Julian and his wife and fellow artist Barbara, pictured in their home studio
Stanczak was one of the first to be identified as an “Op Artist,” although he never considered himself an Op Artist, and forcefully rejected the title “Father of Op Art.” While many may have seen his work over the years, not everyone knows his life story. It is truly an inspirational tale of perseverance in the face of insurmountable challenges.
Here is his story OUTSIDE of his art that I have gleaned from several sources, including his website, an interview with Julie Karabenick, a 2007 interview with Brian Sherwin, and video interviews.
Julian Stanczak was born in Borownica, Poland, in 1928. In 1939, the Germans invaded Poland. Of this period, he has said:
“My house was on a hill overlooking the city, and I remember the planes coming over. The sirens were blowing, and the two bridges over the San River as well as the railway station were bombed. Evening was coming, and in the distance, we heard the approach of heavy artillery. Some hours later, gunfire was everywhere, and bullets were jumping across the unpaved road in front of my house, making a strange noise and leaving a trail of dust. It was fascinating to me. When the bullets began to come closer and were hitting our house, my mother dragged me inside. The Germans did not take the town; mainly Czechoslovakian units were engaged to do that job.”
“Next the German soldiers arrived wearing black uniforms and riding motorcycles and tricycles with Maschinen Gewehrs—machine guns—mounted on the front, and they finished the attack. We continued to go to school and were told not to go to the basement because there was an unexploded bomb that had fallen through the roof, leaving a huge hole in the four-story building. We were taught German.”
When the Russian Army arrived in 1940, the Stanczak family was forcibly removed from their home and placed on a transport train to Siberia. Julian never knew the reason for being deported, but they were left with no choice but to leave everything behind.
“My father asked the Russian officers, “Why are you dragging us off to Siberia?” The answer was, “To liberate you!” So, in 1940 we were “liberated”—from everything! Before I could dream of a personal future, I found myself in a concentration camp.”
Conditions in the Russian Gulag were harsh, and Julian suffered from brutal beatings and serious illnesses that permanently damaged his right arm. He was right-handed, and losing all use of his arm ended his childhood dream of becoming a cellist.
After two years in the concentration camp, the Stanczak’s saw an opportunity for freedom.
“In 1942 we received partial amnesty with the understanding that we were to stay within 100 kilometers of the camp and find work. The idea was to recruit able men to fight the German invasion. In the dead of night that winter with the temperature at minus 65 degrees Celsius, we escaped and managed to reach the railroad station in Perm, now Molotov. We headed south, jumping trains and walking. The cold and hunger were hard to bear.”
“In order to survive, we had to split up. My father joined the Second Corp of the Polish Army in Exile in Baku. With heavy heart my mother left my younger brother in an orphanage so he could get food. The British were trying to move all the refuges from the war zone to Teheran. Even though I wasn’t of legal age, I joined the Cadets—the youth organization of the Polish Army in Exile—because they had provisions. However, my right arm was deteriorating badly, and I was in great pain, so I deserted and followed my brother and the orphanage to Teheran by hiding in the engine room of the boat that was transporting them. My mother and sister traveled there separately. Reunited in Teheran we traveled to Karachi, Pakistan, from there to Mombasa, Kenya, and finally to a camp of Polish exiles in Masindi, Uganda where I would spend seven years at the equator.”
Julian was detained at the camp in Masindi from 1942 to 1948, where he forced himself to become left-handed.
Julian, left, in Masindi, Uganda, Africa.
“The transition from using my left hand as my right, main hand, was very difficult. My youthful experiences with the atrocities of the Second World War are with me, but I wanted to forget them and live a “normal” life and adapt into society more fully.”
Some adults at the camp who had a little money and the ability to travel a bit took a liking to Julian. He was able to obtain some tubes of watercolors and a pad a cheap paper. Although he had no art training and was still trying to learn to use his left hand, he created some remarkable works during this time. He then began to take some lessons from a Polish artist at the camp in Uganda.
“A Polish artist named Henryck Frudist took an interest in me and other youth in the camp in order to cultivate in us an interest in the visual arts. We met for a few weeks in an open air shed, and he showed us how a face, a chair, were structured on a page. Drawing, he thought, was the most essential tool to support observation and the skill of note-making. I did benefit from his prioritizing of developing drawing skill and understanding the basic structure of things.”
Whether his artistic activities served as a refuge and escape from the realities of life, Stanczak has said,
“Perhaps psychologically, yes, the drawings and watercolors were an escape in that they offered me time to be with myself, my worries and delights. Maybe no, as I pushed myself hard. I always had to test myself—how to survive without a right arm! As such, drawing was a test for survival. My feelings for my drawings and watercolors run very parallel to my feelings for music, which at that time I had to do without. It took a lot of patience and persistence, but I enjoyed it immensely when my marks and brushstrokes on paper would become a substitute for the reality.”
“Being an impressionable youth, both outside and inside influences form you for life. During my short “visit” to the gulag, I remember the weather—light glistening and reflecting everywhere, the aurora borealis, the colored haze embracing you. Then being dumped into the jungle in Uganda, I recall the sounds of the forest, the cry of the animals at night, the tam-tam drums in the distance, flowers in the tropical light. Of course, those experiences are unforgettable. They shaped me, but they also confounded me. With such extremes, it is hard to know who you are.”
Julian had no idea that he had any artistic talent.
“I had nobody and nothing to compare myself to. I did not even have books from which to study and admire the masters. What drove me on was my desire to do something about the wonders surrounding me and to satisfy—to a certain degree—the human need to be part of something greater and more meaningful.”
Since Julian’s father had fought with the Polish Second Corps under British command, his family was allowed to settle in England. But before he left Africa, Julian had a solo exhibition of some of his watercolors and drawings.
“I believe that officials at the Office of Resettlement of Refugees in Nairobi were responsible for arranging my show at the now famous Stanley Hotel before we flew to London. They must also have put an article about me in the Kenyan paper. I was so perturbed about the uncertainties of my future that I do not remember the details. The proceeds from the sale of my watercolors benefitted an orphanage.”
In 1949, the Stanczak family relocated to England.
“I moved from one camp in Russia to another in Uganda to a third in Checkendon, England—from one forced, miserable situation to another. In England we lived in barracks that had been used by the British Air Force. Though free to move around, my exposure to life outside the camp was minimal. I did not know English well—I tried to learn a Polish-English dictionary by heart—and I had no money or connections. At 20 years old with 7 shillings of pocket money, I rode a bus to London to the Home Office, Division of Education. In my best English, I tried to find out how I could go to school as a “displaced person.” I had to take a two day college entrance examination and, to my surprise, I passed it. I chose the Slade School of Art, but after two months, I was kicked out, accused of being “too Continental,” and of having no respect for British tradition. I had no idea what they were referring to.”
“I managed to get into the Borough Polytechnic and was enrolled in the Department of National Teacher Certification majoring in Book Illustration. After the war, everything had to have a practical application in the interest of the national recovery. I enjoyed book illustration because it required scrutiny of observation, discipline and control.”
Julian moved to the United States in 1950.
“I found myself in a predicament. I could not go back to Poland because it was Communist and my father had served in the Polish Army under British command, which fought against the Russians and Communism. Even in England, my father was in the resistance to liberate Poland from Communism—the fight for him was not finished. But I did not want to stay in England either. We as a family had to find a place to live and work, and since we had close relatives in the US, the American Embassy in London offered us the possibility of joining them.”
Julian with a bust portrait of himself, at his studio.
Julian’s father found work in Cleveland where Julian enrolled in the Cleveland Institute of Art and would earn a BFA in 1954. He then attended graduate school at Yale from 1955 to 1956 where he studied with Josef Albers and Conrad Marca-Relli. In 1963 he married the artist Barbara M. Meerpohl. From 1957-64 Stanczak taught at the Art Academy of Cincinnati and the University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio. From 1964-95 he held the position of Professor of Painting at the Cleveland Institute of Art. He retired in 1995 after 38 years of teaching.
Julian Stanczak died March 25, 2017, at his home in Seven Hills, Ohio.