Let me take you to Brněnec, a small village in the Czech Republic that, for many, might seem like just another quiet, unassuming place. For me and countless others, however, it has become the epicenter of something profoundly moving. This old textile factory isn’t just a collection of bricks and shattered windows; it’s a silent witness to an extraordinary chapter in history—Oskar Schindler’s heroic efforts to save 1,200 lives during one of humanity’s darkest moments. Yes, this is the same factory immortalized in Steven Spielberg’s film and Thomas Keneally’s book Schindler’s Ark.
The idea of transforming this site into a museum and memorial wasn’t born overnight. It has been a journey of over 15 years—a path forged with reflection, perseverance, and an unwavering commitment to remembrance. A pivotal moment came in 2016 when the site was declared a cultural monument. That same year, we undertook a massive clean-up, removing tons of hazardous waste that had accumulated. It felt like the place could breathe again for the first time in decades.
Another milestone was when the Löw-Beer family, descendants of the factory’s pre-war owners, reacquired much of the site. They saved the historic buildings from further decay and a potential demolition—a fate that would have added insult to injury.
Today, that dream has taken on a tangible form. We call this initiative the “Museum of Survivors.” But it’s far from a traditional museum. It’s a tribute to the past and a bridge to the future. Imagine walking through walls that hold stories of fear, hope, and resilience. Here, you can listen to firsthand accounts from survivors, witness how art and culture provided a lifeline to those who suffered, and see works by artists such as Anni Albers and Joseph Bau. The museum isn’t just a place of remembrance—it’s a space to reflect on the profound significance of resistance and collaboration in times of crisis.
As the creative director of the museum’s visual content, my approach over the past five years has been deeply emotional. There’s something intangible about this place that stirs the soul. “There’s an aura here; it emanates from the walls,” some students told me during interviews. They were involved in the museum’s design and described the feeling as though history was alive within these spaces. That’s precisely how I feel as well.
I vividly recall my first interview about this project. I was asked about the vision, the challenges, and what it all meant. I tried to convey that this isn’t just about restoring a building—it’s about restoring dignity and giving voice to a place. It’s about creating a space where future generations can connect with history in an authentic and meaningful way. I spoke about the future “Schindlerova Archa”, where we screened Schindler’s List in the very location where these events took place. The museum also includes dedicated spaces for the Löw-Beer family’s story, Jewish history, and a glass wall that defines and divides the past from the present, in a wonderful vision of the spaces.
Over the last years, I’ve conducted dozens of interviews with key figures tied to this history: Thomas Keneally, author of Schindler’s List; Erika Rosenberg, biographer of Emilie Schindler; Oliwia Dąbrowska, the girl in the red coat; and the Bau sisters, daughters of Joseph Bau, who secretly married within these walls and later forged documents for Schindler. These interviews, along with those I conducted for Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation, have been woven into documentaries featured in the museum.
We are still working to secure the necessary permits to use the former SS barracks and Schindler’s office. These spaces will unlock access to further European funding. Yet even now, the factory is coming back to life. Cultural events, exhibitions, and theatrical performances like Naše fabrika (‘Our factory’), are already drawing visitors, restoring dignity to a site that was long forgotten.
Brněnec isn’t just a place of memory—it’s a place of rebirth. It will serve as a cultural, educational, and social center, open to everyone. It stands as proof that even among ruins, it’s always possible to build something new. This is a powerful message, and I’m proud to be part of this incredible journey.
Among the many people driving this project forward is my wife Světlana Kulíšková Ruggiero, whose creative talent and visionary energy have been instrumental. Světlana is the mastermind behind LB Touch, a textile project that revives a legacy interrupted in 1938. Now, 80 years after the Löw-Beer family’s last production, this line is not only a homage to the past but also a contemporary reinterpretation that fuses craftsmanship, innovation, and sustainability.
The textiles of LB Touch aren’t just materials; they are stories. Designed and produced in the heart of Europe, they symbolize resilience and renewal. Světlana has also conceived a unique museum layout: instead of walls or traditional panels, there are 1,000 square meters of fabric cascading from a height of five meters, creating fluid, evocative spaces.
Low-Beer Textiles, founded in 1854, halted in 1938, and revived in 2024, is now making textiles that inspire. The tagline, “Textiles that touch you”, reflects not only their material quality but also their deep historical significance, with a tribute to the history of Brno, Gregor Mendel’s DNA.
Through Světlana’s work, this heritage has found a new voice, telling stories of resistance and hope through the language of textiles.
Adding further artistic depth to the project is Michelangelo Pistoletto, the renowned Italian artist and 2025 Nobel Peace Prize nominee. His Terzo Paradiso installation uses the factory’s old wool containers—resembling bullet casings—transformed into symbols of peace. Engraved with the names of survivors and backlit from within, the piece is a poignant reminder that even in spaces marked by war and suffering, humanity and hope can flourish.
This museum is already alive, hosting events, performances, and exhibitions that honor the past while inspiring the present. The factory itself is poised to produce sustainable textiles and weave a social fabric that connects people through art and education.
Brněnec is no longer just a forgotten village or an abandoned factory. It’s a message to the world, in the center of Europe: even among ruins, we can build a better future. It’s a call for peace, a space for reflection, and a reminder that memory doesn’t belong solely to the past—it’s a tool for shaping tomorrow.
