November 6th, 2023

*Trigger Warning: discussion of WWII* Skip to picture to avoid.

I want to tell a story about a boy named Peter.

Peter grew up in Nazi occupied Holland. One night, his town was bombed. Peter was afraid, hidden under the stairs of his house, the only shelter they had against bombs, but the bombs never touched his house.

When he awoke, he saw rubble across the street. Him and his friends went out to play, but one of his friends was missing. Thinking nothing of it, since Peter was only about 7, he remarked that his missing friend sure would have loved to play in the rubble with them. He was missing out on all the fun.

When Peter grew up, he moved away to Canada. It wasn’t until he was there and an old friend came to visit and they were talking about the good times that their old missing friend came up. You see, they never saw him again.

You might be able to see where this is going. The rubble Peter and his friends played on that day was the house of his missing friend. His friend was missing because he was buried below.

Peter was my Opa. Both him and my Oma had stories from the war. But my Opa’s story came to mind while I was standing in the art gallery. The images his story would invoke for me flashed in my eyes. My grandparents saw destruction like that depicted in the art I was looking at.

Image of art, black pieces of a bombed, destroyed city.
Image is of a piece of art on a circular pedestal at the Two Rivers Art Gallery, with a city scene that looks bombed and destroyed. Photo taken by myself.

Now, I know telling a war story about my Opa in a blog about an art gallery is odd. But I have a reason for telling that story. When I was looking at the work in the art gallery, when we had to image ourselves in the piece, I was transported to a place that reminded me of the war torn towns my grandparents. Images from the places they lived after bombs fell in books with Dutch words in them. Images I had imaged so many times before felt so much more real.

This piece made me think of the destruction of man, especially in war. I told you one story from one person who survived the war. But there are countless.

There are wars going on today, in Ukraine, Israel and Palestine. There are children feeling the fear my grandparents felt as children.

I thought about this, trying to let the thoughts pass through my head. When we pictured ourselves in the work, I felt a deep sense of sadness. That images that to me are fiction are real for some. They were real for two people very important to me.

Image of a green plant, with leaves and needles
Image of a plant created for art piece, with leaves and spiky nettles on it. It was in the center of the artwork seen in above picture.
Image of a green plant, with leaves and needles
Image of a plant created for art piece, with leaves and spiky nettles on it. It was in the center of the artwork seen in above picture.
Image of a green plant, with leaves and needles
Image of a plant created for art piece, with leaves and spiky nettles on it. It was in the center of the artwork seen in above picture.

The plant growing out made me think of two things: how plants take over war torn places, like so many battlefields in Europe from the world wars. And, that despite the odds, living things survive war. Plants, animals and humans. Living things find ways to survive the harshest conditions.

I did not think when I went to the art gallery that I would feel what I did. I did not think there would be a piece of art that would make me think about what I did.

My grandparents are always on my mind in November. Remembrance Day brings stories of Canadian soldiers fighting to liberate my grandparents and so many others In Europe. The month also holds a birthday and an anniversary of death of the same two people who lived through World War II. That piece of art pulled it into my thoughts even more.

Art can bring out emotions. I’d love to use the art gallery when I teach. It would be great for a field trip, especially if the exhibits tied into what we were learning. But I think remembering the emotions that can come up is important. I’m glad I had the experience I did, I’m glad I thought of things that were likely not intentioned by the artist, Jude Greibel. I will have students who have situations like I did today. They may not be able to hold in emotions or may be withdrawn.

In class, we talked about students coming into class with emotions and experiences that we will not know, and sometimes we do not know what will affect our students or how they will react. I did not think about what that would be like on a field trip until I was leaving the gallery myself, and thinking about how some students will be affected by field trips in ways I might never think they would be. It’s something to keep in mind.

At times, this is something I might not be able to know about. Some exhibits I might not be able to bring my class to due to a heavy subject or student age being incompatible. That’s okay, not everything is for everyone. Still, I hope to bring my future classes to the art gallery to see exhibits and make their own art inspired by the exhibits.