ARTISTS OF THE HOLOCAUST

Walking to the Gas Chamber

"See their faces, worried, but still not knowing what awaits them

in about fifteen minutes, their death." Editor

May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified
in the world that He created as He willed.
May He give reign to His kingship in your
lifetimes and in your days, and in the
lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel,
swiftly and soon.
His great Name be blessed forever and ever.
May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
mighty, praised, and lauded be the
Name of the Holy One, Blessed is
He beyond any blessing and song,
praise and consolation that are uttered
in the world.
May there be abundant peace from Heaven,
and life upon us and upon all Israel.
He Who makes peace in His heights,
may He make peace,
upon us and upon all Israel.
Amen.

CLICK PHOTO BELOW FOR IMPORTANT SHOAH ART

Netty Vanderpol
Artist

I was thirteen when the Germans invaded Holland in 1940 and initiated the persecution and deportation of the Dutch Jews. I was forced to attend a school for Jewish children. One of my classmates was Anne Frank. In 1943 my father was imprisoned by the Nazis for having assisted Allied pilots who parachuted out of burning planes. He, my mother, my grandmother, my brother and I were sent to Westerbork, the last stop in Holland from which Jews were deported to various concentration camps. I spent over a year in Terezin in an increasingly desperate situation. When a rumor circulated that the Germans were looking for volunteers to be sent to Switzerland in an exchange for German POWs, we volunteered against the advice of most of the other inmates, who saw it as another trick. After a three-day train ride in February 1945, we crossed the border into Switzerland. This turned out to be the only exchange of Jews for German POWs. I have done needlepoint for many years. It was not until 1984 that I started my first piece that had the Holocaust as a focus. In this work, the number signifies the 257th person on the fifth transport from Holland; my number was my name.

"The Holocaust was not an event that ended in 1945, at least not for the survivors. Not for me. It continued on and on because my mother and I were alone. Because my father's family no longer existed and I was its sole survivor. It continued on in the struggle of extreme poverty that we experience in the early years in this country. It continued on and on, coloring every thought I had, every decision I made. It continued on in the Bronx, on ordinary streets, at the kitchen table. It continued on invisible."
Irena Klepfisz, Survivor