As one ascends the structure, ramps and staircases intersect and sometimes dip down or veer sharply, mirroring the chaotic, nonlinear journeys migrants take. (When, in the Tornado’s early stages, engineers told Ma that the concept wasn’t buildable, he enlisted roller coaster consultants to help.) At the same time, the reflections of visitors ripple along the heavy metal panels—each one custom-shaped, polished, and fit perfectly with its corresponding piece—echoing the movement of families across generations.

“The reflection is super important,” Ma explains, “to blend into the nature, into the light, into the environment. When people walk on it, they will see themselves. They will see the movement. You see your own shadow traveling through time.”

Kremers considers the Tornado the museum’s “first artwork.” “The Tornado turned out so good that it was both a blessing but also a little bit scary,” she says. “Everything we did had to be just as good as the Tornado.” (Not for nothing, Ma’s original sketch of the structure now graces Fenix mugs and merch in the gift shop.)

Kremers originally imagined a 50/50 curatorial split between art and artifacts at the museum. Eventually, however, the team decided that only objects that underscored migration’s timeless, universal nature should be shown—and most of those were artworks. (Another sprawling exhibition, called “All Directions,” features more than 100 artists interpreting migration through six themes: identity, fortune, border, flight, home, and migration itself.)