I painted my father's memories of his escape from war before Alzheimer's made him forget them

This First Person article is written by Jeff Nachtigall, a Saskatchewan-based artist whose family originally settled in Manitoba. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

My father finished his memoir in 2016, shortly before he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He was in a rush to complete it, as if he knew his mind was failing. And although he has difficulty recalling what he had for breakfast, he has vivid memories of his childhood in war-torn Europe. 

I was deeply moved by his story — our story.

My father and his family were forced to flee their home as Russian troops bulldozed through Ukraine in the midst of the Second World War. Countless civilians lost their lives.

His mother died at the foot of his bed at a refugee camp in Germany. Another rejection letter from the Canadian government denying our family's immigration bid was simply too much for her, my father said.

His father was captured by the Russians and spent the final year of the war as a PoW, starved and worked until he was a walking skeleton. 

His words painted this picture.- Jeff Nachtigall

Reading his words hit me hard. I wasn't prepared for the gravitas, the impossibility of it all. That most of them survived was nothing short of a miracle. 

He wrote about a cold winter night when his family gathered what they could carry and escaped death:

"We all ran outside and sure enough we could see, in the distance, the lit up sky in orange-red colours. Above us the stars were out in full force and the moon was shining. It seemed so unreal and contradictory! The canopy above us was awash with heavenly light, which seemed to convey God's presence, peace and life, but in the distance we could see the fire of destruction and death. Our village had been attacked by Russian planes and the city was burning." 

His words painted this picture. I was compelled to respond and do what painters do — I painted it on canvas.

I began layering stylized bursts of radiating colour, with the intention that they be ambiguous enough to represent stars or fireworks or bombs bursting in air — something beautiful and repulsive that has an allure in spite of itself. 

It amazes me that this painting resonates on so many levels.- Jeff Nachtigall

In the painting, a nightingale is depicted flying amongst the rubble. The nightingale — or Nachtigall — is the national animal of Ukraine and also my family name. It symbolizes both my family's journey during the Second World War and the plight of a nation plunged into war today. 

Flight of the Nightingale was painted shortly before the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 — an eerie coincidence where the past collided with the present, art, life, personal trauma and the suffering of a nation. 

This painting is not an attack on the Russian people. It depicts a historical truth as well as a contemporary happening. We live in particularly divisive times, and much effort seems spent on that which separates us.

My father and his family faced racism that further added to their trauma. Canada was not a welcoming nation that honoured and celebrated multiculturalism. These German refugees were referred to as DPs (displaced persons), and discrimination was the norm. The family was divided up and sent to live across their new home province of Manitoba, forgoing education in order to work and provide for themselves.

I showed this painting at a solo exhibition at a gallery in Winnipeg in November 2022. It was purchased by a Ukrainian doctor, who also volunteers his time providing medical aid to soldiers and civilians in Ukraine. There is a sense of connectivity in this. It amazes me that this painting resonates on so many levels.

I'm not sure if it's about coming full circle or if it points to the infinite continuum of the human experience. Perhaps trauma is something that is inherently human.

We can spend time comparing or measuring whose was greater or we can come together and find common ground — find hope.

This column is part of CBC's Opinion section. For more information about this section, please read this editor's blog and our FAQ.

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