Veronique Jonas - Custom Art

I created this series in memory of a community that was annihilated by the Nazis.

Both my parents immigrated to Africa from the island of Rhodes, Greece just before World War II. They left behind parents, siblings and extended families. The long arm of the Nazi Machinery finally reached the Jews of Rhodes and on July 23, 1944, 1673 members of the Jewish community were arrested and then deported to the Auschwitz concentration camp. There were only 151 survivors.

This body of work was created in memory of that community. Walking through the old and quaint alleys of the Jewish quarter, one can imagine sounds, smells and sights that once permeated from those tiny little homes. These paintings bear silent testimony to the young and vibrant community that once lived and thrived there, and that is now but a mere memory. Each peaceful and postcard-like scene screams its ghostly protest at one of history’s greatest tragedies.

These paintings are in oil, but also include collaged photographs of individuals that perished in the Holocaust. Additionally, each painting includes the Mourners Kaddish, a prayer for the departed recited during the mourning period by the immediate family.

I have been a frequent visitor to Rhodes, and with each visit I come closer to understanding and feeling the life that once was and that is now a void. I feel it like a hole in my heart. I mourn for the grandparents I never had the privilege of loving, for the aunts and uncles that I never knew, for all the shattered dreams of young lovers that walked the streets of the Juderia and for the children who were not given a chance to dream.

I painted this series with the hope of passing on that understanding, to my children and my grandchildren, because I am the link that connects future generations to my beautiful Sephardic heritage. This series, together with the Holocaust paintings of Julie Meetal Berman, is being offered for exhibition in your institution.

Please visit Julie’s website at www.Meetal.com to view her work on the Holocaust.

If Walls could talk… An open doorway, but no door No one is there. Just a bright sky - yet so dull. I see the faces Or are they souls? I hear voices Weeping Seeping through the stones? A thousand Kadish chants Calling me, beckoning Come back, come back to the walls. We are your memory, We saw the life and the joy, We heard the laughter, And now all is silence.
In the Shadows of Memory I walk through the arches Deeper and deeper Into the shadows of memory Each step echoes in my heart And draws me closer and closer To a past I did not know A past that was not mine And yet embedded in my soul. It is cold and dark, and I am alone In the shadows of memory.
Under the Bougainvillea of Time Planted somewhere, some time Long, long ago. Seasons in and seasons out They bloom and they shine. I pass under the Bougainvillea Red, Pink and white, Bursting with life. The hand that planted Is no longer there. I think of all those That passed under Its sheltering color, I think of those Taken away Never to see another Red, Pink or white, Never to smell another flower, Only the bleak and cold grey Of a hopeless tomorrow.
Looking down from above Looking up, up the stairs, Past the doorway, Into the deep, deep blue sky, They look down on me And smile. I have come home But they are now gone There is no one left. Only stones Cold, grey stones, To tell of the love That could have been, And would have been mine. They are there, Looking down, down the stairs Looking down from above.
All is not Pink … Pitter, patter, pitter, patter Through the arches, Through the doorways They came and they went They ran, they played, they sang They cried – They are crying now – somewhere – but where? Now they are gone The young, not fully grown. Only the pink walls remain, An echo, a hum of small footsteps, Pitter, patter, pitter, patter…
The Island of Roses The winding path of memory Takes me past doorways, past windows Under the washing lines, Over ancient cobblestones. Echoing footsteps Of lovers, Hand in hand Walking towards their dreams. Past open windows I smell the blooms, And I imagine Bourekas and Pastelis, Linking me to this little island, The beautiful island of roses.
Holocaust Tornado It came suddenly, It came with furor, Like a tornado It swept in And the next minute It was gone, Leaving destruction Leaving emptiness. Broken bodies, broken souls And a deep, deep blue sky.
If Vines Could Tell If vines could tell Of a little corner, In a quaint winding alley, A wall that was a home, Two vacant windows remain. Just a reminder Of the vanished lives, The sounds of chitter-chatter, The laughter of children, The crying of babies. Now, only the stones remain, And one lonely vine To tell of the families that Once lived In this little corner, At the end of a quaint winding alley.
Kahal Shalom Over five centuries of history, From inquisition to Shoa Stands Kahal Shalom, A synagogue, a jewel, Where voices once echoed in prayer, Where ancient songs flowed From lofty windows. On Sabbath, on holidays, They gathered For community, for comfort, For celebration and for prayer, Crowding at its gate, Living life’s cycles With love and with zest. They all disappeared, The young and the old Wrenched by their roots, Leaving only stones To tell their stories, And a long list of names, A testimony to those that once lived. And now, the ghosts return Frequently, mysteriously, To hover around, To sigh and remember Their beloved Kahal Shalom.
Rhodes today 60 years later, Tourists come and they go, Through this portal They stroll From the ports, to the beaches, Past the shops and the ”Judeirea” They do not know the life that was, The lives that were, The sounds of joy that overnight Became the sounds of horror. They only see the turquoise sea, The ancient stones, They feel the Mediterranean sun, Upon their skins. They tap to the rhythm of bouzoukis, Sipping on ice cold ouzos, Feeling warm and contented As they savor Rhodes today.
The Wedding Joyfully they returned To the cavernous remains Of a perished community. In an ancient synagogue, They stood hand in hand. They were wed and were blessed. Through broken windows Birds twittered their applause. In the Judeiria they danced With friends and with loved ones. Creating new memories, Remembering the old. And through it all, Three hippocampuses wept With sadness and with joy – The enemy fell, The bloodline resumes its flow.
A Rainbow of Tears In the center of the square, A cold and majestic trio Crowns a fountain. Doves frolic in its fresh water, At its mosaic base, Colorful tourists pose, Beaming and oblivious Of the tears that gently flow From molten eyes. The sea horses remember All those who gathered To play and to sing, To love and embrace, And all those who were gathered And then were gone. Amidst the grays of yesterday’s shadows The tears reflect The rainbows of today, And a better tomorrow.