The Journal of Aesthetic Education

I want to talk about a certain time not measured in months and years. For so long I have wanted to talk about this time, and not in the way I will talk about it now, not just about this one scrap of time. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I didn't know how. I was afraid, too, that this second time, which is measured in months and years, had buried the other time under a layer of years, that this second time had crushed the first and destroyed it within me. But no, today, digging around in the ruins of memory, I found it fresh and untouched by forgetfulness. This time was measured not in months but in a word—we no longer said "in the beautiful month of May," but "after the first 'action' or the second or right before the third. We had different measures of time, we different ones, always different, always with that mark of difference. . . .

—Ida Fink, A Scrap of Time and Other Stories¹

What are the boundaries of remembering? How do we make manifest the ruins of memory? How do we enter that time not measured in months and years? How do those not directly affected by the Holocaust encounter its meaning? How do we move toward the performance of memory with youth as co-creators, when we must be awake to the act of staging histories "both remembered and not remembered, transmitted and not transmitted"?² In designing aesthetic practices of remembrance in the present, we face both the specificity of time and the collapse of time as a way of knowing. This paper articulates the design of a project, titled "Wrapped in Grief," in constituting personal and public memory in the aesthetic space made available by arts education. How can our drama work "capture the aesthetic of memory, its instability and its contingency"?³ "Wrapped in Grief" responds [End Page 95] to these questions about the performance of memory by articulating a process for constructing and rehearsing our own identities among the narratives of others, present and past. Contemporary research examining memory and memorial underscores the fact that in provoking history as an act of remembrance for a new generation, we are narrating a sense of self. The paradox of re-telling these personal and public histories is that we are playing out that which cannot be represented. In this sense, drama education offers an aesthetic frame that allows us the possibility "to be the story and to repeat its unrepeatability."⁴

"Wrapped in Grief" was produced with youth between the ages of twelve and sixteen years old. As a Holocaust memorial project, it was designed as a scaffolded pedagogy in which historical contexts became the foundation informing all of the exploration that followed. First, young people created tableaux to locate particular events during the Holocaust; for example, Kristallnacht (9-10 November 1938), the Warsaw Ghetto uprising (19 April-16 May 1943), the book burnings of 10 May 1933, and the White Rose movement (public demonstrations against the Nazi regime by a network of students and faculty in Germany, 1942-43). The second stage of this arts education project asked participants to work on the identification of loss in their own lives, in juxtaposition to the historical archive with which they had been presented. "Wrapped in Grief" culminated in the staging of a mise-en-scene of memory, in which the young people fashioned large-scale sculptures as an artifact of their experience of memorial.

The aesthetic frame that circumscribes the design of this "Wrapped in Grief" structure is threefold, and it takes up the challenge of staging history by (1) creating narrative relationships between diverse texts—autobiographical, legal, documentary; scripts, photographs, visual art forms; diary, memoir, survivor testimony; (2) exploring the relationship between the range of source materials and the students' personal and artistic reflections about them through writing, images, improvisation, tableaux, movement, scene study, or visual art activities; and (3) considering our relationship not only to the Holocaust, itself, but to how it shapes our lives in the present. As such, "Wrapped in Grief" stands...