Introduction Anne Michaels novel, The Winter Vault, tells a story of people living in Warsaw, Poland, affected by World War Two. Through the ordeals of the conflict, the people of the city learn how to reclaim their spaces and express personal tragedy through marking the damaged environment with flowers: these tunnels of rubble, were marked with a pot of flowers. Geraniums. A blurt of red, a spurt of blood amongst the bones (Michaels 2009, pp. 214215). This use of a floral motif throughout the story is a subjective expression of emotions and a way of claiming and connecting to a place and the associated events and memories. The flowers in The Winter Vault represent: a desperate instinct to leave a mark of innocence on a violent wound, to mark the place where that last twitching nerve of innocence was stilled (Michaels 2009, pp. 217). This paper will examine this manner of aestheticisating post-conflict places, as exemplified in Michaels book. The term memorialised intervention will be used in reference to these marks, asking why these types of responses have arisen and analysing their purpose. This form of monument has seemingly grown from the need to have a more effective response that better matches the emotional connection with a place. Monuments established through official governing organisations can be seen as focusing on representing a collective response and not being able to reflect varying cultural views and competing interpretations (Young 2000, pg. 119 and Meecham and Sheldon 2000, pg. 49). Alternative forms of memorialisation, such as counter and spontaneous monuments, rose in reaction to the traditional type of memory markers. These forms of memorialisation focus on the need for subjective reclaiming of places often come about through the actions of artists and community initiated projects. Counter-monuments do have aspects of reclaiming and expressing subjective experience, but they still involve institutional support in their conception. Governing bodies, such as arts organisations, tend to be responsible for selecting, overseeing and funding the artist or maker of the counter-monument. This may1

result in a similar scenario to traditional, official monuments, with a compromise of cultural interpretations and emotional connection to the sense of a place. Another example of an alternative memorialised form is a spontaneous monument. This type of memory marker rejects any reliance on governments or organisations, and instead is initiated through spontaneous, anonymous and site-specific responses. This form of monument has traditionally been associated with ritual acts of grieving, in which people mark sites of trauma with ephemeral objects such as flowers and candles (Meecham and Sheldon 2000, pg. 78). In this paper I will expand on these varying types of monuments and suggest the term memorialised intervention to describe a memory marker which carries on from the other kinds of alternative monuments, and can be a more permanent form of self-directed memorialisation. These interventions also take on an anti-authoritarian approach and are site-specific, visual marks embedded within the built fabric of a post-conflict site. Though these types of memorials do differ from counter and spontaneous monuments through the way the subjective experiences are more integrated into the fabric of an environment and can be seen as an act of protest. This analysis will focus on an example of a memorialised intervention called the Sarajevo Roses, which consists of mortar shell scars aestheticised through red resin poured into the asphalt wound, creating a roses-like pattern. The Sarajevo Roses will be compared to the Lets Dig response, associated with the site of the Gestapo headquarters and prison cells in Berlin, and the painted murals in Belfast, marking Republicans and Loyalist struggles.

Place, Embodiment and Memory within Post-conflict Sites To define why memorialised interventions have arisen and their function, one must firstly consider how these responses relate to ideas of place and are affected by embodiment and memory. The notion of place can be described in varying terms; the meaning of place that I will be referring to within this analysis is derived from Henri Lefebvre and also summarised here by Michel de Certeau: stories ... carry out a labour that consistently transforms spaces into places. They organise the play of changing relationships between places and spaces. (Lewi 2000, pg. 9). Lefebvre (1991, pg. 31) claims that every society... produces a space, its own space. By this Lefebvre is referring to space being more than a scientific, measurable entity; rather it is an area in which human participation makes the place through subjective interpretation of the locale. (Burgin 1996, pg. 27, Williams 2007, pg. 115 and Wolfel 2008, pg. 66).

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Malpas (1999, pg. 180) also refers to this active interpretation of place through personalised stories that are associated with locations and emphasises a connection to these past narratives:The sense of the past is not just a matter of having a grasp of some temporally ordered sequence of experience. The ordering of experience...is an ordering that is both temporal and spatial. It is an ordering established through the agents active involvement within a concrete spatio-temporal, intersubjective frame, with respect to particular objects and locations...To have a sense of ones past is to have a grasp of ones own present and future in relation to the story of ones embodied activity within particular spaces and with respect to particular objects and persons.

Karen Till (2005, pg. 134) also speaks of this spatial embedding of the past in places: history not only takes place in time, it is also linked to places. It is both in space and in time. The role of the monument forms a part of this conversation and attempts to be a visual representation of these subjective experiences and narratives connected to a place. Rebecca Hughes (2007, pg. 988) expands on this association referring to John Bergers ideas of an increased embodied relationship with the monument by allowing connectivity through sensory registration when viewing the object. Does this relationship go beyond the registration of the representational object to enhance a spatial connection to the site itself? Speculation on this notion brings forth the idea of connection to places of trauma and loss. Within these sites of painful events there is suggestion of a strong sense of attachment to place which goes beyond the sensory experience portrayed in a monument representing a traumatic event. Dolores Hayden (1997, pg. 112), Fiona Allon (2000, pg. 276) and Colin Goodrich and Kaylene Sampson (2008, pg. 260) speak of the increased connection with places when an area is threatened, or no longer physically exists. The importance of the spatial relationship between the person and the place is formed through the memories and emotions associated with the area and can be described as a deep attachment and sense of belonging to the place. Simon Schama (1995, pg. 74) refers to this through the disappearance of the Lithuanian forest embedded within ones being, which can be seen as artificially presented in memory; a place where people orientated themselves (Dean and Miner 2005, pg. 183). Monuments and memorialisation of places can serve as physical forms interpreting memories associated with a site; identifying and claiming and constructing and personalising the space through the act of making and occupying. The relationship between painful memories and places can be seen as being intertwined, as Jill Bennett (2005, p. 70) describes: traumatic memory is envisaged as folding into space in a way that leaves manifest traces: not simply marks that tell a story of the past, but indications of a lived presence, of a mode of inhabiting both place and memory. Memorialisation is a form of3

connecting memories associated with places, which in turn can preserve ones sense of being; thus making the act of remembering integral to the formation of experiential space (Dean and Miner 2005, pg. 187, Till 2005, pg. 1 and Tamanoi 2009, p. 160).

Alternative Monuments, Memorialised Interventions, Diggings and Murals Once should consider the importance of place, embodiment and memory in post-conflict sites as a way of understanding the events of these places through the bodily interaction with these spaces (Till 2005, pg. 9). Monuments, in particular memorialised interventions, encourage this connection. Aestheticisation of post-conflict sites embeds the personal narratives associated with the spaces into the fabric of the environment. Fu-Yi Tuan (1977, pp. 158-159) argues that monuments can also be concerned with augmenting ones identity within an area, country or group beyond the associated site. In this case, monuments are used as nationalised symbols and are often associated with the types of memorials established through official governing organisations. These types of monuments are sometimes viewed as being emotionally ineffective in ways of marking an event of conflict because of the nature of the process and the politics of promoting balance and equality. And as previously mentioned by Young, Meecham and Sheldon, traditional, official memorials can also be accused of not reflecting a variety of cultural views or representing a collective response. In opposition to this, varying expressions of counter-monuments have come about through the actions of artists and community initiated projects, allowing a greater level of control in how the monument interprets the event and for whom: they are more dynamically engaging with the audience, claims James Young (Bennett 2005, pg. 98). These types of socially constructed spaces are also said to encourage future hopes and positive progression for the people affected by these post-conflict areas (Till 2005, pg. 9). Spontaneous monuments also contradict the official acts of memorialisation, but in a less organised manner. They are more site-specific and are formed through unprompted acts memorialising events usually associated with grief or trauma (Meecham and Sheldon 2000, pg. 78). Spontaneous monuments are made through acknowledging a place with transient objects which are not embedded within the fabric of an environment. The fundamental differences between these alternative monuments and memorialised interventions concern the self-directed manner of production that is not initiated through governments or organisations (as with official and counter monuments); but also how the unprompted visual gestures are more integrated into the fabric of a post-conflict place than spontaneous monuments, as well as being interpreted as acts of protest, not just remembrance.4

Memorialised interventions are often a result of individuals or groups actively responding in a manner which remaps and visually changes the shape of an environment. Authorship tends to be anonymous, or perhaps known in an informal manner within relevant social groups. As with counter-monuments, these impulsive visual marks are not heroic memorialisation of events or people and perhaps are more attached to ones memories and experiences, rather than being dislocated signs (Young 2000, pg. 93). This may have come about through the manner in which the audience is invited to interpret their own experiences, rather than having a response dictated to them (Young 1992, pp. 273-274). Memorialised interventions appear to offer an opportunity of individualised expression and control and perhaps are more concerned with being a response for internalised emotions, rather than objects for an external audience. The following discussion analyses three examples of memorialised interventions that show how this desire for a subjective claiming of a traumatic event within a place is acted upon. The first example responds to finds of the ruined Gestapo headquarters and prison cells in Berlin and the community driven, unprompted acts of memorialisation, which in turn increased into a political debate. The site of the buildings remained covered by earth, with no official decisions made about what to do with the area. Frustrated by this attitude of avoidance, people, who were emotionally involved with the events of the site in World War Two in Germany, organised a Lets Dig protest. This was a symbolic act of an illegal excavation which saw groups of people coming together in a mass dig, unearthing the ruined, built forms of the Gestapo buildings and remapping the site (see figures 1 and 2). The area was then decorated with wreaths and ribbons, which were later destroyed by officials monitoring the place (Till 2005, pp. 94-97).

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Figure 1: The Lets Dig response creating an illegal excavation (Henschel 2005)

Figure 2: The unearthed Gestapo headquarters and prison cells in Berlin decorated with wreaths (Nissen 2005)

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This act forced the government to acknowledge the meaning these structures had within the memories and identities of the people of the area. The gaping wound then provoked a debate over the future of the site by a long procession of organisations (Young 1992, pg. 271). In 1987 a temporary structure, with an intended lifespan of only a few months, was built over the excavated ruins (see figure 3) and the site given the name Topography of Terror (Till 2005, pp. 97-102). There was a strong public reaction to witnessing the unearthed, built forms in a raw manner, which was reflected in the amount of visitors to the site. The popular public response initiated a lengthy process on how to formally acknowledge the place in a more permanent manner. In 1993 the architect Peter Zumthor was selected to design an interpretation centre for the site (see figure 4); four years later building work on the new design abruptly stopped due to increasing costs associated with the design. Zumthor agreed to redesign the centre to meet the financial quota (Till 2005, pp. 104-105). This failed, and a third design competition took place in 2006 awarding the architect Ursula Wilms the contract. In May 2010 the official response (see figures 5 and 6), spurred from the initial impulsive digging excavations of the ruined Gestapo headquarters and prison cells, was opened (Topographie des Terrors 2011).

Figure 3: A temporary structure built over the excavated Gestapo ruins in Berlin (Nissen 2005)

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Figure 4: Peter Zumthors interpretation centre design for the Topography of Terror (Hofer 2005)

Figure 5: The interpretation centre for the Topography of Terror finished and opened in 2010 (Topographie des Terrors 2011)

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Figure 6: The interior exhibition displays of the interpretation centre officially recognising and memorialising the Berlin site (Muller 2011)

The way these official processes memorialise sites of trauma can become painful experiences in which distressing memories are repeatedly revisited (Young 1992, pp. 269270). This effect can provide an understanding of why people feel inclined to express their experiences of a traumatic event through self-directed means. An example of a visual reaction, which for the time being has not been turned into an officialised response, is the painted murals on the walls of buildings predominantly in the working class areas of Belfast. The murals again seem to be concerned with a local audience: inward patriotism and propaganda speaking to the people in the area, rather than expressing emotions to an exterior group. (Jarman 1993, pg. 118). These responses were originally and mainly paramilitary visuals (see figure 7), in order to raise support amongst the already initiated, as well as using painted symbols within the images to define spatial boundaries and reinforce identities (see figure 8) (Ross 2007, pg. 101 and Piquard and Swenarton 2011, pg. 3). The murals were also memorials to deceased individuals (see figure 9). These were sometimes made in a more permanent manner with features such as carved fixtures (Jarman 1993, pg. 118 and 125). During the height of The Troubles1 in 1981, there were approximately 150 murals in Belfast at any one time of both Republican and Loyalist origins (Jarman 1993, pg. 120). The murals were also used to emphasise opinions andThe Troubles is the name of an approximately 40 year period in Northern Ireland between Republican and Loyalist groups. The uprising in sectarian violence began as a reaction to significant anniversaries around 1966 and continued to a peak in the 1980s with mass hunger strikes from jailed Republicans and their supporters (British Broadcasting Corporation 2007).1

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political divides, through painting over the top of them and bombing the images using paint bombing techniques (Jarman 1993, pg. 120). In this case, the memorialised interventions both act as monuments and objects of protest a visual battle and active form of self-expression adding to the aestheticised palimpsest within the built fabric of Belfast. The murals later became protected by the Housing Association (Jarman 1993, pg. 121), and are presently being painted in the same defensible manner by Loyalist supporters amongst Belfasts urban regeneration schemes (Hatherley 2011).

Figure 7: Painted murals in Belfast using paramilitary visuals and symbols to raise internal support (Carlos.tejo 2011)

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Figure 8: Murals used to define spatial boundaries within the conflicted areas (Bills 2008)

Figure 9: The Belfast murals also serve as memorials (Brown 2008)

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Sarajevo Roses The Lets Dig project in Berlin and the mural responses in Northern Ireland were both forms of memorialised interventions that became ingrained into the landscape and culture of places and continue to be recognised as symbols of memory, identity and belonging. The Sarajevo Roses can be seen as another form of a memorialised intervention, with individuals expressing their interpretation of the Bosnian and Herzegovina war in the 1990s through marking mortar shell2 scars with red resin (see figures 10 and 11). These palimpsest motifs create red, radial patterns suggesting the form of a rose. The shape and colour of these imprints also makes a visceral reference to blood staining the asphalt; a reminder to the types of atrocities inflicted on the population of the city as a result of these attacks. This method of denoting events associated with the numerous mortar shell strikes during the siege of Sarajevo, seems to be an expressional statement for the people affected by the shelling.

Figure 10: The radial pattern of a Sarajevo Rose: another form of a memorialised intervention (Ruibal 2010)

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Mortar shells are weaponry which indirectly fires at targets through a tubular form, throwing projectiles of metal infused with explosive material (Slate Magazine 2001).

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Figure 11: The Roses are mortar shell scars filled with red resin, suggesting a form of a rose (Lisa_Aw 2011)

The long and bloody war that took place in Sarajevo (then the capital of Bosnia) and formed the mortar scars, came as a result of the country becoming independent from Yugoslavia in 1992 (Bevan 2006, pg. 30). The use of shelling tactics by Serbian forces saw more than 1000 shells a day falling onto the city during the peak of the war in 1993 (Burg and Shoup 2000, pg. 140), with the intent to ethnically cleanse the area of Bosniaks Bosnian Muslims (Bevan 2006, pg. 28). This type of struggle is about ownership and control rather than acknowledging a sense of place claims Malpas (2008, pg. 331). The effects of these attacks on people and the fabric of the environment deeply transfigured area (see figures 12 and 13). Many of these ruined structures and objects are still present within the city. The Roses are a part of this damaged fabric and can be seen as a device in claiming and creating a sense of place again for the people of Sarajevo.

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Figure 12: The built remains inflicted by heavy artillery shelling during the siege of Sarajevo (Stoddard, T and Thain, A 1997)

Figure 13: A post-conflict site showing the disfigured landscape of Sarajevo and the impact of the war on the built environment (Stoddard, T and Thain, A 1997)

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The Sarajevo Roses are numerous and scattered throughout the city, with the authorship of the visual marks unknown (see figure 14 and 15). As can be the fate of these types of memorialised interventions, the Roses are currently under threat with new road works demolishing the old asphalt surfaces, and in turn, the Roses themselves. The inability to preserve or control interpretations of these memorialised interventions are risks associated with these active responses; risks which more formal objects of memorialisation have a better chance of overcoming. However, this form of self-directed monuments emphasises an embodied connection to the narratives within the place through direct means because of the personalised manner in which the responses were created. The Roses indicate subjective expressions, but perhaps also notions of acceptance of the traumatic events. This idea is stated by architect Lebbeus Woods through his architectural renderings exploring post-conflict building designs in Sarajevo, which consist of deconstructed forms that deliberately refer to the notion of a scar; Woods claims: to accept a scar is to accept existence (Charesleworth 2006, pg. 49). These mortar scars can be seen as symbols of accepting the existence of the conflict and memories of the place. This again emphasises an active and internal need to express ones memories and emotions bounded with the postconflict site, rather than constructing official monuments with political agendas, attempting to control interpretations of the event.

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Figure 14: The embedded pattern of a Sarajevo Rose in a street in the city (Poulian 2008)

Figure 15: Sarajevo Roses become a part of the urban fabric of the place, with authorship of the marks unknown (Bertrand 2008)

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This memorialised layer added to the fabric of the city instigates a reclaiming of place, referring to the manner in which conflicts change social space and encourage people to inscribe new meaning into these inflicted places (Piquard and Swenarton 2011, pg. 2). Umberto Eco also reflects on the notion of collectively rewriting the built environment serving as constructions of remembrance: memories are built as a city is built. It could be said that architecture from its beginnings, has been one way of fixing memories (Schultz 2000, pg. 53). The Sarajevo Roses are visual reactions to the memories associated with the post-conflict spaces, using semi-abstracted objects as forms of monuments. They also can be perceived as ways of releasing the internalised feelings associated with these places of trauma through acts of making within these spaces; in turn this may help one to come to terms with the event of conflict. Another way of representing memories associated with the scarred sites of Sarajevo is the increasing presence of Roses within the internet environment. Photographs of the Sarajevo Roses from people throughout the world are forming an online collection using the software of Flickr and Google Maps. This public archive of currently 60 images locates the Roses on a map of Sarajevo creating a visual journey of the memorialised interventions (see figures 16 and 17). Another dimension to the construction of the archive is the way in which these records are individually loaded onto the internet and anonymously compiled into groups and displayed on the map. One could consider this as a transformation from physical monuments to photographic memorialised traces, especially considering the current removal of some of these Roses through the reconstruction of the roads. The role of this photographic archive could be seen as a different form of representing memory and place; Jean-Paul Sartre articulates this idea as:the image is the trace of something no longer there. It speaks for an absence, yet the image, especially the photographic image, is taken to be evidential, something located not just in history, but in geography, in place (Aulich 2007, pg. 206).

But, as Till (2005, pg. 14) claims: photographs preserve memory by creating traces of the past that by definition can never be present. The growing image archive of the Sarajevo Roses serves as a way to build community awareness of the traumatic events and records the marks; yet this collection could also be seen as an extension to the memorialised intervention form because of the individual and visually expressive nature of the records. The archive however does lack a physical connection to place and perhaps doesnt depict a deeper sense of embodiment within the online recorded environment.

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Figure 16: A public online archive recording the locations and visual forms of the Sarajevo Roses

Figure 17: A detail of the Sarajevo Roses online Flickr and Google Maps archive showing the highly visible and interactive approach to formatting the map and adding personal images

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Conclusion The purpose of memorialised interventions seemingly fills an emotional need of a greater connection to place and the memories associated with the sites. The anonymous responses tend to be concerned with the subjective claiming of space to reinforce attachment to past events, a sense of individualised belonging and personal identity and memory. Greater levels of embodiment within these site-specific spaces are achieved through Lefebvres notion of active participation making a sense of place and creating ones own space. Tuan (1977, pg. 158) also emphasises this sense of attachment to place as being vital in creating personal narratives to achieve some sense of reconciliation with past distressing events. Contrast this to the official monuments which are often created by people dislocated from the traumatic event and consist of controlled interpretations and political agendas that are primarily aimed at an external audience. Memorialised interventions could also be seen as initially a form of protest a need for recognition of an event for ones sense of self. The Lets Dig project in Berlin and the murals in Northern Ireland began in this fashion, but over time have developed into varying types of official monuments. The ruined Gestapo headquarters and prison have become a government-operated interpretation centre, while the murals are protected for their historical values and seem to be able to be free of governing agendas. Though traces of the Sarajevo Roses visually exist in an online archive, the objects themselves are disappearing with the reconstruction of the city. Yet, there does not seem to be an official response to retain the Roses and acknowledge their importance for the historic aestheticisation of the city and cultural memory of the people of Sarajevo.

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