65 + 10 Years Later { 15 images } Created 11 Apr 2020
For the first time in ten years, I returned to photograph at The Hostel for Holocaust Survivors at Sha'ar Menashe Psychiatric Hospital. At the time, the world had marked sixty-five years for the liberation of Auschwitz, and now seventy-five.
I met Efraim Kruzel, an 80-year-old Holocaust survivor, sitting in a large iron bed opposite the front door, staring at a point in the distance. He had the exact same look on his face, and he was sitting in the same spot he had been sitting ten years before. Only the small wheelchair that had been replaced by the large iron bed, and a few wrinkles added to his soft face, could attest to all the years gone by. But for Kruzel, time stands still. And it stopped long ago, seventy-five years ago.
Nowadays, the hostel at Sha`ar Menashe is home to dozens of Holocaust survivors. And over the years it has been one for many more. Those who spent most of their lives in psychiatric institutions, and some who became somewhat involved in society until their mental health deteriorated, and they found themselves in need of hospitalization. Whoever arrives here will remain for the rest of his life.
Most of those photographed ten years ago are no longer alive, just as all Holocaust survivors in the world, whose numbers are declining from year to year. Including Hungarian-born Arieh Bleir who reminded me so much of my beloved grandfather, the gentle and pleasant Julia Vodna, and many others. Most of them were buried in the cemetery just across the hospital fence. New tenants continue to arrive at the hostel at a slow pace. And the pace is declining. Such are Israel Hershko, 94, born in Romania, who came with his wife when she needed hospitalization and remained after her death, and Israel Shiner, born in Ukraine, who immigrated to Israel in 1989, and Golda Schwartz, born in Romania.
Surrounded by dedicated volunteers and therapists who try to fill their last years with joy, in a place where loneliness, sadness and silence are always present, they struggle day after day as they awaken from nightmares, hear voices, disconnect and reconnect to reality, sink into depression and rise from it. They cling to rituals and routines, wait at the entrance to the dining room waiting for it to open, sit in fixed places in front of the TV and in the dining room, and return every item to its place.
These days, when anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial are spreading in the world, the importance of documenting Holocaust survivors, especially those who survived but never survived physically, but not mentally, and are still living the war traumas, is growing in importance. They symbolize all Holocaust survivors who carry with them severe mental scars throughout their lives. This documentary spans over two points in time with over a decade's difference. In a decade, there may not remain anyone to photograph ...
I met Efraim Kruzel, an 80-year-old Holocaust survivor, sitting in a large iron bed opposite the front door, staring at a point in the distance. He had the exact same look on his face, and he was sitting in the same spot he had been sitting ten years before. Only the small wheelchair that had been replaced by the large iron bed, and a few wrinkles added to his soft face, could attest to all the years gone by. But for Kruzel, time stands still. And it stopped long ago, seventy-five years ago.
Nowadays, the hostel at Sha`ar Menashe is home to dozens of Holocaust survivors. And over the years it has been one for many more. Those who spent most of their lives in psychiatric institutions, and some who became somewhat involved in society until their mental health deteriorated, and they found themselves in need of hospitalization. Whoever arrives here will remain for the rest of his life.
Most of those photographed ten years ago are no longer alive, just as all Holocaust survivors in the world, whose numbers are declining from year to year. Including Hungarian-born Arieh Bleir who reminded me so much of my beloved grandfather, the gentle and pleasant Julia Vodna, and many others. Most of them were buried in the cemetery just across the hospital fence. New tenants continue to arrive at the hostel at a slow pace. And the pace is declining. Such are Israel Hershko, 94, born in Romania, who came with his wife when she needed hospitalization and remained after her death, and Israel Shiner, born in Ukraine, who immigrated to Israel in 1989, and Golda Schwartz, born in Romania.
Surrounded by dedicated volunteers and therapists who try to fill their last years with joy, in a place where loneliness, sadness and silence are always present, they struggle day after day as they awaken from nightmares, hear voices, disconnect and reconnect to reality, sink into depression and rise from it. They cling to rituals and routines, wait at the entrance to the dining room waiting for it to open, sit in fixed places in front of the TV and in the dining room, and return every item to its place.
These days, when anti-Semitism and Holocaust denial are spreading in the world, the importance of documenting Holocaust survivors, especially those who survived but never survived physically, but not mentally, and are still living the war traumas, is growing in importance. They symbolize all Holocaust survivors who carry with them severe mental scars throughout their lives. This documentary spans over two points in time with over a decade's difference. In a decade, there may not remain anyone to photograph ...
