Today he lives in Białystok, at the other end of Poland. But he has certainly not forgotten “his” Bolesławiec; he speaks passionately about the people he met and the events that became symbols. With genuine sentiment, he speaks about ceramics—the fragile and capricious “art of fire” that he came to know over many years and to which he devoted his heart, talent and knowledge. He searches for traces of the past and resents the generation that followed for irretrievably destroying the achievements of the pioneering years. “That is unfair,” he repeats several times during our conversation. “It is sad and irreversible, and what a shame.” Let us give the floor to Andrzej Skowroński, who arrived in the town on the Bóbr in July 1952 and remained here for many decades. Let us not comment on this account; let it remain authentic in every detail. “I graduated from the Ceramic Secondary School in Opoczno and, under the compulsory work assignment, came to Bolesławiec. Straight to the factory of the Central Office of Folk and Artistic Industry, ‘Cepelia’, which was a state-owned enterprise and only later became the ‘Ceramika Artystyczna’ Cooperative. In 1953 I became the technical manager here, and remained in that position for 20 years. I worked with talented artists Izabela Zdrzałka and Amanda Różańska; genuine works of ceramic art were created here—unique, beautifully decorated, admired and eagerly bought on the market. A conflict with President Urbanek made me look for work elsewhere; skilled workers were in demand everywhere at that time. I went to the clay mine of the Wrocław Building Materials Cooperative in Nowogrodziec—it was 1956. But I missed contact with the colourful ‘art of fire’, so I returned to Bolesławiec, where a large stoneware factory was just being launched (later ZWK i S). I went to Ziębice to train kiln operators and returned as head of the kiln department and manager of the kiln room. That may sound like little, but it is the true heart of the factory: everything depends on mastering the element of fire; the work requires pharmaceutical precision, knowledge and experience.
President of CPLiA Lucjan Opaczyński additionally employed me on a half-time basis (that was already 1970). In 1975 I took a position as a technologist; the artistic director at the time was the visual artist Bronisław Wolanin. Our initially good cooperation broke down. With the president’s approval, I searched among people for old exhibits from Bolesławiec. Quite a collection was amassed, and a rich historical and commercial pattern room was created. I was regarded as an expert in composing ceramic glazes, without which ceramic products have no colour. There would have been no successes at exhibitions in Częstochowa or Warsaw without my participation. There would have been no great triumph at the exhibition in Łazienki. The only problem was that others claimed the successes, and I was not remembered. Yet even the greatest genius in this field of art cannot achieve complete success alone. The history of Bolesławiec ceramics did not begin in the 1970s; it was built on the achievements of many artists and creators who today are often anonymous. With sadness and astonishment, I look at the absence of any reference to the past in the factory’s contemporary pattern room, at the lack of a fair assessment of achievements and contributions. ‘Blank spots’ have emerged; many unique examples of ceramic works and creations were destroyed. I carry a deep personal grievance about this, one that is probably entirely justified. My former colleague from work, now the creator and owner of the spectacularly ambitious ‘Dana’ company, Janusz Jakubowski, cured me of this psychological depression. Now that is ambition, the future, prospects, dynamism!
I have already completed my professional career, so I donated around 400 of my own ceramic glaze recipes free of charge, together with extensive documentation and samples. I can make almost anything: glossy and semi-matt glazes, imitations of cracked surfaces, patinas—especially the Germans are eager to buy them immediately. I spent a holiday—an outdoor art workshop—with my friend; once again I experienced my youth and my old passion for creating. I can still give something of myself, leave a lasting mark, although the destruction of the achievements of the past pains me. I came to terms with the destruction of the achievements of German ceramists, but I attribute it to war, stupidity and vindictiveness. But I search in vain for any trace of Wanda Matus’s works. Who still remembers that I recreated the first stamps, reviving this decorative technique after the Germans? I simply cut the first ‘stamps’ from shoe heels, and today they are commonplace... But the true ‘stamp’ artist later was Anna Urbańska-Pasierbiewicz; she applied them masterfully, in an inimitable way. I cannot forget Wanda Matus’s subtle, fanciful floral decoration, with which she conjured genuine painterly masterpieces on the surfaces of vases. Today I cannot find any trace of it, and it was truly great beauty, though so fragile and fleeting... I know that the moulds for the stoneware treasures were smashed by the army—but why, and on whose orders? Who did they bother, who wanted to get rid of the ‘competition’? It is sad and painful, especially for me, because I always felt emotionally connected with my professional work and the process of creating ceramic beauty. In Berlin’s ‘Pergamon’, ceramic products from several thousand years ago are carefully preserved, while in Bolesławiec it is difficult to find traces of the past even from 30 years ago... Where are the ceramic marvels of the folk artist Romanowski, which—fired at ‘Cepelia’—delighted art connoisseurs, including those from abroad?
I apologise for these very personal reflections. I no longer need fame or honours. I have had enough satisfaction in life. But I was terrified to return to memories of which no material traces remain in the city of my youth. Someone consciously and deliberately destroyed them, impoverishing the history of Bolesławiec ceramics by many facts that are now difficult to reconstruct. And that is what I resent. If every successor stubbornly eliminates traces of the achievements of those who came before, we will remain a community without history, a nation without roots and identity. And without these, it is simply impossible to live and exist.