Peter Altman

MOTHER – My mother was remarried after the war to a German painter, a non-Jewish painter who was opposed to Hitler. He was branded as a "degenerate painter." He was, therefore, in several French concentration camps. He had fled to that country and was persecuted by the Germans. I think of my mother with a mixture of warmth and sadness because I spent my childhood repeatedly separated from her – nearly from the beginning of my life – and that sadness returns when I think of her.

FATHER – I remember my father only in an image when he took me by the hand to look for white mushrooms in a forest near Wilst, Luxembouerg, where we momentarily escaped from the Germans before his deportation to Les Milles, a French concentration camp, and from Les Milles to Auschwitz. I cling to this image and try to reconstitute him from the few fragments of memory that I have. I imagine him in Auschwitz, and it is a memory – although less frequent with the passage of time – that still enters my memory every few days.

DAUGHTER – My daughter has, after much adolescent turmoil, decided to write the story of my war experiences for the school newspaper. She is also knitting me a sweater. Her kindness and warmth offer me much pleasure and hope for her. She is thoughtful and kind, although sad a little also.

SON – My son, whom I'm crazy about, is presently in a turmoil over haircuts which change every day, clothes that range from the abominable to the bizarre, and school work which is spotty to very excellent. Although I have the wish to capture with him the closeness which I never had with my own father because of his absence, I have to give this up so that he can develop without too much pressure being imposed upon him.

SELF PAST – Even though a little boy, I knew all through the war that the one thing that would save me was my brain, which might be so well developed in Jews because it is so portable.

SELF HOLOCAUST – I have a fantasy about it sometimes – of a very dark forest. And it is as if I dreamt about it, and of being a little boy running through the forest, with soldiers behind the trees and no exit from the forest. All alone, because there were repeated, unsolvable separations from my parents and questions about whether my father was alive. Last summer I took my son to all the places where I grew up in France. I saw again the hotel opposite the station of Toulouse where, following the end of the war, the names of people returning from the war were crayoned or chalked up. I used to run out of school to look at the names and knew I would never see his name. Yet, I had to go and search for it. One cannot expect an adolescent son to understand any of this.

SELF PRESENT – I derive immense pleasure from my profession. Tracing the ways and byways of patients' souls and slowly causing them to emerge into a brighter present is simply fascinating. The heterosexual, romantic aspect of my life is truly the only aspect of my life which allows me to emerge from the forest, which allows the soldiers to die away, and allows my father to finally lie in peace – and perhaps smile at me from that place where man's fantasy dreams of those who left us.

SELF FUTURE – It would be so reassuring to know that my children will have none of the pains which were inflicted on my generation. Because they are adolescents, I don't know where they are going. I cannot lead them because they no longer listen. I have to hope that they will find a creative and warm place for themselves. I will continue to work. Death is meaningless to me. I feel that I have died a long time ago and have been allowed to live again.

Eberhard Roters

FATHER – My father was a tailor, and I saw him sitting at his sewing machine. I didn't think hard. Instead, I tried to let the images appear.

BROTHER – I am 55 now. My brother is 51 years old. Therefore, we spent our entire childhood, as is common among children, quarreling with each other in a friendly way. Then, when we studied in Berlin, we lived together for a long time. Today we see each other less often, but when we are together, then we make merry.

FIRST DAUGHTER – Gesina is my older daughter. She is 17 now. She is just finishing high school and beginning to study graphic arts. Our relationship was, for a while, a little difficult. It has improved a lot recently. Gesina is somewhat introverted.

SECOND DAUGHTER – My relationship with Katharina is not complicated at all. She is my younger daughter. She is 15 and she was just confirmed. Yes, how shall I put it – Gesina is more intense and complicated, also harder on herself. Katharina is easygoing and it is easier for her to have relationships with people.

SELF PAST – There too I went backwards. Yes, how shall I put it – from my profession to my studies to my school and then I came forward again and actually stayed at the time of my last year in high school. I saw my fellow students in front of me, and then the leap from Dresden to Berlin. At that moment, I had the most intense feeling and squeezed the release.

SELF WAR – When the war began, I was 10 years old, and when the war was over, I just turned 16. As a child I was always an eccentric person and a lone wolf. I was not an athlete and because of that I had a difficult time fitting into the required community mold of those days. I have to say, though, that after the war this helped me. And then, of course, there were all the bombings in Dresden, and that brought up quite contradictory feelings on the whole.

SELF PRESENT – I actually can say that I feel good about my standing in the world today.

SELF FUTURE – That depends on how I look at my own future in relation to the future on the whole. I would say, skeptical but with faith in God.

ABOUT GERMANY – Looking at Hitler as a demon can also be an exoneration, an argument to defend history by saying, "He did it." That does not work. It is very important to analyze all the historical components. I don't know if, despite all the history books, this analysis has been done so far. It is very complex, and people are always working to find out how it could have actually happened. I honestly have to admit that it is incomprehensible to me to this very day. I remember when my father met a colleague or a friend and talked to him on the street. And little boys involuntarily listened to what was talked about up there. And they whispered about a fence. Everything in a whispered tone. On the fence was a sign: "Work is liberating" ("Arbeit macht frei"). After the whispering, they separated. I didn't know at all what the conversation was about. Only later, when I read about it, all of a sudden it came to me in a flash. Yes, these are the small experiences which, when it came to me, made it clear that the people knew something even though they always said they did not know anything. Probably the degree was not so known, but, through whispering, what was known was passed along. I don't want to be cynical but I believe that the quantity of human stupidity is superior to human intelligence. Sometimes I get the impression that, as a matter of fact, human intelligence only functions as a means for human stupidity to make progress.

ABOUT ARTISTS DURING THE THIRD REICH – Until 1936 the artists were left pretty much alone. In 1936 the Olympic Games took place, and the Hitler government still tried to present itself to the outside world in a splendid way. However, even before 1936 Jewish artists had to emigrate. At the end of 1936 this whole concept of degenerate art started, at which time many artists, no matter what their descent, were persecuted. People were banned from painting, from their profession, or from exhibiting. And the important paintings were confiscated from the museums. And then the artists became, so to speak, socially isolated. But I have to add that, nonetheless, a lot of them were helped by their closest friends who helped relieve the isolation a little, but not much.