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A preface from Daniel Gerould, Lucille Lortel Distinguished Professor of Theater and Comparative Literature, Graduate School, City University of New York

Theater is culturally bound to its own time and place in immediate ways that poetry, painting, and music are not. Above all, theater is performance before a live audience that cannot be reproduced or recreated, and thus of all the arts, acting, along with dance, is the most ephemeral and the hardest to capture in words. These are the inherent difficulties in telling the story of any theater, including that of one’s own native land. If, in addition, that theater is a foreign one with its own peculiar traditions embedded in unfamiliar customs and manners, the task is all the more daunting, especially if the country in question has a strange and troubled past that is not easy for outsiders to grasp.

All this, by way of an introduction, may serve to explain, but not excuse the fact, that until now no one has attempted to write a history of Polish theater for English-speaking readers. The case of Poland is a curious one; Polish theater had played an extraordinarily important role in the country’s history, but few people in the West know anything about its traditions, so alien are they to our own experience. In the Anglo-American world we are accustomed to think of theater simply as entertainment, or at best as an art form that provides aesthetic pleasure and, from time to time, food for thought.

Now imagine a theater, that, on the contrary, is regarded as the repository of moral values and the guardian of national identity, and envisage a land in which playwrights, actors, directors, and stage designers have been expected to serve and even sacrifice themselves as prophets and sages. Such a country is Poland where the life blood of theater flows from a current of romantic nationalism that has no real counterpart in the Anglo-American tradition.

Whoever would convey this unusual story to an English-speaking audience must have many qualifications. First of all, to win and hold the reader’s attention, the author must have an insider’s intimate knowledge of the subject and at the same time a profound understanding of the audience for whom the book is intended.

Kazimierz Braun has unusual qualifications for the task. As a director, manager, theater artist, author, scholar, and teacher, he has been totally involved with Polish theater throughout his career─in Poland, in America and Europe, and as a cultural ambassador between East and West. Wherever he has been, he has created Polish theater, studied it, taught it, and written about it. Only a lifetime commitment and passionate love for theater in all its aspects can give such an authoritative grasp of the subject.

Passion, a vivid eye for detail, and a bold thesis animate A Concise History of Polish Theater from the 11th to the 20th Centuries. Braun’s history is concise, but it is also comprehensive, encompassing a splendidly variegated range of interests, including the history of theater buildings, the theatrical history of the cities, the lives not only of performers but also of audiences─who they are, where they sit, how they react. Everything connected with actors stirs Braun’s intellectual curiosity and inspires his writing: their wages, costumes, manners and morals, touring, strikes and boycotts, and above all their training and programs of study at theater schools.

Now for the bold thesis, thread that unites all the different elements with Braun’s history is the national function of theater in Poland, its mission as a resilient force for survival and salvation in a centuries-long battle for freedom and independence. In this struggle Polish theater has taken the most diverse shapes and utilized the greatest variety of spaces indoors and out─ ranging from vast pageants and patriotic manifestations in public places to a single actor reciting poetry for a few listeners in a small room of an apartment. In Poland clandestine theater─something unknown in America─has had a long and important history as a response to censorship and persecution. Performance in homes and churches figures prominently in A Concise History of Polish Theater.

It is in this context that Braun himself enters the story as a child during the Second World War when he attended one man shows in his family home. At such clandestine performances Braun first comes to understand theater as communion and sacerdotal sacrifice, subordinated to higher spiritual values. The author now is a witness to the events he describes and soon will become a major player; he is a part of the history that he recounts.

The story that Braun tells of post World War II Polish theater under communism is now seen close up with vivid immediacy. We watch as the managers, directors, and performers confront moral dilemmas and adopt different stances as the regime attempts to neutralize the avant-garde and manipulate theater artists through bribes and threats. Personal participation enables Braun to give his narrative a truly dramatic quality. Theater was a crucial battlefield in the struggle of Poland with oppressive totalitarianism. All aspects of life were infected, and theater was constantly at risk of being compromised and corrupted. In a system that sought for total control, every avant-garde experiment or innovation became an anti-regime provocation.

Kazimierz Braun has a special feeling for actors and actresses and the rare ability to describe vividly their stage presence and bearing, their vocal and gestural language. His favorites among Polish theater artists are the performers. Above all, he admires Helena Modjeska and Halina Mikolajska, Juliusz Osterwa and Mieczysław Kotlarczyk, because they were noble and heroic artists who joined art to ethics. For Osterwa (who was a model for Grotowski), acting was a sacrifice enacted before spectators as witnesses to the sacred act. Osterwa performed The Constant Prince 2000 times, in 200 different locales, before 400,000. Braun admires artists who show personal courage and integrity, take political stands in opposing the regime, hastening the moral transformation of the public and the historical transformation of the nation. Braun eloquently commemorates victims and pays tribute to those whose careers have been destroyed by the regime.

It is no wonder that at the end of his narrative, once communism has been overthrown, Braun is troubled by the desire on the part of some of the younger generation of artists to forget the patriotic and national function of theater. Such a loss of cultural memory could only be an impoverishment.

But what is ultimately striking at the end of this exciting one-thousand-year history is that a theater as intensely national as that of Poland has been so influential in the twentieth century. Braun’s book serves as a convincing explanation of how Polish traditions have produced such a large number of artists and playwrights who have become major creators of modern theater. Kazimierz Braun tells supremely well the fascinating story of a little known national theater, once largely closed upon itself, that in the past fifty years has transformed itself into a confident outward-looking tradition at the forefront of world theater.

Introduction

Poland received Christianity in the Latin rite from the West in A.D. 966. The very first liturgical drama was recorded in Latin in England about A.D. 970. Thus, almost at the same time, Poland entered the family of Western Christian nations and Western culture gave the theater, forgotten or suppressed for about five centuries, a fresh start. Since the 11th century until today, theater in Poland and in the whole of Western culture has been developing at a similar pace.

From its early liturgical beginnings until the Enlightenment, Polish theater followed general European patterns. At the end of the 18th century, it began to produce its own artistic and institutional forms. In the 19th century, it perfected them, to develop mature and original works in the 20th century.

Throughout its whole history, Polish theater was both a mirror of and an active participant in the history of the Polish nation. The pressure of history, which always and everywhere conditions theater life, was especially strongly felt in Poland and influenced all aspects of theater. We can say that the history of Polish theater is an expression of the history of the Polish nation, and that the history of the Polish nation is imprinted in the history of the Polish theater.

In the Middle Ages (circa 11th─14th centuries) Poland was laboring to find its place in European Christian civilization. Its territory enlarged and its population multiplied. Towns were laid out and churches built. Administrative, judicial, and educational institutions took shape. Though not without setbacks and defeats, Poland was emerging as the Eastern center of Western culture. Theater was establishing its niche in the life of the nation, at first within the realm of religious practices, then as a part of academic curricula, and finally as secular, courtly and folk entertainment.

In the 15th century Poland became an active player in the Renaissance revolution. The union of Poland and Lithuania, the “Commonwealth of Two Nations,” was one of the principal European powers. Within its borders Poles, Lithuanians, Byelorussians, Ukrainians, Jews, Germans, Czechs, Slovaks, Russians, Hungarians, Tartars, and other minorities lived and peacefully cooperated. The foundations of a democratic system based on multilayered elections, including the election of the king, were in place. The 16th century saw the zenith of that sociopolitical formation, the oldest democracy in modern Europe, characterized by political stability, military strength, economic prosperity, intellectual growth, and blossoming arts, including remarkable theater works.

The gradual fall of the Commonwealth of Poland and Lithuania in the 17th and 18th centuries was a result of both the internal decay and the intrusion of external forces. The Polish version of democracy did not produce strong state institutions; rather, the country sank into anarchy, weakened both politically and militarily. At the same time, Poland’s neighbors were building absolute systems of central governments based on professional bureaucracies, armies, and police. The awakening of the nation and an energetic reform movement brought forth brilliant fruit: the modern, democratic Constitution of the Third of May 1791, the third document of this kind after the American Constitution (1787) and the French Declaration of the Rights of Man (1789). During the time of Poland’s decline, theater had gradually lost contact with other European centers and waned into provincialism. Within the context of the reforms, however, it rejuvenated, and quickly caught up with the rest of Europe. Poland’s great achievement was the creation of The National Theater (1765), a public, state institution, one of the first such in the world. The rescue efforts came too late. Poland lost its independence in three consecutive partitions (1772, 1793, and 1795) and its territory was divided between Russia, Prussia, and Austria. Fighting desperately to the end in the insurrection led by Thaddeus Kościuszko (1794) Poland did not defend its freedom. The First Polish Republic vanished politically. Yet, its culture, including language, religion, and the arts saved Poland by saving memory and preserving hope. Indeed, culture, in which theater was one of the leading forces, allowed the Polish nation to survive.

During the 123 years of foreign rule, theater actively participated in the Polish struggles for freedom. A series of uprisings in 1830, 1846, and 1863 did not change the situation, but kept the national identity alive. Art was the nation’s conscience, spirit, and sanctuary; theater was its heart. The international success of two Polish actors testified to the high level of Polish theater of the time: Helena Modjeska became a star in America and Bogumił Dawison conquered the German stages. Toward the end of the 19th century, Polish theater artists began to participate in, and in some areas to lead, the European avant-garde movements; Stanislaw Wyspiański became one of the first modern “total theater artists.”

Polish contributions of blood, military efforts, and diplomatic offensives during World War I, combined with the simultaneous collapse of all three of its partitioners (Russia, Germany, and Austria), resulted in the restoration of Polish sovereignty in 1918, which was defended in the victorious war against Bolshevik Russia in 1920.

The Second Polish Republic (1918-1939) was again a free and independent state, fulfilling the dreams of many generations, yet, tormented by social and political conflicts, economically and militarily frail. Theater thrived in the two inter-war decades. Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz was a precursor of the “theater of the absurd” on a universal scale; Juliusz Osterwa’s acting reforms were parallel to those of Konstantin Stanislavsky; and Leon Schiller’s directorial masterpieces were comparable to those of the best European directors such as Vsevolod Meyerhold or Erwin Piscator.

In 1939, the Fourth Partition of Poland between two totalitarian regimes, Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, put the life of the nation under mortal threat of annihilation. Fifty years of new captivity followed. The Nazi and Soviet occupations (1939-1945) were succeeded by unwanted Communist rule (1945-1989). During that time theater was one of the major energies helping the nation to survive, maintain its identity, and resist the totalitarian system. The most rigid Stalinist repression (1945-1956) suppressed theater creativity, but after the relative loosening of the Communist grip in 1956, theater revitalized and started to produce great, powerful, innovative, and imaginative works. Polish directors, as well as companies, were allowed to travel abroad and revealed to the world their astonishing artistry. They opened new avenues for theater experiments in the world. Among the most celebrated were: Jerzy Grotowski and his Lab Theater, Tadeusz Kantor and his Cricot 2 Theater, and Włodzimierz Staniewski with his Gardzienice Association.

The constant and unyielding opposition of the nation to the totalitarian regime resulted in uprisings, revolts, and strikes in 1956, 1968, 1970, and 1980. Finally, the mass movement of Solidarity brought Communism down. Poland, though devastated economically and morally, emerged again as an independent, free country in 1989. The theater of the Third Polish Republic was faced with the challenge of finding its proper place in a new political, social, and economic system. As I write these words, this process is under way.

Afterword by Clive Barker, Editor New Theater Quarterly, London, England

The existence of the Polish theater has been inextricably linked to the history of Poland. Perhaps this is why so little is known about it. The history of Poland has been characterized by a continual struggle for existence against occupation and division, which has deflected attention away from the integral Polish identity and culture. Reflecting and participating in this process, the history of the Polish theater has been characterized by a lifelong struggle for existence, against cultural suppression, censorship, and proscription. This struggle has been an integral part of the larger struggle for national, cultural, and political liberation. The theater has developed strategies for disguise, alternative forms, and sustained opposition. At times, these strategies have had to be carried out in exile, as in the great Romantic period of Polish Drama. At other times at home they have taken the form of subtle games with authority to circumvent prohibition by the use of allusion and metaphor. The links between theatrical activity and nationalism has been a source of pride to those who have participated on both sides of the equation, which is why the Polish theater continually acknowledges a debt to its past and draws so heavily on its past for renewal and strength.

In constructing the concise history of the Polish theater from its early medieval origins to the present post-totalitarian situation, Kazimierz Braun has taken full recognition of the interweaving of theater, political history, and personal inspiration and ingenuity. It is a history of frustration and accommodation, and of courage and commitment.

Those of us who have come lately to an acquaintance with the Polish theater as the experimental theater of Kantor and Grotowski and the political groups, such as the Eighth Day Theater and Akademia Ruchu (the Movement Academy), as well as their current successors in Gardzienice and Teatr Biuro Podróży (the Theater Travel Office), we might be grateful that the struggle for expression, against repressive and philistine repression, has taken such rich and varied forms and became available to us, as tensions eased, and the western festivals began to offer opportunities to see and appreciate the work.

The present book, because it charts the integration of art and political nationalism in detail can be read as more than one volume. It is, in intention, a concise history of Polish theater. Inevitably, however, it is also a history of Polish national struggle. Inevitably, because of the geographical position of Poland, it is also a history of a neglected aspects of European theater history, as well as that history viewed from a fresh viewpoint, with Polish eyes. Either way, there is much to inform and stimulate, to move to pity and delight the reader.

About the author:

Kazimierz Braun is a director, writer, playwright, and scholar. He received his Master of Letters degree at Poznań University, Poland, an MFA in Directing at Warsaw Theater Academy, PhD in Philosophy at Poznań University, and PhD in Theater at Wrocław University. He was director, artistic director, and manager at theaters in Poland, and he has taught at the universities and schools of drama in Poland and the United States. He also directed plays for television. He published 31 books on theater history, novels, poetry, collections of essays, and plays. His most memorable productions include: Birth Rate by Rozewicz, Anna Livia based on Joyce, and The Plague based on Camus in Wrocław, Poland; The Old Woman Broods by Rozewicz in Dublin, Ireland; Rhinoceros by Ionesco at The Guthrie, in Minneapolis; A Man for All Seasons by Bolt, in Buffalo; and Dummies Ball by Jasienski at SUNY Buffalo. He has also directed plays by Shakespeare, Moliere, Brecht, Pirandello, and the Polish classical and modern authors. Recipient of several artistic and scholarly awards, including the Guggenheim and the Fulbright, Braun was characterized by Thomas Leff as “an especially creative force” in Polish theater, and by Richard Burns as “one of the leading world directors.” Currently, Kazimierz Braun is Professor at the State University of New York at Buffalo.

All information herein is © 2003 by Kazimierz Braun and is made available by permission of the author. This information may not be duplicated, republished, reprinted, retransmitted, or used without the express written consent of the author.

Malgosia Kwiatkowska and her husband Bolek lead the OLIMPOL organization that aided the Polish Olympic effort for Sydney 2000. They provided interpreting, guide services, driving, accommodations and organized meetings with Australian Polonia. She sits on the committee of the Polish Club in Ashfield.

Slingerlands, NY- On March 28, 2003, Writer’s Digest, the world’s leading magazine for writers, announced that “The Brief Sun,” a historical novel of a betrayed army, took 1st place in the genre fiction category of the 10th Annual Writer’s Digest International Self-Published Book Awards. Over 2100 books were entered in this year’s competitions with 350 novels entered in the genre fiction category.

Suppressed during the Cold War by both the West and East, “The Brief Sun” by Robert Ambros is the incredible true story of Anders’ Army. Poles deported to Siberia after the Soviet invasion of Poland in 1939 were expected to perform slave labor until they died. But all that changed when the Nazis invaded Russia; the Poles were released to form an army to fight the Nazis led by a General Anders.

Men left Siberian labor camps half-starved and began their training with wooden guns on their shoulders and rags on their feet to win back their homeland. They traversed Asia, Russia, the Middle East, and Africa and developed into what future British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan called “one of the greatest fighting units in World War II” winning battle after battle against Germany’s finest soldiers and opening up the road to Rome for the Allies. An undefeated army in exile, they were betrayed when within reach of their homeland. After the Yalta Conference, they became an army without a nation.

Robert Ambros has written dozens of scientific publications as an associate professor of pathology, obstetrics and gynecology at the Albany Medical College in New York. Both sides of the authors’ family were deported from Eastern Poland, sent to Siberia, and went on the serve in Anders’ Army. He resides in Slingerlands, New York.

“A powerful, gripping historical saga.”
-Midwest Book Review

“A passionate account of the resilience of man and compromises that left Poland at the mercy of the Soviets.”
-Polish American Journal

THE BRIEF SUN by Robert Ambros

A PROFILE

Drawing inspiration from the very soul of African tradition, Ancestral Ambassadors from Africa is a group performing in an artistic invention dubbed ‘Ritualistic Poetry’. It combines poetry (metaphysical), drumming (ritualistic), songs (traditional blues, jazz, and spirituals) and dance (mbaya, makossa, Ngom’a wetuli), in one package, for one purpose, i.e. to unite nations, races and people.
The pioneers of this group include:

• Simon Mol— published Poet, artistic creator, actor, writer and journalist from Cameroon. With one poetry anthology to his credit and a second underway, Simon has been published in Africa, Europe, India and the Americas.
• Ngodi Jeanblack— Inspirational Singer and professional Crier who traces his roots to one of the most popular musical families in Cameroon. He used to play with his maternal uncle— the redoubtable makossa maestro and one of Cameroon’s and Africa’s music giants, Misse Ngoh Fancoise.
• Hope Ngwa— an initiate of African ritualistic drumming, he currently teaches drumming at the Warsaw School of drumming. He is also from the Northwest province of Cameroon where initiates of drum rituals use drumming in healing and foretelling the future.
• Isaac Tanyi— an outstanding animator, Isaac combines drumming and theatre simultaneously on stage through body language while beating the drum.
• Mafiamba Victor— has been school and initiated into the Mbaya dance which is the soul of Cameroon’s national culture. The dance employs gymnastics and acrobatic stunts in one display.

REFERENCES

On March 26. 2003 at Tam Tam in front of a packed hall, The Ancestral Ambassadors in the presence of several ambassadors, including the Nigerian ambassador to Poland and powerful delegations from the South African and Norwegian embassies, left tears in the audience’s eyes after a 70-minute performance which evoked contrasting emotions. The show demonstrated dramatic, thrilling, and tragic elements of life through poetry, singing, dancing, and theatre. The audience reacted with a standing ovation and a call for an encore.

The group can be contacted by telephone at 48 603 434 930 or 48 (22) 839 09 27 or by E-mail.

Francis Wheen celebrates Andrzej Krauze, illustrator and satirist, whose work appears in a retrospective show this month

At a party in the spring of 1990, I was accosted by a morose-looking journalist from the newly launched Independent on Sunday. “Got a bit of a crisis on our hands,” he mumbled, taking a hefty, anaesthetizing swig of red wine. “We need someone to come in tomorrow and write the diary column. Don’t suppose you could do it, could you?”

The crisis had been prompted by the paper’s eccentric decision to entrust the diary to Edward Steen, who had worked with great distinction for many years as a correspondent in central and eastern Europe. After only a few weeks in the job, he was already yearning to be in Vienna, Budapest, Warsaw – anywhere, indeed, except in London, turning out brief items that might amuse the liberal middle classes over their Sunday breakfasts.

When I arrived at the office two days later, Steen was clearing his desk. “Don’t worry,” he said, happily brandishing his air-ticket to Vienna. “I’ve left quite a few stories to help you fill the column for the next week or two.” Not so: the file named “Diary Ideas” on his office computer was all but empty. But Steen left me a far more valuable legacy from his brief and ill-advised foray into gossip-writing: he had persuaded the editor to have the column illustrated by Andrzej Krauze, a Polish émigré of his acquaintance who had taken refuge in London after General Jaruzelski’s declaration of martial law in 1981.

I had seen some of Krauze’s work, and was vaguely aware of his reputation as a courageous satirist whose drawings for the Polish weekly Kultura had infuriated the communist censors. A good man, clearly; but how could he possibly understand the political and cultural references in a British newspaper diary? Had he ever heard of Lord Goodman, Lady Olga Maitland, Jeffrey Archer, Edwina Currie or Kingsley Amis? Would I be obliged to include a weekly item about the latest scandals and feuds in Warsaw so that Krauze had something to illustrate?

All such worries evaporated when this beaming, bear-like figure came into the office on that first Friday afternoon. Cheerfully ignoring my nervous, apologetic stammerings (“Er, this is a story about Margaret Thatcher – she’s the prime minister… and Prince Philip – he’s the Queen’s husband…”), he gathered up a sheaf of copy and departed to a distant desk in the art department. Minutes later he returned with three or four sketches, each of which not only caught the flavor of my text but added extra seasoning that transformed a mere snack into a classy bonne bouche.

He treated my diary stories as if they were fables by Aesop or La Fontaine, seeking out the essential moral or the universal theme and thus giving them a resonance and depth they scarcely deserved. What I had feared would be a problem – Krauze’s unfamiliarity with our parochial minutiae – turned out to be a virtue. His Friday visits became the highlight of my week.

Since 1989, he has worked for the Guardian, which has turned out to be his natural home: like Araucaria’s crosswords or Steve Bell’s cartoons, his illustrations both reflect and enhance the paper’s enduring, distinctive characteristics. In politics and journalism, the mark of true intelligence is not what you think but how you think, and although the Guardian has certain essential ideals (a hostility to “antiquated and despotic governments”, a commitment to “just principles of political economy”, a zeal for “civil and religious liberty”, to quote the summary from its 1821 prospectus), what inspires the readers’ loyalty and affection is not so much the paper’s editorial stance on particular issues as the style in which those issues are reported and discussed – cool, skeptical, free-thinking, sometimes wry or whimsical, yet also passionate when roused by folly or injustice. Like the Enlightenment, the newspaper is not a manifesto but a state of mind; and whatever Krauze’s subject – from New Labour to the New World Order – his ironic, cosmopolitan intelligence never fails to enlighten.

The gorgeous catalogue for a Krauze exhibition held in Warsaw two years ago includes an essay by the French publisher François Maspero, who mentions that the book Andrzej Krauze’s Poland has a preface “by the celebrated English writer George Mikes”. This ought to raise a guffaw from admirers of Mikes, a Hungarian journalist who came to London for a fortnight in 1938 to cover the Munich agreement and never left. True, he became very anglicized indeed, but he never lost the outsider’s eye that made his book, How to be an Alien, an instant classic: even after four decades here he would observe, with incredulity, those characteristics the English never notice since they take them for granted. (“On the Continent, people have good food; in England, people have good table manners… Continental people have a sex life; the English have hot water bottles.”) Mikes also noted, in the introduction to How to be an Alien , that a foreigner in this country “may become British; he can never become English”. Even without knowing Krauze’s background, I think I would be able to guess from his drawings that he hadn’t been brought up in England – and not merely because their bold lines and cross-hatchings are so distinctively “continental”.

Some English cartoonist-illustrators rely on a talent for caricature, others on a facility for one-liner gags. Krauze can do caricatures and jokes, of course, but his real genius lies in the creation of vivid metaphor: not just the weary old shorthand of Fleet Street cartoonists down the ages (the TUC carthorse, the British bulldog) but absurd, sometimes scary imagery that owes more to writers such as Bulgakov or Alfred Jarry than to Jak or Mac. It is no surprise that Krauze has illustrated Kafka’s short stories and Bob Dylan’s lyrics, nor that in the late 1970s he drew the pictures for an underground Polish edition of Animal Farm. Don’t be misled by his relaxed demeanor and warm smile: this is a man who both works hard and thinks hard, as proved by his dozens of brilliantly apt drawings in the book Introducing the Enlightenment. Maybe he hasn’t heard of Lady Olga Maitland, but he can hear deeper echoes that might otherwise have been inaudible to the author whose article he illustrates.

In short, Krauze is both an artist and an intellectual; but he wears his learning lightly. Like all good intellectuals, he keeps Occam’s Razor within easy reach, ready to slash through obfuscation and reveal a plain truth in all its simplicity – or perhaps one should say “in black and white”, since he employs black ink more tellingly than any other illustrator I know. Leafing through his portfolio, I happen upon a picture that illustrated a Guardian feature on press coverage during a general election. Three figures are standing on ballot boxes in an empty landscape, each reading a newspaper in search of illumination; but from the centre pages comes only a torrent of black ink, spattering and indeed blinding the hapless electors.

There is no question where Krauze’s sympathies lie: whether in communist Poland (whose citizens he regularly depicted as unhappy sheep led by hungry wolves) or in the groovy modern democracy of New Labour’s New Britain, this remarkable artist has always accepted the duty that is more traditionally assigned to journalists, though many of them prefer to duck the challenge: he speaks truth to power.

To order a copy of Andrzej Krauze Drawings 1970-2003, for £9.95 with free UK p&p, call Guardian Books on 0870 066 7850. This book is published to coincide with an exhibition running at the Newsroom, 60 Farringdon Road, London EC1 3GA, from March 13 – April 12. Admission is free.

The Guardian