AKTUALNOŚCI
Dr.Mark Podwal
died on September 13 after a long struggle with cancer. When wefirst met in 2006, I learned that
both of our family’s roots originated in thesame shtetl Dabrowa Bialostocka. My paternal grandparents
emigrated from there during the 1890s when my 16 year old grandpafeared conscription into theRussian
army and his girl friend, my grandma, was fleeing a difficult step-mother. They never spoke to me
abouttheir early life and it wasn’t until long after they were gone that I began to study our
genealogy. In 1982 I published a yizkor book called Dubrowa: Memorial to a Shtetlthat was substantially based on interviews I conducted with members of
the landsmanshaft and several years
later,I visited the town along with a small group of landsmen in order to rededicate theabandoned cemetery
that we’d had restored.
Mark’smother Dorothy at age eight left with
her mother in 1929. At Ellis Island her brother, an artist,was turned away because of a misdiagnosis
of trachoma and years later waskilled at Treblinka. When Dorothylearned of this, she had a psychotic
break and spent the last eighteen years ofher life in an asylum. Mark became a successful
dermatologist in Manhattan, aspecialty that allowed sufficient free time for him to pursue his major
avocationas an artist. With no formal art trainingand only one year of Hebrew school,Mark became one
of our foremost American Jewish artists,his distinctive work adorning major museums,synagogues, the
New York Times’ opinion pages and Metropolitan Opera posters.
InOctober 2015 I received an e-mail
message from Dorota Budzińska, a high schoolteacher in Dabrowa who explained that to her the town’s
overgrown Jewishcemetery was “like a silent reproach…although surrounded by a fence, it was
aneglected and littered site.” She andher students had begun clearing the place and studying their
town’s longforgotten Jewish history. Dorota believed that it is vital to teach tolerancethrough
joint activities and shared knowledge: “Stereotypes, intolerance andindifference all stem from lack
of knowledge.” Now they were planning a JewishCulture Day and having discovered an on-line copy of
my memorial book, invitedme to participate. How could I say no? So in May 2016, accompanied by my
son Ted and grandsonSam, we visitedDabrowa. But first I invited Mark Podwal to join us; having never
been there,he was thrilled andarranged to drive in from Prague.
Markwas so moved by our brief visit that in the first three months after returninghome,
he produced a series of eighteen vividly colored drawings that hedescribed as a “visible diary”of
his trip. The imagesdidn’t focus on the destroyed town per se, but on thevanished world before the
Holocaust and, in his distinctive whimsical style,they displayed themes typical of Poland along with
familiar Jewish symbols. Thecollection was exhibited at venues in the United States and Europe
andpublished in a small book called Kaddishfor Dabrowa
Bialostocka with text both in
Englishand Polish.
Laterthat year when Mark’s collection was exhibited at the
Museum of the Eldridge StreetSynagogue, I was invited to introduce him and what follows here is
extracted from my speech.
Mark Podwal’s whimsical pictures challenge us to think
beyond theobvious. Their warm colors and absence of stark images belie conventionalperceptions of
dark times in the shtetl. In order to appreciate the eighteenpictures in this collection,
what’sneeded is a sense of context
— not only concerninggeneral history but in his case, and mine, personalconnections to a
tiny shtetl called Dabrowa that is located in northeastPoland. Dabrowa means oak forestand there are
several other Dabrowasin Poland but as a result of shifting borders, now the official name is
DabrowaBialostocka after the large city that’s about 30 miles south.
Until our visit three monthsago, Dabrowa was an imaginedplace for Mark from where his
mother and severalother family members had come. Assuch, these pictures which he did after
revisiting his roots provide anostalgic vision of the lost world of his mother’s youth, but these
simpleappearing pictures are not simplistic. Indeed, they challenge us to look beyondtheir curious
juxtapositions in order to consider a more complex and nuancedpicture…..
Last October (2015) I received an e-mail from a high school teacherin Dabrowa who’d
read my book on-line. She explained that her studentshad been studying their town’s history and now
were planning a seminarabout its lost Jewish community….Because I knew that Mark shared some of
thesame roots, I invited him to join me and on the appointed day he drove in from Prague.One of my
sons and a grandsonalso joined me in Warsaw,a van was sent to pick us up and we had a remarkable day
in our family’sshtetl. And as a result of Mark’sexperience, now we have his
splendid Kaddishfor Dabrowa Bialostocka.
Each of the eighteen picturesin this
collection tells a different story. In one Mark incorporates an ancient Polishlegend that white
storks bring good luck. Even today, people pray for thestorks to fly home for if one nests on your
roof, it’s a good sign.
Although Mark denies that’s what he meant, I like tothink of the white storks as metaphors
for the former Jewish neighbors who flewaway and someday may return and bring luck — perhaps we
were/are the storks. Idon’t mean to romanticize or idealize shtetl life. It was neither all rosy
norall grim and long before the Holocaust there were pogroms and anti- Semitism — yes, even in
sleepylittle Dabrowa. In March, 1939 there was aminor pogrom there inspired by rumors of Jews having
killed a gentile boy touse his blood to make matzahs. So the blood libel slander still was alive
justsix months before the onset of World War II.
No
doubt, the present citizens of Dabrowa will be baffled by Mark’sinclusion of so many religious and
cultural Jewish symbols but, in truth, itwas religion that bound the old community together and this
theme runs through many of his pictures. Perhapsit’s best illustrated in his depictionof the shtetl
encircled by what appears to be a lasso in the shape of agiant tefillin. Although life wasdictated by religious observance,
some Jews felt strangled and as soon as theywere in sight of the Statue of Liberty, many males
tossed their tefillin into NewYork
Harbor. In my grandfather’s case, when he spotted a street sign inBrooklyn, he jettisoned his clumsy
Russian surname Neviadomsky in favor of theYankee-sounding Nevins, presumably after Nevins Street in
Brooklyn.
Today life in Dabrowa is very different than it was in my
grandparent’s time. From our recent experience, it wasgratifying that many of the current
residentsseemed eager to learn from the past and were willing to move on in a spirit of friendship.
Similarevents are happening in other places as well, and some speak optimistically ofa Jewish
renaissance in Poland.
Others worry that the current nationalistic political climate mightlead to a return of
bad times, but in our brief time in Dabrowa,we were greetedwith warmth and respect. In turn, our
message to them stressedreconciliation rather than recrimination and in my speech there, my final
wordto them was Shalom. Finally, I think
it’s appropriate that Mark describes thiscollection as a Kaddish because, just like in the ancient prayer, his
art is forwardlooking. Even as his pictures fondly recall the past, they yearn for a bettertime to
come — in Dabrowa, in Poland and everywhere.
Thatwasn’t the end of the story. Mark wished to
display his pictures in Poland andalso to donate one thousand copies of his book to individuals both
in Dabrowa and elsewhere. He arranged to revisit in June 2018 and this time it washis turn to invite
me to accompany him. We met in Warsaw and were driven nearlythree hours to Dabrowa. For me the
highlight of the day was when Dorota’s classwalked us through town and stopped at former Jewish
sites to tell us whatthey’d learned. When we arrived at the cemetery, several students held
upenlarged photos of people who were buried there and spoke briefly about each ofthem. I was
delighted that one picture was of my great, grandfather Moshe Aaron Zaban, the man whom I’m named
afterbut never met. No doubt they’d found it in my yizkor book but I was unable toidentify his
grave, nor could Mark find any of his relatives.
In2016 a huge collection of Mark Podwal’s work was
published. It was titled Reimagined.45 Years of Jewish Art and in his Introduction Mark wrote “although museum
directors and curatorshave urged me to broaden my subject matter by going beyond Jewish content,
myheart is with the Jewish experience.” The Forward, written by his great friendElie Wiesel began
“If you like to dream, then enter the dreams of Mark Podwal.He will lead you through the centuries
as through a gallery where you areawaited by a world both strange and familiar…..His stories,
sometimes joyfuland sometimes melancholic, are recounted in a style and language quite his own;they
will make you smile.
Through them you will discover or rediscover recollections, which — withoutyou being aware — are part of your collective memory.”
In the Preface CynthiaOzick described Mark as “one of those startling souls… who can imagine, throughthe power of a unifyingeye, connections that are so new that they shake the brain intofresh
juxtapositions of understanding.” She suggested that his work seems to bederived from “an unearthly
ink pot….as when Jerusalem floatsup from leaves of a sacred text or when letters of Torahdance through the
ether.”
Mark Podwal was unique. He will
be missed. Hisart will remain.
MN 9/18/2024