|
 ONCE THE BIRTHPLACE OF ENTIRE FLEETS OF SHIPS, THE GDANSK DOCKS ARE NOW HOME TO A POLITICALLY INSPIRED ART MOVEMENT. WORDS AND PHOTOS BY PAUL OSWELLL
We want to take pictures around the Gdansk shipyards. The 'commandante' who gave us permission the day before is off duty and his suspicious replacement needs some buttering up. Luckily, Iwona Zajac has become adept at smoothing bureaucratic snarls, her never-ending "vaseline projects" as she calls them.
With grinning, elfin features and day-glo cagoule conspicous among the hardened faces and work-beaten overalls around her, Zajac isn't your typical shipyard denizen. As well as being an internationally-exhibited artist (including shows in the UK and USA), she is one of the new generation in this infamous, industrial district - part of the artists' colony that has taken root in Gdansk's 'Young City', the name given to the redevelopment of the shipyard district.
For such a seemingly unassuming place, Gdansk has played a pivotal role in modern history. The first shots of World War II rang out here, and in 1980 the shipyards were the focus of international attention as Lech Walesa led the anti-Communist Solidarity movement, eventually becoming President.
 Back then there were 16,000 shipyard workers, building 16 ships per year. Three decades later, there are just 3,000, and last year a mere three ships were launched. Walesa's republic now lies mostly derelict, sold to overseas investors and facing an uncertain future.
However, this is the 21st century and where industry dwindles, art flourishes in its place; the colony has been here since 2001.
"The city gave us 20 spaces and suddenly we had a golden future," Zajac tells me over coffee in her studio. "The artists kept the area alive, and we had dancers, artists, musicians, filmmakers and fashion designers. We had lots of events; me making stencils for the bands and the photographer doing shoots for the dancers."
This city-subsidised explosion of talent was enough to sow the seeds of a genuine movement, Zajac and some of her fellow artists initially assuming the name Nothing About Us, Without Us (a nod to a 1970s Krzysztof Kieslowski film). At first, it was a bizarre clash of worlds.
 "When we moved in, we were excited children," says Zajac. "The security guards didn't know what to make of us. We thought it was a playground, drinking beer everywhere, climbing the cranes - which isn't really how to act in a working industrial centre. Now we behave ourselves."
This means a more formal approach. Instead of spontaneous happenings, there are now official exhibitions, workshops and no beer drinking near heavy machinery.
There are still around 20 artists working in the colony: the charmingly named band Dick4Dick (www.dick4dick.net), dancer Bozena Elterman, multimedia conceptualists Obin (www.obin.org) and architects Konrad Zientara (www.ksadhu.niezba.org) and Maja Ratynska (www.maja.niezba.org) among them. There have been Shakespeare productions by local theatre companies and there's a robust programme of music, film and performance nights.
Ola Grzonkowska and Roma Piotrowska are the curators of the official gallery space, Wyspa (www. wyspa.art.pl), which has its own slick café/shop and atmospheric showrooms. When we visit, they are busy preparing an exhibition encompassing work from all the colony's artists.
"We hope the exhibition will endear the artists to local people and make some links with the city," says Grzonkowska. "Things are changing. I hope they will leave us some little space."
 Things are afoot for the shipyards. New investors are planning shopping malls and loft apartments in place of the crumbling warehouses. The colony will be moved within the compound, but is likely safe for at least the next five years.
Zajac and some of her colleagues see it as their mission to ensure that the original occupants aren't forgotten, having grown up around Solidarity: "It was an amazing time during the strikes, and years later I would ride my bike to look at the cranes. I loved this place so much, always asking the older people about the shipyard. People worked here for 40 years - they had entire lives here, which just isn't possible today."
Much of her recent work has been the arresting stencils on the shipyard walls, telling stories of the workers, displaying feelings that are largely held back that are, according to her catalogue, "about life, work, dreams and unfulfilled plans".
"No one asked the workers about their lives after the strikes," she says. "Everything just went back to normal. There were some famous names, but people were forgotten. I wanted to know what they felt. They told me they felt proud when they completed a ship, seeing it launch and someday return to the port. It's not really something they talk about between themselves."
Her friend Michal Szlaga (www. szlaga.com) is a world-renowned photographer working in the colony, and freshly returned from picking up an award in New York. Through a series of portraits of the shipyard workers, Szlaga is documenting the decline of industry, building towards a book in 2010.
"These are forgotten heroes - unneeded workers replaced by machines, and it's up to us to tell their story," he says. "It's important for me to be here - you can go out every day and find a new subject."
 This legacy is being passed to the next generation, too young to really remember Solidarity, and students such as Karolina Piatkiewicz and Emila Garska, have graduated through Zajac's workshops and have helped her take their message out to the rest of Poland as part of her 'Young Crew'.
They don't just deal in cheap emotional nostalgia, either. "It's easy to 'play' with Solidarity," says Zajac. "Personally, I don't want to. It was a beautiful time, but I want to give people a voice today."
Visitors to Gdansk would do well to cross the road after seeing the Solidarity Museum (ul. Wały Piastowskie 24, +48 ([0]58 308 4428, www.fcs.org.pl) and take a look at what's happening in the shipyards today - the galleries and artists keeping the feeling of solidarity (with a small 's') alive may not be around for ever.
Zajac allows herself a huge grin: "The future is coming quickly. Soon the shops and apartments and the world will arrive. I don't know if we'll survive, but we'll try."
I get the feeling she's relishing her biggest vaseline project yet.
Mamy XXI wiek: tam, gdzie upada przemysł, rozkwita sztuka; w 2001 r. część starych magazynów Stoczni Gdańskiej zajęła Kolonia Artystów.
Mieszka tu i tworzy okolo 20 artystów: tancerzy, malarzy, muzyków, reżyserów filmowych i projektantów mody. Instytut Sztuki Wyspa przygotowuje właśnie wystawę ich prac. Program muzyczny i filmowy również jest bardzo bogaty. Co roku działający tu teatr wystawia dwie sztuki Szekspira.
Artystom pracujacym w kolonii zależy na tym, żeby pierwotni użytkownicy tego miejsca nie zostali zapomniani. Iwona Zając stworzyła na ścianach stoczni murales, opowiadające "o stoczniowcach, ich życiu, pracy, marzeniach i niespełnionych planach" Fotografik Michał Szlaga poprzez serię portretów stoczniowców dokumentuje powolny upadek przemysłu stoczniowego. Mówi: "To zapomniani bohaterzy - niechciani robotnicy, zastąpieni przez maszyny."
Na terenie stoczni szykują się duże zmiany, powstaje tu nowa dzielnica Gdańska, Młode Miasto. W miejscu starych magazynów inwestorzy planują wybudowanie centrów handlowych, biurowców i loftów mieszkalnych. Kolonia będzie musiała zostać przeniesiona w inne miejsce.
Przy okazji pobytu w Gdańsku warto zahaczyć o stocznię - artystyczne klimaty i duch solidarności (przez małe "s") nie będą tu gościć wiecznie.
|
