The artist Marek Zulawski, translation & Polish-British culture

Hi,

Never meet your heroes.

That's what they say. But my father Marek met one of his by accident while visiting the mental asylum that was The Priory. He was there because his wife Halinka was in and out of the place too.

He had a great icebreaker to start the conversation too.

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"I see you're reading my favourite poet."

Robert Lowell at the Grolier Bookshop in Harvard Square in the 1960s, via Wikimedia

Art: this time poetry rather than painting. Words operate on countless more levels than colour. They not only sound. They mean. They teach. They liberate. They open sesame. They enchant.

The magic of words. They satisfy the hungry and those who thirst for justice. They curse, captivate — forgive. The word becomes flesh. A miracle.

I met him yesterday at the Priory Sanatorium. From afar, you could hear Mahler's Fourth Symphony. Halinka and I entered a vast salon with a Renaissance ceiling and a floor covered with a sapphire rug adorned with rusty plant motifs.

He sat alone in a deep chair with a book on his lap — slim, tall — his long legs stretched out in front of him. I hesitated.

"Are we interrupting?"

"Not a bit," he replied. The cover of his book had large letters written on it: FOR LIZZIE AND HARRIET, ROBERT LOWELL.

"I see you're reading my favourite poet," I remarked. 

"I'm revising my own book for a new edition," he replied. "I am Robert Lowell." 

I was astonished: "Here, in a sanatorium?" 

"Alcohol troubles," he smiled.

"I thought you lived in America." I couldn't hide my surprise. 

"A bit here, a bit there..." he answered.

When I introduced myself, he paused. 

"Zulawski, Zulawski, I think I know a Zulawski... That's a Polish name, isn't it? I remember. Zulawski translated my stage trilogy The Old Glory. Was it you by any chance?"

"No. That was my brother Juliusz," I replied. "But it was at my suggestion! Because I saw your piece in the theatre and was deeply impressed..."

"What a coincidence," he exclaimed. "Did you read that translation? How did it come out in Polish?" Questions started pouring out.

He was boyishly excited. He kept taking off his horn-rimmed glasses and then putting them back on, running his fingers through his long hair that spread in every direction. Mahler's symphony had long ended, but we, engrossed in conversation, had forgotten about the record — and about the silent Halinka, who suddenly declared she wanted to return to her room.

As we said goodbye, Lowell gave me the book he was holding. 

"I’ll return it after reading — it contains your corrections," I protested. 

"No, no, I'll correct another copy... Besides, maybe it's better to leave it as it was since I'm only correcting out of boredom..."

Extremely likable — he combines a tragic sadness with youthful cheerfulness.

His poems, like those of Zbigniew Herbert, strike at the heart of things — they define the mysteries of the human condition.

Oh, Herbert — he is also a great poet! I came across Mr. Cogito. Actually, it was Stefan Themerson who took a small red-bound copy of it from the shelf and started reading out excerpts, some from here, some from there. After that, I couldn't rest until I'd persuaded Julek to send me a copy from Warsaw of the volume . I read Mr. Cogito often.

Preferably aloud. What an incredible precision of word, what a sense of rhythm — what depth of feeling and understanding. Pure synthesis.

For poetry must be, like all art, synthesis. It must proclaim — it must speak to the heart and mind simultaneously. Not narrate, not teach, not declaim — proclaim. Proclaim to the world something new that was born from self-understanding.

I would like to meet Zbigniew Herbert too — I would like to see his absurd face and pay tribute to him.

Zbigniew Herbert's absurd face, via Wikimedia

Robert Lowell died a few years after this meeting, in 1977. Zbigniew Herbert outlasted them both and lived until 1998. The Priory is still going.

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Jerzy 150th in full swing

July 14th marked the 150th anniversary of my grandfather Jerzy Żuławski's birthday. He was a pioneer of science fiction and there are several interesting things happening to celebrate. I myself made a guest appearance on-screen in Edmonton in Canada on the 14th at a screening of On The Silver Globe. 

But the most interesting event is probably the space training that started the other day and will continue until August. A bunch of scientists from around the world are being isolated in a Norwegian bunker built to simulate living on another planet.

I am sad to say there is no live footage as it is actual research, not a light entertainment show like Big Brother. However there are regular updates from the research centre on Facebook.

And if you're looking for something to listen to, check out this new album called Commentarii Lunares, based on the three novels of Jerzy's Lunar Trilogy. I translated the press release into English a few months ago, which you can read here (I am certain I published this on TranslatingMarek.com too, but it has somehow, quite bafflingly, disappeared).

The album is made by three different musicians, but somehow it gels. Parts sound like old John Carpenter movie soundtracks, while others like 70s prog rock. It's quite fun and will make you pine for vintage episodes of Doctor Who.

Other Jerzy things happening this year are mentioned in this press release here.

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That's all for this week. Many thanks for reading.

Adam

Adam Zulawski

TranslatingMarek.com / TranslatePolishMemoirs.com / Other stuff

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