Multisensory Memorial Design & Placemaking

Berlin, Germany is one of the most unique cities in the world when it comes to the phenomenon of memorial design. While in Berlin for a month this summer, I experienced memorials in the form of monuments, museums, archives, and even just stones in the pavement.

I was coming off of a class that I had taken the previous semester in which we discussed the role of senses in everyday life. The idea of the false narrative of the sensory hierarchy had greatly impacted my view of design, which already held an important role in how I view the world, especially countries and areas that are new to me. Because I looked at all of the memorials I visited through this particular lens, I noticed a pattern: many memorials seem to legitimize the western idea of the sensory hierarchy in the form of sight essentialism.

The most commonly recognized idea of sensory hierarchy, particularly in the West, is that the senses are ranked in order of most to least important with sight first, then hearing, touch, taste, then smell. In reality, sensory hierarchy differs based on culture, ability, and personal sensorium.

In all types of design, the sensory hierarchy is sometimes used to determine in what form to incorporate certain ideas into a product or service, but more often than not the sensory hierarchy does not create an active step in the design process, rather it passively predetermines what sense should be focused on. In the case of memorial design, the sensory hierarchy seems to assume that a memorial should always be primarily visual. This leaves out and alienates many people from experiencing the design and also snubs creativity. I have started calling this concept “sight essentialism,” meaning it is commonly thought that some products and services should be designed exclusively as visual experiences.

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The common conception of memorials is unnecessarily rooted in visuality and materiality. Memorial design’s affliction of sight essentialism waters down the crux of memorials: to remember.

The slight semantic difference between commemoration and remembrance is very important to the placemaking of memorial spaces: commemoration is done by the statue itself, while remembrance is an active verb to describe an individual’s reaction to a memorial. A good memorial takes into consideration remembrance over commemoration, because it wants an active exchange of emotion between the monument and the viewer, not just to provide something to look at. Emotion comes as a result of reflection and remembrance, and can be an indicator of the efficacy of a memorial.

Being reminded of an event or person by a monument and feeling nothing about it is almost useless: what is the point of remembering if not to be led to a response? Pure commemoration could be achieved just through a single plaque containing flat, toneless text, but of course even the least emotional memorial designs tend to steer clear from this. In theory, then, the most important factor to consider when designing a memorial is how the information it relays evokes an emotional response.

People come to these places not just to learn but to be present– a passive memorial is ineffective. Placemaking in a somber, shared space requires non-traditional approaches that consider even wider ranges of sociability, uses, activities, and emotions. Most ultimately, placemaking in a memorial space facilitates reflection and embraces shared experiences but does not demand any certain reaction: this sort of ambiguity can be difficult to achieve, but incredible when done correctly.

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One of the most emotionally impactful memorials I experienced while in Germany, and an example of multi-sensory memorial design, was called ​​Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves) by Menashe Kadishman. The installation resides at the Jewish Museum in Berlin and is made up of over 10,000 heavy iron circles of varying sizes cut into faces with open mouths. The faces cover the entire floor of a large, cavernous room with high enough ceilings to produce echoes. Similar to the briefly aforementioned stumbling stones, Shalekhet produces a visceral reaction in visitors by asking to be traversed.

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Shalekhet demonstrates perfectly how multisensory memorials can create more meaning than visual ones with just a simple switch in concept.

Before it was donated to the museum, the piece was not intended to be walked on, but now it is difficult to imagine the impact of the piece without this tactility and the sounds produced by it.

The walk on the faces from one side of the room to the other is a long one, not only because of the distance but because one instinctually tries to make as little noise as possible by moving slowly and gently. The clinks made by the iron faces reverberate and with every step an intense emotion, whether guilt or relief, echoes.

Once a visitor gets to the other side where there are no faces, they hesitantly linger before realizing they will have to do it all over again in order to get to the other side. Some describe feelings of immense guilt, feeling as if they are symbolically stepping on screaming victims of the Holocaust, while others feel a sense of release, as if to have given victims voices to speak, shout even, about their trauma. This is the power of a multisensory memorial: it evokes many emotions that differ based on personal sensorium, culture, and experiences. Everyone leaves ​​Shalekhet feeling something unique, but no one leaves feeling nothing.

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Other examples of multi-sensory memorial design utilize smell, music, and spoken audio. One exhibit from the “Berlin Global” exhibit at the Humboldt Museum entitled “Smells of Berlin” was made up of sets of canisters at different tables which contained different scents meant to represent the present day and history of the city- from perfume, to bread, to dog poop. The Topography of Terror, a public outdoor exhibit that catalogues the rise of fascism in Germany, uses extremely impactful audio clips from Hitler’s speeches, and readings from historical letters and newspapers.

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Memorials present a curious case for placemaking and design that begs to be solved through unconventional means. Designers should strive to stray from the sensory hierarchy and consciously consider all options–– the answer could be right under your nose, or your feet.