A Memorial to Flight

Photo: Laura Stamer.

There must have been birds of passage in the sky above Gilleleje in October 1943, synchronised flocks heading south to their winter homes. Their descendants still take the same route when temperatures start to drop. Birds know no borders, but we humans live behind them. Then as now Danish and Swedish territory was divided by an invisible maritime border. The difference between being on one side or the other could be a matter of life and death. The word flight describes a swift movement through the air, as when birds fly, but it can also mean escape – from someone or something that is a threat. Here the move is never chosen, something reflected in related verbs for people who are forced, hunted, driven to flee. Language that expresses the violence and fear behind the act.

Dramatic events can leave clear traces in a town or landscape, but they can also be more imperceptibly present as layers of meaning beneath the surface. A particular kind of silence pervades places where something ill-fated has taken place. As if every square inch of land or sea witnessed what happened but is incapable of telling us. To fill the silence our minds start to create images of their own. Images based on the knowledge we have about what took place in that particular place, images interwoven with the perspectives of the present. Collective memory describes what a society or community remembers independent of the individual’s personal memories. Decisive events we choose not to forget by making them heard and seen – by telling of them and creating places of remembrance and memorials. They become shared memories even though we never experienced them ourselves.

On the surface the sea between Denmark and Sweden tells us nothing about the fishing boats that sailed across the invisible border with Danish Jews on board. The skies are also silent. As is the horizon. We look towards it, into the distance, and remember what happened without having lived through it. High above the land and sea birds of passage continue to migrate with the changing seasons. Entirely unmoved by life down here as they soar above in free and borderless flight.


Gitte Broeng
Translaton: Jane Rowley

 

Facts
Artist: Karin Lind
Displaced Horizon, 2023, Memorial ground, 22 Nordre Strandvej, Gilleleje, Denmark
The artwork consists of a split granite boulder with an inscription, two oak benches and unhewn stone steps to th e shore with an oak railing.
The boulder is 300 cm long, 170 cm wide and 185 cm high, and weighs approximately 10 tonnes.

The memorial is made in collaboration with Gribskov Municipality and art consultant Charlo]e Bagger Brandt/Råderum.
Memorial costs generously donated by an anonymous foundation.

Photo: Laura Stamer.

Memorial for October 1943

Photo: Laura Stamer.

The Geography of Hope

The small fishing village Gilleleje