“When I first went to Paris in the 1920s (…) I accepted with real enthusiasm the proposal of my sister-in-law, a sculptor, to visit the excellent painter, Olga Boznańska, who was extremely popular at the time.
I was amazed that she actually lived in an attic, a spacious one by the way, which also served as her studio. She looked absolutely astonishing. Dressed in some dress from fifty years ago, one sleeve was made of a different material and in a different colour. Hairdoed in a bun on top of her head, she looked like an old lady (…)
– I’m going to Warsaw, but I have a problem. I can’t leave my dog. As you can see, it’s a wire fox terrier. It’s my friend. Buying a ticket for it would be too expensive. Maybe I could smuggle it in under a cape.
(…) A stuffed dog, also a fox terrier, sat in one of the armchairs, whose head Ms. Boznańska stroked from time to time. Her students began to come. A young girl carried a tin can of kerosene (there was no electricity in the attic). Someone else brought a basket of food.
– I hardly leave the house these days. These stairs are too high for me. The house is old, there is no elevator. My friends, or rather students, take care of providing for me. Some even cook. And I teach them for free (…)
The mice running on the floor, on the furniture, which Boznańska took in her hand and spoke to them, discouraged me from extending my visit. I said goodbye to the great artist without advising her to smuggle a dog in without a ticket under a cape.”
Nadzieja Drucka, “Three Quarters of Memories”
