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Reclaiming the past: The
Galicia Museum.
A new museum opened in
Cracow's historic Jewish
district a fortnight ago
under the name of the
Galicia Jewish Museum.
Coupled with the recently
re-opened Wyspianski, it
offers an inspiring sign
that modernity is being
embraced in the weird and
wonderful world of
Cracow's museums, and
that when money can be
found, great things can
be achieved. Cracow has
some marvellous museums,
but a good deal feel
stuck in the fifties -
several of the exhibits
at Auschwitz itself are
literally peeling away,
and would benefit
enormously from a rethink.
The Galicia Museum itself
is modest in size, but
the modern use of light,
the fine structural
arrangement and the
elegant yet restrained
handling of the interior,
lend it a style that
would not be out of place
in swanky Western cities
such as London or New
York.
The Museum plans to host
exhibitions, workshops
and conferences on
Poland's Jewish Heritage,
and an excellent bookshop
and cafe are on hand (both
woven into the open plan
design of the museum)
making this a fine place
to drop by, where you
could comfortably settle
in for a good few hours
or so.
The Museum has kicked off
its programme with a
stunning exhibition of
photographs by director
Chris Schwarz about the
lost Jewish world of
Polish Galicia. Galicia
was the name that was
given to Austria's lands
that lay to the north of
the Carpathian mountain
range. The majority of
this territory was stolen
from the Poles in the
late eighteenth century,
when Poland was itself
erased from the map. With
Poland's resurrection
after the first world
war, about two thirds of
the region were
incorporated into the new
Poland, whilst a great
chunk was removed by
Poland's Allies following
World War II, when her
borders were rolled west
to Breslau and beyond.
Although a region of
often enchanting beauty,
both in its landscapes
and in many of the towns
and cities, Galicia was
also a backward region,
often gripped by poverty
in its backwaters - hence
the vast waves of
immigration during the
late nineteenth century.
Nevertheless, there
exists a certain
nostalgia for this world
- the Austrians took a
liberal course during the
late nineteenth century,
a move that was not
followed in Russian or
Prussian Poland, and
Galicia became the font
of Polish culture during
the years leading up to
the first world war.
One of the first images
in this powerful
exhibition is a list of
Galician cities, towns
and villages that
possessed one hundred or
more Jewish inhabitants
before the war. A mere
glance at these lists
gives an immediate sense
of just how large a world
was lost during the war.
Several hundred places
are listed, ranging from
the great cities (Lwow:
76,854 Jews) to
provincial towns (Drohobycz
11,854) to the numerous
smaller towns and
villages that housed
long-established Jewish
communities.
The first part of Chris
Schwarz's exhibition
looks at some of the
traces of this world. And
if some of these images
appeared in a dream, one
might feel that one had
entered an enchanted
world. Trees curl out of
crumbing eighteenth
century ruins and pagan
looking stones emerge
from grassy knolls. In
another image, more
remnants of these stones
appear, now swathed in
ivy on the floor of a
dense forest. Yet these
are not the relics of
some ancient civilization,
rather, they are the
abandoned synagogues and
graveyards of a world
that was still
functioning sixty five
years ago.
Whole towns and cities
were crumbling away in
Poland during the inertia
of the Communist years. A
great deal of heritage
was simply lost. A dozen
or so palaces of the
nobility were turned into
museums, as were a
handful of synagogues.
But so much of Poland's
heritage, both Jewish and
Polish, was left to rot.
Polish Jewish relations
are a complex and highly
sensitive issue. The
Polish government itself
propagated anti-semitic
propaganda during the
late 60's (partly to
shake up the power
arrangement within the
party), claiming that
Jews (only several
thousand remained) were
supporting Zionist
aggression in the Middle
East.
On the one hand, Poles
saved more Jews than any
other nation did during
the war, even though the
Germans enforced
decidedly stricter
punishments (whole
families would be
executed) on those that
attempted to help Jews.
However, there are ghosts
in the cupboard, and the
process of self-analysis
that occurred after the
war in Western countries
was delayed in Poland,
where the Soviet backed
government saw to it that
a highly unbalanced
picture of the war was
promoted. With the return
of freedom of speech, the
era is being explored
afresh, and the Galicia
Museum is well-placed to
be a part of this.
The second part of
Schwarz's exhibition
stands in stark contrast
to the first. Here we see
a handful of relics that
have survived the last
fifty years in a
reasonable state. Ornate,
often grandiose
synagogues offer a
vibrant echo of the world
that was. Jews had
settled in Poland since
the medieval era, often
fleeing from pogroms in
Western Europe. The
tolerant mindset of
Poland's Renaissance
elite gave rise to the
emergence of large Jewish
communities who developed
sophisticated cultures -
Cracow's Kazimierz (once
a town in its own right)
was famous throughout the
Jewish world as a centre
of academic brilliance.
The third part of the
exhibition highlights the
way in which the Jewish
world was snuffed out.
The Galician town of
Oswiecim is known
throughout the world by
the name that the Nazis
gave it in 1939,
Auschwitz. Schwartz's
arresting photographs of
snow-swept camp interiors,
stark wooden sleeping
quarters and the
apparatus of the murders
themselves (the ruins of
the gas chambers survive),
bring home the clinical
manner in which the Final
Solution was achieved, as
well as the excruciation
of camp life for those
who were at the mercy of
the elements.
Equally thought-provoking
are the images of lesser
known sites of murder.
Isolated monuments (often
no more than plaques) are
to be found dotted across
the Polish countryside.
It was common practice
for the Nazis to round up
the Jews of a given town
or village, and then
shoot them en masse.
Images of surviving
pieces of Cracow's
wartime ghetto wall, and
the dilipidated villa of
Camp Commander Amon Goeth,
remind us how little time
ago all this happened.
By highlighting some
historic sites that have
been neglected or those
that have found
themselves robbed of
dignity (be they
vanishing Jewish
graveyards or the surreal
case of the synagogue in
Kalwaria Zebrzydowska
which is now a furniture
store) the exhibition
lights a flare over the
still relatively poor
land of Galicia. For in
contrast to the scenes of
neglect there are also
images of successful
works of remembrance:
gardens, museums and
other monuments, some
built by Poles, others by
the Jewish diaspora.
Potentially, there is
vast amount of work lying
in wait for conservators.
The exhibition ends on an
optimistic note, drawing
attention to those
institutions and people,
young and old, who are
involved in the process
of remembrance here in
Poland, and the message
of tolerance that is
inextricable from this.
Ultimately, this
exhibition is not only a
masterful record of a
vanished world (in Cracow
alone there are no more
than 500 Jews today, as
opposed to 45,000 before
the war) but also a
deeply thought-provoking
exploration of the
Holocaust and its legacy.
British-born photographer
Chris Schwarz has devoted
many years of his life to
compiling these images,
and they form an
incomparable record that
is both haunting,
shocking and yet also
stunningly beautiful.
Certainly, the lack of
images from the Ukraine (over
half of Galicia lies in
today's Ukraine) is a
great shame, but the
quality of the images
that have been recorded
thus far are examples of
the 'quality not quantity'
ethos. However, now that
Schwarz is based here
more permanently on
account of his post as
director of the Museum,
he is well placed to make
forays across the border,
and we can only hope that
he will turn his
attentions to this orbit
and complete the
astonishing picture that
he has started! Yet all
in all this is a
magnificent exhibition,
and the Galicia Museum
promises to be a
inspiring, and hopefully
permanent fixture in
Cracow's cultural life.
source:
Cracow-life.com
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