Photo Doug Atfield
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Film: (2mins. 54secs.) Music: 'Ej Przeleciat Ptaszek' performed by ‘Mazowsze’
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Photo Doug Atfield
The work was installed in 'Remnants of Utopia' accompanied by the text below.
In 1952, while Stalin was still ruler of the USSR, a Polish friend of my father went back to see his family. He promptly disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again. Much later, in the 1970’s, another friend– Mrs Smylkin- also decided to return. She had recently become widowed and now, all alone in England, thought she would be better off back in Poland. Before she left, she gave us her cooker – and her Polish record collection. I was never taught to speak Polish by my father, so I couldn’t understand any of the lyrics. Despite this major impediment, these state sponsored recordings of traditional Polish folk tunes were a rare exposure to my father’s culture. More importantly, a year after she left, Mrs Smylkin also sent us a Christmas card. Posted to us from her new home in Poland it was a good indication she hadn’t been murdered by the secret police.
As part of my privileged upbringing, I also had a generous collection of toys. Once my father even built a shed in the garden for my train set. Like most children’s train sets it went around in a circle, now I realise how much at odds this was with the relationship to trains he had as a child. For him they were very real, went in a straight line and never came home again.
In 1952, while Stalin was still ruler of the USSR, a Polish friend of my father went back to see his family. He promptly disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again. Much later, in the 1970’s, another friend– Mrs Smylkin- also decided to return. She had recently become widowed and now, all alone in England, thought she would be better off back in Poland. Before she left, she gave us her cooker – and her Polish record collection. I was never taught to speak Polish by my father, so I couldn’t understand any of the lyrics. Despite this major impediment, these state sponsored recordings of traditional Polish folk tunes were a rare exposure to my father’s culture. More importantly, a year after she left, Mrs Smylkin also sent us a Christmas card. Posted to us from her new home in Poland it was a good indication she hadn’t been murdered by the secret police.
As part of my privileged upbringing, I also had a generous collection of toys. Once my father even built a shed in the garden for my train set. Like most children’s train sets it went around in a circle, now I realise how much at odds this was with the relationship to trains he had as a child. For him they were very real, went in a straight line and never came home again.
Photo Doug Atfield
A couple of years later my father decided we would make the journey ourselves and see his relatives again for the first time in 40 years. It was during the summer holidays and I was 12 years old. Many of my relatives were farmers; so much of our time was spent staying with them in the countryside. As well as meeting an extended family I had never seen before, I also found myself exposed to the culture of a nation that, although alien to me, was also ethnically part of me. Sadly, as a typical, pampered western European child, my abiding cultural memory was the shock at realising that not everyone in the world had a lavatory you could flush.
In 1990 I decided to return to Poland. I was an art student at the time and had a sculpture tutor who, like me, was half Polish. She wanted to send me on a research trip to stay with some art students in Warsaw. The cheapest way to get there at the time was by train. I told my father that I was going to go to Poland and went to visit him the evening before I set off on the journey. He wasn’t impressed and even told me he didn’t want me to go and ‘show him up’ by embarrassing myself over there. When he finally realised he couldn’t stop me from going, he decided he had better teach me some Polish. We had limited time, so the only two Polish words I ever learned from him were – “Przepraszam” – which means “Excuse me” and “Pociag” the Polish word for “Train”.
In 1990 I decided to return to Poland. I was an art student at the time and had a sculpture tutor who, like me, was half Polish. She wanted to send me on a research trip to stay with some art students in Warsaw. The cheapest way to get there at the time was by train. I told my father that I was going to go to Poland and went to visit him the evening before I set off on the journey. He wasn’t impressed and even told me he didn’t want me to go and ‘show him up’ by embarrassing myself over there. When he finally realised he couldn’t stop me from going, he decided he had better teach me some Polish. We had limited time, so the only two Polish words I ever learned from him were – “Przepraszam” – which means “Excuse me” and “Pociag” the Polish word for “Train”.
Photo Doug Atfield
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Photo Doug Atfield
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'Siberia' was developed in 2004-5 directly from two earlier works- 'Europa- Hoek Van Holland to Vladivostok'. and 'The box you stick your head into'. Designed with transportation in mind, as with 'Europa- Hoek Van Holland to Vladivostok, the boxes that make up 'Siberia' store one inside the other. From 2009 to 2012 it was used in a theatre show collaboration with '30 Bird productions' called 'Poland 3 Iran 2'. Travelling from show to show 'Siberia' inevitably spent much of this time in transit, albeit in the back of a car not on a train.