When the Nazis invaded Ava Schieber’s native Yugoslavia, the 15-year-old girl was forced to flee her home and take the identity of a mute and deaf peasant girl.
“That,” Schieber said, “might have triggered, in a very strange way, my need for words and poetry.”
Holocaust survivor Schieber visited Northwestern on Thursday night to share her original poetry and art and sign copies of her new book, titled “Soundless Roar.” About fifty people gathered at the Block Museum of Art to hear Schieber speak about the meaning of her writings and drawings inspired by the Holocaust.
“It’s really interesting how she combines her artwork and her writing,” said Laura Leichum, the assistant marketing manager for University Press, which published the book. “Her sketches in the book are all created with an unbroken line. It represents that time is unbroken. Memory is unbroken.”
Schieber is no stranger to NU. A Chicago resident, she has regularly visited campus in recent years, speaking with students who are studying the Holocaust. Jenny Jakubiak, an Education senior, said Schieber has spoken to her Intermediate Composition class twice this quarter.
“Her book is amazing,” says Jakubiak. “Everything from her poetry to her art is amazing. So I came here to hear what she had to say about it all.”
Schieber began her presentation by reading some of her work. “It was early in my journey…” she said in an untitled selection, “…and the blue sky erupted/in a man made madness/like a dark blanket doom covered the naked horizon/a cloudless morning turned into countless mourning/evil is no random event.”
In addition to the poetry reading, Schieber described the meaning of four paintings on display.
The paintings, she said, reflected her evolving emotional experience during the Holocaust. The third painting in the series, which sparked the most audience response, included black human shapes, a white background, and red splashed over a few parts of the black and white.
Schieber described the painting as “an abstraction of everything that has to be dealt with, the faceless zombies that the war machine presented to me.”
Reuben Subramaniam, a Weinberg sophomore, said he found the artwork “very touching and poignant.”
After presenting her artwork, Schieber fielded questions from the audience.
When asked by one audience member if she ever returned to the farm that was her wartime refuge, Schieber said she had no intention of ever going back.
“You only lose hope once,” she said.
