SAMUEL BAK: "RETURNING
HOME"
Exhibition of works 1942-2001
(23 September,
2001 - 30 January, 2002, Vilnius
Picture Gallery)
I HALL
II HALL III HALL
IV HALL
To
my Friends in Vilnius
Vilnius is the city in which I was born 68 years ago.
Vilnius is the place in which I discovered the pleasures of a child's
paradise: a loving family, a protected, perhaps overprotected existence.
Vilnius is the stage on which I discovered the evils of War, man's
capacity for hatred, his bestiality, as well as his capacity for
goodness and self-sacrifice. It is in the gruesome reality of the Nazi
ghetto that at nine I had my first show. The Vilnius of 1944 gave me my
first lessons in painting, a profession that was to fill my life. Soviet
Vilnius is the place from which I fed when I was eleven, carrying with
me a wealth of mental images and an inconsolable
feeling of loss. Both have nurtured my art. In it I speak about a world,
that had been destroyed, and I try to depict man's everlasting but vain
struggle to rebuild it as it was. I guess that in a larger sense I have
tried to refect on our human condition.
It is to the Vilnius of today that I humbly bring the fruit of my work.
It is a pleasure to present it to an open-minded public, and an honor to
dedicate it to all my new friends in
Vilnius,
men and women of good will, people who believe that only the watchful
preservation of a painful memory can shield us from repeating past
mistakes. Pondering the lessons of history is a never-ending school for
the living.
Yet this exhibition is also an imaginary offering to my private ghosts,
my assassinated father, grandparents, and the many members and friends
of my family, an occasion to show them what their boy, so "full of
promise," has accomplished. Their memory accompanies me wherever I
go. But their scattered ashes lie here, in the woods of Paneriai, on the
outskirts of a city that is uniquely enshrined in my soul - my beloved
birth-town Vilnius.
Samuel Bak
Boston, Fall 2001
Samuel
as Seen by a of Todays Vilnius
Many years ago, when I was leafing through Samuel
Bak's pictures at the Jewish Museum, pictures that are juvenile yet
attest to early maturity, and found out that he had survived - when his
older colleagues from the Kaunas and Vilnius ghettoes perished in the
Holocaust - I more than once imagined this: what would it be like if
Samuel Bak, carrying his pictures and experience, were to appear on the
streets of Vilnius today? In a city from which he once fled, persecuted
by the shadows of the ghetto.
How would that city appear to him? And how would he appear to that city?
On the occasion of the publication of this catalog in Vilnius and of the
presentation of this painter's works urb'i et orb'i, I cannot but
share my joy with the public. Dreams have become reality. The verdict of
the Holocaust has been commuted for Vilnius: here, a retrospective
exhibition of Samuel Bak's; works has been opened.
From the very beginning, this painter living in the United States has
amazed
me on several accounts. On how purely European he is in his experience
and language of artistic expression. On how deeply he draws on his
childhood for creative impulses. On how understandable one of the
leitmotifs of his works is for me: man futilely strives to recreate the
past while things
and even the spirit in landscapes are decaying and yet in no way decay
completely. To me, someone who avoided the war and was born in postwar
Lithuania, in a closed communist ghetto, it has also always
seemed that the essence of everything surrounding me is stale or
forgotten, locked away in the past, and that I am surrounded by ruins
and the vestiges of a past life.
The creation of a canvas is a contradictory process of many meanings,
but a rainbow, nailed together from painted boards and depicted in one
of Samuel Bak's latest American works, is for me a completely
intelligible and almost tangible attribute of the surrealistic
environment of our youth during the Soviet period. It seems that all of
us hopelessly tried to recreate the past, to capture its spirit.
And at the same time, for us who have remained in this country and are
living at the turn of the century, do his pictures not strike a chord in
our experience? For example: Departure (1978/1998), in which an
elegant couple recedes along a street obstructed by ruins or perhaps by
builders or renovators while masks gaze into the past; To One of the
Shtetfs (1998), in which a Jewish town is covered with canvas like
furniture not in use or perhaps about to be moved; flight from Berlin
(1990), in which an attempt is made to fly on a mechanical dove as a
brick wall cracks. Samuel Bak's wooden horses and doves remind me of
things that were once widespread in Lithuania but have since been broken
and thrown into the trash. Like his chessmen. All of them participate in
a curiously serious action reminiscent of meaningless rituals performed
by characters in an absurdist drama. And his still life figures remind
me of things that, seemingly, have always quietly gathered dust in
artists' studios until the thoughtful gaze of a creator is fixed on
them.
Last spring I saw the painter for the first time as he disembarked from
a plane at Vilnius Airport. His soft velvet jacket absorbed the bright
May light. At first glance, he did not at all look like an American to
me but like a genuine product of the Old World. And the plastic language
of his painting confirms his European roots. Even the chessmen in Samuel
Bak's land of chess from his famous series are never black and white;
his chessboard is multicolored like the sleeve of a character in the
commedio deti'orte. The creator of the chess series surely must have
imagined how a rationally organized, "serious" society would
appear after a cataclysm, Is that not a wonderful creative discovery,
even though for us, living in old Europe, the
roots-historical roots-of such thinking are clear? And what about the
Biblical Hebrew letters - part of the landscapes and still lifes of
Samuel Bak's Genesis - that have come, erratically from the scrolls of
the Torah? The artist's landscapes do not usually have an address, but
their atmosphere and their creator's view of time and eternity recall
the poem Vilnius, by Moshe Kulbak, who died before the war Samuel
Bak is both Jewish and universally human. With exactly the same
questions with which we approach his canvases we could, I think - even
if it sounds somewhat sentimental - approach the books of the Old
Testament: is that Jewish experience, or is it universal human
experience?
Humankind, as we know, answered these questions in its own way The
creations of artists who survived the Holocaust and later worked in the
West - both Samuel Bak's canvases and the books by the Nobel laureate
Isaac Bashevis Singer who incidentally also wrote about Bak's painting -
presented the fate of the Jews as a model of existence for all humanity
However sometimes life surpasses the imagination of an artist and even
of a child. And it seems that we, too, are figures on a chessboard, with
whom higher forces are playing. Could a twelve-year-old boy who lost his
father in the ghetto, fled from the postwar Soviet Union with his mother
and dreamed of becoming an artist indeed imagine that one day he would
return to that same Vilnius, free from dictatorships, terror and hatred,
and exhibit to people in its wide-open halls his harvest of works that
have won international recognition?
Thus, I am happy to inform the people of Vilnius that the National
Museum of Art and the Jewish Museum are exhibiting over a hundred of
Samuel Bak's works. This exhibition was organized through close
cooperation with the Pucker Gallery of Boston. The artist will leave
some of his works at the Jewish Museum.
I hope that thousands of people will see his paintings in Vilnius;
Samuel Bak has something to tell them. His memoirs, Pointed in
Words, will also soon be published in Lithuania. This book will reveal
to readers that Samuel Bak is a master not only of the paintbrush but
also of the word: when writing about his feelings, this artist creates
an episode as vividly as if he were working with a brush rounding out a
still life figure. I wish him success upon his spiritual return to his
birthplace.
Emanuelis Zingeris
Director of the Vilna Gaon State Museum
Chairman of the Jewish Cultural Support Fund of Lithuania