When reading an architectural review, we always see some professional descriptive words. For example: “the flow of sunlight, wind, and water make a great space.” It is a classic truth, but it’s a very abstract description. The building we are going to introduce today is extraordinary. It is rare for visitors to have an emotional impact when they enter the building without professional architectural knowledge.

The Jewish Memorial Museum in Berlin was set up to commemorate the cruel history of the Jewish persecution.

The experience began before the visitor entered the hall. From a distance, the slender and acute-angled outlook of the building is full of irregular windows, reminiscent of the scars of bumpy history.

The slender and acute-angled outlook of the building is full of irregular windows, reminiscent of the scars of bumpy history.

The exhibition follows dates and events marked on the ground. The windows also appear when moving around in the internal space. The function of the window here is not limited by only ventilation and light transmission; it reminds the visitors that they are intersecting with the turbulent history during the entire visit.

The windows, reminiscent of the scars of bumpy history, remind the visitors that they are intersecting with the turbulent history during the entire visit.

After reading the photos and introduction text along the tour route, we will reach the basement.

There will be several particular exhibition areas. Open the first exhibition area’s door and step into a dark space with an unusually high ceiling with oppressive walls around. The only opening was a small hole at the highest point to let the glimmer in, making the light of hope was at such a high and far away from me. I can felt the burn from the situation of the Jewish people.

The only opening was a small hole at the highest point to let the glimmer in, making the light of hope was at such a high and far away from me.

When entering the next exhibition area, I saw countless metal faces on the ground. Each iron face seems to look different, layered on top of each other, extending to the opposite side. But when I reach the opposite side, there is no exit; only a window is opened. For me, the window representing the freedom that we can see but cannot get, and then I have to walk back. Stepping on the metal faces, the sound of knocking metal echoes around the space. KONN! KONN! KONN! It reminded me that the sacrifice of the victims makes us today.

Stepping on the metal faces, the sound of knocking metal echoes around the space. KONN! KONN! KONN! It reminded me that the sacrifice of the victims makes us today.

The last area is full of enormous stone pillars. I found myself lost sense of direction within these towering stone pillars. The sky is up there, but there is no way out.

The tall stone pillars bow their heads like giants and despise the presence of visitors as if saying that you can’t jump out of our palms.

After leaving the museum, although the mood was heavy and a little excited. The heavy was because I felt the pain of persecution; the excitement was learned that a building with proper design could bring out such an impactful feeling. It’s like hearing a sad song. The lyrics may sing in different languages, but through the melody of the music, you can understand the original intention of the signer.

After the visit, the designer was persuaded. In addition to the function and appearance, the most important thing is the feeling of the user. It’s like whether a pet bed can be designed to bring an emotional connection between the owner and the pet? Although challenging, it is still possible. After all, there is a building in Berlin telling us about this possibility. This precious experience also indirectly helped the emergence of the Joey sofa.