The traces were still there. But time would slowly blur them and nothing would be left.
Edgar Hilsenrath, Night, 1966
Edgar Hilsenrath was born in Halle, Germany, then migrated to Siret, Bukowina with his family in 1941 in order to escape Nazi persecution, only to be deported in 1942 by order of Marshall Ion Antonescu and interned in the ghetto of Mogilyov-Podolski until March 1944, when the Russian troops took over. He was then arrested by them and nearly deported to a coal-pit in Donbass, but after faking his identity documents, was let go. He slowly made his way back to Siret, then to Palestine as an idealist Zionist youth, where he stayed a few years before returning, disillusioned, to France to reunite with his family who had emigrated illegally through post-war Europe. He wrote Night, one of the most harrowing novels about war-time captivity, mass death and unlikely survival in the cruellest of conditions and facing unimaginable deprivations, also because he felt ‘guilty for surviving’ when most around him didn’t. He speaks of loss, remembering and forgetting, the traces that were left and that will disappear, and of course human depravity. His biography and Night, not yet translated in neither Romanian nor Russian, were included in the July 2017 Kishinev exhibition of the ‘The Future of Memory,’ the transnational multi-city platform for Holocaust and Porajmos remembrance through art and media in Romania and the Republic of Moldova, two countries on the periphery of Europe.
This story of migration, marginalisation, self-questioning, analysis of identity, disillusionment, and search for meaning in such overwhelming meaninglessness, is common to all the biographies included in the interdisciplinary platform, whose unique approach is to combine contemporary and modern visual art practices with historical research, literature, film and performance, tackling the themes from different angles, performing local archives, and thereby reactivating the memory of the forgotten victims on the edge of the continent and in the borderlands, where much of the mass killing and cultural erasure took place. What remained are only small traces of the former Jewish and Roma habitation and influence within the current emptiness which is in itself a mark of past presence. Holocaust education has focused mainly on the extermination camps at Auschwitz and the Nazi crimes, but the mass extermination in Transnistria, the land between Europe and the Soviet Union, committed at the order of Ion Antonescu, has been mostly ignored. ‘The Future of Memory’ reintegrates into mainstream Romanian Holocaust historiography this unspoken chapter through the microhistories of the victims and survivors which testify to this historical truth that has been effaced for decades.
Firstly, the biographies that we present in the art exhibitions or the archive are organised in geographically specific groups, growing out of the cities in which we operated. The exhibitions and events in each city feature little known, and in many cases entirely unknown, personalities who were first introduced to the general public in the frame of ‘The Future of Memory’, or if they are already known, we introduced work by them heretofore unknown or unpublished locally. The events were scheduled to occur on the days commemorating pogroms or mass deportations.
Bucharest, January 20-27, 2017
In Bucharest at Casa Filipescu-Cesianu (part of the Municipal Museum of Bucharest), we featured projections of paintings and photographs by artists Hedda Sterne (b. Bucharest, 1910, d. New York, 2011), Willy Pragher (b. Berlin, 1902, d. Freiburg, 1992), Marcel Iancu (b. Bucharest, 1895, d. Tel Aviv, 1984), and some original watercolors and sculptures by Leon Misosniky (b. Bucharest 1921, d. Bucharest, 2007). The video Fragments of a Life, the documentary My Illusions/Iluziile Mele produced especially for the platform, as well Daniel Spoerri: The Wild Child of Jassy, the first filmed interview with the internationally acclaimed artist about his childhood during the war in Jassy, all works on which I personally worked in collaboration with other colleagues, were shown on monitors, while a rich archive featuring books, articles, interviews, and other documents was also displayed, establishing an exhibitional format that would be repeated in all five cities, but containing content drawn from local histories and biographies.
Some of the texts included were Jurnal 1935-1944 by Mihail Sebastian, The Seamstress by Sara Tuvel Bernstein, The Long Balkan Night by Leigh White, Orasul Macelului by Filip Brunea Fox, Noapte de Pogrom by Scarlat Callimachi, Despre pogromul de la Bucuresti by Marcel Iancu, with an introduction by Vlad Solomon, The Balkan Trilogy by Olivia Manning, Baroane by Tudor Arghezi, Journal de Guerre by Rene de Weck, The Black Book by Matatias Carp, Of Fortunes and War: Clare Hollingworth, by Patrick Garrett, Art Album Leon Misosniky, and Art Album Marcel Janco. Documentation about the Roma Holocaust and archival photographs were also presented.
The people and the work included were all either from Bucharest and recounted events from the pogrom and the Iron Guard (Legionar) rebellion or were affected by them somehow, altering their life’s trajectory and interrupting their biographies.
Our film program, composed of eight films carefully selected to represent the diversity of stories and experiences resulting from the various anti-Semitic policies in the different regions of current day Romania (which now includes Northern Transylvania, under Hungarian authority from 1940-1944) and former Bessarabia and Bukovina (under Romanian occupation starting in July 1941 until March 1944). This film program, featuring many national premieres, was shown in all of the five cities where we were present, thus introducing the local public to the histories of other regions of the country, to new biographies and witness accounts. In Bucharest the films were screened at the Romanian Cinemateque and at Macaz Bar and Theater.
Oradea, May 24-28, 2017
In Oradea, on the dates when the Hungarian regime, under Nazi occupation, started the deportations of the Jews in 1944, ‘The Future of Memory’ partnered with local organisations, including Tikvah Association, the University of Oradea Art Department, and Ars Nobilis Association to implement the exhibitions and events at places of memory, such as synagogues and in former Jewish neighborhoods, long abandoned after the Jewish population’s annihilation at Auschwitz.
We were thus able to hold an exhibition featuring original work by Oradea modernist artists of national and even international repute, most of whom were killed in Nazi death camps: Alex Leon, Paul Fux, Tibor Ernő, József Biró, József Klein, Ernő Grünbaum and Barát Móric. Besides these paintings, some of which allude pictorially and even thematically to the persecutions that would lie ahead, the show at the Sion Synagogue also included an archive similar to that in Bucharest but featuring material from local figures: Bela Szolt, Magdalena Klein, Eva Heyman, Salamon Juliska, and several others who did not necessarily leave artistic production behind, as the aforementioned, but whose existence was noted and documented through ‘The Future of Memory’ platform. To reactivate the memory of these perished and forgotten individuals, poems by Magdalena Klein, fragments of Eva Heyman’s journal, and letters by Juliska Salamon from the Oradea ghetto to her children in Bucharest were recited publicly by Katia Pascariu and David Schwartz at Viznitz Synagogue and Ars Nobilis Gallery in the former ghetto. We also worked with local contemporary artists, Miklos Onucsan and Laszlo Ujvarossy, who developed projects especially for ‘The Future of Memory’ platform, addressing the specific theme of the deportations, but also undertook more abstract and poetic treatments of memory, traces, and disappearance, as can be seen in Onucsan’s action, The Persistence of Memory, a block of ice with this title carved on its surface, left to melt in the sun.
Cluj, May 27-June 2, 2017
Our events in Cluj also unfolded on the dates of the deportations from the city’s ghetto, where more than a third of the city’s population had been interned before transports began to Auschwitz. Here we hosted all the events at Casa Tranzit, a former synagogue fallen into disuse and independently transformed into one of the first contemporary art spaces in the country, where we collaborated with contemporary local artists Miklos Szilard and Razvan Anton to develop research-based projects on forgotten aspects of regional history: a presentation of films by documentarian Istvan Fisher and an installation focusing on forced labor policies for the Jews of Medias. Andrea and Matei Bellu, artists based in Germany with Romanian origins, also produced work especially for the show referring to the flow of the river Somes, a metaphor for time and the space itself, while Belu-Simion Fainaru, born in Romania and living in Israel, showed a video alluding to the victims of the Holocaust. We also included the long-term research project on the disappeared Cluj Jews initiated by Casa Tranzit, Missing Since 1944, and of course exhibited our archive alongside the videos Fragments of a Life, My Illusions/Iluziile Mele and Daniel Spoerri: The Wild Child of Jassy. Much of our research and attention in Cluj focused on the Kasztner Case, which led us to invite Ladislaus Lob, passenger on the Kasztner train at the age of eleven, to Romania for the first time in an official capacity to join a panel about this chapter of Holocaust historiography. Many books and articles in our archive point to this episode, including Ladislaus Lob’s own Rezso Kasztner: The Daring Rescue of Hungarian Jews: A Survivor’s Account, which combines personal testimonies of other survivors, including Professor Lob’s own memories, with historical documents and Lob’s original research about the financial transactions and negotiations Kastzner carried out with the Nazis to save more than 1600 Hungarian Jews from the gas chambers, bringing them to neutral Switzerland, while hundreds of thousands of others were left behind, marking this one of the most controversial chapters of the Holocaust and reshaping Israeli politics since the late 1950s until today.
Our archive included other testimonies and new material including the journal and personal documents of a medic who fled Romania as a young man to join the French Resistance. The situation of the Jews under the Horthy regime is represented in our film program by the documentary Jeno Janovics: A Hungarian Pathe by Zagoni Balint and the drama Son of Saul by László Nemes.
Iasi, June 27-June 30, 2017
On the dates commemorating the 1941 Iasi pogrom, ‘The Future of Memory’ launched its events at the Institut Francais with a piano recital of a Sonata by Iasi-born and internationally acclaimed modernist composer Anatol Vieru (b. 1926, d. 1998, Bucharest), whose music had not been played in Iasi before. A friend of Sorana Ursu and a member of the Iasi ‘colony,’ a group of friends that met regularly at the house of Lidia Iliesu, as described in Fragments of a Life, Anatol Vieru experienced the pogrom personally and composed several symphonies about the Holocaust. We also featured an exhibition of drawings by Samy Briss (b. 1930, Iasi, lives in Paris) started in 1948 during the trials of the Romanian Popular Tribunals against war criminals and continued until 1956, featuring scenes from the Iasi pogrom. Books and texts by descendants of victims or survivors, like Theophil Spoerri (the youngest brother of Daniel Spoerri), Jil Silberstein, and others, retracing their own biographies to the city, as well as interviews and historical analyses of the events before and during the pogrom were part of the archive, as was a recorded interview with Sorin Vieru, a philosopher and the younger brother of Anatol. At Teatru Fix, besides half of the film program, we hosted an associative game developed for the platform by Katia Pascariu and Ioana Florea that used photographs and images from the platform’s exhibitions to prompt players to think about their positions on different social and historical issues.
One of the films in our program that refers to Iasi history and the Holocaust is the biographical documentary, Natan by David Caines and Paul Duane. It tells of the forgotten Iasi-born Jew, Natan Tannenzaft or otherwise known as Bernard Natan, who became the French Pathe. Scarred Hearts by Radu Jude draws from the writings of Max Blecher, the Jewish Romanian avant-gardist who died in 1938 in Roman, a town close to Iasi (and one of the stops of the 1941 death train where Viorica Agarici, a nurse with the International Red Cross, helped the dying Jews with water). Blecher’s last years was also the time when the Iron Guard was gaining major popular support and antisemitism was becoming ever more normalised, as is recorded in his and Mihail Sebastian’s writings.
Kishinev, July 26-30, 2017
The Romanian army reoccupied Bessarabia in July 1941, and immediately started massacring the local Jewish population. After about 10,000 were killed on site, the rest were ghettoised, then after a few months, the survivors were deported to deserted areas in Transnistria, a region so-called by the Germans which does not correspond to current borders. There they were shot, left to die of hunger and disease, or worked to death. More than 50% of the 350,000 deportees from Bessarabia and Bukovina died in the first two months. A similar fate awaited the more than 25,000 Roma that were deported from various areas of Romania and the occupied territories.
At Zpatiu, the contemporary art space of Obeliht Association, our local partner, we exhibited a series of drawings by Benno Friedel (b. 1930, Chernowitz, lives in Hadera, Israel), a survivor of the camps of Transnistria. We also screened two documentaries about the Transnistrian deporations: The Bessarabian Persecution and Transnistria: The Hell by Zoltan Terner. The former addressed the Roma Holocaust while the second featured Jewish survivors who turned to art, among whom was also Benno Friedel. Also at Zpatiu we hosted two discussions, one with Benno Friedel and Dr. Eugen Brik about the Jewish Holocaust in Transnistria and the second with Dr. Ion Duminica and Nicolae Radita about the Roma Porajmos. In other cities, about the Roma Porajmos we showed The Valley of Sighs by Mihai Andrei Leaha.
Two additional screened documentaries that refer to this geographical region are Das Kind by Yonathan Levy, and Mamaliga Blues by Cassio Tolpolar. Das Kind is the story of Irma Miko, born in Chernowitz, Ukraine (former Bukovina) who reaches Paris and becomes a Communist French Resistance agent, like the previously mentioned medic from the Cluj area. Her mission is to convert German soldiers occupying Paris to become active anti-fascists. Mamaliga Blues is the story of a Brazilian Jew who takes his father on a trip in search of the grave of his great-grandfather in Moldova.
A second approach in each exhibition, besides the geographical organisation, is the treatment of the themes mentioned earlier, namely migration, identity, marginalisation, and disillusionment, but also memory, the most dominant theme, as can be presumed. Because today we see yet another fascist turn in European and American society, one that we need to be keenly aware of and actively engaged in countering, we paid special attention to also include biographies of antifascist combatants, ‘Illegalisti’ (members of the illegal Communist Party of Romania, 1921-1944), or members of the ‘Resistance,’ focusing on Socialists and Communists whose ideals of a more equitable future society led them to taking extraordinary personal risks in already extreme war-time conditions, many being caught by the Nazis or their allies, and deported, tortured or killed. And of those who survived the war and entered the new society led by the Communist regime, many were themselves either purged by this regime, or became disillusioned over time with what it ultimately became: yet another criminal dictatorship that advanced the interest of a privileged elite at the expense of the masses.
The film, Das Kind, about Irma Miko, My Illusions/Iluziile Mele, whose title comes from the song ‘Unde e Iluziile Mele?/ Where is my Illusions,’ a documentary featuring residents of the Moses Rosen Retirement Home who discuss the Bucharest pogrom, forced labor and other aspects of Jewish persecution during the war, but also about life in Communism and their Jewish identity during that regime and post-89, the video Fragments of a Life featuring a discussion with my grandmother, Sorana Ursu, telling of her idealistic activist days in the first post-war years and her disillusionment starting in the late fifties, the 1985 murder by the Communist regime of her husband, Gheorghe Ursu, a political dissident and former communist activist himself, the autobiography by former resident of Cluj Egon Balas, Will to Freedom: A Perilous Journey Through Fascism and Communism, describing the author’s life as a member of the underground Hungarian Communist Party during the war, his anti-fascist wartime engagement and torture by fascists, then after the war by the Communist regime, the films of Isztvan Fischer, the documentarian from Cluj, and many others speak of this turn.
However, through their accounts of struggle, we are reminded that we too need to continue fighting for new, more just societal forms, beyond the ones rooted in neoliberalism and the illusion of democracy that we are fed. The individuals we present through our platform did not risk and sacrifice their lives for these ideals in vain – it is due to the influence of Socialist ideology, including their efforts, that the Western world was for many decades more democratic and equitable than it would have been had capitalism been let to run unchecked. In the last thirty years, however, we have experienced the deterioration of the social protections that were gained with such sacrifice. As a result of the neoliberal ideology taking control, millions of people have been impoverished through the elimination of jobs and manufacturing, and the placement of value exclusively on corporate profit at the cost of people’s livelihood. It is this systematic economic and political disenfranchisement characteristic of neoliberalism that has led to anti-globalist neo-nationalism and fascist tendencies throughout the world. To counter this wave of hatred we must pursue the vision of the individuals we present in our platform and once again correct the deficiencies in, and failures of, our current reality.
The question of an uncertain Jewish identity in the aftermath of the Holocaust is very eloquently expressed by Iosip Cotnareanu, one of the residents at the Moses Rosen Retirement Home in Bucharest who appears in the documentary, My Illusions/Iluziile Mele, when he asks, paraphrasing Einstein, ‘What is left of a Jew without his own language, without his own nation, and without a religion (referring to secular, unreligious Jews)? Oh, so very much still[…]’ After the formation of Israel in 1948, this question of identity and belonging was no longer as acute, with most of the Jews that decided to make Aliyah (emigrants to Israel) finally feeling like they had a home, becoming Israeli. Although the transition to this new world was not an easy one, Israel made European Jews feel safe and protected, no longer victims of anti-Semitic persecution, but this time finally in control. And yet, as we have seen in Edgar Hilsenrath’s case, as well as others’, not all European Jews managed to adapt to the culture of this new nation, one based on forgetting the past and looking only toward the future, shaping a new ideal human, strong and determined, in charge of his destiny. Israel was another Utopia that became yet another illusion for so many. The idea of Jewish identity is also addressed by Sorana Ursu in Fragments of a life, where she claims to have been a ‘great Romanian patriot’ once upon a time, despite the persecutions that she suffered as a Jew. Assimilation became the modus operandi for most of the Jews that remained in Romania, erasing their Jewish identity and trying to become entirely Romanian, as is also described in the novel For Two Thousand Years by Mihail Sebastian. This behavior is echoed among the Hungarian Jews, who proudly viewed themselves as Hungarian, and were convinced that nothing bad would happen to them as Hungarian citizens, despite the horrifying news out of Poland and Czechoslovakia starting as early as 1941. Bela Szolt, the Hungarian writer, journalist and politician who escaped from the Oradea ghetto with his wife Agnes Szolt, both of whom were also saved from the gas chambers of Auschwitz on the Kastzner train along with with Ladislaus Lob, and more than 1600 privileged others, writes about this illusion of belonging and profound identification with the Hungarian culture in his autobiographical book, Nine Suitcases, one of the first publications to treat the Holocaust from a personal account and to try to answer the question of why the Hungarian Jews allowed themselves to be deported.
Migration is, as can be expected, a common life experience in all the biographies we present. It is mostly the result of the violent historical events, persecutions and upheavals of the war and thereafter, with the changing national borders and new regimes, but for some also the result of economic necessity. The war saw millions of refugees, not only Jews or Roma, but despite knowing that the Jews would face certain death if returned, Western democracies, including the United States, i.e. the ‘Allies, refused safe haven to the overwhelming majority, leaving them to their fate. Even those that made it to the shores of the United States were turned away, and most of these indeed died in the camps. Illegal emigration was organised to Palestine, but the journey was perilous, the passengers were generally captured by the British and interned in detention camps or even deported, and only very few made it. Ships were blown up at sea or otherwise sabotaged. One of the most famous examples is the Struma, a ship that sailed from Constanta and was bombed, killing all but one of the more than 700 passengers. This lone survivor, David Stoliar, eventually made his way to the United States where he died in 2016.
Artist Hedda Sterne’s peripatetic migration through war-torn Europe after the Bucharest pogrom in 1941 to join her husband in New York reveals her privileged position. At a time when hardly anyone was able to escape, and those that did did so in terrible conditions, Hedda was able to even take a plane at one point to reach her destination. Once in New York, she produced the series of paintings ‘Memories of Romania’, which were shown for the first time in Romania within our Bucharest exhibition as projections, and thereafter distanced herself from her past, preferring to no longer speak about her past or treat it artistically.
In the book The Road to Auschwitz: Fragments of a Life by Hedi Fried, included in the exhibition in Cluj, we are shown another possible migration trajectory: after the liberation of the camps, she was a refugee in Sweden then moved to the United States.
The condition of the migrant is treated artistically in our project – we highlight its connection to identity, longing and belonging, displacement, and memory. Irma Miko, who takes a journey from Paris back to Chernowitz with her son, stops in Bucharest, where she was active in the ‘underground’ Communist Party, and ponders how her life in Romania would have been had she returned when the new Communist government invited her. She doesn’t feel French but doesn’t feel Romanian anymore either. For her, Chernowitz remained home, although she revisited only once, during filming the documentary.
In Fragments of a Life, Sorana Ursu resolves that migration for her was as much a liberation as a rupture, a part was broken while another was able to grow. It is this poetic contradiction that we explore and try to reveal in the stories we present.
The process of the disappearance of memories is addressed by Benno Friedel, among many others, in his series of works on paper called ‘Childhood Memories.’ Here we see only unconnected images from his experiences in the camps of Transnistria with no linear narrative. They are but mere fragments – a mother carrying a child, people on a forced march in which Benno’s uncle is carrying him in a knapsack, or a play performed in a barn are some of the flashes of memory that crossed his mind when he drew these scenes. Aharon Apelfeld’s autobiographical novel Story of a Life also describes his memories of Transnistria as impressions, fragments, feelings, even smells. But not linear history. ‘For kids’, he writes, ‘memory is a reservoir that never empties. It renews itself and brightens over the years. It’s not a chronological memory but an abundant and ever-changing one.’
This sense of the disintegration of memory and with it the loss of the past is also conveyed in the video Fragments of a Life and the book by Hedi Fried. Sorana Ursu at one point states, ‘I told myself over and over that I would never forget, and look! Now I forgot!’ Samy Briss also relied on memory, although his family’s and not his own, to depict the scenes from the Iasi pogrom, where the horror on the streets is painted in dark colors and in an abstracted figurative style.
How we choose to remember and what, an approach that spans from the individual to the national, shaping identity and historical narrative, is illustrated in a tense moment of conversation between my uncle and grandmother in the video Fragments of a Life where she claims that it was ‘the Germans’ who carried out the pogrom in Iasi, while my uncle urges that it was the Romanians. My grandmother identified as Romanian her whole life, and was unable to bring herself to believe that her neighbors and co-citizens were capable of such barbarity, her memory-making being an affective response to an inconvenient truth, while my uncle cites history to clarify that it was mostly Romanians who carried out the murders and Antonescu’s orders to implement the pogrom. This is an essential moment because this narrational conflict is reflected in historiography as well. Since the late 1950s until recently in the late 1990s, the official narrative absolved Romania of implication in the Holocaust, placing the guilt entirely on German Nazis, the ultimate foreign enemy. As mentioned earlier, education of the Holocaust, if any, spoke exclusively of the Nazis, eliminating mention of Romania’s autonomy of decision and initiative in carrying out the mass murder of more than 400,000 Jews and Roma during the Holocaust. Under Ceausescu and in the 1990s, Marshall Ion Antonescu was even rehabilitated. It is now known and accepted that while Marshall Antonescu ordered the pogrom, and local Romanian authorities carried it out along with the civil population, they were supported in a logistics capacity by the Germans stationed in Iasi.
‘The Future of Memory’ is a very complex and multi-faceted project, functioning on multiple levels, containing many personal stories, bringing new life to those individuals who have been long forgotten, trying to capture the transient and record what is left of fading memories, of the last witnesses. The platform honors the forgotten not through the building of monuments and commemorative plaques, which should be undertaken by the authorities, but rather by reactivating the public’s memory through performing local archives and producing artistic works, re-enacting past events artistically, researching and exhibiting forgotten figures, and integrating marginalised spaces and people into the official narrative. We function through artistic means because we believe that art can evoke and convey emotion and provoke affective responses, something that historical facts and cold statistics cannot. It is art and the personal storytelling within ‘The Future of Memory’ that brings about empathy and counters the human indifference which led to some of the most horrific crimes of the last century. Art has the power to help people transcend their particular condition and connect to more universal topics, it helps them identify with the other.
We intentionally worked with local partners to implement the exhibitions and events and thus instil a sense of assumed responsibility vis-a-vis their city’s history, and also to unite people and institutions preoccupied by the same subjects. Inherently educational in its sheer breath and in the new content it discovered and presented, ‘The Future of Memory’ intends to function on yet another level too: to connect the past to the present.
We want the stories and exhibitions in the project, which reveal the systems of oppression that were implemented not only by the ‘enemies’, but also by those we see as ‘good guys’, the ‘Allies’, the members of the democratic front, to serve as lessons for how we can combat racism, xenophobia, anti-Semitism and other forms of bigotry today. As we write these lines, we are in the midst of a struggle against neo-nazis and white supremacists in Charlottesville, Virginia who violently attacked counter-protesters, killing one and injuring tens of others. We cannot permit the normalisation through justification of this hatred, neo-nazi terrorism, as many American leaders are doing.
What economic and foreign policies we support, how we treat minorities and immigrants, today’s refugees and migration in general, will be the deciding factors in the course we choose for a democratic, tolerant, and inclusive Europe and United States, so we ensure that the horrors of the past are not repeated, nowhere, and for no one.
The Future of Memory Team
Curator and Initiator: Olga Stefan
Organised by: Quantic Association
Team: Katia Pascariu and Ioana Florea
Bucharest: Casa Filipescu-Cesianu, Macaz Bar Coop, Cinemateca Romana/Cinema Union, Centrul pentru Studiul Istoriei Evreilor din România (CSIER), the Moses Rosen Retirement Home, The Hedda Sterne Foundation, Goethe Institute
Oradea: Rodica Indig/Ars Mobilis Association, Stefan Gaie/University of Oradea, Tikvah Association, Viznitz Synagogue, Moskva Theater and Bar.
Cluj: Casa Tranzit, The Jewish Community of Cluj.
Iasi: Institut Francais Iasi, Fix Theater.
Kishinev: Oberliht, Zpatiu, Apartamentul Deschis/Open Apartment, Kedem Jewish Cultural Center, National Roma Center of Moldova
Proiect co-finanţat de Administrația Fondului Cultural Național