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608 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 27, 2025
On Michael Korda's account, 'Alex' enjoyed being back in Hollywood, which had completed for him a series of metamorphoses of the insider-outsider - if in Hungary he was 'a Jew' and in Britain 'a Hungarian', in Hollywood he was now perceived as 'an Englishman'.
Compliments of the Season was very much a typical King Penguin in that it took an apparently unserious subject - Christmas cards - and analysed it thoroughly, albeit with tongue noticeably in cheek. In a context where, then as now, anything invented by the Victorians around the same time as telephones and record players is popularly considered to be age-old and deeply rooted in our history, Ettlinger was keen to point out how extremely novel and modern these cards were. Christmas cards were 'an essential feature of English Christmas... only one example of the Victorians' flight from the drab and horrific conditions of industrial civilisation into the pleasant realm of fantasy, romance, and sentiment'. They were rooted in how during the eighteenth century, 'a comparatively secure and civilised period in England, sensitive men and women developed an artificial nostalgia for the less secure and less civilised periods and places of the world's history' - an economical and brutal way of describing a way of thinking that besets us still. This fakery should be recognised for what it is, Ettlinger insists.
Lubetkin was also designing what in any other context would be an impressive oeuvre, with a large quantity of buildings emerging in his designs, nearly all of them council flats. These were the very projects that he and Tecton had wanted to construct all along in the 1930s, but they were diverted through the reactionary politics of the time into designing homes for intellectuals, flightless birds, and apes.
Blake was one of several Jewish sculptors, muralists, and mosaic-makers who worked extensively for British churches from the 1940s onwards - a remarkable and perhaps somewhat surprising legacy, which extended all the way from lettering (often etched in stone by the typographer Ralph Beyer) to lighting (often flickering through candelabras by Benno Elkan). This is a puzzle for various reasons. The record of the Church of England was not perhaps as appalling as some other Churches in the twentieth century, but nonetheless any history antisemitism or of the racism spread by European imperialism would have to place the Church at its centre. Many clergymen was very much aware of this, and the extensive employment of refugee artists - in both the Church of England and the Catholic Church - was part of various attempts to address this legacy, whether though advocating ecumenicalism within Christianity or religious tolerance outside of it.
[...]
Because of this, rather remarkably, the most impressive artistic response in public art to the twentieth-century European Jewish tragedy can, in Britain, be found most often in Christian churches. That this art is so little known owes something to a particular misfortune - that these artists came to work in the Church at a time, the 1950s and 1960s, when attendance would suddenly and unexpectedly collapse, and their work was often placed in modest little modernist churches on housing estates in the suburbs. [...] Nonetheless, there is a great deal of it still extant, particularly in the case of Hans Feibusch, who became de facto a 'church artist' from the 1940s practically until his death in 1998 at the age of ninety-nine.