The artist Marek Zulawski, translation & Polish-British culture

Hi,

My family and I are sunning ourselves on a beach this week, but I managed to put together a short newsletter before leaving. Hooray for scheduling things in advance! 🤓

Also, hooray for the organisers of last year's big Marek exhibition in Toruń, as they just won a distinction award in the best 2023 exhibitions category at the regional Musejon cultural awards 🥳

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"That was the last exchange of gunfire"

Regional Polish TV boards from the 1950s & 1960s, photo: Wikipedia

It’s 1957. I have an exhibition in Warsaw, so Polish Television has asked me for an interview. I’m supposed to talk with a young and very intelligent female art historian. A few of my paintings have been taken down from the exhibition and brought to the television studio. We go over what we’ll talk about more or less. Mutual smiles. Different variations come to mind, but we agree on things easily enough and are soon ready. The green light — we’re on.

At first, everything goes as agreed earlier, but a one point, my interviewer says some unexpected things. She asks, for example, what I think about contemporary Polish painting. Not wanting to be tactless toward my Polish colleagues, I nimbly dodge the question, giving a vague answer. The interview then continues, until she accuses me of stylisation. That really made me twinge, but I hide my anger and respond with a charming smile: "Madame, as an art historian, surely you understand the difference between stylisation and the search for a style."

That was the last exchange of gunfire. I felt I'd won our debate, that I'd come out unscathed from a difficult situation I'd been totally unprepared for. 

Feeling pleased with myself, full of that special excitement that comes from victory in a duel with a worthy opponent, I don’t go straight home but head to Bella Gelbart’s, where my mother was supposed to be watching the programme.

I walk in, still fired up from the exchange and expecting praise, but my mother’s face is grim. Undeterred, I cheerfully ask: "Well, Mum, how was it? Did I do well?" Her expression doesn’t brighten. "So, what did you think?" I ask, now a bit concerned.

"Simply awful," replies my mother.

My heart sinks to my stomach. "Why, Mum?" I stammer.

"You look terribly old," she answers, with deep resentment in her voice. "You’re almost completely grey!"

I become angry. "That’s not what I’m asking about," I say, feeling hurt. "I meant how I spoke, what I said."

"I've always known you've had a head on your shoulders," my mother replies impatiently, "but I didn’t realise you were so old."

I didn’t want to discuss it any further — I felt deeply insulted. Bella's attempt to intervene and smooth things over didn't help, saying that television is a particularly cruel medium and that “in real life” Marek obviously didn’t look old at all.

"Maybe," said my mother, "but how must I look if my son is already grey?" 

That ended the conversation. I never did find out her opinion of my television interview.

In case you're wondering, Marek was 49 when he was interviewed, while Kazimiera was 74. You can read an article by my formidable grandmother here.

Drawing of Kazimiera Żuławska by Marek Zulawski, 1947, photo: University Museum in Toruń

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New (old) Warsaw stories in English

Warsaw Tales, a new collection of short stories about Warsaw, has been published by Oxford University Press, as part of their 'City Tales' series. The translator is the Booker-winning Antonia Lloyd-Jones, who has written an intriguing article for Notes From Poland all about the creation of the book, including how she found and selected the stories:

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That's all for this week. Many thanks for reading. If you want to support the newsletter, 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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