Valencia artist's abstract tribute to Nazi victims back on display at Mauthausen

A VALENCIAN artist's engraving in homage to Spanish and other victims of the Nazis is now on display again at Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria, meaning visitors to the grounds of this notorious torture site will see it as part of their tour.

According to records, 7,532 Spaniards were captured by Hitler's régime and deported to Mauthausen, whilst another 2,000 or so ended up in the concentration camps in Buchenwald, Ebensee, Ravensbrück, Dachau, Gusen, Holleschein and Sachsenhausen.

They were mainly taken prisoner in France, since after the Republicans' defeat in Spain's Civil War which put dictator General Francisco Franco in power for the next 37 years, thousands of Spaniards, still raw from what fascism had done to their lives and country, were spurred on to continue to fight its spread across Europe.

A total of 146 Spaniards, military-trained in north Africa by the French government, along with 14 men of other nationalities, successfully brought about the liberation of Paris from the Nazis on August 24, 1944 – and only 20 survived.

Over half the Spaniards deported to prison camps for their fight against fascism in France – or were captured from Spain at Franco's instigation if they were found to oppose his régime – did not return home.

According to Europe-wide records compiled through exhaustive, and ongoing, research, about 9,500 Spaniards ended up in concentration camps, and 5,120 never made it out again.

Artist Antonio Camaró, from Xirivella (Valencia province), was commissioned by the Friends of Mauthausen Association to create a picture to commemorate the 74th anniversary of the day prisoners there were freed – May 5, 1945 – and his work was unveiled at the former prison on that same date in 2019 in an international event attended by members of the Spanish government.

Camaró had successfully exhibited in Rome, France, and the Extremadura city of Mérida the previous year, and had started out 2019 running a series of academic conferences on what is referred to as the Siglo de Oro ('Golden Age' or, literally, 'Golden Century') of Valencian art and culture, which is widely held to have been in around the 15th century.

His bronze engraving, which the Friends of Mauthausen loved immediately, is an abstract piece denouncing the Nazi Holocaust an all political, cultural and ethnic expressions of violence and racism, and is titled Jamás ('Never, ever').

But days after it went up, it came down again without explanation.

Inquiries revealed the management at Mauthausen had considered it 'immoral', due to its prima facie sexual connotations, and it had been abandoned along with a collection of items in storage.

Camaró, accompanied by Xirivella's mayor Michel Montaner, made what the latter called 'an express return trip' to Austria to talk with the management and convince them.

Eventually, the Mauthausen visitor organisation team admitted it had been a 'misunderstanding', and pledged to put Jamás back on display.

This was in August 2019, and it has only been restored to its rightful place this month, just over 18 months on.

Now, tourists who go on guided trips to Mauthausen will see a piece of Valencia during their tour.

Camaró explains his work is based upon the conflict scenes for which iconic Spanish artist Francisco de Goya is famous for, and on El Bosco – it is 'a type of Saturn', he says; 'a monster and a phallus', but 'not in a sexual sense', rather in one of 'depravity', such as the 'hell' suffered within the prison boundaries and which Camaró researched thoroughly before starting, finding himself stirred, disturbed and very strongly emotionally impacted.

The Saturn figure is 'not the focal point' of the picture, but 'blends into' the rest, worked into 'concepts and sketches', says Camaró.

He explains the demonic creation bears Nazi symbology, and its presence is to effect a condemnation of 'the barbaric result of totalitarianism' so that 'what happened there, the horrors for the human being as a species, never happens again'.

Camaró, who did not attend the original unveiling as he is a 'behind-the-scenes type of person', says the management had 'gotten the wrong end of the stick' and read the opposite message into the picture, thus considering it inappropriate and distasteful.

Once Camaró explained his vision, they realised it was about condemnation rather than exaltation, and said they would look for a place to hang it in an area 'more frequented by Spanish tourists' or 'more connected with Spain'.

“To avoid confusion, we suggested including an explanatory note along with it, in Spanish, German and English,” says Michel Montaner.

The mix-up appeared to be a cultural clash – Spain has been one of the biggest contributors over the last century or so to the abstract movements, the birthplace of world-renowned cubist and surrealist paintings and artists, and as such, these styles have been a popular medium for denouncing, commemorating or depicting dramatic and disturbing historical moments; their figurative representation is less 'triggering' than a realistic snapshot would be, and yet captures all the sense and feeling of the scene without viewers having to witness the actual horrors in the same way as they would with one containing faithful human detail.

But this very-Spanish approach to art, albeit much more international these days, is not easy to interpret or appreciate – artists and art historians in Spain are far more likely to see 'where they are coming from', due to the country's own artistic traditions.