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I like a bit of medieval and Renaissance religious art, namely because there’s something intriguing about something that has been revered by generations. This painting shows St. Jerome (or St. Hieronymus as he’s also known) looking like he’s a Cardinal, although he wasn’t as they hadn’t really been invented at that time. The word invented probably isn’t the religious way of describing the evolution of the Cardinal process, but I like it. The book shows he likes writing and I’m not sure why he’s holding a miniature church, I assume that’s because he founded them rather than he likes making them out of matchsticks.

The gallery doesn’t know who painted it, it’s just attributed to a central European painter from the second half of the sixteenth century. It’s also not known whether this would have been in a church or used as a private devotional painting.`As an aside, the gallery also note that it uses tempera which isn’t really in keeping with the date they’ve given to the artwork, but perhaps it was a bit of an artistic backwater that oil paints hadn’t yet reached….

On the theme of transience, which is what the museum had an exhibition about, this is a thought provoking artwork from 2023 which is simple in its intent. It’s simply a load of dead mayflies glued to a bit of paper, but these are special and arguably unfortunate insects which die within a day of mating. This does fit well with the theme of the gallery, the focus on what is the point of such a short life? The answer is obvious that it’s simply to ensure another generation of mayflies, but it doesn’t give much space to the development of the individual and is something of one of nature’s plot twists. Bearing in mind I was standing there staring at a load of dead insects glued to a bit of paper thinking about this, I’d suggest that the artwork achieved one of its likely aims of being thought provoking. Take away the thought of humanity being just of fleeting relevance, I rather liked this arrangement and I forgave the artist for sawing a load of books up.

There are a number of other installations in this museum by Peter Kalmus that are thought provoking and intriguing, but I’ll come to this one that was created in 2014. However, this one is about cutting books up and trying to make a statement. There’s only one statement to me, that the gallery is privileged, fortunate and is mocking those who don’t have access to books. It’s like a gallery that uses food that they leave to be destroyed claiming it’s showing the transience of the art form and claiming that they are drawing attention to some sort of issue, oblivious that they’re the problem.

For me, and this is obviously just my view as it’s my blog, the career of Kalmus is one of radical inclusion, but I don’t like this artwork due to the messages that come from it. But, I’ll be more positive about his other stuff now I’ve finished this rant….

Visually, this is an impressive piece of art installation, walking on the strip between these two stacks of books.

The intention of the artwork is apparently:

“The project ‘Passage’ represents a kind of symbolic “shortcut across worlds” in which we exist or reside: from the factual, real world to the world of human culture, where reality is replaced by another reality – the virtual one – the reality of words, text, signs, symbols, and images, and then back again.”

I view this differently. It’s made of books which have been discarded from libraries, but what this installation suggests to me is that people of privilege want to restrict books from those without wealth. This is not a cheap museum to enter, albeit I used the Bratislava Card, and to me it mocks people by hoarding books in a heap to show that they can’t be read by the poor. I’m not sure that the artist intended to give the impression of a wealthy elite separating themselves from the poorest in society, but that’s what I got from all of this. The artist talked of a pilgrimage, but even those are perhaps limited to those with the most resources. Perhaps there might be a revolution where the artwork is disassembled and the books are given away to people who want them.

Just from my perspective, I thought that this was sub-optimal, two artists who decided that burning books and making them into totems was making some sort of statement. But, artwork is perhaps mostly about trying to get a reaction from the viewer, whether that’s wonder, anger, delight, surprise or inquisitiveness, so the fact I’m writing about this is testament to they engaged me in some form so that’s a statement.

There was still the smell of burnt book in the air. Burning books is such an easy thing to do, but I rather like the words of Helen Keller:

“History has taught you nothing if you think you can kill ideas. Tyrants have tried to do that often before, and the ideas have risen up in their might and destroyed them. You can burn my books and the books of the best minds in Europe, but the ideas in them have seeped through a million channels and will continue to quicken other minds.”

Or, linking it to Lithuania, here’s the bravery of those involved with the Book Smugglers. But, each to their own, artworks are meant to attract a range of responses. NB, the thumbnail image is of Helen Keller, the great campaigner for those with disabilities, for women’s suffrage, tolerance and world peace.

I rather enjoyed watching this little orangutan and I thought he had climbing skills quite similar to my own.

The Museum of Jewish Culture was included with my Bratislava Card, although I do try and visit these Jewish museums and synagogues when I can.

The entrance is through this vaulted ceiling area.

As the signage notes, the building was constructed in the eighteenth century and is known as the Zsigray Mansion, which has been the home of the museum since 1994. It’s located on Židovská ulica (Jewish Street) which was mostly demolished in the 1960s for infrastructure changes, although that must have hurt given what had happened here in the 1940s and because they pulled down a synagogue to complete the works.

There are exhibits over two floors although there was a school group when I was there, but I was able to dodge them by changing the order of my visit somewhat. There were no other visitors in the museum when I visited, it didn’t seem to be a tourist hotspot shall we say.

There are numerous themes, including Jewish music.

There’s a section of Jewish food and the importance of how food is served and kept separate.

A Jewish elder.

A floor tile from a former synagogue.

For me, the highlight of the museum was the special exhibition about Jozef Veselsky, often known as Joe, who was born in Trnava, Czechoslovakia in October 1918, just days before Czechoslovakia declared its independence. He trained as a banker, but his life took a dramatic turn with the rise of Nazism. At the age of 20, when Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia in 1938, Joe joined the Resistance. He remained active in the underground throughout the war, using his language skills as an interpreter. In 1944, he participated in the Slovak National Uprising, carrying out missions in the Carpathian Mountains, where he witnessed extreme hardship, with very few of his fellow fighters surviving the harsh winter. Tragically, his parents and elder brother were murdered in Auschwitz.

After the war, Joe captained the Czechoslovak table tennis team, but life under the new communist regime became difficult. In August 1949, seeking to escape the political climate, Joe, along with his wife Katarina (Kathy) and their two children, Peter and Kate, emigrated to Ireland. They had initially intended to go to Australia but faced difficulties obtaining the necessary papers. In Ireland, despite having limited English and no prior experience in the field, Joe successfully established a jewellery business. He continued his deep involvement in sport, serving as the non-playing captain of the Irish national table tennis team for over two decades and later becoming Life President of the Irish Table Tennis Association. He also had roles in football, serving as a director for Shamrock Rovers Football Club and as vice-president at UCD Dublin. Joe was a founding member and long-serving president of the Swaythling Club International, an organisation for distinguished figures in table tennis.

And, incredibly, Joe is still alive and he is Ireland’s oldest man having reached the age of 106 in October 2024. This is certainly some story, he could have easily have died during the Second World War, but 90 years on he is still here and has been honoured with a heap of awards, including the Commander of the Slovak Order of the White Double Cross and in 2016, Trinity College Dublin honoured him with an Honorary Master of Arts degree, acknowledging his contributions to Irish life and his inspiring example of lifelong learning, as he became the university’s oldest student.

Back to the museum, the staff member at the ticket desk was helpful and personable, with everything feeling organised and well signed. The displays are nearly all in English and they have been creative in their displays and themes, with the special exhibition on Jozef Veselsky being a highlight. They’ve chosen to really focus on Jewish culture and heritage rather than having to tell the story through the prism of the Second World War, a decision that to me is sensible and positive. However, they possibly could have told a little more of the Second World War story, I was left unsure what happened to the Jews of Bratislava and that seems to be part of the story that can’t really be left untold. However, having noted that, one reviewer says they covered this in detail, so perhaps that was either a temporary exhibition or I’ve missed a room out or something (I’m terrible for managing to get lost in museums if there aren’t arrows everywhere on the floor). Either way, Yad Vashem have information about the story of the Jews in Bratislava.

Anyway, this was a fascinating little museum and although it only takes an hour or so to visit, it’s worth the time to have a meander around. Admission is free with the Bratislava card, although it’s usually €6 and it’s open from Sundays to Thursdays from 11:00 until 17:00.

This stumbling stone marks that Leo Kohn Kohút used to live here, with the text reading:

“Leo Kohn Kohút
Born 1917
Interned in 1945 in Sereď
Deported to Sachsenhausen
Then to Augsburg-Horgau
Then to Dachau
Survived”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but I thought these stumbling stones marked the last place that victims of the Holocaust willingly lived, but it’s actually wider and includes those who survived the persecution.

The Times of Israel noted that:

“Leo Kohn Kohút was a ‘young idealist’ who worked in the underground resistance printing false IDs. He was not caught until January 1945, when he was sent to Sachsenhausen and later a sub-camp of Dachau. Working in a Messerschmitt aircraft factory, he and other prisoners sabotaged the pipes of German air force planes.”

Leo (1917-2013) lost his wife in the Holocaust, but after the war he married Berta Berkovich Kohút (1921-2021) who became known for being the last survivor of the seamstresses at Auschwitz, who survived only because they made beautiful dresses for the wives of Nazi officers. The couple met in Bratislava after the war, moving to the United States in 1983. Both are buried at San Rafael cemetery in Marin, California which is just to the north of San Francisco.

California must have felt like such a different world to Bratislava, he nearly died at Dachau but instead he lived nearly 70 more years and his wife over 75 years after she was freed from Auschwitz.