Arnold Zadikov

On March 27, 1884, the jud. cantor Isidor H. Zadikow's third child, a son, was born. In Kolberg, on the Baltic Sea beach, Arnold grew up, a boy more intelligent than average. His character contains great contrasts. Strength and tenderness, irascibility and goodness. The boy, who never misses a rascally prank with a wry look, is skipping school, pensively lying on the sea beach and immersing himself deeply in the ancient classics. He needed his strong personal courage early on. His fine sense of honour forces him to vigorously oppose any negatively intended allusion to his denomination - the little Jew boy has a fight with 2 or 3 heroes from time to time.

At the age of twelve he left home to attend high school in Poznań. Childhood is over. He eats kosher - but badly and insufficiently; he always thought he would have grown taller if his years of physical development had been easier. It is a performance for the cantor of a small Jewish community to give 4 children a good education! After graduating from lower secondary school, the father wishes Arnold to take up banking. That’s about the worst thing that can happen to Arnold. Things get tough between father and son. Yesterday still a student, Arnold stands with the masonry trowel in his hand as a masonry apprentice at the construction site. He later graduated from the building school in Poznań. At the age of 18 he was a site manager in Berlin. The healthy boy from the provinces experiences the wonders of the big city - the musical sensitivity inherited from his father, his beautiful baritone voice prompts him to sing in the choir at oratorios - he experiences unforgettable Reinhardt performances. It is characteristic of his temperament that in the garden scene of Twelfth Night he actually falls off his chair laughing. The collections make the deepest impression on him. Looking at art is almost a religion for him, he begins to draw. Profound is everything unconscious - part of the creative thought - as with every beginner, his first works are also self-portraits. The bustling metropolis increases his diligence; after work he draws, he spends Sundays outdoors with or without a girl. He is now financially well off. But destiny wants something to happen every time he reaches a high point. Something good this time – Max Liebermann comments favourably on the drawings presented to him; Paul Nathan and James Simon, well-known Jewish patrons of the arts, guarantee a small grant – Arnold gives up the building trade, rents a small studio in Friedenau and becomes a sculptor. During this wonderful, strenuous period of study he is really happy for the first time. Begun late, the apprenticeship is surprisingly short. Although the technique of his earliest works is immature, they are charged with such emotional content that they have the allure of the primitive. In addition to study heads and figurative compositions, he designed Jewish tombstones.

He wins second prize in an international competition. It was a design for a world telegraph monument in Bern. The young northerner goes south for the first time, in street shoes

he makes the first of his beloved mountain tours, on the Jungfrau. His development curve rises very quickly. In 1910 he left Berlin and went to Munich to study. As a master student and in his own modest studio, he can actualise himself uninhibitedly. He begins to be known beyond Jewish circles. In 1913 he was awarded the Prussian Academy's Michael Bauer Prize, which meant a grant for a free stay of one year in Rome, his spiritual home. He carefully prepares his journey - once again a high point has been reached - the world war breaks out. Precisely because he is Jewish, he immediately volunteers for the field. After a short training in the Munich I. Bayr. Field Artillery Regiment, he goes to the front in France as a gunner, All Quiet on the Western Front. In 1917 he was badly wounded in the shoulder near Arras and was taken prisoner by the British at Brocton Camp. Forced by circumstances to work on a small scale, he procured slates, made his own tools and began to cut masterful plaques in negative into slate. This imprisonment lasts an agonizingly long time – he can only return home a year after the conclusion of peace, in order to end up in a less agonizing imprisonment there. He marries his longtime girlfriend, a Jewish painter. Although there are always financial difficulties, the marriage is extremely happy. Love and understanding are great on both sides and stay that way – which is a problem. Fruitful years of creativity follow. The 1916 plaque Die Heimatlose (The Homeland-less) created on a short home leave follows 3 versions of David, a wonderful life-size group of Untersberger marble Motherhood, many portraits and reliefs; The Samson problem is particularly close to his heart, and he is constantly giving new expression to it. There is a strong upward trend and – as always in his life – the setback is near; Nazism begins to taint the sensitive, honourable and brave man's life. Passive tolerance is not his thing. He plans to blow up the Circus Krone where the speeches are held. Family and religious community breathe a sigh of relief when he embarks on a study trip to Rome instead. Far away from politics and inflation, he finds his spiritual balance again. With great intensity he devotes himself to the study of ancient works of art and begins to master marble. He still can’t enjoy his state prize, the Villa Massimo /home of the scholarship holders/ is not yet vacant. It was not until 1928 that he began this long-awaited stay. A life-size marble figure David, a self-portrait /philolexicon/, a wonderfully pure figure of a girl reworked from poetry, etc. are the fruit of this most beautiful year. At home, the political sky is getting darker and darker. Home is the island surrounded by storms, on which alone creation is still possible. Personally threatened, he decides to go to Paris in 1933, where he lives under miserable circumstances as an emigrant until 1936. Nevertheless, a few busts, portraits of women of wonderful charm, are created. Now he has all the means of expression in his hands – now the most fruitful creative period of his life could and should begin. It was destined differently for him.

He receives a call to Karlsbad to artistically manage the well-known glass factory Moser /státní sklárny/ for 2 months. It turns out to be two years. A white crystal goblet with the portrait of President T. G. Masaryk is created - vases and bowls of wonderful cut and noblest shape, large spherical vases with engraved figures, during the production of which he monitors every millimeter - above all

things a glass service Chopin - on each cup three dancing figures - of Pompeian charm, at the same time modern, rhythmic, even a bit harsh in detail, high art far beyond the framework of the decorative. The individual pieces are very expensive, are bought like hot cakes, he is offered a permanent position under very favourable conditions, one goal has been achieved - the Nazi occupation of the Sudeten region follows. He was the last to leave Karlsbad on the last train of refugees. Living with his family in Prague, he continued to work tirelessly – until he was deported to Theresienstadt in 1942. Even there his work and achievements can be of use - he digs clay for pottery, builds a kiln and sets up a pottery workshop. At night he makes portraits and compositions. Living in distress and constant danger, he creates out of wood (no other material is available to him) ritual objects, Sabbath candlesticks and a huge, very peculiar Menorah.

Colleagues and acquaintances flock to his strong personality. He is popular with young and old, his sense of humour and his philosophy allow him to find a kind word for everyone. A few days before his 59th birthday, a serious acute illness occurs - he has to be operated on. Bureaucratic formalities and other unfortunate circumstances delay the intervention. It was already too late. Three days later, on March 8, 1943, he left us, deliriously ranting of Sicily.

He was no longer allowed to experience a solo funeral – on March 10th – nor was he allowed to experience spring and the faintly burgeoning hope of liberation. Chief Rabbi Dr. Baeck spoke unforgettable words of wisdom and depth at his coffin - about the artist in general, about Arnold Zadikow in particular. His ashes have not been allowed to rest. The number of dead must be concealed from a commission, the crematorium is emptied; the cardboard boxes containing the ashes have to be passed by long lines of women. Through the hands of his wife his ashes went into the Eger. He who created so many glorious grave memorials has no grave. As it corresponded to his elemental nature, as he expressed it lyrically in his thought-deep, nature-oriented poems - he was absorbed in the element.

Hilda Zadikow

Prague, January 1946

Doc. archives 30./I. 46