Henryk Tomaszewski: Meeting the Master

Henryk Tomaszewski was a key figure and mentor to several generations of artists and designers both in Poland and beyond. His death this past July, at the age of 91, closed the chapter to one of the greatest poster artists of the past century. His passion for art and design lives on through his timeless work and the countless students he mentored.

Once in a while, a meeting occurs that weaves another layer of richness into one’s life. My opportunity came in the summer of 2002, while I was in Poland, filming the documentary “Freedom on the Fence,” a chronicle of the Polish poster art. My team and I had been in Poland for 10 days, running around Warsaw and Krakow with a small DV camera, a simple microphone and a pair of lights. In the back of my mind, I held a glimmer of hope that we might actually be able to meet with Henryk Tomaszewski, the undisputed master of the Polish Poster. The many other Polish poster artists I had met, were each engaging, interesting, talented and very giving, but it was Tomaszewski who held such a unique place in the history of the Polish poster.

I was told over and over again that he was in failing health and simply did not grant interviews anymore. Meeting Tomaszewski would be as one of the artists stated, like meeting “one of the great pillars that held up the Warsaw Academy of Art.”

With the help of Filip Pogowski, Tomaszewski’s son, we were able to connect with Teresa Pogowski, Henryk Tomaszewski’s wife. Following a long conversation between Teresa and Magda Iwinska, my translator, I was asked to submit five questions to Mr. Tomaszweski. I wracked my brain for just the right questions.

Once those were agreed upon, we were invited to the Tomaszewski house for our interview.

Armed with my five questions, we were met at the door by Teresa Pogowski, a talented and well-known painter in her own right. Much like the Eameses, it was clear to me that she and Tomaszewski were a couple with a pioneering, creative spirit. From the modern design of the house and furniture, to the abstract paintings and posters hanging throughout the house, I sensed the history that these two had been a part of.

So here I was, sitting across from the “Master,” ready to ask my questions. But alas, first he wanted to ask me several questions. “Where did I live?” “What was the school I taught at like?” “Was there still drawing taught to the students in design”? The last question made me realize what a different world I taught in, compared to his days of teaching at the Warsaw Academy of Fine Art. We spoke of changes in design education; I wondered what he would think of the computer labs that students use to work, often drawing with an electronic tablet and pen. My five-question preparation was for naught, as my first (and only) question, prompted him to tell me the entire history of the Polish poster. As my space here is limited, I thought I would only share some of his thoughts.

Tomaszewski’s posters were simple and complex, prosaic and poetic.

The lines in his posters seemed to be gestures, dancing on the paper. He was educated as a painter at the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts, and he was adamant that a good designer had to be three-quarters fine artist in spirit. For him, fine arts was the base of poster design, just as Latin was the base to many languages. He felt that graphic designers need to be able to draw and paint well and that painting and drawing was the soil from which every art could grow. He told me that in Polish, the word for “fine art” sounds a little bit like “ballet.” I thought about his posters in a different way after that.

At the age of 32, Tomaszewski received a telephone call from the Polish Film Agency, asking him to create posters for American films. He agreed, after stipulating that he and his colleagues would not have to create posters that resembled American, Japanese, Russian or Swiss posters. He wanted to create his own visual language trying to find the essence of each film, and using the least number of elements. He wanted his paintings on the posters to encourage people to go see the films, yet he was quick to say that images of stars were not needed to sell these films, as Poles were thirsty to see what the rest of the world had seen, and they flocked to the many state-run movie houses, regardless of which movie stars were featured. This was one of the fascinating incongruities of the Polish poster: it was an art form that flourished in spite of—and most likely thanks to—being created within a system of constraints. Polish poster artists used constraints and freedom in a most clever and inventive way.

My intended question about the general public’s understanding of the posters, both visually and intellectually, was quickly answered as Tomaszewski recounted his story. He explained that 80 percent of Warsaw was destroyed following WWII and that there were miles of fences surrounding the ruins. A natural gallery for posters quickly appeared. Tomaszewski mentioned that the authorities were not very pleased with these new posters being plastered all over fences in Warsaw, claiming that the average person would not be able to understand the posters. They wanted the artists to create straightforward, visual solutions. Tomaszewski was certainly aware that the posters would be understood by the general public on many different levels, and he seemed to delight in the fact that there was, in a sense, a melting pot of various understandings and interpretations of the posters.

Tomaszewski left me with a final anecdote. He explained that in Poland, cinemas traveled from village to village arriving with rolls of posters announcing the films. According to Tomaszweski, paper was scarce at this time and there was little money to pay people to put the posters up. It is hard to imagine, but many wonderful posters ended up being used in other ways, such as wrapping paper for herrings being sold at the markets. Though at first this story is amusing, it does bring to light the enormity of the situation in Poland and much of Europe at that time.

Tomaszewski ended the interview by apologizing about his long answer to my first question without realizing that in his single answer, I had obtained answers to all my questions and much more. I left that afternoon feeling like I had indeed met the master.