written by: Life

directed by: Zygmunt Dyrkacz, Lela Headd-Dyrkacz

wanderer – I, You, He, Everyone

he – Zygmunt Dyrkacz

she – Lela Headd-Dyrkacz

Protagonists:

wanderer – a man with a backpack full of life experience, wearing a long coat with all sorts of newspapers sticking out of its innumerable pockets.

he – A lean man, a minute past fifty, with hair the color of fresh straw and with a few days’ stubble tending towards an intentional beard, wearing a checkered shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

The action takes place in Chicago in the Polish Triangle. It was thanks to his efforts that the name was restored to this historic location in 1998: he had gathered appropriate documentation and demonstrated to the authorities that this was the cradle of Polish immigration. The site was frequented by the notorious Helena Modrzejewska, Henryk Sienkiewicz, and by Ignacy Paderewski. It is also that place, precisely 1543 West Division Street, that has been occupied since 1918 by the theatre named after the Polish composer Frederic Chopin. Reconstructed over seventy years later, the Chopin Theatre has become the artistic center of the Wicker Park neighborhood.

The theatre has been often mentioned by cri-tics and reporters in the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun Times, Time Out Chicago, Chicago Reader, New York Times, and Performink, as well as the Warsaw paper Rzeczpospolita; it has been featured on 60 Minutes, one of the most influential shows on WMAQ, channel 5 and WGN, channel 9; and noted by numerous radio stations.

This is the very theatre that received the Chopin Award whose previous recipients include Czeslaw Milosz, Wislawa Szymborska, and Andrzej Wajda. The Chopin Theatre was equally recognized by the Saints Theatre Association and was proclaimed the Cultural Institution of the Year.

In 2003, Chicago Tribune hailed the play Aztec Hotel staged by the Polish Teatr Cogitatur as the most important cultural event of the year. The Chicago Sun Times declared in turn: “Where else can you find an audience with the best eye for European trends and a theatre presenting the most European style in Chicago? At the Chopin Theatre!” The Chicago Tribune added: “Although Chicago stages overflow with excellent works, there is no doubt that some are more excellent than others.” The Chopin Theatre’s plays rank eve-ry year among the best in Chicago.

The wanderer is sitting at a table at the Chopin Theatre café, and reading a newspaper while sipping coffee from a stylish cup. In front of him there is a stack of already perused newspapers.

Framed posters of different performances hang on the wall among a multitude of photographs. There are several hundreds frames.

he enters through the café door.

The wanderer looks up over his newspaper and says:

The papers say that this is among the most romantic sites in Chicago.

he:

See the people through the window? Customer after customer. A whole crowd with no introspection. Homogenous nothingness. Years ago, I lived in one of the best high rises in Chicago, with a view on the lake, a Jacuzzi, a brimming fridge, and I felt miserable and empty inside. I decided never to forget this feeling.

I moved to Wicker Park, one of the poorest and most dangerous neighborhoods. Gangs used to vie with one another for power; the theatre’s walls still show traces of gun fire. I moved here to start anew and build something of my own.

Now everyone’s working to transform Wicker Park. We don’t want to tear down old historical buildings. We refuse chain stores. We want to be able to shop in neighborhood stores whose owners call us by name. For today, Wicker Park is an oasis for artists of all sorts, for people who take pleasure in conversation, who take good care of the place where they live and create. There is no room for prejudi-ces and stereotypes here. They won’t survive or flourish: If you have dinner with a member of another community, nation, or race, you come to understand them.

And if, at the same time, you can come here and experience art in all its different guises, what else can you wish for?

wanderer:

You’re Polish.

he:

When I listen to Chopin or read Adam Mic-kiewicz’s Improvisation, or plunge into Pan Cogito’s dilemmas by Zbigniew Herbert, I can feel a Polish heart beat inside me. And yet my pulse will also quicken at the sound of Nat King Cole, Gypsy Kings or Gershwin.

There is something else: being Polish means remembering that “shit happens.”

(He pronounces the word with a thick Polish accent, making it sound like “sheet happens.”)

My professional life kept changing shapes: I was a biologist-entomologist. I was a good-for-nothing with an eye on girls, wasting my time on a beach in Mielno by the Polish sea. Once I also was an expert in remodeling hou-ses in good taste for big bucks.

After I came to America I quickly understood that my fate is in my own hands.

And then I became, hmm, whom did I become?

I had a Polish lit teacher in high school, professor Karłowicz. He opened our minds to rea-
ding; taught us the pleasures of contemplating art; exposed us to the experience of theatre. Even today I can recall the discussions he instigated and encouraged. I owe an enormous debt to him, and perhaps the way I live now is an attempt to repay it. It was he who proved to me that art is like a conversation with God. This doesn’t mean that you should approach it on your knees, but it is not a vain pursuit, either.

wanderer:

People say that she is an angel and you’re a devil; that she is the Beauty and you the Beast.

he:

It is not easy to be perpetually discontent and haunted by the sense that nothing is ever good enough, nothing is ever enough, that one desires more and more, and always better. It is nice and agreeable to repeat that things are going great; it doesn’t cost anything, but it’s not true. Of course, sometimes things are going great, but as a rule so many matters are being neglected, there is so much to be done! People don’t take kindly to such talk: they’d rather think it’s better than it is, that someone else will do it or things will get done by themselves…

And I have the impression that the Polish in America do not want to succeed as Poles but as whites.

Those who have the power to accomplish so much and yet stagnate in their inactivity drive me mad. Those who meddle and interfere drive me mad—perhaps this is when the devil or the beast in me sticks out its horns, I don’t know. I don’t care.

But that she is an angel, I do not doubt.

she comes from a very poor family and is the first to have graduated from an excellent college. she started making money: over a hundred thousand a year, that’s something, isn’t it?

In America, everyone volunteers. she showed up one day at the theatre and asked how she could help.

We started talking — and kept talking and talking and talking.

I walked her back home and... never left her again. We got married on a beach in Key West, our favorite vacation spot, apart from the fo-rests where I feel most at home. she loves listening to my forest stories. We both like travel and camping. Here’s a girl who can be at ease in the most elegant salon as in a tent.

There was a time when she managed millions of dollars, shuffled and sorted money like cards in a game of poker: a life confined to a computer. When she left her big office buil-ding behind, she wanted to bring the office work rhythm here: she wanted to be tidy and organized. But such skills are here as useful as a fifth wheel.

Now she is learning how to manage petty change that is or isn’t there. That is real life. Simple. Normal-not-normal. Not easy. You make it, you have it. You don’t make it, you don’t have it. Or you do, but it’s only trouble.

Take the newspaper stand in front of the theatre. If you don’t stack the papers right and the wind comes, which is not unusual around here, you don’t have to wait long for the results: soon you’re chasing the papers up and down the street for a solid hour. And if you procrastinate and it rains a little, the hour turns into two or three because you have to find the wet papers and peel them off the pavement. And the end result? The answer’s easy.

she was full of enthusiasm, but one day she came up to me and said with tears in her eyes: “you know, I had no idea it was going to be so hard…”

she is the mother of my two sons, three-year-old Aleksander and one-year-old Konrad; she takes very good care of them, despite her work at the theatre. she also became friends with my older sons, one of whom, Martin, studies in New York, and the other, Chris, is working here with us.

she is courageous, and curious of people and the world. As I consider all the traits of her character, I believe that, even if something went wrong, if our plans, projects, and dreams fell to pieces, we could start all over again. We often squabble about different things, we even argue with passion, but we have unlimited trust in each other. I think that we do not only love each other: we are friends. Thanks to her, I continue growing. she taught me to dance.

she is like a heaven-sent miracle. A fool’s luck!

Curtain

The Small Stage at the Chopin Theatre. The wanderer is looking around. she is sitting on a stylish couch.

wanderer:

he says you are building a model neighborhood in Wicker Park, where the community will be built on a human scale.

she:

There is a lot to be said for communities where people live near one another: where they shop in corner stores and work in small businesses; where everyone knows one another and people stay in touch and talk. That’s what matters. Such a life tastes differently and has a different meaning.

People think that you need individuals bigger than life in order to change anything at all. I disagree: History proves otherwise.

Small businesses, including small theatres, bring many benefits that are not convertible into cash. In tightly-knit communities people are closer to one another, stay in touch, and have more opportunities to form stronger relationships. This inspires people to work, to give, and to share. They follow one another’s example: little cafés open in the neighborhood, public space is well-developed, schools start enjoying a good reputation. People are feeling in control of their own lives and of their environment. They have their own opinions and feel free to express them, knowing that their voices will be heard. This is what becoming a citizen means: being aware of one’s rights and duties. And that’s probably the only way to have impact on the world around us. After all, it is our world.

I would like to devote myself even more to my passion: to the theatre. I would like to change people’s opinions so that they slow down, so that they pause and take a good look at themselves and others. That is food for my soul. And I think that culture and art offer us insights into the mechanisms that govern, for example, the world of politics: they make us aware of social problems and point out their origins. And that’s invaluable.

wanderer:

Are you going to raise your kids like that?

she:

I hope to instill in them responsibility for being both men and citizens. I often wonder about the kind of world they are going to inherit; about choices they will make. I hope our sons will consider us to be examples and models. Perhaps they will succeed at changing even a small part of the world. Time will tell.

There is only a slight difference between what we do at the Chopin Theatre and the kind of people we are striving to be. 

wanderer:

I heard you came here as a volunteer.

she:

I had worked for some years at a large American company, and I was nearing the point where I could have said that I “made it.” Unfortunately, I was unable to say the same thing about my personal life. I worried that I was getting older, and that the most important aspects of my life had not improved. Finally, I reached a point when I decided that I must make a change, and start living and acting differently. I wanted to find a place where I would encounter a variety of different people, and I wanted to find a man aware of himself and of the world around him. He would be versatile, talented, well-informed, reliable, and, on top of all that, would have true charisma. I ended up volunteering at the Chopin Theatre which, after only a few visits, seemed to be the very place I was looking for. One day, I ran into a man emanating energy like a nuclear reactor.

he was like a force of nature!

I offered my help, and he showed me around the theatre, telling me its story with his charming accent. I had no idea that he was the owner and the creator of this peculiar place. I stayed around for the show.

From that moment on we kept in touch and talked a lot. he turned out to be a very inte-resting man, open-minded, well-mannered, and direct. he could also name all the trees in the forest and infected me with his passion for mountain climbing.

When we started dating, I met his sons from his first marriage. I watched all of them with admiration; their energy was overwhelming.

And then came the time when reason and realism regained their voice: there were eighteen years of difference between us; we came from entirely different cultures and milieus: he from Poland, Europe, and I from America; he was white, and I black. He was an artists, a humanist who knew how to talk to people, and I, raised in poverty, later a specialist in finance, quite resourceful but more at ease in a large corporation where I wanted to succeed. I was afraid, worried, and at times completely disoriented by what was happening. Yet he was, and is, so convincing...

And, you know what it’s like: at some point you realize that you are destined to something more than you have seen, had, and wanted so far.

wanderer:

he says that he is repaying a debt.

she:

he is doing a lot to make his own idea of Polish culture and art come to life. he cares that the viewers leave his theatre with the feeling that they have experienced something really good, something valuable.

When they get to know Polish culture and art, they start understanding its history, its depth and diversity. I became aware of it during my visits to Poland.

Polish people have a lot of pride in their culture and, in my opinion, the country’s history, both past and present, supports this pride.

But I also think that the African-American community possesses more strength, energy and drive towards intercultural dialogue than the Polish.

Today’s Poland is very open: there you will find both tradition and modernity, tragedy and romanticism, and all these stand out in the theatre.

The wanderer, walking upstairs to the big stage where a play is about to start, says to himself:

To hear and to listen, both oneself and another, that, too, is an art…

Curtain

Life is nothing but a stage — you always say,

Life is nothing but a motley masquerade.

Everything is mere play, everything is just a game.

Behind a closed door or on display — it’s a game.

Life is not a stage — to you I reply.

Life is not a motley masquerade.

Life is more terrible and beautiful than that.

When I first spoke to Zygmunt Dyrkacz seven years ago, Lela was still his fiancée. I came here for a month and my editor wanted me to interview several people, and he was on my list. There were rumors about the Chopin Theatre and its owner in my native Gdansk.

I spent almost an entire day with Zygmunt and Lela. It was a pleasant day, and a rewarding encounter. Zygmunt gave me a tour of the theatre, showed me the collection of furniture, lamps, rugs, and innumerable other props that often caught my admiring eye. Today these objects have multiplied. I asked him where he gets all these things from. He said: “you know, I’m in the early stages of diabetes, and, for now, the doctor prescribed walking in place of medicine. On my walks, I befriended owners of nearby and remote antique shops, and have become one of their faithful and favorite customers.”

When you take a good look at Zygmunt, and best do it before a performance, you will itch to repeat with Lela: “I have met a man emanating energy like a nuclear reactor.” But it’s not just a matter of energy. This man is an utter chaos. A superb organizer and a grand improviser. Calm and quiver. Silence and clamor. Quiet reflection and a mad pursuit of words and thoughts. Consistent action and a broken-off sentence.

Ewa Uszpolewicz

in collaboration with: Ewa M. Ławniczak