Czechia: An Unlooked for Holocaust Monument in Kroměříž (Moravia)

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Czechia: An Unlooked for Holocaust Monument in Kroměříž (Moravia) 

by Samuel D. Gruber 

Very close to my hotel last month in Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia, is an unexpected monument to the Holocaust victims, and a reminder of the former synagogue. This figurative work stands next to the local House of Culture on Tovačovského Street that was built (in the 1980s?) on the site of the destroyed but once impressive domed synagogue of Kroměříž, designed by prominent Viennese-Jewish architect Jakob Gartner (1861-1921) and opened in 1910. The synagogue was a major building in town and appeared on many postcards in the interwar period. It was blown up with dynamite by the occupying Germans on November 5, 1942.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Former synagogue (1910) seen in postcard.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Former synagogue (1910) seen in postcard.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. House of Culture, Tovačovského Street on site of former synagogue. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022

 

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. House of Culture, Tovačovského Street on site of former synagogue. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022

There was already a matzevah/stele type memorial made by survivors that was dedicated in 1962 at what is left of the Jewish cemetery. The Czech and Hebrew inscriptions on that monument translate into English as: “To honor the memory of three hundred Jewish citizens of Kramerizska who were tormented during World War II, a handful of survivors erected this memorial to encourage tolerance and peace.” 

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial at what is left of New Jewish Cemetery. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022

The monument near the synagogue site was installed in 1994 and is an expressive figurative work by Czech sculptor Olbram Zoubek (1926-2017). Zoubek was a dissident artist under communism who today is best known for his monument to the victims of communism in Prague. I assume the memorial was sponsored by the town. 

The Kroměříž sculpture depicts a woman whose body is a tree trunk, while her arms and head are recognizably human. Her face is anguished; she raises her arms in front with palms out to ward off a terror and evil. It is not clear what the sculpture is suggesting here. Is it just dramatic pathos? Lot’s wife looked back at destruction and was turned into a pillar of salt. Here in Kroměříž, the woman is a tree.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

Kroměříž (Moravia), Czechia. Holocaust memorial monument. Olbram Zoubek, artist, 1994. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2022.

One seeing the sculpture, my first association was with Bernini’s sculpture of Apollo and Daphne, where Daphne is transformed into a tree before she can be ravished by the pursuing god. Her arms are outstretched in a combination of surprise and fear; she is not aware she is turning into a tree as salvation.  In Judaism, there is the association of the Torah as the Tree of Life. Is this somehow an allusion to survival – even after destruction, deportation, and death, in the way that a Jewish cemetery is often referred to as a House of Life? Or is it just an artistic conceit?

Apollo and Daphne. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, sculptor 1622-25. Galleria Borghese, Rome . Photo: Wikipedia.

The woman’s posture and gestures, however, have no ambiguity. She is clearly terrified and tries to ward off the approaching danger. From a distance it seemed like her hands were raised in the manner of a woman lighting the Shabbat candles on Friday night, but instead of having the palms face her body as she welcomes the Sabbath, here the palms are facing outward to stop (unsuccessfully) the impending doom. About 300 Jews of Kroměříž were deported and died from deprivation or execution. The synagogue was blown to pieces on December 5, 1942, and (mostly) erased from memory, along seven centuries of Jewish history in this town. 

On the ground - I cannot say "at her feet" because she has none - is a bronze version of the tablets of the law (Decalogue), lying flat. Instead of the Ten Commandments a commemorative text is written that mentions the destruction of the synagogue and 300 Jewish fellow citizens who were victims of the Nazis.

The monument is visible but not prominent from the nearby major street. It is easy to overlook. There are benches as part of the installation, all on a path that passes by.  The best view, however, is from the deck of the Cultural Center, and from the tables of the café/restaurant. I’m always curious about who sees monuments and memorials. If I spoke Czech, I might have asked the café patrons what they saw and what they knew of the distraught woman down below them.