Saturday 20 June 2015

Arthur "The One-Man Army" Szyk...


FITZGERALD, Edward (Arthur Szyk, illus.), Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, rendered into English verse, The Heritage Press for the George Macy Companies Inc., New York, NY, USA, 1946.

Quarto; hardcover, quarter-bound in illustrated boards; unpaginated (24pp.), printed and bound orihon style, with a full-colour, gilt-decorated frontispiece and 7 plates likewise. Boards rubbed with mild bumping; spine extremities softened; mild spotting to the text block edges and endpapers. Lacks dustwrapper. Very good.



“Art is not my aim, it is my means.”
-Arthur Szyk.

Arthur Szyk, like Willy Pogany, was born in Eastern Europe and, unlike many other illustrators, seemed fated to make a living in that profession from his earliest days. Unlike Pogany, however, who was mostly easy-going and positive, Szyk was contentious, darkly-humoured and, with a pencil in his hand, downright antagonistic.

Born in Łódź, Poland, on the 16th day of June 1894, Szyk (pronounced “Shick”) was the son of wealthy textile merchants, of Jewish extraction but non-Orthodox. Throughout his life, Szyk was proud of his heritage, both national and religious, and used his skills to promote pro-Polish causes and to fight anti-Semitism wherever he found them. During the Łódź Insurrection in 1905, Szyk’s father lost his eyesight when a disgruntled worker flung acid in his face. Despite this, Solomon Szyk staunchly supported his son’s artistic leanings, sending him to the Académie Julian in Paris for his education.


There, Arthur was exposed to all the great artistic movements which arose during the start of last century. However, it seemed that the more he encountered the New in terms of art, the more he chose to cleave to the traditional, Eastern-influenced styles of his homeland, as well as developing a liking for the stylistic forms of medieval manuscripts. From 1912-1914, he was regularly published in the Łódź magazine “Śmiech” (“Laughter”), providing many politically-charged cartoons and caricatures. By this time he had left Paris and had taken up studies at the Jan Matejko Academy of Fine Arts in Kraków studying under Teodor Axentowicz. In 1914 he went to Palestine with several associates to observe the efforts of jewish settlers in constructing a Jewish state; however, the trip was cut short due to the outbreak of World War One. Palestine was in the control of the Ottoman Empire and Szyk, being Polish, was considered Russian and therefore unwelcome in Ottoman territories.

Returning home to Łódź, Szyk was conscripted into the Russian army and fought in the battle to defend his hometown in November/December 1914. Whilst in the army he drew many images of Russian soldiers which were sold successfully as postcards. At the commencement of 1915, he fled the army and returned to Łódź, where he waited out the War. In September of 1916, he met and married Julia Likerman, with whom he had two children, George in 1917 and Alexandra in 1922.


Poland regained its independence from Russia in 1918. In response to the German Revolution of 1918-19, he illustrated a satirical work, co-authored by himself and poet Julian Tuwim, entitled Rewolucja w Niemczech (Revolution in Germany). The book poked fun at the German people for requiring the permission of their Kaiser to enact a revolutionary proceedings. Shortly afterwards, Szyk was back in battle himself in the Soviet-Polish War of 1919-20, which he began by working as a propagandist, and then as a Polish cavalry officer. In 1921, he re-located to Paris once more.

In France, Szyk began illustrating in earnest. Previous to this period, his work was mainly executed in black and white; now he began to prefer colour and his book illustrations took on the jewel-like aspect which became characteristic of his style. While based in Paris, he travelled extensively returning frequently to Łódź. In Marrakesh he drew the portrait of the Pasha, and he went to Geneva to illustrate the Statute of the League of Nations. For the Pasha’s portrait he received the Ordre des Palmes Académiques, for being a goodwill ambassador; he left the Statute incomplete, turning in disgust from what he perceived to be half-hearted efforts by the League.


Also during this period, he began illustrating the Statute of Kalisz, a charter of liberties which were granted to the Jews by Boleslaw the Pious, the Duke of Kalisz, in 1264. Work on the project gained widespread recognition and, before it was even finished, postcard reproductions of certain pages and a travelling exhibition cemented Szyk’s popularity in the lead-up to the publishing of the work in Munich in 1932. He was awarded the Polish Gold Cross of Merit for his effort in showcasing the Jewish contributions made to Polish culture.

At the same time, Szyk was embarked upon illustrating a history of George Washington and the American Revolutionary War entitled Washington and his Times. This series of 38 watercolour images was begun in Paris in 1930 and was exhibited in 1934 at the Library of Congress in Washington, at which time Szyk was awarded the George Washington Bicentennial Medal.


Starting in 1932, Szyk began to illustrate a version of the Jewish text The Haggadah, which contained 48 full-colour illustrations and many other decorations. It is considered to be his magnum opus. With the unsettling reverberations which were coming out of Germany however, Szyk was compelled to add many modern flourishes to the work – evil characters in the work depicted in German clothing and with Hitler moustaches, caricatures of Joseph Goebbels and Hermann Göring, and many images of swastika-bearing snakes proliferated. In 1937 while in London, Szyk was forced by his publishers to amend these details before the work went to print: at the time the British Government was actively pursuing a policy of appeasement with Germany and didn’t want anything to sour the deal. Three years of compromise later, Szyk dedicated the book to King George VI and walked away from it. The Times review of the final work declared it “worthy to be placed among the most beautiful of books that the hand of man has ever produced”.

Probably compelled by the compromises he made to this work, Szyk held an exhibition of 72 caricatures held at the London Fine Art Society, entitled War and “Kultur” in Poland. A reviewer in The Times rated the display in 1940 as follows:

“There are three leading motives in the exhibition: the brutality of the Germans – and the more primitive savagery of the Russians, the heroism of the Poles, and the suffering of the Jews. The cumulative effect of the exhibition is immensely powerful because nothing in it appears to be a hasty judgment, but part of the unrelenting pursuit of an evil so firmly grasped that it can be dwelt upon with artistic satisfaction.”


Shortly thereafter, Szyk left England to travel to America, charged by the Polish government in exile to spread the word in the US about the fate of Poland and the Jews under Nazi rule.

Szyk felt a spiritual affinity with the United States and declared that he felt completely free to speak his mind (through his art). He was inspired by various governmental proclamations and pieces of legislation to illustrate these and to create works of art to celebrate them. He designed stamps and official documents, but primarily he created illustrations propagandizing the Axis powers and celebrating Allied victories. These were published in various magazines and turned into posters which, it is said, were even more popular amongst the US troops than their pin-up girls. Eleanor Roosevelt said of Szyk, “This is a personal war of Szyk against Hitler, and I do not think that Mr. Szyk will lose this war!”


Szyk’s unwavering moral compass was not reserved only for the Axis enemies. He also created many works critical of the American culture, particularly the entrenched racism that he perceived there. In one cartoon he has two US soldiers – one white and one black – discussing what they would have done with him if they had captured Hitler. The black soldier says “I would have made him a Negro and dropped him somewhere in the U.S.A.” The Ku Klux Klan were another hated organisation who felt his acerbic barbs.

Szyk’s popularity waned after the War and he eventually died of a heart attack in New Canaan in September 1951. He left behind an incredible legacy of illustrative work, not only of his war propaganda but also many meticulously designed books, immediately recognisable due to his minute, jewel-like work. Recent exhibitions have revived interest in his work and re-established him as one of the most driven and passionate illustrators of the Twentieth Century. After his death Judge Simon H. Rifkind summed up his life with this eulogy:

"The Arthur Szyk whom the world knows, the Arthur Szyk of the wondrous color, and of the beautiful design, that Arthur Szyk whom the world mourns today—he is indeed not dead at all. How can he be when the Arthur Szyk who is known to mankind lives and is immortal and will remain immortal as long as the love of truth and beauty prevails among mankind?”








Tuesday 2 June 2015

Batter'd...


XVI.

“Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.”


This is a neat little image: a caravanserai is basically a semi-permanent encampment of traders, their tents arranged in an orderly fashion around a central meeting area. These locales were designed as places where traders and travellers could meet to discuss the market, swap gossip, and rest secure knowing that there was some degree of safety in numbers on the road. You can easily imagine such a campsite settling down in the evening: a cluster of little tents each with its lamp and a patch of growing darkness between each one – effectively an “alternate Night and Day”.

FitzGerald devises many ways in which to encapsulate this idea of endless, successive days and nights, to symbolise the progress of time. We’ve seen the Bird of Time on the wing already and this is yet another urging to be aware that time is endless and that our participation in its passage is woefully short.


Have you ever wandered into a place that reeked of history? Have you ever sat down somewhere and been compelled to say “if only these walls could talk?” Well, what they’d speak of is how some “Sultán after Sultán with his pomp” stayed here for a little while and then moved on. There are restaurants and bars in Paris where tables bear plaques to indicate that this was where Gustave Flaubert sat, or that Alexandre Dumas took his coffee here: in this sense, FitzGerald is saying once more that we need to leave an impression; we need to make our mark. In one sense this is an exhortation to do something useful with the time we have. To be remembered as a Sultán and not a Slave.


There is a flipside to this, and this is the other recurring theme of FitzGerald’s work: whether a Sultán or a Slave, no-one is immune to the harsh governance of Time. Wealth and consequence doesn’t make you immune to Death. Time will get you in the end.

The closest we get, is to enjoy the batter’d caravanserai. When everyone else has moved on, the place remains. We get to absorb the traces of those who went before, to learn the lessons that they have left behind. This is the value of age, and of the old. This is the lesson of place.

When we denigrate the things that those before us have built, we deny our own past – we dismiss the lessons to be learned, the message that is Time. Santayana said it and it’s become cliché nowadays – “those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.”

We are what we achieve in our lives. But we are also what led to us being here. If we claim to have sprung wholly from the Now, untrammelled by the things that went before us, then we are, in effect, simply striding out of the encampment and into the dark desert beyond, a desert that is filled with jackals and scorpions and a lonely, isolated death.


Call it a caravanserai; call it Nineveh; call it Palmyra; call it the Pyramids of Giza. No-one came here of their own accord and no-one is free from the debt they owe the past. FitzGerald knew this; he saw it in the verse and he let us know that Omar knew it too.