Despair in humanity, what is humanity?

By Do Gwang-hwan

It couldn't be stopped. Initially filled with humor, the narrative soon unfolds like a detective novel, unraveling secrets.

The novel "Olga's Contradictory Method," written by the renowned Russian interpreter and essayist Yonehara Mari (1950-2006), is based on a true story. It tells the story of Olga, a mysterious and unidentified dance teacher, who embarks on a quest.

As the grim records of the notorious Stalinist forced labor camps unfold, I found myself occasionally holding my breath while reading about the struggle for survival by innocent people in extreme conditions.

The author spent her adolescence in Prague, Czech Republic. Drawing on encounters and events from that time, as well as references to memoirs and materials released after Perestroika, she narrates the lives of resilient and tough individuals.

One story quoted in the book is particularly moving.

In a hostel on a night where existence loses its value, a woman passionately recounts stories. From "Anna Karenina" and "Moby Dick" to concertos and symphonies, she purely relies on memory to recite and orally perform them. Soon, dance and song emerge, and their unique stage unfolds every night.

Something remarkable happened. Already consuming precious hours of sleep, the "performance" began to rejuvenate the women's skin. The art that they had engraved in their minds when free breathed life back into them.

I encountered a profoundly touching figure who gained vitality even in the history of art.

Friedl Dicker-Brandeis (1898-1944) was an Austrian painter who met Paul Klee at the German Bauhaus. She was captivated by the drawings of children. She loved the essence and dreams revealed in their pictures.

▲ "Begonia by the Window" (1936). Prague Jewish Museum collection

▲ "Landscape Outside the Window" (1936). Prague Jewish Museum collection.

In December 1942, she lost all her dreams. She was dragged to a Nazi concentration camp in Czechoslovakia with her husband. Yet, she did not despair. She set out to cultivate new dreams, overcoming harsh realities.

Her mission was to teach art to children in the camp. She spent time drawing, discussing, exhibiting, and performing with the children, providing a healing moment.

Two years. Her time with the children was not long. In 1944, she concluded her life in a gas chamber, but something astonishing happened. Ten years later, while sorting through her belongings, children discovered 4,700 drawings created by them.

Even more astonishing was the fact that the drawings did not depict anger, despair, or pain. Flowers, plants, neighbors, everyday life, the sea—these were what the children drew. Their dreams and freedom were not distant or high. Hope was right by their side.

▲ Drawings by children from the internment camp. (Captured from "Art Museum Retrieved from a Drawer," written by Lee So-young.)

Even in a situation where death was inevitable, she did not only see despair. She created a space for herself in a place where she could do what she could do well. In the work of teaching art, she aimed at the value of 'sharing together.' Trapped within the solid wall of the concentration camp, she found a will stronger than the wall—freedom.

The true power of art, not just in visual arts but in all forms, lies in “freedom” and “liberation.” These two are the foundation of art. The strength of art comes from the narrative of freedom and liberation.

Victor Frankl, who documented his harrowing experiences in Nazi concentration camps in "Man's Search for Meaning," said, "The main goal of human life is not to seek pleasure or avoid pain but to find meaning in life."

▲ Friedl Dicker-Brandeis