The artist Marek Zulawski, translation & Polish-British culture

Hi,

I had to skip making the newsletter two weeks ago due to my trip to Japan (more about that later) but I'm back today with another translation from my father's autobiography. This week, it's about him being 'the man of the house' as a child and about his relationship with all his maternal figures.

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And let no one tell me that miracles do not happen

The Łada villa, Zakopane, 1919

As a child, I hated being kissed. It was only my honorary aunts and my mother’s friends who did it. I'd shield myself with my elbow and wipe my face on my sleeve afterward. I resisted fiercely. 

I couldn’t stand the adult women who dominated me throughout my childhood. During the First World War, after my father’s death, I was the oldest man in the house at the age of eight — and I was aware of it. 

I was strong and tough. I was taller than the older boys I was always fighting with. When I was 10, I chopped wood every day — the same wood that heated that whole enormous villa known as Łada, full of women and children, all winter long. Using a big axe, I split the heavy logs brought from the forest by a highlander, and then I cut them into short pieces. 

I bristled under the rule of women. But there was one woman I had special reverence for. 

It was the Holy Virgin Mary. 

She was the only one who didn't hurt or humiliate me. She didn’t unfairly lock me in the pantry like Grandma Zosia, didn’t thump me on the neck with her fist like Mum, didn’t mock me like Aunt Halka, and didn’t scold me at every opportunity like Aunt Józia. 

In the wooden shingled little church on Kościeliska Street, fragrant with resin and spruce branches, she looked down on me from the flower-decked altar with the large eyes of a Byzantine Madonna. In the gilded air, bees buzzed as the catechist — the mountaineer priest Father Humpolla — conducted his sermon. The words of the litany rang out from the low pulpit. I was deeply moved. “Virgin Most Prudent, Virgin Most Venerable, Virgin Most Merciful…” The boys’ voices answered, “Pray for us,” in chorus. 

That was a very, very long time ago — but even earlier I see myself in a striped jumper, walking with another boy upward, into the forested slopes beneath Sarnia Skała. The weather is hot, the sky deep sapphire, birds are singing. We wanted to roast the potatoes we were carrying in our pockets. We had some matches. 

And then I see the dry grass catching fire. Trails of flames run in every direction…

All the lower branches of spruces near the fire start to burn. We try to extinguish it, burning our hands. Hot embers fall onto my socks. I beat at the blazing grass with my jumper, but that only helps spread the fire. 

Panic overtakes us — we start to run.

Down, down, tumbling and rolling, we rush into the valley. Behind us rises a great column of smoke, straight as a pillar against the glittering cloudless sky. We split up by the Chałubiński Monument like escaped criminals. 

But I don’t run home. On the slopes of Antałówka, deep in the forest, lies my hiding place, dug into the hillside and covered with branches. There I fall to my bleeding knees and fervently beg the Holy Virgin for a miracle. 

And let no one tell me that miracles do not happen. 

Because when I lifted my face, the sky was covered with clouds, and the first drops of rain fell on my cheeks. Overwhelmed with immense gratitude and sacred dread, I stood and watched. Over my face — mingled with tears — down my neck, over my torn jumper, ran streams of water. 

On the other side of the wide valley, the tall column of smoke bent like a serpent, then it twisted and sank — and at last it died away. 

“Thou who hast crushed the serpent’s head...” I whispered with trembling lips.

The Chałubiński Monument during winter, Zakopane, via Wikipedia

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Report from Japan

The artist Magda Burdzyńska and me, The Lab., Osaka, 3 Oct 2025

The opening of our exhibition The Amazing Land of Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi in Osaka went great! I ended up giving a short speech at the ceremony and then I later gave two speeches in the famous Namba Square to promote the book and exhibition too. The second time at the square, there was even somebody in the crowd waving the book around excitedly. Japan is full of surprises.

I had lots of fun giving tours of the exhibition and met many interesting and lovely people. Before I left, I created two audioguides for exhibition visitors to use after we'd left - you can listen to them here if you're curious: English / Japanese. Today is the last day of the show's three-week run. I'm not sure we'll do one again, but I'm very grateful for what we've achieved with the book and its travelling exhibition over the years.

You can see photos from the Osaka exhibition here.

While in Osaka, my family and I managed to visit EXPO 2025 which was completely rammed with people. We visited the Polish Pavilion which was genuinely impressive - it was all about Polish herbs and plants. You can watch a short walkthrough of the pavilion here.

Below is a photo of me and Yasuko Shibata (the translator of the Japanese version of our book, exhibition and audioguide) in the pavilion's gift shop. Both versions of the book were on sale here and the Japanese version consistently sold out throughout the EXPO whenever it appeared.

Due to all the huge queues, the only other pavilion we managed to visit was Turkmenistan's - we learned that Turkmenistan is obsessed with horses and dogs. Like, really obsessed.

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That's all for this week. Many thanks for reading. If you want to support the newsletter, please forward it to a friend or donate here.

Adam

Adam Zulawski

TranslatingMarek.com / TranslatePolishMemoirs.com / Other stuff

👉 Help fund the translation of Studium do autoportretu via Paypal 👈

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