The Screaming Silence

Over the past 12 months, I have found myself deeply immersed in one of the most tragic and haunting chapters of history—the death camps of Eastern Poland, particularly Sobibor. My journey began unexpectedly, while watching a documentary on Netflix about Ivan the Terrible and the many Nazis who, in the wake of World War II, evaded punishment for their war crimes. As the film unfolded, it took a sharp turn toward the infamous Sobibor camp, detailing the horrific events that occurred there and the unimaginable suffering inflicted on thousands of innocent Jews.

I was captivated not just by the stories of the camp itself but by the entire brutal process—the trains that carried thousands of Jewish men, women, and children toward their deaths, with many perishing even before they arrived. The documentary brought the history to life, but it also left me with a question: What happened to the survivors? What were their stories?

It was this question that led me to Richard Rashke’s updated book Escape from Sobibor, a gripping account of the courageous uprising in 1943 when 300 Jews managed to escape from the camp. Rashke’s meticulous research and deeply personal interviews with survivors gave me an entirely new perspective. I wasn’t just reading a history book—I was absorbing the stories of real people who had lived through the horrors, fought for their survival, and, in some cases, managed to escape a fate that had already claimed millions.

As I listened to the Audiable version, I felt a growing sense of urgency. Rashke’s book had stirred something inside me—a reminder of how easily we can forget the darker parts of recent human history, and how vital it is to preserve these memories. The voices of the survivors, recorded decades after their escape, resonated with me. They were not just telling their own stories; they were speaking on behalf of all those who never had the chance.

It was in this moment that the idea for a photographic documentary began to take shape. I knew that I needed to see Sobibor for myself—to walk the landscape where so many lives were extinguished, and where an incredible act of defiance once took place. But my goal was not just to capture images of the physical space. I wanted to create a body of work that reflects the journeys these people had endured—the journey to the camp, the horrors within its fences, and, for the few who managed to escape, the fight for freedom that followed.

Through photography, I aim to document not only the terrain of Sobibor as it stands today, but also the weight of memory that still lingers in the air. I want to juxtapose the current landscape with the echoes of the past—drawing on Rashke’s interviews, survivor testimonies, and historical accounts to create a visual narrative that connects the present to the unspeakable events of the past.

My hope is to remind us all of the resilience of the human spirit, while also paying homage to those whose lives were cut short by such profound cruelty. As I prepare for this journey, I am mindful of the fact that this story is not mine to tell alone. It belongs to the survivors, to the victims, and to all of us who are committed to ensuring that the horrors of Sobibor and the Holocaust are never forgotten.

Through this documentary, I hope to create something that not only honors the memory of those who perished, but also serves as a reminder of the importance of remembering—of bearing witness to the darkest parts of our history so that they may never be repeated.