Historians often depend on art and culture in their efforts to reconstruct the past. Our image of Athens is based as much on its drama and monuments as it is on Greek democracy or martial prowess. Shakespeare dominates our impression of 17th century England, as much, if not more, than does Queen Elizabeth I. Perhaps, in a remote future, historians will draw more important inferences on 20th century American culture from Hollywood films and Motown music than they will from debate transcripts of the U.S. House of Representatives.

But in order for culture to be of historical use, it has to survive. And survival is by no means guaranteed in a world where war and natural disaster are as indiscriminate about the arts as they are about human lives. The Feldberg Collection, a series of self-portraits done in Berlin between 1923 and 1933, is the only known remnant of the vibrant avant-garde art world of Berlin between the wars. The collection is composed of 70 self-portraits done on paper, 56 of which are now on display at the McMullen Museum of Art at Boston College.

Harry Deierling, Self-Portrait, 1931. View more images

Rarely exhibited, the Feldberg Collection is an evocative, and at times stunning, visual experience. The figures and faces tell us much about the age's artistic currents, and even more about a generation whose hopes and in many cases lives would be summarily shattered by World War II.

While the artists could not be sure of their imminent demise, we are. This knowledge colors our visit, setting the artists' self-expression, by definition a creative and therefore vital act, against a background of ineluctable tragedy and death. As artworks, the Feldberg portraits are spontaneous, original, and intriguing. As historical artifacts, they are riveting.

The Feldberg Collection owes its survival to the tenacity of a pair of collectors, and, just as significantly, to chance. It was built by Siegbert Feldberg, a Jewish clothing manufacturer from Stettin, a German city near Berlin that was passed to Poland after World War II. Beginning in 1923, Feldberg spent a decade bartering suits and coats for self-portraits done by German "outsider" artists in Berlin. It was an unusual focus for a collection.

While self-portraits were quite popular in Berlin in the 1920s, many critics disdained the genre. This made them a risky investment, as there was no indication their popularity would continue. Feldberg stopped collecting shortly before he left Germany for India in 1934.

In 1938, a few weeks before Stettin's Jewish community was to be deported, Feldberg's wife, Hilde, received a phone call from a police constable and former Feldberg factory worker urging her to leave Germany immediately. Of her many possessions, she decided to save only her grand piano, which she had shipped, and the paintings, which rode with her in the compartment of the train that would take her and her two small sons to Genoa, from where they planned to set sail for India.

Oskar Kokoschka, Self-Portrait, 1923. View more images

"The Nazis probably permitted the paintings to leave Stettin because they were done on paper, and because they were done by artists who for the most part had been declared degenerate," says Dietlinde Hamburger, co-curator of the Boston College show. "Had they been oils done by artists favored by the regime, I doubt they would have let her take them with her."

The paintings would need another assist from fate before they could be taken across customs at the German border. That assist came in the form of a handsome SS officer, who shared the train compartment with Hilde Feldberg. The officer took a liking to Mrs. Feldberg, and observed that her two sons, both blond, would make excellent Hitler Youth members. Mrs. Feldberg, an attractive and refined woman who had studied opera, chatted and charmed him throughout the rail journey. At the Italian frontier, he waved away Nazi customs officials who wanted to inspect her baggage, telling them that the lady and her children were with him.

In India, and later in Pakistan, where they moved in 1949, the Feldbergs were zealous and effective custodians of their art; the paintings were stored beneath their bed in their air-conditioned bedrooms - a rarity in both those hot and humid countries. The climate-controlled environment preserved the fragile watercolors. When the Feldbergs brought their collection (and Mrs. Feldberg's grand piano) with them back to Europe in 1963, the self-portraits were in prime, pristine condition.

Although Siegbert Feldberg received many generous offers for individual portraits -- the collection features works by Oskar Kokoschka, Kathe Kollwitz, Eugen Spiro, and Conrad Felixm?/a> -- Mr. Feldberg insisted on keeping the works intact. Together, he believed, they had greater artistic and historic value than they would if scattered.

Ines Wetzel, Self-Portrait, 1930. View more images

The paintings also had great personal worth for Feldberg and his wife. "My grandfather collected pictures of family and friends almost ad nauseum," says Georgina Feldberg, the collector's granddaughter, and a professor of social history at York University in Toronto. "He had hundreds of photographs that he was constantly putting into albums. These paintings were just another way of insuring that he had memories and a tangible contribution from the people he most cared about."

In 1976, one year after her husband's death, Hilde Feldberg sold the collection to the Berlinische Galerie in West Berlin, where, after a brief initial exhibit, the paintings were put into storage until last May, when the self-portraits traveled to Toronto. It was the first time that Georgina Feldberg had seen the collection her grandparents had worked so hard to preserve.

As a descendant of Siegbert and Hilde Feldberg, she felt great pride. But as a historian, she feels compelled to observe that this collection, considered by summary judgment to be worthless in Nazi times, has acquired aesthetic and historical importance through circumstances that are equally arbitrary. "If there had not been a Holocaust, this collection wouldn't be anywhere as significant as it is," she says. "It would have been a series of portraits, some very nice, others reasonably so. And it probably would not have stayed together."

The "Reclaiming a Lost Generation: German Self-Portraits from the Feldberg Collection 1923-1933" exhibition will be on display at Boston College's McMullen Museum of Art through December 8, 2002.

Learn more about the Feldberg Collection

MORE ARTS HEADLINES

	Curtains for Boston Costume			"So Much, So Fast"
	Anything But Ordinary			Roller Rink on Thin Ice

		Arts Features Films at the Gate Photos See photos of kung-fu movies and former Boston Chinatown movie theater locations. Guerrilla Art See photos of local artist Matthew Hincman's bench-like sculpture. "O" is for Original Local artist "Danny O" portrays whimsical scenes of summer in Boston. Multimedia Singer at 100 An exclusive online special explores the controversial work and life of Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer. Gauguin's Tahiti Paintings Take a multimedia tour of Paul Gauguin's Tahiti paintings, including the famous painting, "Where Are We From." Hawthorne at 200 View a multimedia celebration of Nathaniel Hawthorne's 200th birthday.