The Kindertransport statue revisited

Every month, thousands of people read our post on the Kindertransport statue at Liverpool Street Station. I am in London for work. I decide to pay a visit to see how those five confused but proud children are doing.

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Previously unnoticed details catch my eye. Does the violin case mean there is a budding musical genius amonst them? I start to take more photographs. A lady in her eighties touches my arm. “They are beautiful aren’t they! I knew one of them. There were thousands of them: jewish children fleeing to England. It was years before that awful war.” I reply that indeed the bronze memorial is a very beautiful, poignant sculpture. “This is where I always meet my son” she continues. “We go for lunch!”

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The two girls, poised nevertheless, have stout shoes for their journey.

The elderly lady’s son, a well healed businessman, arrives. I overhear his first words after greeting his mother. “It makes me furious that people sit on it and leave their coffee cups!” Indeed, I have to remove some garbage before taking these photos. The problem is that this fabulous bronze monument, marking the point where the children arrived by train in London, is at the entrance to one of the city’s busiest stations and right outside McDonalds.

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The way Meisler has sculpted this girl’s right hand is masterful. The grip on the handle of the suitcase is loose and delicate. There is little weight in the case. It seems to imply that the children left their homes with only a few most valued possessions.

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Documenting Meisler’s attention to detail absorbs me. The pen clipped into the breast pocket of the boy’s tightly buttoned blazer speaks to learning and maybe academic potential. But again, those labels with numbers are chilling reminders of what was to come.

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I look up at this girl’s face. The image stays for the day. I hear a voice behind me. An academic-looking American arrives with a group of ten or so youngsters. “Here it is!” he says with an expansive gesture. “One of my masters students did her thesis about this statue!” He recounts the story of the Kindertransport to his charges.

A young man besuited-and-silk-tied  stands looking at the figures. He tells me he always stops here for a minute or so when passing through the station. He is a soldier. “It’s just incredible, what happened! I mean, unbelievable! It breaks me up!” I agree with him and tell him I am writing about the statue for a blog about beautiful stuff. He takes my card, shakes my hand firmly and strides away.

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In the ten minutes that it takes to snap these photos, I come to realise that, when it comes to sculpture in public places, the Kinderstransport statue is something of a celebrity. People are drawn to its beauty and to its story.

But reality is context. My last exchange is with a dishevelled youth with needle tracks in his forearms. He has had his wallet knicked and he needs ten pounds to get a train to go and see his mum! My money stays in my pocket. I point out that maybe it’s not the best place to peddle his hard luck story. “Whatever!” he says and wanders off.

Christine Z II

A few months ago, Robin wrote about the beautiful and touching sculptures of Heinz Schwarz. The implicit link between his “Clementine” (1974) and “Adolescent and horse” (1976) was the tragedy and suffering that, for different reasons, can befall young lives.

There is not so much information available about the location of Schwarz’s works. Lionel, one of our readers, recently put us on to one of the sculptor’s lesser-known bronze masterpieces. Camera in hand, I hurried off to hunt down this beautiful stuff and found another stunning study of adolescence. “Christine Z II” surveys Geneva’s Botanical Gardens from a leafy surround.

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Christine Z II (year unknown) by Heinz Schwarz

The young girl is slim, poised and lithe of limb. Her smooth skin and blatant emerging sexuality are fragile and poignant in the extreme. In contrast to her cousin “Clementine,” she emanates neither sadness nor tragedy. She seems only amused and bemused by the visitors to her green domain.

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Profile of Christine Z II

“Christine Z II” manifests resilience with a confident, pensive intelligence. It is as though she has just come to recognise the power of her feminine beauty. Will her enclosing foliage always protect her from the dark forces of our world? I hope so.

Thanks, Lionel.

Vertigo-inducing floor painting to combat mean diseases

“Mosquitoes, flies, ticks and bugs may be a threat to your health, at home and when traveling”, says the World Health Organization (WHO) on this year’s World Health Day. In an attempt to draw attention to so called “vector-borne diseases”, and explain how to prevent them, the Geneva-based organization made a vertigo-inducing floor painting at their headquarter and at London Heathrow Airport. Together with my daughter, we had the chance to swing by WHO to check it out. Take a look at this mind-boggling piece!

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Now, what are we looking at…? A cracked road? A hole? A look into the future? Or the past? We see a giant, evil-looking, mosquito buzzing away from a little girl holding an ill-looking doll in her arms. A woman with a baby sitting next to a pile of trash. A water-filled car tyre. A pile of something blue. The illustration-illusion-thingy makes us wonder who these people are, if they are good health, and whether the skeeter has bitten them or not!

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Like Josi and me, most people stop, look, smile, jump and have their photo taken next to the “3D illustration” that was developed by London-based Red Door Communications. What a clever way to catch people’s attention! At Heathrow, WHO used the floor painting as a platform to test air travelers’ knowledge about malaria, dengue, schistosomiasis, leishmaniasis, onchocerciasis and other unpronounceable diseases. Take a look here: