Monthly Archives: March 2016

Swimming in the Synagogue?

20 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by in Commemoration, Jewish Culture, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Post-World War II, Poznan, Pre-World War II, Synagogues, World War II

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

,

How, realistically, can Jewish heritage be preserved in Poland? Some projects are easy to get behind, like the lapidarium in Wronki. Others fall into more problematic ethical territory. The fact remains that there are many more sites in need of preservation than there are funds for such projects. And yet, I would argue that because of the magnitude of the destruction of Jewish life in Poland, every fragment has enhanced value.

The survival of a building as grand as the New Synagogue in Poznań is thus of particular worth. As with most remaining synagogues in Poland, the New Synagogue was not destroyed because it was repurposed. The Nazis converted the building into a swimming pool; after World War II, it remained a municipal pool until 2011. Although there has been ongoing public debate about more appropriate uses of the space, which at some point was passed back into the hands of the Jewish Community, the main reason the pool was finally closed was because of its deteriorating condition.

The New Synagogue was built in 1907 on Stawna Street between Wroniecka and Żydowska (Jewish) Street, just a few blocks from the central market square of the old city. Intended for Poznań’s wealthier Jewish citizens, the imposing structure had a seating capacity of 1200 and a large copper-covered cupola. Its size and grandeur is all the more striking, considering the Jewish population of the city was under 6000 when the synagogue was built, and further dwindled to perhaps 3000 right before World War II (statistics from Virtual Sztetl).

synagogue_1907-2011A

Poznań’s New Synagogue in 1907 when it was first opened and in 2011, around the time the swimming pool closed (photos from: http://www.januszmarciniak.pl/synagogue)

As these photos show, the German occupiers also removed the cupola and other ornate features, leaving a far less elaborate structure. For several years, starting in 2004, artists like Janusz Marciniak were involved in installations and commemorative events that used the pool as a focal point. Some of these include Marciniak’s  Atlantis (2004),  Alphabet (2005), and 9/09/1939 (2006).

4_ATLANTIS

Poznań’s New Synagogue in 1907 when it was first opened and in 2011, around the time the swimming pool closed (photos from: http://www.januszmarciniak.pl/synagogue)

The Jewish Community, together with others interested in preserving the New Synagogue, proposed restoring the building to its prewar shape and condition, and housing a Center for Dialog and Tolerance. Unfortunately, the plan failed to gain the institutional support and financial backing necessary for it to be realized.

But now there is a new plan in the works, to turn the synagogue into a hotel. In and of itself, that is not the worst outcome; investors will preserve and upgrade the structure, which will include a mini-museum with information about the building’s origins and the history of Poznań’s Jews. So while a museum, or memorial, or center for dialog and tolerance would be preferable, at least the synagogue won’t be torn down, as some city leaders suggested as recently as 2006.

Artist’s rendering of the proposed hotel project. The prewar copper-clad dome is reimagined in glass. Photo from article in Gazeta Wyborcza
Elements of the pool being disassembled. Photo by Łukasz Cynalewski

But putting another pool in the synagogue is, as my husband put it, kind of tone deaf. It’s insensitive to the cruel history of the place.

A recent article in Gazeta Wyborcza about the planned hotel begins with the following fable:

(my translation) “Summer 2020. Early morning at the hotel on Wroniecki Street at the corner of Stawna Street. In a luxury room in the former Jewish synagogue Alessandro Gianini, a tourist from Rome, wakes up. He flew into Poznan the night before and stayed in the modern hotel with intriguing architecture. In the guidebook, he read that the glass copula of the building recreates the old outline of an imposing synagogue. Now he wants to look around the city.

“But before Alessandro sets out for the Old Market Square, he goes down to the second floor for a swim in the hotel pool. The swim helps to relax and awaken him. He changes, and full of life goes down to the ground floor to the restaurant. After a light breakfast and a cappuccino, he heads to the exit. In the hall, however, he sees an open door to a small space. A sign in English hangs on it: “Museum of the Jews of Wielkopolski.”

“Intrigued, Gianini looks inside. He sees large boards–reproductions of sepia-colored photographs. On the first of these–a long swimming pool under a high vaulted ceiling. On the wall of the pool–a fascist eagle.

“Surprised, the Italian looks at the caption below the photo: “In 1940 Nazi occupiers profaned the synagogue, removing the Star of David from it and building a pool inside of it.

“Alessandro suddenly feels ashamed. Because of his morning swim in the place where 80 years earlier Nazis showed complete contempt for the feelings and religion of Jews, and then sentenced them to a horrible death. He is ashamed and embarrassed. And more than anything surprised that history could be repeated in this cruelly perverse way…”

(the original Polish is in the article)

I don’t know anything more about these plans, except for rumors I heard while I was in Poznań last year, and the contents of this article. Perhaps if they do include a pool, it will be located in some new addition to the structure, in a less offensive place than the main sanctuary. I certainly hope so.

Southern Conference on Slavic Studies

18 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by in Anthropology, Cemeteries, Heritage work, Identity, Jewish Culture, Memory, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Polish-Jewish relations, Wronki

≈ Leave a comment

The Southern Conference on Slavic Studies has its annual meeting right here in Tuscaloosa starting today until March 19. Tomorrow, I will present a paper about my heritage work in Poland. Here is the abstract:

From Curbstones to Commemoration: Reincorporating the Memory of Jewish Life in a Polish Town

The figure of the Jew remains a multivalent symbol in Poland, resilient even in the face of the destruction of Jewish culture during the Holocaust and erasure of its traces during state socialism. My research on Jewish heritage asks what can be done with the fragments of Jewish culture that remain in Poland, sometimes hidden and sometimes in plain sight. And what value does such memory work have? The growth of interest in Jewish culture in Poland can be seen not just in major cities, but also in smaller communities throughout the country. I focus on one commemorative project in one Polish town to illustrate changing, though still contested, orientations toward the history of Jewish residence in Poland. Specifically, I examine the rescue of fragments of Jewish tombstones from a street curb where they rested for sixty years, and the decade-long effort of multiple stakeholders to return the stones to a place of commemoration. I argue that an essential component of the project was to reincorporate the history of Jews into the wider history of the town—a kind of making what was regarded as “other” (“obcy”) into something that is one’s own (swój). The Lapidarium of tombstones from the old Jewish cemetery in Wronki has literally become a place on the map, and has returned the memory of Jewish lives to town residents and visitors. The fragments of tombstones, historical sign, and commemorative marker reveal something about the past, even if it is just in an incomplete and shattered form. And they point toward the future—the possibilities that might emerge out of reassembling Jewish life in Poland.

In memory of the Jewish community that inhabited Wronki from 1507-1939. Lapidarium of tombstones from the destroyed Jewish cemeteries of Wronki
Lapidarium of Jewish Tombstones, Wronki
Lapidarium of Jewish Tombstones, Wronki
Stone offering on the monument at the lapidarium in Wronki

This is my first effort to make sense of one of the most inspiring heritage projects I witnessed while in Poland last year–the lapidarium of Jewish tombstones in Wronki. I describe the project as a collective representation–symbolic of an inclusive concept of Wronki history (and by extension Polish history). Jewish residents, although they are no longer present, nevertheless comprise an essential element of that history. As such, this new resting place for Jewish tombstones represents the return of the memory of Jews back into the center of town and the center of residents’ consciousness.

But more tomorrow–my panel is from 10:15-12 PM at the Embassy Suites in downtown Tuscaloosa.

Jewish Krakow 1992

01 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Cemeteries, Fieldwork, Jewish Culture, Kazimierz, Krakow, Memory, Poland, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Polish-Jewish relations

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

During my photography expeditions in 1992, Krakow’s Kazimierz district caught my eye. Kazimierz has long been associated with Krakow’s Jewish population. It became a separate city for Jews when new regulations restricted their access to Krakow’s center during the 15th century. Before World War II, Kazimierz was incorporated into Krakow, but still most residents were Jewish. After the war, a tiny Jewish community congregated in a few remaining Jewish organizations. Despite their small numbers, the district continued to be associated with Jewish culture.

img110

A menorah motif on the fence around the green space on Szeroka Street, 1992

Over the past 25 years, Jewish life has returned to Kazimierz. It’s an eclectic community of people who define their links to Judaism and Jewish culture in a wide range of ways, including Poles who have recently rediscovered or reconnected with their Jewish heritage, Jews from the US or Israel or elsewhere, and people who simply appreciate Jewish culture. This is not a return to the prewar Jewish community; it is its own unique hybrid. Erica Lehrer describes the disparate strands that are woven together in Kazimierz in her book Jewish Poland Revisited: Heritage Tourism in Unquiet Places. It’s well worth reading for anyone interested in understanding something about what’s happening in Kazimierz today.

But back in 1992, the main site of active Jewish culture in Poland was the Remuh synagogue and adjoining cemetery.

Remuh cemetery, 1992. Stones left on a tombstone
Inside the Remuh synagogue courtyard, 1992
Remuh cemetery, the synagogue in the background, 1992

These are some of the older graves in Kazimierz, with the distinctive vaulted grave covers.

Part of the cemetery is surrounded by a wall made of fragments of tombstones. During World War II, many of these stones had been repurposed around the city as sidewalks and roadbeds, but they were recovered and placed in this wall.

img097

Wall around the Remuh cemetery, composed of fragments of tombstones recovered from building projects after World War II.

I also visited the larger Jewish cemetery off of Miodowa Street. Here are newer graves, dating from the 19th-20th centuries, including some postwar burials. The opulence of some of the tombstones attests to the prominence of the people buried here.

New Jewish Cemetery, Krakow 1992
New Jewish Cemetery, Krakow 1992
New Jewish Cemetery, Krakow 1992
New Jewish

But much of the cemetery was in disrepair. The tree above that is engulfing a tombstone attests to the length of time this neglect had lasted.

A final place that caught my eye, pointed out to me by a friend, Krystyna, was some graffiti inside the courtyard of a broken-down (though still occupied) building in Kazimierz. Someone painted a Madonna, but where her face should have been was a tiny door. I don’t remember what was behind the door, but it looks like there might have been

Madonna graffiti, Kazimierz 1992
Madonna painted in a recess of a courtyard full of trash and broken down walls, Kazimierz 1992

electrical circuits or perhaps water pipes. I remember Krystyna being captivated by this image. An artist herself, she wondered about its larger meaning: who would have drawn it, and why they would have put it where a door replaced the face? And why place it in a trashy courtyard in Kazimierz? I can’t remember if she said anything explicitly about the placement of Catholic imagery in the former Jewish district, but I think she did. And I certainly ponder this. It wasn’t a reclaiming of territory for Catholics–if it had been it would not have been placed where it was without a painted face. It was meant to be ironic, I believe. The Madonna of Trash and Disintegration.