Róża Łakatosz was born in Poznań, though she spent her teenage years in Wrocław, studying at the local Fine Arts High School. She is known for her poetic works, performance art, and her advocacy for the integration of the Roma community. She made her debut in the magazine “Rrom p-o Drom” shortly after its creation. In 2019, her poetry collection In the Concrete Forest was published. The roots of her artistic pursuits trace back to her performances with groups like “Roma” and “Tamburyno”. Active in various fields of art, Róża Łakatosz and I met to discuss her past and present – her creativity and life. Our conversation moved through time and space, touching on both distant and recent memories. Interwoven into our dialogue were poems – responses to posed and unspoken questions. One could even say that poetry became the central axis of the narrative…
I’ve already spoken with your children – Noemi and Delfin. Both said you encouraged their creative activities, acted as their manager, sought out competitions for them to participate in, and found venues to showcase their work. You took them to cultural events and always emphasized that the key is to have an idea and act “in your own way” – to avoid copying others. This suggests a set of principles you follow, but I wonder, what does your entire artistic, or perhaps life, manifesto sound like?
Of course, in some sense, I guided my children in what to do. I supervised, though perhaps not in the way one might imagine. An example: when Noemi was six, during Car-Free Day, we came up with the idea of having nearby cars leave tyre marks on a piece of paper. The cars left tread marks on the paper. The idea was to create something different. Once, for my first paintings of a Roma camp in Junikowo [Poznań] in winter, when I had no paints, I used toothpaste. In summer, I used whatever came from the earth, flowers, and anything else within reach. This was many years ago… Later, some artists, now well-known names, began working in a similar way, using methods close to mine. I was ahead of them with my ideas. My “seventh eye” worked, I predicted certain things. I didn’t say they’d happen, I just did them. I participated in open-air painting sessions and numerous exhibitions – including those showcasing my children’s works. I created paintings for charity, which were sold to raise funds for community centres. I collaborate with the AMICI Skills Workshop. My works often feature the Roma flag motif or nature rendered poetically. Everything I see, I process through my memories and identity. I weave in elements important to me. As for the manifesto, everything is in this poem.
Please read it… [Loose translation from Polish to English]
Skin.
You cannot strip it of
its identity.
You can whiten it
but not the soul
trapped in the image of otherness.
Your place.
How to find it in the rest of the world’s cities?
Displacement.
A multigenerational
family rug.
It settles where it wishes to be free.
In a permanent home.
Without the compulsion of settlement.
It does not want
in ghettos or slums
on the outskirts,
nor to be excluded
socially and economically.
In a closed circle of unemployment
poverty, illiteracy.
In the absence of opportunities for social advancement.
Fear.
Of the open space of the city.
In the crucible of diversity – excluded.
Like pawns from other games.
Assimilation.
Because here
this country is only for those
adapted to the rest.
The city dislikes diversity
in the tidy flowerbed
of identical plants.
Being yourself.
You must croak like them among them!
Without resident status,
no job and deportation.
The Drzymała Wagon.
In modern style
travel and container life
unconnected to others –
the loss of family ties.
Everyone in their own – separated.
Existing
on the rubbish of the present.
Playing
with the scraps of yesterday.
Otherness.
We are aware of it
yet stigmatised
as a lower class of people.
Learn
to recognise otherness.
It will enrich you
without anti-Romani sentiment.
Do not perceive
culture
as a collection
of folkloric images.
Accustoming
to an easy life
on society’s benefits,
will only lead to
a fascination with consumerism
and dressing up
in metropolitan clothes.
They will disappear into the crowd of similar ones.
I am Roma
and everything before me is
closed
in the perspective of a journey
to something better?…
(Róża Łakatosz, Nomads of the 21st Century, from the collection In the Concrete Forest - W Betonowym Lesie)
This summarises what lies within us. The poem was written several years ago, and things may have changed over time because there is now a greater awareness of identity, though not all Roma wish to know about it…
This theme connects to maintaining one’s identity and being oneself in a world where people often conform, sometimes to the point of avoiding standing out…
You are
cheerful, hospitable, sociable,
internally united.
You will defend your own identity.
You are free by birth.
You are behind a wall of inscriptions:
“kicks from boots…”
and “a good one is a dead one”.
You are to blame
– for your otherness!
In a closed community
where a city within a city
there, only, will you not feel different.
You – who bathed in sunlight,
in the breeze felt
the taste of rains.
You – who were driven from places not yours,
forested, riverbank,
suburban,
from the outskirts of villages.
In the returns of birds,
from lack of nests
stateless in all senses.
You do not fit Europe
Though you are,
We are
everywhere.
(Róża Łakatosz, …From Which No Trace Remained, from the collection In the Concrete Forest)
On 13 December, at the Polan Sto Gallery, the exhibition Identity will open as part of the 17th Environmental Review EKOART. Although I am not part of this group, I was invited to present my works.
What have you observed regarding relations between different Roma groups and their efforts to uphold Roma traditions? How was it in the past?
Many Roma are accustomed only to their own group and know little about others. Such a divide began in the late 1980s and early 1990s. I remember what it was like in 1989. We spent two weeks in Białystok with our group, rehearsing. From there, we travelled across Poland and moved further, eventually reaching Vienna. At the UN headquarters, a conference about the Roma was held alongside a Roma festival, which included a competition of bands. I recall we weren’t allowed to see other groups participating – apparently, to avoid feeling embarrassed or discouraged from performing. During this event, funds were raised for the following year’s initiatives. After returning to Poland from Vienna, two weeks later, there was a revolution in Romania. In April, all the groups met again and went as a delegation to the European Parliament in Strasbourg. We travelled through Gorzów, Wrocław, and Prague, picking up Roma along the way. Roma from Prague didn’t follow traditional Roma customs. On our return through Germany, we wanted to stop at an inn for a drink. Stanisław Stankiewicz, who was with us, asked if we could enter. We were welcomed at first, but when they saw the Roma from Prague, they shouted, “Raus!” and refused to let us stay together. So, we all left. It was terrible. Returning to Strasbourg… a large table was set for all groups, each representing a different country. Everyone sat in their section, playing their music. People could mingle, but no one did. We had concerts in various places outside Strasbourg. One day, Don Vasyl took us to a cathedral courtyard where our performance was planned. We didn’t know that at 8:45 p.m., the bells would chime for 15 minutes, commemorating the cathedral’s preservation. Don Vasyl noticed a large group of Poles and decided we’d sing Anna Maria and White Cross. Though unexpected, it worked out. I later saw a recording of that moment and remembered the notable figures present, including Esma Redzepova from Macedonia. We met her again 20 years later at the Malta Festival. My children were small, and we were the only Roma who stayed late to watch her evening performance. Though security initially stopped me, she recognised me, and we reconnected. During the European Parliament sessions in Strasbourg, anti-Roma incidents and dangers were discussed. Roma texts were translated into English, German, and Spanish so all could understand. At the 4th Congress of the International Romani Union in Jadwisin near Serock in June 1990, discussions focused on standardising Romani script.
Róża Łakatosz at the 4th Congress of the International Roma Union (in white dress), photo: private archive of Róża Łakatosz
What is your assessment of modern interpersonal relations, even among neighbours, which should be close connections?
How close…
behind backs,
behind door handles,
colours of one rainbow locked
listening to melodies of past lives.
These hands…
this pink one
praises the city,
the swarthy one protects the birch grove.
To their worlds
greedily pulling away.
Today’s phones,
tangled threads
connect thoughts
to unknown faces
turned – they see
curious – themselves.
Let there be
opening,
let’s talk,
exchange unknown past for today.
The echo of the forest settles,
hope for new
ours – we!
(Róża Łakatosz, Neighbours, from the collection In the Concrete Forest)
This poem and my artwork won first place in the competition Gypsies – My Neighbours, organised by the Social Integration Foundation PROM from Wrocław.
What has your artistic activity looked like over the years? Is much happening in the theatrical field?
I participated in the first editions of the Ethno Port Festival, dancing alongside Roma artists. In 2013, I performed in The Rite of Spring, a project by Iwona Pasińska from the Polish Dance Theatre. Large paper models of internal organs were featured. I danced with a giant heart, symbolically representing our “selves,” which was later thrown onto a pile from which children emerged, symbolising birth. Later, I was invited to Fallen Angels but declined because I didn’t want to be part of a uniform-clad performance. I participated in Circostrada, where for two weeks, under Przemysław Grządziela’s guidance, we practised circus arts, including juggling. I portrayed a music box figure, slowly turning on a platform. I also appeared in The Wedding: Afterparty directed by Marcin Liber with the Polish Dance Theatre in Poznań and last year in Our Hollywood, organised by Poznań’s Tramway House and the Artcluster Foundation. Recently, I performed in The Isle of the Dead, conceived by Iwona Pasińska, a poetic hand ballet by the Polish Dance Theatre. Its continuation, the eighth choreographic film project, will premiere on 14 December during the 6th International Festival “One Page – One Look – 180 Seconds.”
And writing? Are you creating new poems? I read you’ve been invited to schools to read your works and present Roma traditions. Does this still happen?
Such events have been rare. I learned that Edyta Kulczak hosts poetry meetings, which have been ongoing for two years at Jeżyckie Cultural Centre [Poznań]. These sessions explore chosen topics and details to inspire associations and writing impulses. I’ve always written outdoors, finding inspiration in fields, not within four walls. I entered a poetry contest for seniors in Poznań and won the top prize. The winning poem is about me…
Ephemeral,
settled with fog
in the shallows of a rushing day.
Trampled
by the new beating
of fleeing echoes of "yes".
With the taste of summer
imbued with the scent of fields.
Many years
grasped greedily
in memory’s net.
Consumed
in solitude,
nights in dreams…
By the touch of wind
in the sun’s warmth
dancing with insects
toward the streaks of shadow
of fading "self."
(Róża Łakatosz, My Beautiful Moments, from the collection In the Concrete Forest)
My poetic works also appear in Wielkopolski Widnokręg.
Looking back, did you have anyone in your childhood who played the role you do for your children – a mentor or manager?
No, I achieved everything on my own.
What comes to mind when you reflect on those times?
In the 1980s, Poznań Television filmed my journey through the city, showing places I used to inhabit, a so-called Roma world. The programme touched on my experiences of nomadic life and past curiosities, covering life stories and practicalities like how carts were loaded. I remember the scents of autumn, flowers, cabbage, earth… and a unique smoke. It’s irreplaceable – not just any campfire, but that specific one. Even the wood isn’t the same now…
My White Tree.
You are birch.
Sometimes stripped morning bark.
On the trunk, furrows of difficult years.
With tears marked traces of winters.
You no longer want…
I will blow away time’s dust.
I will rediscover you
removing layers of bad moments.
Your sad hair, mamiori,* In the fragility of branches and leaves.
I will find the green spark.
It is in the trunk – the fire –
it
will never burn out completely…
(Róża Łakatosz, Miro Parno Kaštoro** from the collection In the Concrete Forest)
* Translation: "mamiori" - mother
** Translation: “Miro Parno Kaštoro” - My White Tree
Interview by Justyna Żarczyńska
2024
The poems by Róża Łakatosz featured in the collection W betonowym lesie – In the Concrete Forest were published with the kind support of the Literary Foundation “Jak podanie ręki”.
Gallery of works and portraits of and by Róża Łakatosz
The photographs are from the archives of the Dom Kultury Foundation and the private archive of Róża Łakatosz.
Co-financed by the KPO. GRANTS 2024. A2.5.1: Programme to support the activities of cultural and creative industries operators to stimulate their development.
