May it stand in remembrance of all genocides that have followed, and
celebrate the diversity of the communities that have re-formed in the
safety of these shores.”
As indicated on the Park’s website, the labyrinth is “a circular
winding path paved in grass and inlaid stone, [that] celebrates life’s
journey.” The labyrinth, although not necessarily an Armenian symbol,
has been utilized in the design because it is an ancient pattern that
“has become a universal metaphor of peace, harmony, contemplation and
healing.” The labyrinth has four distinct sections, each of which is
etched with a word marking the civic contributions made by the
Armenian immigrant community – Art, Service, Science, and Commerce.
Visitors are meant to walk the path of the labyrinth and contemplate
the journey and accomplishments of these people. At the center is a
fountain, which symbolizes “hope and rebirth” of those that
established new lives in Massachusetts, as signified by the
reemergence and re-formation of the water originating from the
sculpture. While Armenian Heritage Park symbolizes the experience of
Armenian immigrants, it is also meant to have universal significance
because it celebrates all immigrants and their unique journeys.
Needless to say, Armenian Heritage Park is an ambitious project, which
involved a great deal of hard work, dedication, planning, skill, and
financial commitment by those involved. Its funding by
Armenian-Americans is a testament to the success and pride of the
community. (It cost over $6 million, and another $1 to $1.5 million
is currently being sought to fund an endowment to maintain the site.)
Its location, on not only public land, but prominent public land, is
significant. Symbolically, it commemorates the Armenian Genocide,
honors the contributions of the Armenian-American community, and
celebrates the immigrant experience as whole. These are certainly
honorable and lofty goals, but is the Park effective? Does it convey
meaning in a manner comprehensible to the average passerby, who, after
all, is the primary visitor given its public location, and, I would
argue, our intended audience given the need for public awareness of
the Armenian Genocide? Yes, problems abound when dealing with the
placement of monuments on public land, but let us take a look at the
New England Holocaust Memorial for comparative purposes.
The Jewish Holocaust memorial is comprised of six 54-foot high glowing
glass towers, set in a row on a narrow strip of land along a
well-traveled street near Faneuil Hall. The site is visible to
motorists traveling along busy Congress Street, while pedestrians
engage with the memorial by walking its length as they pass through
the glowing glass towers, each one set over iron grates that emit
warm, white billows of air. Each tower is named after one of the main
death camps – Chelmno, Treblinka, Majdanek, Auschwitz, Sobibor, and
Belzec – and they are etched with numbers which evoke those tattooed
on concentration camp prisoners. Throughout the monument there are
heart-wrenching quotes from Holocaust survivors. At the two entry
points, there are didactic panels. From this brief description, it is
obvious that the Holocaust memorial is eye-catching, symbolically
intelligible, emotionally moving, and informative. It works on
several levels simultaneously – the glass towers explicitly evoke the
chimney stacks of the death camps, while the material they are made
from alludes to Kristallnacht, and their form suggests a continued
presence among the cityscape. Personal connections, provided by the
six million etched victim numbers and the numerous quotes, serve to
draw the visitor in with both the magnitude and the individual
accounts of horror. Again, even though visitors are most likely aware
of the Holocaust, the memorial includes information panels.
So what might be the obvious lesson here, if anything? It seems to me
we attempted to convey too many ideas, were not explicit enough with
our symbolization, neglected to include the personal element, and did
not provide adequate didactic information. In our attempt at
universalism, we simply failed to properly tell our own story.
Significantly, the Holocaust memorial commemorates the six million
Jews that died, even though almost six million other victims also
perished in the Holocaust. The Jewish community emphasizes the Jewish
loss because for them it is critical to recognize that Jews were
explicitly targeted for extermination because of who they were, while
other victims of the Holocaust (Poles, Ukrainians, Gypsies,
homosexuals, the disabled, etc.) were conveniently swept up in the
extermination plan. (See Edward T. Linenthal, “Preserving Memory: The
Struggle to Create America’s Holocaust Museum” for further information
on this topic.)
Yes, the meaning of Armenian Heritage Park is enhanced by consulting
its official website and by the various programs that occur on its
grounds, but ideally meaning should be conveyed by the site itself and
the visitor’s engagement with its various elements. My students were
confused by the Park, even though we had discussed the Armenian
Genocide and I had given them a print-out from the monument’s website.
As they moved through the Park, they were at a loss in making sense of
its meaning, although they did enjoy resting on the benches and
walking the labyrinth. However, a few did appreciate the progressive
design of the dodecahedron and another, delighted by the labyrinth,
later researched its meaning. Conversely, as they moved through the
New England Holocaust Memorial, they were visibly affected. At the
end of the semester, as one of my students, Michael Keenan, indicated
in his design proposal for an Armenian Genocide memorial:
“I would like there to be quotes from the Armenian [G]enocide survivor
victims as well as any other quotes from that time period. In Boston,
the quotes that surrounded the Holocaust memorial were where the
message of the Holocaust was truly conveyed. The quotes were powerful
yet short and to the point, which made the reader connect more with
the site. This to me was very powerful and I would like to implement
that idea into this Memorial.”
According to members of Armenian Heritage Park Foundation (hereafter,
the Foundation), there are tentative plans to add didactic information
to the labyrinth, which will highlight the contributions made by
prominent Armenian immigrants, such as the Abstract Expressionist
painter, Arshile Gorky. Apparently, details about the Genocide were
minimized because the Foundation encountered outside political
pressure. Hence, in an effort to appease outside parties and ensure
that the Armenian community was represented on the Greenway, the
Foundation made concessions and opted for a more inclusive message.
To be fair, the Greenway, a 15-acre linear urban park created in 2008
from reclaimed land as a result of Boston’s “the Big Dig,” was
established to allow various civic and ethnic groups to enhance the
cityscape through the creation of unique public spaces meant to unify
the city. The Foundation also decided to highlight other aspects
about Armenians in an effort to move beyond the Genocide.
Furthermore, rather than holding a design competition for the site, a
committee of less than a dozen people decided on the form.
I leave you with several questions. Is a memorial/monument/park that
seems to miss the mark in conveying meaning to the general public
better than nothing at all? Have we been so overly sensitive to
outside perceptions of our community that we have failed to be
explicit about our suffering? Should we simply move beyond the
Genocide, celebrate our accomplishments, and be grateful for any
opportunity to participate in civic representation? Have we been so
consumed with “recognition” of the Genocide that we have overlooked
the fact that we need to educate and inform others first? Are we
afraid to engage in heated debates about how we tell our story? As
James E. Young discusses in “The Texture of Memory: Holocaust
Memorials and Meaning,” the New England Holocaust Memorial Committee
encouraged “public debates on the merits and liabilities of the
memorial.” Young states further, “[W]here other communities had
fretted over the unseemly appearance of squabbling and dissent, the
committee in Boston encouraged it, and in so doing allowed debate to
drive the process forward.” I ask you, how can each of us make a
difference in our legacy?
All Rights Reserved: Critics’ Forum, 2013. Exclusive to Asbarez.
Jean Murachanian is an Assistant Professor of Art History at the
University of New England. She earned a Ph.D. in Art History from UCLA
in 2009.
You can reach her or any of the other contributors to Critics’ Forum
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