Alex Appella’s ‘János Book’ bares Jewish family’s history

By Kimberly Marlowe Hartnett

article created on:

It was a prophetic statement: “If I tell you what I know of the family, I know our family will go on living.”

So said 90-year-old János Szenti, great-uncle of artist Alex Appella, during their conversations in his home in Argentina a dozen years ago. As he answered her questions, a remarkable piece of art was taking shape.

The result, “The János Book,” combines collage and text that peels away 70 years of family secrets and Jewish survival, a work so alive that it is hard to believe it is made of paper.

There are currently only 50 copies of “The János Book,” which are already in rare book collections around the country, including the Reed College Library. It may also be seen at the 23 Sandy Gallery in Northeast Portland. An online glimpse of the book, winner of the recent Purchase Prize in a national juried exhibition called “Secrets & Lies,” can be found at: http://transientbooks.com/janos/index.swf.

Appella, born in Oregon in 1974, created the book’s 29 color collages with photographs, letters and other ephemera, and wrote a compelling narrative that flows around the images on its generously sized pages.

The finished rectangular book she bound is 8.5 inches on the binding side by 25 inches wide.

She retraces family’s history—the journey from her Hungarian grandparents era to the present—as wars,  the Holocaust, life, death, birth and silence spun the grandparents, aunts, uncles and their children to all corners of the globe, some continuing to live as Jews, others hiding or growing up without knowing that identity.

Appella, who now lives in Argentina, is uniquely qualified to tell a story this far-flung. In her 20s she began to travel widely, lugging her bookmaking supplies along with her. She uses collage the way another might use a compass—to navigate the world by mapping the landmarks she finds along the way. “The János Book,” 12 years in the making, is the work of a mature artist with a young nomad’s soul, always drawn down the next unfamiliar road.

Family memoirs yield various currencies, depending on who draws on them.

For Appella’s family, this handsome book solves many old mysteries, fills in captions on yellowed photographs and makes sense of puzzling correspondence, old whispered rumors.

For others, “The János Book” may be encouragement to tell their own stories, or seek them out from older relatives before it is too late.

For lovers of biography and memoir, this work offers an unusual opportunity to understand the complex struggles faced by a writer’s sources—those like János, who rise to the challenge of explaining a distant and painful past. As he sets out to explain to his then-20-year-old great-niece why a branch of the family chose to leave its Jewish identity behind, while another moved to Palestine, he says:“I’m still not sure that I have done right in opening my mouth. If your grandparents…wanted you all to know of your history, they would have said something before their deaths.”

János also knows that once such difficult questions have been asked aloud, they have a new power: “But now that you have the questions, the doubt, you will be willing to believe any half-truths that occur to you. This is equally as dangerous as me talking of closed topics.”

In the end, he trusts Appella to make what she will of his revelations, and the result is vivid color: literally and emotionally. “The János Book” is like a rich film or play—best viewed more than once.  The 23 Sandy Gallery is a gem of a space where beautiful natural light provides ideal viewing; and gallery owner Laura Russell, herself a book artist and photographer, is generous with her knowledge. The book’s images and text are dense, and one does not grasp the full narrative until all the pages have been read and turned. Then, the pull to revisit the collages and text is magnetic.

“The János Book” is an intrepid traveler’s gift: With her help, we take a journey back in her family’s life, and return with a new sense of our own futures.

Kimberly Marlowe Hartnett is a Portland writer.