FELTON, Calif.: At 83, Dina Gottliebova Babbitt
still recalls the rickety easel where in 1944, under orders from
the infamous Nazi doctor Josef Mengele, she painted watercolors
of the haggard faces of Gypsy prisoners.
But her memories of the Auschwitz concentration camp, vivid
though they are, aren't enough for Mrs. Babbitt. Seven of the
11 portraits that saved Mrs. Babbitt and her mother remain not
far from where she created them, on display at the Auschwitz-Birkenau
Memorial and Museum in Poland.
"They are definitely my own paintings; they belong to me,
my soul is in them, and without these paintings I wouldn't be
alive, my children and grandchildren wouldn't be alive," Mrs.
Babbitt said with a Czech accent as she served schnitzel in
her cottage here in the hills outside Santa Cruz. "I created
them. Who else's could they be?"
Her three-decade effort to retrieve them, which has stagnated
for years, is drawing renewed interest this summer as a heart
problem threatening Mrs. Babbitt's health reinvigorates her
supporters' efforts to resolve the dispute.
Shelley Berkley, a Democratic representative of Nevada - Mrs.
Babbitt's daughter lives in Las Vegas - testified about the
case in July at a Congressional hearing into the recovery of
art stolen during World War II. And more recently a letter to
the Auschwitz museum was signed by 13 artists, art dealers and
museum curators, including a former executive director of the
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
"Reuniting Mrs. Babbitt with her paintings would be a sign
of the museum's dedication not only to history but also to humanity,"
said the letter, which was organized by the David S. Wyman Institute
for Holocaust Studies in Philadelphia.
The Auschwitz museum, which considers the watercolors to be
its property, has argued that they are rare artifacts and important
evidence of the Nazi genocide, part of the cultural heritage
of the world. Teresa Swiebocka, the museum's deputy director,
wrote by e-mail that the portraits "serve important documentary
and educational functions as a part of the permanent exhibition"
about the murder of thousands of Gypsy, or Roma, victims. The
portraits, she added, "are on permanent exhibition, although
they have to be rotated to preserve them, since they are watercolors
on paper."
She added that "we do not regard these as personal artistic
creations but as documentary work done under direct orders from
Dr. Mengele and carried out by the artist to ensure her survival."
In a statement issued in 2001, she noted, the memorial's international
council asserted that six of the original watercolors had been
purchased by the museum in 1963 from an Auschwitz survivor,
and that the seventh was acquired in 1977.
Mrs. Babbitt's case is unusual among the property disputes
to emerge from the Holocaust because it involves artwork created
under the duress of Nazis, not property confiscated by the Nazis.
"You have the natural dilemma between something that is clearly
significant historical documentation of events and the claim
of someone, which can't be dismissed outright, that this was
her creative work," said Rabbi Andrew Baker of the American
Jewish Committee, a lobbyist group, and a member of the International
Auschwitz Council, which advises the museum. "I don't know of
a case quite like it."
Dina Gottliebova was a 19-year-old art student in Prague in
1942 when she first went to a concentration camp. In September
1943 she and her mother, Johanna, were moved to Auschwitz, where
she tried to cheer the imprisoned children by painting a mural
of a Swiss mountainside and "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs."
The work drew the attention of Mengele, whose experiments
sought scientific evidence to support Nazi racial theories.
Frustrated that photographs did not accurately depict Gypsy
skin tones, Mrs. Babbitt said, he wanted her to paint them.
Mengele singled her out, Mrs. Babbitt recalled, in March 1944,
on a day when thousands of other prisoners were being taken
to be exterminated. She said that she demanded of Mengele that
he also spare her mother or she would commit suicide by touching
an electrified fence. She and her mother were among the 27 Czechoslovak
Jews to survive from their group of more than 5,000.
Her first subject was a Gypsy woman named Celine, who had
recently lost her newborn to starvation. Celine is shown with
a scarf covering her shaved head and one ear protruding, Mrs.
Babbitt said, because Mengele linked the shape of Gypsy ears
to inferiority.
After two months of painting - she believes that she did 11
portraits - all of the camp's Gypsies were killed. Then she
was forced to paint medical procedures for Mengele.
Mrs. Babbitt and her mother survived internment in two more
concentration camps before liberation in May 1945.
After the war she pursued work as an animator in Paris and
was hired by the American who would become her husband, Art
Babbitt. They married, moved to California and had two daughters.
The Babbitts divorced in 1962, and Mrs. Babbitt returned to
animation, working on characters like Tweety Bird, Wile E. Coyote
and Cap'n Crunch.
In 1973 the Auschwitz museum told her that the watercolors
had survived. The curators had determined that she was the artist
by comparing her signature - "Dina 1944" - to the ones on artworks
she had done shortly after the war for a book on the Holocaust.
The artist borrowed money to fly to Poland to authenticate
the work, carrying a briefcase that she planned to use to take
the watercolors home. When museum officials refused to give
them to her, the long-running dispute began.
Negotiations seemed promising in the late 1990's when Rabbi
Baker and others tried to arrange compromises. Mrs. Babbitt
rejected a suggestion that the museum lend the art to her for
the remainder of her life; she said she wanted ownership and
the right to hang the works in an American museum.
"She wanted all or nothing," said Stuart E. Eizenstat, a former
State Department official who mediated the talks. "I understood
that, but in these kinds of claims, where you don't have clarity
in terms of legal doctrine, you have to work out these kinds
of compromises."
The Auschwitz museum has also wavered on compromise proposals;
it was unwilling to give up just a portion of the works for
fear of setting a precedent under which other survivors could
claim additional artifacts on display.
"Nearly every item left or contributed to the museum in Auschwitz-Birkenau
could be claimed by a rightful owner as personal property,"
wrote the Polish ambassador to the United States in 2001, Przemyslaw
Grudzinski, in a letter to Ms. Berkley. "Should they be returned?"
Ms. Berkley, one of Mrs. Babbitt's strongest advocates, helped
pass a resolution in 2002 that directed the State Department
to work toward securing the paintings for Mrs. Babbitt. Ms.
Berkley said in a telephone interview that she had also raised
the issue with the president of Poland when she visited a few
years ago.
"The Auschwitz museum has a lofty goal not to dismantle the
museum," she said. "I can relate to that. The Roma people have
a stake in it because it's their images. But to Dina, this is
her life. This is the life of her mother."
The museum insists that it respects Mrs. Babbitt's position,
informing her regularly about the status of the material and
asking her permission whenever the works are to be reproduced
or published. To Mrs. Babbitt, this is an acknowledgment that
the museum recognizes that the works belong to her.
Displayed on an easel in her cottage is her attempt to repaint
the Gypsy woman Celine as the young woman might have wanted
to be painted - with longer hair and without her ear protruding
from her scarf. But it's not the same as having the original
portrait.
"Every single thing, including our underwear, was taken away
from us," Mrs. Babbitt said. "Everything we owned, ever. My
dog, our furniture, our clothes. And now, finally, something
is found that I created, that belongs to me. And they refuse
to give it to me. This is why I feel the same helplessness as
I did then."