In Between States: Field notes and speculations on postwar landscapes by Paul Amitai

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In Between States Field notes and speculations on postwar landscapes

Paul Amitai

ÂŠ 2013 Paul Amitai. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 License. ISBN: 978-1492781967

In Between States Field notes and speculations on postwar landscapes

I am standing in the same location taking the exact same photograph sixty years later. I wonder if he took as much time framing each shot or if I am making clinical what had been incidental. Of course, it isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t the same. Those people all long gone, posing as they did, not to mention the light as it cut through in that instant creating volume, depth, texture, blocking, masking in shadow, defining and simplifying, creating shape, contrast. That moment would never happen again. I am merely restaging the set, attempting to mentally stitch together a place I had only previously navigated through visual fragments and anecdotal information.

My mom and her family lived in a displaced persons camp in Zeilsheim, Germany after the war. For three and a half years, she and her parents and siblings and 3,000 Jews waited for strict quotas to get lifted, for the British to change course on Palestine, for a lifeline to surface on some other continent that would allow them to leave. The Zeilsheim camp was set up by the US Army, who appropriated preexisting barracks to house Holocaust survivors and war refugees. The northeast section of the town was cordoned off and German residents were forced to live elsewhere.

The establishment of the camp and processing of refugees was rocky from the start, as the American military proved to be ill-equipped to handle a massive human relief and relocation effort. Struggling in their battle to contend with starvation and disease, camp administrators unwittingly created a major crisis situation when they decided to house all refugees according to nationality, forcing Jews from Poland to live with their Polish wartime antagonists. Recognizing the ongoing management problems, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA) was soon brought in to oversee the operation. Zeilsheim was reorganized as a Jewish camp to create a less highly charged transitional space.

My grandpa, Ephraim Robinson (Misha, as he was nicknamed), was a Polish-born French-educated dairy chemist and hobbyist photographer who arrived in Zeilsheim with a wife, kids and a Leica camera. In a camp known for its active black market trade, grandpaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s legitimate currency was photos, a rare commodity among the deprivation. A self-organized miniature town infrastructure developed inside the Zeilsheim DP camp, and grandpa went from taking ID photos to shooting for the camp newspaper, Unterwegs.

His collected work spans intimate portraits of daily life, establishing shots of the campâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s architectural landscape, and documentation of political demonstrations and dignitariesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; speeches (David Ben-Gurion and Eleanor Roosevelt among them). The photos are an insiderâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s view of a temporary community, the vitality, hope, heartbreak, and frustration in the midst of recovery and transition. No other visual record of this magnitude capturing this particular time and place seems to exist. Grandpa Misha later organized the photos into his own journal, which depicts in some detail the inner workings of the camp. The pages are arranged according to routine activities, significant events, organizational structures, how people entertained themselves, studied, developed skills, and set about doing meaningful work as much as possible. I saw a photocopy of the journal some time after he died.

I visited Zeilsheim for the first time in 2007 and arranged for a walking tour led by a trio of retired local history buffs. I assumed they had never seen grandpaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journal, so I brought along my copy. The tour began at the Zeilsheim historical museum, a small, singleroom installation maintained by one of the men that is comprised of a series of glass cases containing brittle fragments of amber paper ephemera from the townâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s past. A vertical cabinet houses a torn visa of a former camp resident and a newspaper clipping from Unterwegs. On an adjacent counter is a threering binder opened to a newspaper article about a New York man who was born in the camp and returned to Zeilsheim for this same tour a few years prior.

Next to the binder is a copy of my grandpaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journal, which by this time has been published in Germany. A second copy of the book is tabbed with multi-colored post-it notes marking the locations of landmarks still standing. The museumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s proprietor brings it along in order to point out buildings as they exist today. A local reporter and photographer for the community newspaper have been invited by the tour guide to accompany on what I now understand to be a notable occasion. The photographer stops the group to stage a scene depicting the moment when I am shown one of the buildings in the book and snap a photo of it myself. A picture inside a picture inside a picture, window frame echoing past, present, future. The tour guide, practiced in his pose from previously hosted visits, gestures precisely for the news camera, angling the book and his upward gaze for dramatic effect.

The monument – there it is in the background of countless photographs. Standing in for the dead, posed alongside the survivors in a family portrait. The gathering point upon a diplomat’s arrival, the final destination during a political rally, a featured guest at holidays and memorials. A photo documents its own making. A small metal star stacked on top of a rectangular brick column planted on a raised stone platform. The facade is affixed with embossed masonry plaques containing a succinct message in English and Hebrew: “In memory of our dear people who were murdered under the Nazi regime”.

The monument was knocked down. No one claims to know when. The last Jewish refugees were moved out and the original residents swept back into their old homes, wiping away all evidence. Official conversation is polite now, spoken through tight smiles. On the tour I am taken to the location where a new monolith sits erect, polished granite and bronze with a sprawling text in German translated for me by the reporter. Softer words have been chosen for this version. Responsibility is diffuse. History reshaped by those left behind to control it.

Zeilsheim is thoroughly unremarkable in almost every way. To be there is to be in any provincial European village or, for that matter, any American town built around the turn of the 20th Century. It is a bedroom community for Frankfurt, like Ridgewood for Manhattan, Evanston for Chicago, or any number of urban planning analogies I could draw from places Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been.

But Ridgewood was never home to a forced labor camp. Ridgewood was never backyard to one of the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s largest corporations, a chemical industry conglomerate indicted for war crimes. Ridgewood was never taken over by a foreign occupying force to process war refugees. Ridgewood was never a UN displaced persons camp. Ridgewood never had barracks situated a few blocks north of its main street. Ridgewood never tore down the barracks to clear the way for a park, an erasure in the form of pastoral green blanketing earth still etched with this earlier architectural impression. Ridgewood is none of these things. But it could be.

The park is in Zeilsheim. In a dormant state it is perpetual stillness, save for a few bored teenagers, a withdrawn pensioner, and a middle-aged, mid-morning drunk punctuating the paint-chipped wooden benches that outline its periphery. A walker periodically carves a diagonal path across the concrete strap at the western edge of the expansive lawn, pulled along at the end of a retractable chain by her dog. Shit pile land mines pockmark the seemingly pristine grass. An obligatory public space gone to seed. The field is empty. No one strolls, plays, or spreads out a Sunday picnic blanket in the wide-open center. An invisible force field. The graffiti-buffed granite and bronze memorial monolith anchors the southwest edge, close to the approach from the parking lot. Easy to overlook against an analogous color scheme of concrete, canopy and brush, this is the sole indicator of prior land use.

The barracks were originally built by the chemical company Hoechst AG to house forced laborers during the war. Demand for manpower on the frontlines had created a sweat equity shortage for wartime production. Women from Soviet satellite states were captured, corralled, and shipped by cattle car to Zeilsheim to fill the void. Hoechst AG, a member of the I.G. Farben conglomerate, a major cog in the Nazi military-industrial machine, had manufacturing facilities positioned two kilometers southeast of Zeilsheim.

1945: Allied Forces dissolve I.G. Farben 1945-51: Hoechst AG plant placed under US control 1951: I.G. Farben split into original constituent companies The four largest (AGFA, Bayer, BASF, Hoechst) quickly buy all the rest.

The Hoechst AG facilities now reside inside the protective shell of Industriepark-Hรถchst, a massive research and manufacturing hub for multinational corporations in the chemical and pharmaceutical industries. Silicon Valley crossbred with the Rust Belt. Following a series of mergers and acquisitions, Hoechst AG was taken by French-based drug company Sanofi-Aventis in 2005, subsumed in name and identity. Sanofi-Aventis is currently one of the major occupants of the corporate park.

One site â&#x20AC;&#x201C; many factors for success

Industriepark HĂśchst expansion shows no signs of stopping: 3.7 billion euros invested in the Park since 2000. This shows that the Industriepark HĂśchst is an attractive site for companies in the chemicals, pharmaceuticals and process industries. And there are still 50 hectares of fully pre-developed land available for new facilities.

Bauhaus forefather architect Peter Behrens designed Hoechst AG headquarters as an expressionist cathedral of pixelated brick dripping stalactites from radial glass portals above its central interior echo chamber. The Behrens building is presently the corporate office for Industriepark developers, Infraserv Höchst. Infraserv occasionally opens the Behrens building to the public for guided tours. Groups wait for their pre-arranged timeslot to begin in the Industriepark welcome center located at the eastern security gate. Photography is expressly forbidden at all times in and around the park except when inside the Behrens building. I am first made aware of this when a security guard chews me out for snapping suspicious shots of the façade of a Sanofi-Aventis building that happens to be located next to the entry gate. I play dumb no-German-speaking tourist and walk away. In the lobby of the welcome center, an historical exhibition of the site (“A Walk Through Time”) features a few dozen reproductions of archival photographs organized by decade on a series of freestanding matte-white didactic panels. One grainy sepia-toned picture shows an orderly single file line of women being escorted by armed guard from the Zeilsheim barracks to the Hoechst AG factory. 45

Selected examples show how, through its dedicated employees, research expertise and high production standards, the location has developed and renewed itself stage by stage to meet the challenges of a changing world.

Industriepark-Hรถchst is a fortified city. Only so much can be observed from the tiptoe view at the perimeter wall. More invasive methods of inquiry are necessary to sync up competing narratives past and present. Adopting a guise of global ubiquity, physically located everywhere and nowhere, Sanofi-Aventis asserts a more outward facing presence in media space. Websites topped with slow motion banner ads, industry videos that double as shareholder reports, soft focus cancer drug commercials gliding to the sound of earnest piano tinkling, the multiplatform branding strategy repeats a locked groove of innovations, core values, its mission. The sprawling Sanofi campus by comparison is populated by the low resolution architecture of old video games, 8-bit blocks of white with blue accents stacked into windowless towers of productivity, lightproof casinos suspending time and space.

1. Planning, preparation, initiation, and waging of wars of aggression and invasions of other countries. 2. War crimes and crimes against humanity through the plundering and spoliation of occupied territories, and the seizure of plants in Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Norway, France, and Russia. 3. War crimes and crimes against humanity through participation in the enslavement and deportation to slave labor on a gigantic scale of concentration camp inmates and civilians in occupied countries, and of prisoners of war, and the mistreatment, terrorization, torture, and murder of enslaved persons. 4. Membership in a criminal organization, the SS. 5. Acting as leaders in a conspiracy to commit the crimes mentioned under counts 1, 2, and 3.

I.G. Farben executives were indicted for war crimes at Nuremberg. Few served time and many continued in leadership roles. Intellectual capital deemed too valuable to let evaporate, the Allied victors came to collect. Business goes on. Fade in decades later. Assets acquired, brands replaced. Logos, buildings, facilities, identities. Places inscribed, places erased. I recorded the voice of a narrator reciting the names of all of the Industriepark corporations. The list whispers a reinstatement of connections that the inexorable progress of mergers and acquisitions work so diligently to snuff out.

We want to be your perfect partner. Special requirements demand special services. If you operate in the chemical, pharmaceutical or related process industries, you need specific services. Performance that optimally supports your processes. Quality that is tailored to you and your company. So comprehensive that you can hand off all secondary processes you need. So efficient that you profit from the cost benefits. So holistic that all the services for your core business mesh together perfectly. So flexible that you can respond to changes and tackle the challenges of tomorrow.

Industripark-HĂśchst is a closed-loop border nation, a gated community of corporate neighbors. Several attempts to photograph the facilities from the ground are short-circuited by jumpy guards pacing building entrances, patrolling parking lots, stationed at security checkpoints, cruising along outlying commuter roads, and blocking private transport bridges. My telephoto lens is not properly endowed for the task. The pictures are boring. They donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t say much. This works to their benefit. Nothing to see here. The offspring of Hoechst AG seem to bank on banality as a strategy for continuing to operate unnoticed. Mergers and acquisitions function as a form of confusion. Every time the name changes, associations with the past dissolve further into the abyss.

Satellite images and website marketing materials take me closer to the site than my physical body ever could. I record video of my virtual walking tours, a drone hovering above the scene. I locate every corporation in Industriepark HĂśchst from my birdâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eye view, take screenshots of their locations, and grab visual data from their websites. I collect images of their logos and architectural photos of their offices. I work backwards to clarify linkages made blurry by incessant takeovers. I begin to wonder why I am poking around at the margins, drawing up connections that could be written off as conspiracy theory. This situation is not exceptional, not unprecedented, has happened since, and will happen again. I have a dream in which the DP camp was located on a space station. The orbiting barracks are funded by Hoechst AG / Sanofi-Aventis as a way to jettison a blight on their image. With the refugees far away, it is easy to forget about the precise set of circumstances that led the corporation to create the barracks in the first place. Out of sight, out of mind.

Images are taken from a fleet of specially adapted cars. Areas not accessible by car, like pedestrian areas, narrow streets, alleys and ski resorts, are sometimes covered by tricycles or snowmobiles. On each of these vehicles there are nine directional cameras for 360째 views at a height of about 8.2 feet, or 2.5 meters, GPS units for positioning and three laser range scanners for the measuring of up to 50 meters 180째 in the front of the vehicle.

From an undisclosed location thousands of miles away, I activate remote control to survey and interpret the terrain. The latest telepresence technologies employed to identify critical landmarks, comb the streets, capture photo and video proof, reconnaissance for future deployment. Flying drone, positioning satellite, macro view with zoom capabilities. Where physical artifacts are no longer available, image remnants collected across time are sutured, composite views overlaid. Ruptures are inevitable. A lens flare, heavy cloud cover, visual inconsistencies warping a more perfectly refined final document. To provide further support material, 3D spatial renderings are generated, wireframe architecture reconstructing relationships pre-existent within the built environment. Perspectival building forms based precisely on historical typologies are reintroduced into the landscape in which they were formerly sited. The ghostly vestige of decades since destroyed temporary infrastructure reanimated for the benefit of those with self-inflicted amnesia.

This is about what is now. What is forgotten, lazily drifting out to sea, weather beaten neglect, or crowbar to the floorboards acrid bleach and ammonia scrubbed eradication of all trace. This is about what is remade as unexceptional through sheer will. The incomprehensible determinedly shoved back into the banal. This is about what is erased, what lies latent, inert, invisible, without an ashen outline, the sooty buildup that surrounds the now empty place.

I examine the pictures again, the space within the image and the spaces in between. Rehearse the route. Memorize the path. When I land I know it will be as Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been there before. Blocks, nodes, zones have become more highly resolved. The density of pixels, points, buildings, bricks filled in. But much remains unmarked. Grid fields form, smudged out of range. To go unnoticed in public domain, revealed unwittingly, a collaborator. It takes more to undo, to demand to be fogged out. Unauthorized. Captured without restraint. From above or from the street, it has become my main accomplice, my informant, my guide. The grid, the map, the interface through which I have studied, concretized, stitched together the fragments. The immaterial made real. This space provides a ground plane, a relational environment to compare visual documents, archive and my own, sixty years between. Layer, smooth distortions between sites, across time. Forensic fragment evidence, building a case. Dappled light on crumbling brick slices through trees rippling in late afternoon, elastic shadow.

After the war, I.G. Farben and American business interests merged to develop chemical warfare agents. Together they founded the Chemagrow Corporation in Kansas City, Missouri, employing German and American specialists for the U.S. Army Chemical Corps. I.G. Farben continued to be traded on the Frankfurt Stock Exchange as a trust, holding a few real estate assets until it was finally declared bankrupt on November 10, 2003 by its liquidators, after contributing 500,000 DM (£160,000 or €255,646) towards a foundation for former captive laborers under the Nazi regime and the remaining property, worth DM 21 million (£6.7 million or €10.7 million) going to a buyer.

I can understand people getting emotional, but nobody’s going to strip me of stock I bought eight years ago.

This is a company that has some reputation problems, but I don’t see any taboo getting involved. The people now had nothing to do with all that.

It isn’t our problem, it’s all of Germany’s problem. We’re just the company that everyone hangs it on.

In 1941 an investigation by the US Justice Department exposed a marriage cartel between John D. Rockefellerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Standard Oil (now ExxonMobil) and I.G. Farben. The two corporations had formed a joint operation in 1927 called Standard IG Farben. It was revealed that the two had shared patents in order to control prices and markets in their respective regions. Standard was accused of hiding patents from the US Navy and supplying fuel to German submarines, which led to charges of criminal conspiracy. The Pentagon intervened, requesting that President Roosevelt stop the investigation in order to protect war production and oil supply. Roosevelt agreed, and the Senate committee investigating the matter, headed by Senator Harry Truman, was halted. Standard Oil paid a fine of $5000 and promised to stop supplying fuel to the enemies.

Furious at the decision to terminate the investigation of acts he considered treason, Truman initiated a new inquiry into Standard Oil’s war-time practices after succeeding Roosevelt as president in 1945. With the chief executives of I.G Farben simultaneously on trial at Nuremburg, Truman brokered a deal with the Allies that reduced or withdrew criminal charges leveled against both corporations in exchange for Standard Oil and I.G. Farben’s sponsorship of one of Truman’s most ambitious postwar projects – the relocation of the Jewish people.

The third critical player in this bold experiment was the nascent North Atlantic Space Agency. Formed by Allied forces using the seized assets and engineering expertise of Hitlerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hitherto classified space program (conquer Earth, then the stars), the North Atlantic Space Agency was a pre-NATO foray into interstellar nation building, with orbital occupation as the first point of order. By 1947, NASA was nearly ready to deploy the first manned space station. Standard Oil and I.G. Farbenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s advanced fuel refinement capacities and deep, war-enriched financial resources allowed NASA to speed up their launch schedule significantly.

Diplomatic efforts to establish a Jewish homeland in Palestine were failing to gain traction, while post-colonial England held its ground on immigration restrictions and bands of Jews and Arabs battled over territory on the ground. More immediate was the issue of temporarily housing Holocaust survivors and refugees across scorched Europe. Leaders of the continental nations demonstrated, at best, reluctance to accommodate the Jews, who in turn were, at the least, resistant to returning to the same bloody cocktail from which they had fled. Truman used the impasse to advance a plan for NASAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s space station to be put to use as a temporary Jewish outpost, an orbital displaced persons camp, to be operated by the US Army.

Final preparations advanced rapidly. Viewing the orbital displaced persons (ODP) camp as a solution to their immigration problem both at home and abroad, England came on board as a willing partner. Spaceship Exodus was positioned for takeoff on German farmland 20 kilometers southwest of Frankfurt. On December 30, 1947, one month after the UN General Assembly voted down the separation plan for Palestine, Exodus rocketed into the atmosphere hauling the first module of barracks designed to house 1,500 refugees. Transport vehicles arrived shortly thereafter, loaded down with leftover wartime military rations and 3,000 Jews of Russian and Polish origin.

The camp is the space that is opened when the state of exception begins to become the rule.

The ODP camp proved to be a longer-term solution than originally envisioned. Additional installations were positioned to form swollen clusters of interlocking units â&#x20AC;&#x201C; sleeping quarters, schools, clinics, canteens. The UN was brought in to monitor the camp following two chaotic years of US Army control in which food shortages, pandemic diseases, and rampant black market trade had brought the camp to near total collapse. No less bureaucratic or ineffectual, the UN relief agency at least had prior experience facilitating contexts of a similar magnitude and could potentially predict outcomes.

What had been unexpected was the degree to which the camp would evolve into its own selfregulated, hive-like ecosystem where previously accepted rules of conduct were not applicable. The ODP camp was an exceptional space, a riverboat casino, an offshore research lab of social experimentation and entrepreneurial innovation. No longer Earth-bound, touching soil knotted by prescripts of Talmudic law, the camp residents were able to rationalize loopholes and detonate barriers standing in the way of absolute production. The Jewish archipelago was renamed Israel after the ancient homeland. If the temple couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be rebuilt in the motherland, a post-national rhizome would sprout up in its stead. Eyes everywhere, beyond all borders.

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Images p.2 Entrance, DP camp, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.3 Former DP camp entrance, Zeilsheim, 2007 p.4 Shop window, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.5 Shop window (currently private residence), Zeilsheim, 2007 p.8-9 Entrance, DP camp, looking south, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.10 Zeilsheim Childrens Center, c.1947 p.12 Signature stamp, back of photograph, Ephraim Robinson, c.1947 p.14 Rally for liberation of the camps, Pfaffenwiese, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.16 Barracks, DP camp, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.18-19 Detail, DP camp police headquarters, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.20 Holocaust memorial construction, Zeilsheim, c.1946 p.21 Details, Holocaust memorial, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p.22-3 Multiple views, Holocaust memorial, Zeilsheim, c.1947 p. 24 Current memorial, public park, Zeilsheim, 2011 p. 26-7 Satellite image, former barracks location, Zeilsheim, 2011 p.28-9 Main street, Pfaffenwiese, Zeilsheim, 2011 p.30 Barracks location (currently public park), Zeilsheim, 2011 p.32 Back side, current memorial, Zeilsheim, 2011 p.33 Camp building (currently housing complex storage), Zeilsheim, 2011 p.34-5 Forced laborers arriving at work site, Höchst, c.1944 p.36-37 Forced laborers barracks, Zeilsheim, c.1944 p.38-9 IG Farben headquarters (currently Goethe University) Frankfurt, 2011 p.40 Main entrance and reception, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.42 Hoechst AG headquarters occupied by US military, Höchst, 1945 p.42-3 Sanofi-Aventis building and entrance, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.44 Reception and exhibition space, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.45 Peter Behrens Building, Hoechst AG headquarters, Höchst, 1924

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Images p.46 Interior, Hoechst AG headquarters (currently Infraserv Höchst), 2011 p.47 Detail, Hoechst AG headquarters, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.48 Security gates and boundary walls, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.50-7 Sanofi-Aventis facilities, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.60 Signage, corporate tenants, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.62 Meeting room, Infaserv Höchst, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.64 Sanofi-Aventis facility, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.66 Satellite map, corporate locations, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.68 Clockwise (top left): Hoechst AG logo; satellite map, Hoechst AG headquarters; Sanofi-Aventis website; Sanofi-Aventis advertisement, 2011 p.69 Maps, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.70-1 Public park, Google Street View, Zeilsheim, 2012 p.72-3 Private residence, Google Street View, blurred by Google per resident request, Zeilsheim, 2012 p.74-5 Clockwise (top left): aerial photograph, Zeilsheim barracks, 1945; 3-D model, Zeilsheim barracks, 2011; Zeilsheim barracks, c.1947; 3-D models placed in satellite maps of former barracks location, 2011 p.76-7 Public park, former barracks location, Zeilsheim, 2011 p.78 Top: Entrance, DP camp, c.1947. Bottom: Public park, Zeilsheim, 2011 p.80-1 Camp building (currently housing complex storage), Zeilsheim, 2011 p.82-4 IG Farben headquarters (currently Goethe University), Frankfurt, 2011 p.86-9 Auditorium, Hoechst AG headquarters, Industriepark-Höchst, 2011 p.90-3 Detail, Sanofi-Aventis advertisement, 2011 p.94-101 Details, Infaserv Höchst advertisements, 2011

Notes p.43 Infraserv Höchst marketing brochure, 2010. p.49 Zeitstreifen (A Walk Through Time), wall text, Industriepark-Höchst, Building C 820 entrance hall, 2011. Exhibition documenting the industrial history of Höchst. p.59 United States of America v. Carl Krauch, et al., indictment, United States Nuremberg War Crimes Trials, May 3, 1947. p.63 Infraserv Höchst marketing brochure, 2010. p.71 Description of Google Street View image capture technology, 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Google_Street_View p.83 “A Short Curriculum Vitae of IG Farben,” 2010. http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/sociopol_igfarben08.htm p.85 “Nazi Factory Conscripts Are Rebuffed : Claims: German chemical firm refuses to compensate 8,000 survivors, saying it’s a national problem,” Associated Press, August 10, 1995. p.97 Giorgio Agamben, The Coming Community, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993).

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Acknowledgements Special thanks to Grandpa for capturing a moment few recognized, Helga Krohn for generously offering her extensive historical research, and my aunt Alice Lev for helping connect the dots and for sharing Grandpaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s photographs with the rest of the world. The research for this book was supported in part by the Deutsche BĂśrse Residency Program at the Frankfurter Kunstverein and Film & Media Artist-in-Residence Program at The Banff Centre. For Mom.

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