Several
months ago I devoted half a dozen columns to folk art, also called
primitive or naive art. Several dealt with circus art. Although
knowing I was far from exhausting the subject, I did not expect that
I would be aroused to write about it again by a Polish salt mine that
I had never heard of until today.
The
salt mines I associate with art are those deep in the mountains of
Austria where the Nazis attempted to hide the art they had stolen
from European museums and collectors as the world came crashing down
on Hitler's empire. I will
write about those salt mines, but not today.
I
prefer to write about an email that my friend Gordon Moses forwarded
to me. Gordon was a French missionary when I was, just after World
War II. For a period he was a companion to Elder Dieu. Dieu would die
of tuberculosis contracted during his mission.
Dieu
is French for God. When the pair went tracting, they could (did)
introduce themselves: “Je suis Moïse, et il est Dieu/Iam Moses, and he is God.”
Gordon
has the appreciated ability to discover brief films and slide
programs that reveal beautiful places. Many of the programs are in
French, which makes them doubly enjoyable for me.
Gordon's
latest forwarded program is a marvelous slide show about the
Wieliczka Salt Mine in Southern Poland. I need to ask Juliusz Fussek,
who was the pioneer mission president in Poland and lives in our
ward, or my cousin Lawrence Lewis, a later president, how to
pronounce the name. I have no idea.
The
Wieliczka Salt Mine is in the metropolitan area of Krakow, which
escaped heavy damage during the war, and notorious Auschwitz and
Birkenau.
Through
the ages, salt has been an extremely valuable commodity. School
children can tell you that Roman soldiers were paid in salt, and the
word “salary” comes from that old tale. (So does the
phrase “being worth one’s salt.”)
Exploitation
of the Wieliczka mine can be traced back about 800 years, to the
13th Century. The massive salt deposits lay underground.
Centuries of mining have created an intricate labyrinth of tunnels
and unexpected huge rooms.
Entrance to the Royal Wieliczka Salt Mine. (My illustrations are courtesy of Wikipedia)
A typical lateral in the mine. Note the rails and timbering.
Looking
at Gordon's slide show, I
am reminded of the extensive stone quarries under Maestricht,
Holland and the endless caverns of Postojna, Slovenia. The Postojna
system comprises more than 20 kilometers of natural caverns, and
visitors are taken to the far reaches on a bright red and yellow
tram.
The
Dutch quarries, like the Salt Mine, are man-made, and they consist
of 200 kilometers of tunnels and rooms. During WWII, partisans in
both places made use of the caverns, including in Holland, a bakery.
The Nazis used a different part of the cave and tunnels, and we
never aware of the presence of their enemies in the same labyrinths.
The
Polish salt mine and the Maestricht quarries have about the same
age, and in both places for public safety the majority of the
tunnels have been sealed off. Only 1% of the Wieliczka mine is open
for visitors.
There
is a big difference between the Dutch and Polish undergrounds. Many
of the Polish miners were sculptors and innate decorators. They
turned their mine into a manifestation of folk art and a place of
astonishing beauty.
The Last Supper. This three dimensional sculpture in salt is based upon the da Vinci fresco.
Chapel of St. Kinga. This huge underground room carved out from the salt reminds me of the Big Room in Carlsbad Caverns. In contrast, the Wieliczka mine big room is tailored. The salt floor is flat and polished. The chandeliers are made of salt.
St. John’s Chapel shows the salt ceiling painted and a painted crucifixion scene.
Another carving in the salt.
The bottom of St. Kinga’s shaft has a colorful depiction of what appear to be Snow White’s Seven Dwarves at work. The mine appeals to visitors of all ages.
Because
of flooding in the lower chambers and the development of other world
salt resources, which could produce the mineral at cheaper cost, the
Wieliczka Salt Mine ceased commercial operations in 1996. But it
remains as a popular tourist attraction.
The
human heart and mind carry a creative spirit, and this spirit is apt
to leap forth in unexpected places.
Lawrence Jeppson is an art consultant, organizer and curator of art exhibitions, writer, editor
and publisher, lecturer, art historian, and appraiser. He is America's leading authority on
modern, handwoven French tapestries. He is expert on the works of William Henry Clapp, Nat
Leeb, Tsing-fang Chen, and several French artists.
He is founding president of the non-profit Mathieu Matégot Foundation for Contemporary
Tapestry, whose purview encompasses all 20th-century tapestry, an interest that traces back to
1948. For many years he represented the Association des Peintres-Cartonniers de Tapisserie and
Arelis in America.
Through the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service, the American Federation of
Arts, the Museum of Modern Art, and his own Art Circuit Services he has been a contributor to
or organizer of more than 200 art exhibitions in the United States, Canada, Japan, and Taiwan.
He owns AcroEditions, which publishes and/or distributes multiple-original art. He was co-founder and artistic director of Collectors' Investment Fund.
He is the director of the Spring Arts Foundation; Utah Cultural Arts Foundation, and the Fine
Arts Legacy Foundation
Lawrence is an early-in-the-month home teacher, whose beat is by elevator. In addition, he has spent the past six years hosting and promoting reunions of the missionaries who served in the French Mission (France, Belgium, and Switzerland) during the decade after WWII.