Gdansk
Gdansk
Today I am going to be writing about a place as a character in my life.
Gdansk
“As I write, I hope to share with the reader the voice in my head that drives my creative process.”
That is the last line in my first post describing what I would be writing about on my Substack. Today I am going to be writing about a place as a character in my life.
I live in a beautiful city not far from several National Parks where plein-air landscape painters are abundant. It’s a place people visit or choose to live because of the copious amount of hiking and biking trails. A painting which celebrates this beauty connects with buyers as a memento of their visit or addition to their home. Although I admire fellow artists working out in the elements to document local scenery…… it’s not my thing.
For me art is a process driven by the need to understand my world and the larger world in which I live. Gdansk, although not a portrait, falls into this category. It was not just a memento from a pretty place. It’s a story of survival.
My husband and I visited the Polish port city on a cruise of the Baltic just prior to the pandemic. We did not have any expectations about this city, like we did visiting St Petersburg. It was a stop on a journey. Today the memory of that city hangs in the front hall where I pass it everyday. It has become a kind of touchstone in my life.
The city of Gdansk is Poland's principal seaport and the largest city in Poland for much of its history. The city of was established in the 10th century. It has remained intact despite being affiliated with different countries during its long history including the Kingdom of Poland, Lithuania, Prussia, The Teutonic Order, and Germany.
Twice in its history, Gdańsk was a free city standing alone surrounded by other nations. After the capture of the city by French, Polish and Italian troops, Napoleon Bonaparte created a free city in 1807. In 1814 it returned to Prussia after Napoleon's defeat. In 1920, after the First World War, the city was again declared free and under the protection of the League of Nations. This status lasted until 1937 when the Nazi Party won a majority in their congress. The city fell to Nazi Germany in 1939.
What made Gdansk a memorable character on my tour of the Baltics started with our tour guide who shared a story of learning Hebrew to help preserve the language and culture of an all but vanished population of her city.
Jewish communities had existed around the city for centuries. Like many refugees after WWI Jewish citizens began returning to Gdansk. In just a few years their population had grown into a new vibrant community. There were four synagogues, employment, and participation in the arts. Gdańsk became a safe and welcoming passageway for Jews to escape antisemitism in the Soviet Union. The city flourished for Jewish citizens in the 1920’s, however it did not last. The rise of Nazi culture in the 1930’s brought new threats to the Jewish population.
In October 1937, a full-scale attack was initiated on the Jewish neighborhoods of the city. Half of the Jews left Gdansk within a year. Neither the Polish government nor the League of Nations provided any protection. Beginning on November 12 in 1938, two synagogues were burned down and two others were desecrated. Shops and homes were looted. The Jewish community decided to organize emigration and many left. By September 1939, barely 1,700 remained, mostly elderly or mixed marriage families. By early 1941 600 Jewish people remained in the city.
My husband's father's family were part of the exodus of Jews through this port. Some of the members of his family left from “Prussia” during or after WW1. Interestingly many arrived as Orthodox Catholics to Ellis Island. Given the history of discrimination, it is no surprise that people would choose to leave behind their old identity. (It could also be true that those people who left were mixed marriages between Christian and Jew. This was considered as criminal behavior.) Others who left after 1937 arrived in Canada as Jews.
By the end of WWII the city was rubble. It had been attacked in every direction. By the Soviet Union to the east and Germany to its west. As we walked through the historic Renaissance Arch leading into the historic city center we saw pictures of the destruction after the WWII bombing. Nothing was left standing. Every building was scared black with crumbling walls. It was a hellscape. It took me a moment to catch my breath. What I saw exiting the Arch was remarkable.
Gdansk was rebuilt during the 1950s and 1960s.The reconstruction sought to dilute the "German character" of the city, and set it back to how it supposedly looked like before the annexation to Prussia in 1793 using Flemish/Dutch, Italian and French influences
The promenade was filled with people. A band was playing Klezmer music on the patio of an outdoor bar. This music was popular at Jewish-American weddings, holiday celebrations and social club dances during the roaring twenties. There were people swinging their partners around the dance floor. As we walked, we stopped at a delicious bakery for a treat and sat eating on the ledge of a beautiful fountain. It was idyllic setting that made me think about how much work it must have taken to rebuild.
During the period of rebuilding the country was dominated by the communist party. While the structures were beautiful, the city itself wasn’t the free city it had been in the 1920’s. The communist party remained in place until the Solidarity Movement led by Lech Walesa in 1980. His apartment was somewhere above the fountain where we sat. Walesa eventually became the President of Poland. It was from this city that a movement to leave the Soviet Union began its eventual demise.
My “Portrait of Gdansk” reminds me of the importance of transformation. Even in the most dire circumstance anything can be reborn. It is a city that has its own unique character. It is charming and happy. The beauty of the city is not the architecture.. This beauty is its resilience built out of the ashes of destruction. Gdańsk knows the fragility of its existence depends on a determination to persevere.
I felt a sense of history that is not present in a country as young as the United States. I chose this photograph of the main harbor that I took as I walked back to our tour bus and looked over a bridge. The boat docked rests along the Motlawa River where vessels from around the world sailed into and out of the Baltic Sea for centuries. When I returned to my studio and began painting I realized the boat's name translates from Polish as “Margaret”.
Maybe it was a sign….