From a distance, the work of art looks like a blanket of crude terra cotta beads, strung together and cascading three stories down the inside wall of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights.
"Look more closely," encourages tour guide Montana Lehmann. My family and I see that each bead in Anishinaabe artist Rebecca Belmore's "Trace" is a lump of Red River clay. There are 14,000 in all, each fisted and squeezed by individuals, hardened and bound together as a collective statement. It shows how a few minutes of shared time can be built into something formidable.
The national museum opened in 2014 at the Forks in Winnipeg, a centuries-old meeting place of tribes and cultures where the Assiniboine River joins the Red River as it flows north from the Minnesota-North Dakota border.
Inspired in part by the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C., the human rights museum has drawn global recognition for its architecture and wide-ranging exhibits that begin in dark lower levels. It progresses story by story, following illuminated alabaster walkways that zig and zag up through 12 galleries and eight levels, toward the light that spills in through upper levels. Its windowed, angled exterior was designed like stylized, symbolic dove wings that wrap the building as it rises from restored prairie.
On a long weekend in Manitoba's capital, it stirs our hearts and minds as a soothing tonic of hope, and an inspirational nudge during divisive times.
The statement, "All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights," covers one full wall. Some topics fit what you expect: A temporary exhibit follows Nelson Mandela's harrowing battle against apartheid, with a replica of his prison cell. A Holocaust exhibit shows how Germany's state-run media inflamed fears and racism during World War II, leading to the extermination of Jewish families and other citizens. Newspaper clips reflect hate. Photos portray bulldozed piles of concentration-camp corpses.
The museum shines the most in going beyond well-known stories, in peeling back layers on overlooked genocides such as the Ukrainian Holodomor famine and highlighting what's happened in Canada and the United States both historically and in this century. The countries share oppressions of native tribes, blacks, factory workers, ethnic groups and disabled people.
Scenes of war flash across screens in the vast Canadian Journeys gallery, where visitors walk the perimeter lined with alcoves, each telling a different story. Red dresses eerily hang from a stark forest, symbolizing the higher rate of abuse, sex trafficking and disappearance for native women. Cubes filled with photos of smiling same-sex couples stack up like a wedding cake, a reminder that the freedom to love has only been legal nationally since 2005 in Canada, 2015 in the United States. Another alcove tells the story of Viola Desmond, who lost her hair salon after refusing to leave the whites-only section of a movie theater.