The Necessity of Human Representation

Block Museum at Northwestern University Exhibits Art from Auschwitz

by Dena Beard

The Last Expression: Art and Auschwitz, presented by the Block Museum on Northwestern’s Evanston campus, is an exhibit of Auschwitz prisoners’ art that veers past the usual sense of moral queasiness that inevitably surrounds Holocaust memorials. Rather, the exhibit is successful in its own right for showing us why art transcends an unfathomable experience.

Entering the exhibit, it becomes obvious that the Block Museum did not intend to mildly approach this subject, as evidenced immediately by the organization of the exhibition space. Like rats in a maze, the herded visitors move between gray walls pierced curiously with narrow windows and recessed benches. This none too subtle attempt to evoke the experience of Auschwitz certainly hinders our right to a comprehensive view of the works on display, but maybe the dramatic gesture is worth the price.

The first wall slams us with a quote from a commanding officer at Auschwitz. The statement is an excerpt from a letter chastising fellow SS officers for allowing artistic activities to proceed in the camp, stating that art-making is reason enough for the severe punishment of a prisoner. Following this are two paintings that explain the categories of art produced at the concentration camp.

The first is a painting of female nudes in the classical tradition, evidently commissioned by an SS officer. The second is a crude rendering called “A Friendly Favor,” which depicts prisoners carrying a severely emaciated man. What we later learn from this elementary demonstration is that the same Auschwitz commander that condemned artistic activity at the camp eventually sanctioned commissioned works of art from detainees as gifts for visiting officials, even establishing a museum of Auschwitz art directly beneath the camp brothel. Of course, the sanctioned paintings were severely restricted in style and content, and a drawing like that depicting the starving inmate, had it been discovered, would have most certainly meant death for the artist.

One of the inmates commissioned for paintings is quoted as saying that the museum “saved lives,” in that it allowed detainees to hold on to a certain degree of humanity. Ironically, most of those working at the museum were one by one found to be making clandestine works with museum materials, and for that reason almost all were put to death. The remaining prisoner artwork ranges from kitschy flower paintings to haunting abstractions. The charcoal blots of Jósef Szajna are like a countdown on a prison wall; he used his fingerprint repeatedly to document the loss of individuality among the inmates through time.

Resistance has been broken down into genre, and portraiture, humor, and illustration have become subversions of the real conditions in the camps. A computer towards the front holds the pages of Zofia Rozensztrauch’s sketchbook, a haunting document so detailed in its images of prison life that it became a key piece of evidence during the post-war trials. The caricature of an SS officer by Wicentry Gawron is a mimic of a commissioned portrait Gawron was to do of the officer with his dog; only in the caricature the officer himself has the gait and mannerisms of the dog.

A portrait of Mala Zimetbaum by Zofia Stepien´-Bator [sic] holds the creases and folds of its history; Zimetbaum was found attempting to escape from the camp and was eventually put to death. As reverence for her courage and as an important representation of defiance, her portrait passed hands until it was eventually smuggled out of Aushwitz.

Suddenly we begin to grasp the fervor demonstrated in each mark put on paper. We have unfastened ourselves from the grip of dejection now and can see in each stroke of pencil an individual soliloquy.

This is not to say that those in Auschwitz made beautiful art because of their situation, but the works point past all our knowledge of the artistic practice and simply scrawl, in whatever base visual language, the absolute necessity of human representation.

Images courtesy of Mary & Leigh Block Museum of Art