IZAIZA. Creativity between graphic design and art

Zawadzkie is a rural spot in Powiat Strzelecki (formerly “Kreis Groß Strehlitz”). From 1936 to 1945, it was known as Andreashütte, and from the partition of Upper Silesia to the end of the Second World War, it lay on the outermost edge of the German Reich. Today, the town has fewer than 10,000 inhabitants. However, during the heyday of the iron and steel industry in Upper Silesia in the 19th century, it played a role as an industrial centre. A steelworks remained in operation in Zawadzkie even during the 20th century. Izabela Krzyscik’s mother worked as a technical drawer and her maternal grandmother was as a crane operator. At home, the family often spoke German, for example when Izabela and her sister, who was one-and-a-half years younger, weren’t supposed to understand what was being said. Yes, her grandmother was born here in 1929 and regarded herself as German. When Zawadzkie, along with the rest of Silesia, was assigned to Poland in 1945 according to the agreement reached at the Potsdam Conference, Izabela’s great grandmother would have liked to have emigrated to Germany. However, as a single mother to five children, she decided not to risk the move and to remain in the region, which was now Polish. Izabela Krzyscik’s grandparents on her mother’s side also remained in Poland as adults, but by no means identified with the Soviet-influenced socialism that took hold there. Her grandfather expressed such critical opinions that he was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment as a political prisoner in the notorious Wronki prison. Although he was pardoned after eight years, there was now no question that the Krzyscik family would be allowed to leave the country. 

On 22/12/1987, Izabela, who had just turned twelve, did leave Poland, however, together with her mother and sister, and headed for Hamburg. Her father had already moved there a year previously. Officially, he had travelled there for a two-week visit, but in line with a pre-agreed plan, he never returned. Now, finally, the rest of the family were due to follow. In order to leave Poland, Mrs. Krzyscik and her daughters, aged ten and twelve, used a small transport company, which normally delivered packages, but which sometimes also took passengers across the country’s borders by car. There wasn’t much space for luggage, so Izabela’s mother had wooden boxes made, which she filled to the brim with the family’s belongings and arranged to be transported to Hamburg by train. Izabela still has very clear memories of the border with the GDR: “Everything looked grey, sad, creepy. They had German Shepherds and men in uniform, who searched our car.” However, she remembers the start of their new life in Germany in a much more positive light: “I had this fantasy that in Germany, there would be sweets growing on the trees. That turned out not to be true, but even so, I liked Hamburg from the start. There were just so many good things.” She also says that as a child, she loved the smell of the shampoos and washing powder that her aunt brought over from Germany – the aunt with whom her father initially lived after he arrived. When Izabela arrived in Hamburg with her mother and sister, her father was already able to welcome them in his own two-room flat in Hamburg-Bahrenfeld. 

Her mother soon found a job as an administrator in Altona hospital. Later, she worked for the city’s police force, where she remained until she retired. The fact that she already spoke good German was certainly a big help. Izabela quickly learned the language, at least through listening: “I spent six months in a kind of integration class,” she explains. “And for me, a Polish country bumpkin, it was really exciting, because suddenly, I was learning together with kids from all over the world – from Turkey, Indonesia and Afghanistan.” Even if she by no means remembers her childhood in Zawadzkie as an unhappy one, she didn’t feel homesick. “It was probably my age,” she says. “And all the new impressions and possibilities. I simply didn’t look back.” She did well at school, and could easily have taken her “Abitur” (A-Level) school leaving exams. However, the prospect of already being able to earn her own money at 16 was much more tempting. One reason was her wish to become independent as soon as possible, and she was already looking forward to having her own flat. Her parents supported her idea. Why study for the Abitur if you could make something of yourself in Germany in a faster, more reliable way? Since Izabela Krzyscik had been good at chemistry, maths and physics in school, she applied to train as a chemical technician at Beiersdorf. The global consumer goods group, which was based in Hamburg, had a good reputation. She completed the training and got a solid job – and soon got bored with the work at the Nivea production plant. She also never got the feeling that she fitted into the company. While her colleagues, most of whom were older than she was, dreamt of having a house, a car and paid holidays, and of starting a family, at that time, Izabela couldn’t really relate to any of their goals. “I felt like an alien in my team,” she says. “It wasn’t just because I was the only woman, but also because compared to the others, I was an odd bird.”