On Exploring Intergenerational Trauma and Healing Through Art
“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.” – Edgar Degas
In 2013, my installation, The Train from Auschwitz – A Journey from Shame to Self-Realization, was exhibited at The Harriet & Kenneth Kupferberg Holocaust Center in Queens, New York. The work emerged from a personal need—to reconcile the pain and inherited shame of being the son of two Holocaust survivors. Through art, I found a vessel strong enough to carry the weight of silence, memory, and grief. It gave shape to emotions that had lived inside me since childhood, often unspoken, always present.
Creating this installation wasn’t simply an artistic endeavor—it was an act of healing. A confrontation. A way to take back my voice and, perhaps, offer others a mirror for their own intergenerational wounds. I designed the space to be immersive and visceral—an experience that would leave a lasting imprint on those who walked through it.
You can read more about the exhibition here.
As part of the installation, I produced a 4-hour video montage projected alongside large-scale artwork and interpretive text panels. The video looped continuously, portraying a winter train journey from Bergen to Oslo. Vast snow-covered hills, frozen lakes, and barren landscapes set the tone—serene and contemplative. But every time the train disappeared into a tunnel, I edited in haunting archival footage: cattle cars, Nazi rail stations, the machinery of deportation. Light into dark. Peace into trauma.
The soundscape reflected that contrast. My friend Mac Quayle composed a meditative track for the bright stretches of the ride—ambient, calming, breath-like. But during the tunnels, the soundtrack shifted to raw, aching cries borrowed from Yehuda Poliker’s haunting music—echoes of inherited sorrow.
It was, metaphorically, a reverse-directional journey. My father’s train once led him to Auschwitz. My symbolic train departed from it. His journey moved into fear and annihilation; mine pushes outward—toward redemption, toward voice, toward beauty. From silence to expression. From shame to self-realization.
Here’s a 6-minute excerpt from the video:
Reflection
I often ask myself: What does it mean to reclaim a story you never chose to inherit? How do you touch the trauma etched into your DNA and not be consumed by it?
Art gave me a way. It didn’t erase the past—but it allowed me to live with it more fully, more truthfully. In crafting this installation, I wasn’t just telling my father’s story. I was reshaping my own. And maybe, just maybe, inviting others to do the same.
If this installation resonates with you, I invite you to read Healing Trauma through Art, reflecting on how trauma, creativity, and silence have shaped my journey.