I think that most of you thas has saw my last post can think about who was this litte boy on this very special photo of the polish, very military, familly. Well, it looks that he has many fabricated identities and indeed was involved in the work of epsionage. But, well, mainly on the cultural front. Our Republic of Poland was in very dangerus moment in time, however it is not true that we was not ready to make some correction in our vicinity. And it is not true that we has in thirthies last centaury aimed our army and doctrine at the Soviet Union (well, this name comes from my familly name - in polish: Zwiazek Radziecki). It was just the bullshit to cuddle Adolf .
But our pupil was not fighting yet on this front, before the II manifestation of the world war he was involved into let say some organic cultural work - work on the propaganda, as well as propomting so called 'cult of the Marshall' that could bring really shocking fruits for our beloved Adolf H. team. Some say that he had very stormy and intensive romanse with the Baroness. As usuall in the spy histories that so often, for the security, mix facts with ficion, it is not sure who she was for true. However, some say that it was Gebels and some add to this a spicy rumour that he was a transvestite... I really do not know why they say this...
Well, the true Stas, had many creations, identities and names, as a professional spy, very special and very sensitve. He was a original sin of the Marshall and the very core of the polish conspiracy and some baptist cult that was founded three houndreds years ago and was still waiting to be discovered to the public in the really shocking style - yes - the CCC MP cult. Yes, our Stasiu, was very talented what is nothing startling for the Radziwill familly.
Well, there is yet another interesting details, they say that he has commited sucide on the 17 September 1939 when the Russian army has invaded Poland. But it was just one of his creations with very strong and very fabricated backround that has made a sucide. He was an actor, very famous and very important. His life was some kind of the theater play. Very costly, brutal, tragic and very essencional on so many fronts. And well, at the end, he was a real military service man, even if with so intense romance...
Here i am quoting very a fragment of very deepfull note on one of his most fameous creation by Mark Rudnicki from the Buffalo University.
Witkacy: Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz 1885-1939
by Mark Rudnicki
Dramatist, poet, novelist, painter, photographer, art theorist, and philosopher, Witkacy was one of the leading members of Poland's poetic and artistic avant-garde of the first half of the 20th century.
Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz's birth, life, death, and even his reburial are shrouded in mystery and legend. He was born on February 24, 1885. Even upon entering this world, Witkacy could not avoid playing mysterious games - his birth certificate inexplicably certifies March 24, 1885 as his date of birth. As a child he was encouraged to develop his individuality and creativity in as many outlets as possible:
Due to his eclectic education, Witkacy attempted throughout his life to distinguish himself in many outlets, as a painter, aesthetician, playwright, novelist, and philosopher, and, through whatever means necessary: marriage, sex, drugs, or alcohol. All of these efforts to justify his existence proved futile during his lifetime, as he was privately and publicly, for the most part, unsuccessful; only posthumously did his work receive proper attention, and, subsequently, national and international success. Today hardly a season goes by without a performance of one of his dramas or an exhibition of his paintings. His dramas and paintings have followers all over the world.
Perhaps his favorite activity was to devise strange scenes of unusual events. He manipulated his guests (sometimes rather cruelly) to perform bizarre roles creating unique and sometimes tense situations. Sometimes he would move around during a party explaining to selected guests the role to be played and convincing others to act different roles. Or he would establish the roles to be played by his group of friends before hand and take them to the party to create a unique event. Once the famous Polish poet Aleksander Wat was cast in the role of an Italian or Spanish aristocrat. Wat performed his role excellently and took it so much to heart that eventually, having consumed a considerable quantity of alcohol, he came to believe in his aristocratic descent. The night ended with a terrible melee in a local restaurant where Wat ran amok and from which he had to be forcibly removed. Witkacy could not contain his delight. The game had been a success!
Another interaction happened when the Avant-garde poet Julian Przyboś, accompanied by the painter Wiadyslaw Strzeminski, came to visit Witkacy in Zakopane to discuss the theory of Pure Form, about which Witkacy published numerous articles. The two artists were hopeful to have an "essential conversation." Unfortunately, for these very disciplined artists, their hopes for a philosophical conversation turned into a frustrating experience or, perhaps, a "happening". Years later, Przyboś described the event as follows:
The room was hung with pictures, all of them in the Witkacy style, so well known later on -- pictures he produced in such a quantity that they could be counted in the hundreds . . . It was the first time I ad seen them and the impression was unpleasant: the glaring cacophony of colors and the confusion of lines in the Secession style, as if washed down with soapsuds and "licked clean". What else in the arrangement of the room stuck in my memory? A washbasin: a tin bowl and a pot of water. These I remember because, every few minutes, Witkacy interrupted the conversation, went out, came back and washed his hands! I suspect that he did it to make the situation "strange". Another thing he did, seemingly with the same purpose, was to shout out, without any reason, two proverbs: one French: Apres nous le deluge! and the other the notorious Russian one, which he later immortalized in his book on narcotics: 'I would be famous for heroism if not for my hemorrhoids!'
Strzeminski, who took things in earnest, started to talk about Pure Form right away. But Witkacy did not say anything new; he just repeated all those generalities, already known to us from his publications. How should a picture be painted to fulfill the postulate of Pure Form? -- Strzeminski asked . . .
Witkacy's only response was to repeat that the end of art was approaching and to continue to screech, Apres nous . . . The atmosphere was getting tense, I felt intuitively that our host was more and more embarrassed, that he was lacking self-assurance, that it was only to summon up courage that he performed his ablutions and kept repeating the tedious French-Russian tag . . . It went on like that for a while when, suddenly, Strzeminski grabbed his crutches and cried: 'Let's go, I cannot look at it any longer!' pointing at the pictures on the walls. 'It pricks the eyes!'
Witkacy giggled 'satanically'. He said that his pictures were not art, but a portrait-painting firm.
How could a man, who wrote theoretical treatises, who had such lofty ambitions in art and philosophy, practice "buffoonery"? The answer is quite simple: Witkacy's actions, running in and out, washing his hands every few minutes, repeating the French-Russian sayings, were not only an attempt to "make the situation strange"; they were, in fact, an answer to his guests' reservations about the practicality of his theory. They were attempts to create a sense of Mystery. In other words, Witkacy practiced buffoonery as a method of discourse, as expression of his philosophical theories, and/or as a creative medium much like a "happening."