Moszna Castle

Moszna Castle, Poland

The rich, especially hereditary aristocrats, are freaks. Free from such concerns as how to get food and free from manual labor, their thoughts turn to exploiting the labor of those around them. How big and stupid a castle can I get these beasts to build? They wonder. Who can stock it with furniture, or work the fields in the surrounding farmland?

Even when their monuments to folly burn to the ground, as happened in 1896 to Moszna Castle, a neo-rococo fantasy tucked into the Opole district of Southern Poland, the aristocrats cannot be made rational. They pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and continue throwing cash at overlarge fireplaces, witch’s hat towers, and brass weathercocks until the money runs out. 

On the brighter side: these days, if you are looking for a pleasant place to spend an evening or a night, the remnants of these absurd lifestyles are a great option for a day trip. The previously mentioned Moszhna Castle is  a charming fairy-tale of a building in a secluded town far from the fast-paced cities of Poland. Tucked into the rural countryside, sporting dozens of turrets and towers, Moszna castle has foundations dating to the 17th century. Yes, the grounds have been haunted by the wealthy for centuries, up to the days of industrial giants the von Tiele-Wincklers, who owned several castles across the region. It wasn't till the great surge of Soviet communism liberated Moszna from the von Tiele-Wincklers in the later stages of WWII that these great castles could be made accessible to us ordinary folk. 

For years the castle lay neglected, until in 1972 it was converted to a sanitarium, a true palace to the people. After the fall of communism, though, it gained its current incarnation as a tourist destination.

Admission to the grounds and castle together is 25 złoty per adult. This allows you to wander along the tourist path, which consists of seven rooms on the eastern wing. The path includes a lovely library fringed by ornate gothic-themed stained glass in stone frames. In the dining room, ornately carved wooden framed mirrors stand over grand dining tables. The path leads through a restored family residence, where a bed lazes alone and melancholy in the heart of a round tower overlooking the greenhouse.

All tours, recordings and written information are in Polish, but don't worry, the details are obvious enough you get the idea. It's an old castle where rich people entertained other rich people while the peasants made plans to riot.

Contemporary art by local residents, their talents stretching towards competence, hang from the walls. A blond, busty woman on horseback gazes at you from one frame, and then again from another, this time with a hawk her arm. Later, a family posing with the stone lions on the main Piazza. Scenes with flowers or swans. It's decent art, nothing outright third rate, just the best the locals could muster.

Which leads to another point: overall, the castle is a vital part of the community. On our visit schoolchildren were playing dodgeball on the lawn near a huge lonely pine staked and cabled to remain upright. And at least five couples in wedding finery were having photoshoots on the piazza steps. Restaurants and gift stalls lined the entrance but not extravagantly so. The cafe was a bit stuffy, and filled with families not quite following coronavirus protocols. 

All in all one wonders on the tour whether the current owners are conflicted as to whether they are a museum with a hotel or a hotel with a museum. Certainly as a guest it would be uncomfortable to have tourists clogging up your hotel, and as a tourist it seems odd to have half the place closed off for guest rooms. If aristocrats had money problems, capitalists have issues of where their revenue stream comes from. So it turns out grand castles are nothing if not problem generating machines.

At least you get to walk away clean.

Pan Kleks Illustrations, ranked worst to best

As generations of Polish children know, Pan Kleks runs a magical academy for boys whose names begin with the letter A. His school is on the edge of Storybook Land, and his pupils regularly cavort with talking dogs and robot boys. Created by Jan Brzechwa in a series of books over 50 years ago, Pan Kleks has been on movies and the stage, and his image has been brought to life by dozens of illustrators over the years. 

But who has best captured the essence of this mischievous scholar?

Let’s take a look.

The Anonymous

Uninspired knockoffs are a hazard of the publishing industry, and Pan Kleks is no exception. Poland is awash with various editions bearing uncredited, often amateurish artwork, most of which would drive any reasonable child to put the book quickly back on the shelf. Here are a few of the notable failures.

Anonymous One: Homeless Bird Afficionado

Sorry to make you look at this. 

Widely known as a light-hearted academic and scholar of great renown, Pan Kleks exists today as if Brzechwa had been channeling both Willy Wonka and Albus Dumbledore twenty years before either had been conceived. Unfortunately this edition features a lackluster effort that seems to be channeling the Johnny Depp’s ill-fated Wonka more than Brzechwa’s hero. Here, Kleks is a leering, world-weary pedant with a Dorothy Hamill helmet cut and a cut-rate parrot. No no no.

Anonymous Two: Rainbow-headed hippie.

Perhaps no illustration better emphasizes the danger of setting a story in an all-boy boarding school better than this one. As a parent, nothing would red-flag this school like a headmaster who is wearing an obviously fake beard. Why is Kleks’s mustache made of copper wire? Why does he look like a fifteen-year old? Yikes. The boy here is actually turning to flee, which is the proper decision.

Anonymous Three: Inappropriate Ingenue

I don’t know what this is, actually. It may in fact be the cover for a soundtrack to the one of the movie versions. Whatever the case, it seems strangely adult-oriented. Sultry Kleks in a tartan wrap, his head at an unnatural angle, perhaps inviting you in to hear the secrets of the cosmos in his one-man show?

No?

Anonymous Four: The Meth Lab Genius and his Young Apprentice

I don't really dislike this cover, but it's a solid meh here. Could be any mad scientist and his boy, really.

Anonymous Five: Tolkienesque Ennui

Whew! Now, I don’t like to take away points for creativity, but there is creativity, and then there is misguided innovation. This feels like a mid-seventies homage to Lord of the Rings, with Kleks as Gandalf to that redhead boy’s I’d-rather-be-having-second-breakfast Bilbo. But the worst sin is to have replaced joy and wonder with world-weary drudgery. Kleks looks disinterested, as if he’s about to wander off, and the boy is little more than a head on a bow-tie tether. I’ll give it credit for whimsy, though. Those expressions! (*me, whispering* Actually, to be honest, the more I look at this the more I like it.)

(*clearing throat*) Let’s move on to illustrators whose names I could find.

Jakob Kuzma

Finally someone knows Kleks should be fun! There is definitely a playful air to Kuzma’s take — the multicolored hair, the jaunty joker collar on the starling Matthew. The other-worldy cosmic vibe is strong, yet Kuzma stays true to Kleks’s iconic elements — the yellow waistcoat, rainbow hair, and strange mustache.

Agata Łukasza

Lukasza posits a strange theory of Kleks: that he is most intriguing in the abstract. Other than this one amazing hero-pose, most of her illustrations show Kleks as a shadowy grey outline, a curious choice given the colorful character she could have put on display.

The shadowy master in his cluttered secret room.

Marianna Sztyma

Kleks applying his trademark colored freckles.

Talented and clever, Sztyma takes an arthouse approach to Kleks. She allows her characters a rubbery anatomy, instilling her figures a loose-limbed joi d’vive. Her inclusion of random detritus in the margins is a direct callout to Szancer (see below). But Kleks again seems a bit young to be the holder of ancient mysteries; he feels a bit like that resident assistant who wants to be your best friend, not headmaster of his own academy.

The master receiving a fresh box of holes.

Mikolai Kamler

The classic ‘Kleks pouring rainbows for dinner while floating’ scene.

Now we are getting somewhere! Kamler brings a lot to the table. This feels most dedicated to the source: a long orange mustache, rainbow Einstein hair, a yellow waistcoat. Kamler’s Kleks is both clever-looking and fun, a spritely half-elf who finds it amusing to hang with the humans and dispense whatever wisdom he sees fit. Kudos to you, Kamler.

Adventure is out there!

Suren Vardanian

Vardanian brings a lightness and color to Kleks while still keeping a splotchy, anarchic line. Kleks’s hair is a savage rainbow, and his overall appearance is early Grateful Dead by way of Sgt. Pepper. Vardanian’s Kleks has also eliminated the mustache, which means there’s more room for an infectious, constant smile. The wardrobe update is a curious touch - Kleks is less an eccentric academic here, and more of demented majorette. A true original in the canon, Vardanian’s edition is a worthy runner-up to the original and still champion Kleks illustrator.

Top hat and spectacles… a true gentleman of magic knows how to accessorize.

Jan Marcin Szancer

Considered the alpha male of 20th century Polish illustrators, Szancer was the first to draw the infamous ‘Mr. Inkblot’ in the book’s original publication. In a happy convergence of 1950’s loose pen-and-ink mayhem with Brzechwa’s trippy kid-friendly prose, Szancer’s illustrations, like Tenniel’s Alice in Wonderland, are the gold standard to which all Kleks-icographers must aspire.

The unforgettable Teapot Train incident.

Strangely, Szancer seems to have ignored most of what those who came after regard as essential. Kleks’s hair is black, his mustache normal. His wardrobe isn’t as egregiously eccentric as many illustrations; he could be any well-appointed man about town (of the late 19th century, perhaps). And yet Szancer fills Kleks with a sense of play and whimsy that matches the tone of the book and helps create the mood of the story.

Overall Szancer displays in Pan Kleks what made him the premier Polish illustrator of his, or perhaps any, era. A loose, confident line, a distinctive color scheme, a dedication to detail bordering on obsessive clutter. Szancer knew that what kids want from a picture is stuff to look at, a composed portrait that leads the eye from detail to detail, picking out elements of scene that make up story.

I don’t know what’s happening here but damn I want this on my wall.

Epilog

Now, a confession. As to the matter of what happens in Pan Kleks, I’m not sure at all. I’ve watched parts of the movies (in Polish), but don’t know how faithful they are to the books. And since my Polish remains at the level of an intelligent Golden Retriever, and I have yet to find an English translation, it may be a while before I actually know what’s happening in these illustrations.

Updates will be provided as warranted by consumer demand, my own motivation, and the progression of my Polish skills.