Buy “Przekrój”, Sir Buy “Przekrój”, Sir
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“Przekrój” cover (no. 2380/1992), from the archives
Experiences

Buy “Przekrój”, Sir

Our Magazine in the 1990s
Ewa Pawlik
Reading
time 4 minutes

This cover could be a work by Terry Gilliam of Monty Python fame. It is a more polite version of the same style – conservative pen strokes, psychedelic colours and subversive content. “Advertise in Przekrój” it proposes, asks, commands even, with no shame. Buy the largest possible advert.

It is 3rd February 1991 and Poland is undergoing a systemic transformation. The changes come thick and fast: a typical street, which until recently was grey, now sparkles with all the colours of the rainbow; store shelves bulge with longed-for goods. Shortages are over. Let excess begin! The streets and squares of the whole country are overflowing with goods carried in car boots. An orgy of free trade is taking place on camp beds.

No one escapes the insanity. The well-behaved “Przekrój” lifts its voice and joins the chorus which, in a falsetto, screeches “Buy!”

Even Pewex and Baltona, the import-export companies (operating only in foreign currencies), are fighting for clients. The loss of their monopoly on trading the stuff of people’s dreams has forced them to start trading in Polish złotys. Back then, everything Western streamed into us, displacing the ugly and unwanted goods eastwards. In Warsaw, the premiere of the musical Metro took place, significantly shortening the distance separating Broadway and the centre of the capital, even if not literally, then at least in the imagination of the Poles who were transforming along with their country. Fairly soon, all distances would be shortened, albeit not literally either. By the end of the year, Poland would be connected to the internet!

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Now it is February. Cold and dark. The thoughts of freezing Poles, focused at that time mainly on the US, turn towards warm countries; one in particular. The same one to which American bombers are heading. For the last week, the Gulf War has been underway.

Several EF-111 and EA-6 aircraft take part in each wave of air strikes, disrupting the Iraqi radars. They capture the signal of a radio station, analyse it and choose the appropriate counter-signal, causing the appearance of a bright, uniform fog of pseudo-objects on the screen that prevents the allied aircraft from being spotted. The bombers themselves fly low – approximately 30 metres above the ground – and they continually check the accuracy of their course with sonar sensors. The payload of bombs dropped by three B-52 bombers covers a 2.5 x 1.5 kilometre area with craters that are 15-metres wide and 10-metres deep. The shrapnel from these bombs is deadly within a range of 360 metres from the bomb site. Laser targets allow the missiles to change direction, perform U-turns. No attack has ever been so precise before. It is the first highly computerized war in the history of human warfare – and certainly the most expensive. A Patriot missile costs $700,000 dollars; a Tomahawk, $1.3 million! At that time, one dollar was worth over 10,000 Polish złotys, the equivalent of four copies of “Przekrój”. One laser-guided bomb was equal to two million copies of “Przekrój”!

Even then, the fact that NATO countries had to a large extent armed Iraq was openly written about. But that is just the beginning. In the majority of Western countries, public opinion supports the use of military force against Saddam Hussein’s state. But in France, a problem arises. Beurs, French-born youth of North African origin, start to demonstrate their sympathy for the Iraqi leader. An anti-American song becomes a hit. France is raging. Bolivia also expresses its opposition. It is one of very few countries that officially condemns the conflict. The union leaders of this country demand that their peasants increase the production of coca, in order to take revenge on the Americans. The majority of Bolivia’s cocaine ends up with drug addicts in the US.

Drawing on world reports, Beata Wilk pens a several-page portrait of Saddam, one of the first in the Polish press. The article is illustrated with photographs from his family album: Saddam playing on the grass with his daughter; his smiling wife holding a glass of wine; his children all dressed up, posing on children’s chairs. Many more years will pass before the world will see the photograph of the tyrant’s arrest – with overgrown beard, filthy, leaving his underground hiding place.

So as not to be too gloomy, “Przekrój” publishes an interview with an undisputed star of the times, Benny Hill. To change things up a bit, the interview is decorated with photos of ladies’ bottoms in Brazilian knickers, which were phenomenally fashionable at the time. The comedian is in an excellent mood. His popularity is spreading across the world, with fan clubs in the US and the USSR. His ribald humour even conquers Hong Kong. Polish children hum the theme tune from his show.

Pamela Anderson, clad in her red swimwear, runs across Polish television screens in Baywatch. More discerning viewers watch Twin Peaks. We are chasing America and we’re becoming culturally liberal. All that in spite of the fact that the number of priests is rising! There are more than 25,000; 5000 more than a decade ago. In Poland, there is one priest per 1280 believers; in the US one to 1650. According to data from the Vatican, Rwanda, Burundi, Zaire and India have also recently seen a growth in the number of priests.

There are more and more priests… and casinos. Monte Carlo and Poland have the most. The Western media warns us that this is the effect of mafia investments from West Germany. Their favourite modus operandi is bribery. Fears are emerging that the officials of the last two governments didn’t resist them. Fortunately, Radio Maryja is launched and quickly starts the fight to return to Christian values!

We must defend ourselves so as not to spoil ourselves, as in the example of Japan. Page seven of the weekly magazine provides shocking revelations from the Land of the Cherry Blossoms. Production has begun of dolls that could soon replace women. The robot toys have a range of functions: they can bow, wish you a good day, and the more advanced ones apologize when you slap their cheeks. The dolls are extremely popular with young Japanese men.

In Poland, the Polish washing powder, Pollena 2000, made with “Western ingredients” is hugely popular. “Przekrój” is full of advertisements for it. There’s also an advert for a Casio music keyboard. Pewex is pushing that. Barbara Hoff is persuading men to wear pastel-coloured jackets straight out of American television series, of which there are many in the TVP [the public television broadcaster – ed. note] listings. “Let’s go for colour,” concludes Hoff.

The whole of 1991, and not just the cover, could be by Monty Python. It’s hard to believe it wasn’t!

Also read:

Picasso, Communism, and a Sheepskin Coat Picasso, Communism, and a Sheepskin Coat
Experiences

Picasso, Communism, and a Sheepskin Coat

On the Friendship of Kindred Artists
Ewa Pawlik

This featured cover from 1974 is a fine example of the Iron Curtain’s practical applications. From the mid-1940s, the magazine’s editor-in-chief, Marian Eile (often accompanied by his deputy, Janka Ipohorska), would travel to Paris to spend a modest hard-currency allowance on literary journals and fashion magazines. “Przekrój” would later ‘borrow’ illustrations, topics and even entire articles from them, with no regard for copyright. Parts of photographs and drawings would occasionally end up on the covers, and the magazine’s designers would ink in extra details, signing them ‘By The Editorial Staff’. Nowadays, it would have ended in court.

Not only is this work older than Guernica, it is also much larger. It was commissioned by Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes as the curtain for the play Le Train Bleu, staged in Paris in 1924. The painting had not been on public display for almost 80 years, and in 2010 when London’s Victoria and Albert Museum finally decided to exhibit it, it took 15 workers to hang the canvas.

Picasso and “Przekrój” had much in common, apart from the fact that they both began with ‘P’. “Przekrój” was a fan of Picasso, thanks indirectly to the pre-war Wiadomości Literackie, where the young Eile worked and first encountered the artist’s paintings. Wiadomości’s editor-in-chief, Mieczysław Grydzewski, had been interested in his work since the 1920s. When Eile became the editor of “Przekrój”, he kept up that interest. Picasso was first published in the weekly in February 1946 and was then featured regularly. “Przekrój” even named 1959 its Year of Picasso, reprinting one of his works every week.

Although readers had already had a chance to acquaint themselves with Picasso previously, the first publications of his works triggered a public outcry. Angry letters poured into the magazine’s offices, but Eile ignored them completely. The magazine was supposed to be a window on the world, and the world adored Picassoon both sides of the Iron Curtainalbeit for very different reasons. To quote one of the painter’s lovers, Françoise Gilot (or one of Picasso’s wives Jacqueline Roque): in Russia they hated his work but liked his politics, whereas in America it was the reverse.

Picasso joined the French Communist Party in 1944 and remained a member for life. He also made donations to the party and its related institutions, and designed propaganda posters and tracts, the most famous of which was the dove of peace symbol. His sketch caught the eye of party colleague Louis Aragon when he was visiting Picasso’s studio. Picasso later questioned why his drawing of the bird had been chosen as the emblem for the World Peace Council set up by the Communists: “As for the gentle dove, what a myth that is! They’re very cruel. I had some here and they pecked a poor little pigeon to death. […] They pecked its eyes out, then pulled it to pieces. […] How’s that for a symbol of Peace?”

There is still a debate today as to whether the artist truly was politically conscious and committed, or merely figured in the party ranks as a ‘useful idiot’ whose fractiousness was tolerated because of his generous donations to the party coffers, and his fame (in which the French Communist Party also basked).

One way or another, Picasso visited Poland in 1948. He only accepted the invitation after the Polish government guaranteed him a private plane and promised that the visit would last for no longer than three days. The artist was among 400 delegates from 46 countries who had been invited to Wrocław for the World Congress of Intellectuals in Defence of Peace. The propagandistic aim of the congress was to convince public opinion worldwide that the Communist Bloc was advocating peace, while the West was threatening it. A conflict arose at the congress when a Soviet delegate, Aleksander Fadeyev, labelled creators of ‘decadent’ Western art and literature as hyenas and jackals. Some of the Western delegation left the hall in protest. Picasso did not react, but later claimed that, behind closed doors, he had given Fadeyev a real ear-bashing and even branded him a Nazi.

The promised three days eventually stretched into two weeks, during which Picasso was taken all around Poland to show off the new leadership’s achievements. A “Przekrój” correspondent, Leopold Tyrmand, even managed to discuss all the burning issues of the time with the artist. This he described as follows:

“Picasso was perpetually surrounded by a crowd of people, indefatigable, forever signing autographs, always smiling and polite. The small, dark eyes of this short man with his tanned complexion were constantly smiling. Finally, this breathless “Przekrój” reporter squeezed through the crowd of admirers and blurted out:

‘Monsieur Picasso, what do you think about peace, war, the Recovered Territories Exhibition, Polish food, the nationalization of industry, Wrocław under Poland, Polish energy, functional architecture, the Oder–Neisse line, the refugee problem, Polish hospitality, German revisionism, Wall Street machinations, your own influence on contemporary painting, imperialism, Cubism, Jerzy Andrzejewski, the reconstruction of Szczecin, and the last Olympics?’

Picasso looked over at “Przekrój” and smiled. Nodding his head, he replied:

Oui…’

And that said it all.”

The renowned Spaniard first met Marian Eile while visiting “Przekrój”’s offices during his forced tour. The two men liked one another, as they had a lot in common. Eile was also a painter; they shared an almost compulsive interest in women and both flirted with communism, although Eile was never a party member. The artists remained in touch for some time and then, in 1954 or 1955, Picasso showed up unannounced in Eile’s office. Apparently, it was the only time in the editor’s long and fascinating life that he had jumped out of his skin in surprise.

The visit was all because of the writer Sławomir Mrożek, ‘the girl with the ponytail’, and a sheepskin coat. Picasso’s last muse, Lydia Corbett (Sylvette David), had seen a photograph in a foreign newspaper of Mrożek wearing a sheepskin coat, and fell for it immediately. Enchanted by the girl, the artist came to Poland and headed straight for “Przekrój”’s headquarters. It was quickly established that the coat had been purchased in Nowy Targ, so the magazine’s secretary, Merka Ziemiańska, set off in a car to accompany the visitor on his quest. It ended successfully: the artist bought the sheepskin coat (or even two), which only served to strengthen the mutual admiration between Picasso and “Przekrój”.

The featured cover is a distant echo of that friendship.

Click here to see more covers from “Przekrój”’s archives.

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