Letters Yad Vashem, Israël VI.
Dear Paultjes, 18-2-1943
If only I hadn’t made you anxious right away. Today Franz went to the place where I had handed in the luggage for the Schouwburg. There they had Mother’s own signature confirming that she had received the suitcase and the ballens (bedding). So she definitely did receive that luggage. Apparently, she believes that she did not receive what I handed in at the Expo on the first evening and which was taken to Westerbork.
I had written her a letter in the Schouwburg telling her that this luggage had been brought to the Borneokade, and that is where she expected to find it. I am very relieved. Today I sent her another food parcel, which also contained two towels and a spoon.
Heinz is still in Westerbork. Today he returned our wind jacket and two shirts, because he has received some of his own belongings.
Goodbye, children,
Yours,
Ilse
If only I hadn’t made you anxious right away. Today Franz went to the place where I had handed in the luggage for the Schouwburg. There they had Mother’s own signature confirming that she had received the suitcase and the ballens (bedding). So she definitely did receive that luggage. Apparently, she believes that she did not receive what I handed in at the Expo on the first evening and which was taken to Westerbork.
I had written her a letter in the Schouwburg telling her that this luggage had been brought to the Borneokade, and that is where she expected to find it. I am very relieved. Today I sent her another food parcel, which also contained two towels and a spoon.
Heinz is still in Westerbork. Today he returned our wind jacket and two shirts, because he has received some of his own belongings.
Goodbye, children,
Yours,
Ilse
Henriette (Hetty) married Lodewijk Prins on March 25, 1924. He was born on June 28, 1901, in Amsterdam and died on February 10, 1945, somewhere in Central Europe. Hetty Prins-Morpurgo was born on May 6, 1903, in Amsterdam and was murdered on September 17, 1943, in Auschwitz.
Mozes Morpurgo was murdered in Auschwitz on February 5, 1943. He was therefore on the same transport as Pauline and Sophie Philippi.
Mozes Morpurgo was murdered in Auschwitz on February 5, 1943. He was therefore on the same transport as Pauline and Sophie Philippi.
Paultje and Lientje, 23-2-1943
Oh, I am so happy. I have received various good reports from Westerbork, none from Mother herself, but from our friends. The most important is that one of them wrote to his parents: “Heinz Kaempfer said that Ilse’s mother has no worries for the time being.” So our preparations were not in vain after all; certainly Chaja has played a major role in this, she seems to be very influential. It remains important that you keep her interest in Mother alive. I was restless all day—perhaps she has already been transferred today. I am so cheerful. Then someone wrote that Mother is so brave and that they had coffee with her. I must send a sheet and a pillowcase, which has meanwhile been done. Her attitude is confirmed by everyone.
Then another miracle happened. The small black lacquer suitcase and both blankets that were accidentally sent to Westerbork on the first evening have been found there and handed over to Mother. Now she is well provided for and can choose what she wants to take with her and what she will leave behind. So this is what happiness looks like these days. Children, children…
Hetty Prins wrote to me today that Ro Prins and her husband turned up there on a punitive transport. Hetty’s father, the old Morpurgo, was also there and has been sent on. She herself was in quarantine because of several diphtheria cases in her barrack and could hardly speak to him. Today Anna’s parents, the old Ptasniks, were arrested. They lived on the Merwedeplein. The entire family has now completely disappeared. The arrests of the elderly and sick are continuing at full strength, both day and night.
So from now on you can write to Mother as much as you like, but be careful. And you can also send her small gifts of love. I was told that she now has everything she needs, so it is really only about small things, little comforts—something Pauliene has drawn, or something like that. People, people… if only one could keep her there a little longer, at least until this cold season is over.
Adieu, adieu.
Much love,
your Ilse
The books have not yet arrived.
Oh, I am so happy. I have received various good reports from Westerbork, none from Mother herself, but from our friends. The most important is that one of them wrote to his parents: “Heinz Kaempfer said that Ilse’s mother has no worries for the time being.” So our preparations were not in vain after all; certainly Chaja has played a major role in this, she seems to be very influential. It remains important that you keep her interest in Mother alive. I was restless all day—perhaps she has already been transferred today. I am so cheerful. Then someone wrote that Mother is so brave and that they had coffee with her. I must send a sheet and a pillowcase, which has meanwhile been done. Her attitude is confirmed by everyone.
Then another miracle happened. The small black lacquer suitcase and both blankets that were accidentally sent to Westerbork on the first evening have been found there and handed over to Mother. Now she is well provided for and can choose what she wants to take with her and what she will leave behind. So this is what happiness looks like these days. Children, children…
Hetty Prins wrote to me today that Ro Prins and her husband turned up there on a punitive transport. Hetty’s father, the old Morpurgo, was also there and has been sent on. She herself was in quarantine because of several diphtheria cases in her barrack and could hardly speak to him. Today Anna’s parents, the old Ptasniks, were arrested. They lived on the Merwedeplein. The entire family has now completely disappeared. The arrests of the elderly and sick are continuing at full strength, both day and night.
So from now on you can write to Mother as much as you like, but be careful. And you can also send her small gifts of love. I was told that she now has everything she needs, so it is really only about small things, little comforts—something Pauliene has drawn, or something like that. People, people… if only one could keep her there a little longer, at least until this cold season is over.
Adieu, adieu.
Much love,
your Ilse
The books have not yet arrived.
Abraham Citroen and Chana Citroen-Ptasznik were murdered in Auschwitz on August 31, 1942. Their daughter Thea was also murdered there on July 24, 1942.
Karel Adolf Citroen was born on February 12, 1920, in Amsterdam, as the son of Abraham Citroen and Chana Ptasznik. After studying in Brussels and Amsterdam, he became a partner in Roelof Citroen, a well-known jeweller’s shop on Amsterdam’s Kalverstraat. After the German invasion, the company manager advised him to travel via IJmuiden to England. However, Karel did not want to abandon the family business and continued to live above the shop.
At the end of 1941, Karel Citroen and his cousin Bob Franken went to Switzerland. Around the same time, two other cousins, Alfred and Edwin Rottenberg, also left for Switzerland. There Karel learned that his parents, his only sister, and Bob’s parents had been murdered in Auschwitz on August 31, 1942. The two cousins decided to go to England to fight against the Germans.
Via France, Spain, Portugal, and Curaçao, they reached the United States, where they joined the Royal Navy. Karel became a codebreaker on a British ship, monitoring German vessels. On October 23, 1943, the HMS Limbourne was torpedoed by the Germans near Guernsey. Forty-two people were killed, but Karel was among the 100 survivors rescued by the HMS Talybont.
After the war, it turned out that the shop on Kalverstraat had been looted by the Germans. Karel read in the Government Gazette that his stock had been recovered in Germany. He was able to resume the family business and became a well-known silver expert. He married Wiebrigje Pasma.
In 1971, his company merged with Schaap & Van Gelder, after which it became known as Schaap & Citroen. Karel was a member of the Industrial Groote Club, the Goldsmiths’ Company London, the Silver Society London, and the Society of Jewellery Historians London. He wrote several books, including Amsterdamse Zilversmeden, Haarlemse Zilversmeden, and Valse Zilvermerken in Nederland.
On September 5, 1944, Karel Citroen was awarded the Resistance Commemoration Cross by the Queen in Maidenhead (Royal Decree 29-7-1943). Source: Tracesofwar.nl
Karel Adolf Citroen was born on February 12, 1920, in Amsterdam, as the son of Abraham Citroen and Chana Ptasznik. After studying in Brussels and Amsterdam, he became a partner in Roelof Citroen, a well-known jeweller’s shop on Amsterdam’s Kalverstraat. After the German invasion, the company manager advised him to travel via IJmuiden to England. However, Karel did not want to abandon the family business and continued to live above the shop.
At the end of 1941, Karel Citroen and his cousin Bob Franken went to Switzerland. Around the same time, two other cousins, Alfred and Edwin Rottenberg, also left for Switzerland. There Karel learned that his parents, his only sister, and Bob’s parents had been murdered in Auschwitz on August 31, 1942. The two cousins decided to go to England to fight against the Germans.
Via France, Spain, Portugal, and Curaçao, they reached the United States, where they joined the Royal Navy. Karel became a codebreaker on a British ship, monitoring German vessels. On October 23, 1943, the HMS Limbourne was torpedoed by the Germans near Guernsey. Forty-two people were killed, but Karel was among the 100 survivors rescued by the HMS Talybont.
After the war, it turned out that the shop on Kalverstraat had been looted by the Germans. Karel read in the Government Gazette that his stock had been recovered in Germany. He was able to resume the family business and became a well-known silver expert. He married Wiebrigje Pasma.
In 1971, his company merged with Schaap & Van Gelder, after which it became known as Schaap & Citroen. Karel was a member of the Industrial Groote Club, the Goldsmiths’ Company London, the Silver Society London, and the Society of Jewellery Historians London. He wrote several books, including Amsterdamse Zilversmeden, Haarlemse Zilversmeden, and Valse Zilvermerken in Nederland.
On September 5, 1944, Karel Citroen was awarded the Resistance Commemoration Cross by the Queen in Maidenhead (Royal Decree 29-7-1943). Source: Tracesofwar.nl
A card (transcripted) by Ellen Citroen-Philippi to her son Paul written in concentrationcamp Westerbork.
Dear children, 1-3-1943
Writing day! I was received here in a very kind way by our friends and yours, and your lovely parcel! If it had not been here, it would have been a joy. Chaja was the first, and yesterday, Sunday, I had to go and drink coffee with her and Dr. Wallach. It was pleasant—but the longing for all of you is unbearable.
Tomorrow I will continue again; the train is already standing ready. We only hear at half past four in the morning who has to go. I have little hope. Many thanks for everything. Teach little Paulien not to forget me. You all continue to live in me, and for your sake I remain. Be blessed.
Mother
Writing day! I was received here in a very kind way by our friends and yours, and your lovely parcel! If it had not been here, it would have been a joy. Chaja was the first, and yesterday, Sunday, I had to go and drink coffee with her and Dr. Wallach. It was pleasant—but the longing for all of you is unbearable.
Tomorrow I will continue again; the train is already standing ready. We only hear at half past four in the morning who has to go. I have little hope. Many thanks for everything. Teach little Paulien not to forget me. You all continue to live in me, and for your sake I remain. Be blessed.
Mother
4-3-1943
I have just received the following: a card from Hilde Cramer, after I had cried my eyes out over your letter and thought that Mother must certainly have been sent on.
“Dear Ledermanns, 3-3-1943
Heinz and Nori send their greetings. Both of them are doing well. Nori would very much like a pair of shoes; she only has the pair she is wearing, and the pair that was in the blanket roll has disappeared. And she would like the velvet blouse that you have—she would very much like to have it.
Today I received a parcel, and Liesel did as well. Soon our holiday people will arrive; I think Hans Bial may be among them. Then we might also receive the first oral messages. From home they write that everything is in good spirits… and we are, despite everything, happy.
Warm greetings,
Hilde Cramer.”
I have just received the following: a card from Hilde Cramer, after I had cried my eyes out over your letter and thought that Mother must certainly have been sent on.
“Dear Ledermanns, 3-3-1943
Heinz and Nori send their greetings. Both of them are doing well. Nori would very much like a pair of shoes; she only has the pair she is wearing, and the pair that was in the blanket roll has disappeared. And she would like the velvet blouse that you have—she would very much like to have it.
Today I received a parcel, and Liesel did as well. Soon our holiday people will arrive; I think Hans Bial may be among them. Then we might also receive the first oral messages. From home they write that everything is in good spirits… and we are, despite everything, happy.
Warm greetings,
Hilde Cramer.”
I have no idea how I am supposed to get those shoes; it will probably have to be size 38 or 38½. Do you know? Lientje, please don’t be upset with me, but at the moment I am so overstrained both physically and mentally that it is simply too much for me if little Paulien comes to stay overnight. I no longer have a bed; I have given it away to a boy whose house was completely cleared out. And so Paulien would have to sleep on the sofa in the front room, which is not very nice for her, and making it up would take me a lot of effort. Everything feels like a mountain to me. My head is not in a state for a birthday.
You must understand that I first need to discuss why you suddenly want to come on Monday. I would very much like to see and speak to you, and you can then immediately hear Bial’s message. Do bring Paulien, although she cannot meet Sanne because she is at school all day, even during the lunch break. I have already mentioned the “Art-Uncle” in her class.
I am enclosing a card on which Mother first started in the Schouwburg, then continued in Vught while waiting for transport to Westerbork, and finally posted it in Westerbork. Shocking. Please send it back to me and also send me the card you wrote to me on March 1 so I can read it.
I am sending you a parcel containing things that belong to you but were sent back by Mother.
A thousand greetings and much love,
your Ilse
De als ... bekwaam is ook een ... bekwaam als ... en goed voor alles. Daag
You must understand that I first need to discuss why you suddenly want to come on Monday. I would very much like to see and speak to you, and you can then immediately hear Bial’s message. Do bring Paulien, although she cannot meet Sanne because she is at school all day, even during the lunch break. I have already mentioned the “Art-Uncle” in her class.
I am enclosing a card on which Mother first started in the Schouwburg, then continued in Vught while waiting for transport to Westerbork, and finally posted it in Westerbork. Shocking. Please send it back to me and also send me the card you wrote to me on March 1 so I can read it.
I am sending you a parcel containing things that belong to you but were sent back by Mother.
A thousand greetings and much love,
your Ilse
De als ... bekwaam is ook een ... bekwaam als ... en goed voor alles. Daag
Dear Paul and Lientje and little Paulieneke, 12-3-1943
Thank you for your letter. Today a letter arrived from Mother, which I will send to you tomorrow; Barbara still needs to read it this evening first. But I want to tell you already that, thanks to your gift, I was able to have her glasses repaired and have something done for her teeth. Isn’t that wonderful? Lientje’s slippers keep her warm, and my mattress is her salvation.
oday our friend Hilde came by from Amstel Station, dressed in trousers and ski boots, and she had wonderful stories to tell. Mother is indescribably simple. She immediately understood how life in the camp works and has settled in very practically; all the women in the barrack come to her to ask advice about thousands of things. Problems with this or that person, not finishing things on time—she simply solves everything and makes nothing of it. She even says: “Oh, they imagine it to be much worse than it is.” Hilde finds it deeply moving.
Under her sheet she has another blanket so that the straw does not prick so much and it is nice and warm. In the upper bunk lies a young girl who is very sweet. The middle bunk is empty, and that is Mother’s “attic.” Your friend is wonderful, and she told Hilde that there is no danger for the time being. In fact, she had never been in danger at all; she simply never knew it herself. W. once told her what Ch. is doing for her. Before that, she didn’t even know. And one must not talk about it. W. said nothing. Calcified. In the camp they speak of someone being “confused” when a person behaves a little foolishly. Still, the relationships among people are not bad.
They celebrated my birthday in a festive way with everything I had sent. Hilde was there together with Ch. and Liesel Österreicher. Mother had provided cups and saucers herself; it all looked very festive and tasted wonderful. Afterwards, the family members also came. What is very distressing is that Mrs. Asch and her daughter have been sent on, although it had initially been decided that they could stay because she has a daughter in Palestine and would therefore qualify for exchange. In general, applications are being rejected; once refused, people are immediately deported. Better to just keep going as it is.
Franz does not have malaria; what it is, no one knows—some kind of infection. He has a fever despite quinine, constantly around 38°C, and he is very despondent and depressed. I had to write again that he has rarely read such an enchanting book as the one about your ships. Last night he told Barbara about it. He has already read it three times.
Embraced,
your Ilse
On March 2, 1943, a train carrying 1,105 people departed from Westerbork camp to the then unknown extermination camp Sobibor. After a journey of three days, the train arrived on March 5. It was the first transport from the Netherlands to this camp. Eighteen more transports would follow, until the last one on July 20, 1943. In total, 34,313 Jewish men, women, and children were forced to make the journey to this horrific place in eastern Poland. In less than five months, all except about a thousand were gassed on the day of arrival. Of the more than 34,000 deported, only a few returned.
The first transport, like the second, was carried out using a passenger train. After that, cattle cars were used. No one from the first transport survived. Notably, of the more than eleven hundred people, two-thirds were women and one-third were men.
Thank you for your letter. Today a letter arrived from Mother, which I will send to you tomorrow; Barbara still needs to read it this evening first. But I want to tell you already that, thanks to your gift, I was able to have her glasses repaired and have something done for her teeth. Isn’t that wonderful? Lientje’s slippers keep her warm, and my mattress is her salvation.
oday our friend Hilde came by from Amstel Station, dressed in trousers and ski boots, and she had wonderful stories to tell. Mother is indescribably simple. She immediately understood how life in the camp works and has settled in very practically; all the women in the barrack come to her to ask advice about thousands of things. Problems with this or that person, not finishing things on time—she simply solves everything and makes nothing of it. She even says: “Oh, they imagine it to be much worse than it is.” Hilde finds it deeply moving.
Under her sheet she has another blanket so that the straw does not prick so much and it is nice and warm. In the upper bunk lies a young girl who is very sweet. The middle bunk is empty, and that is Mother’s “attic.” Your friend is wonderful, and she told Hilde that there is no danger for the time being. In fact, she had never been in danger at all; she simply never knew it herself. W. once told her what Ch. is doing for her. Before that, she didn’t even know. And one must not talk about it. W. said nothing. Calcified. In the camp they speak of someone being “confused” when a person behaves a little foolishly. Still, the relationships among people are not bad.
They celebrated my birthday in a festive way with everything I had sent. Hilde was there together with Ch. and Liesel Österreicher. Mother had provided cups and saucers herself; it all looked very festive and tasted wonderful. Afterwards, the family members also came. What is very distressing is that Mrs. Asch and her daughter have been sent on, although it had initially been decided that they could stay because she has a daughter in Palestine and would therefore qualify for exchange. In general, applications are being rejected; once refused, people are immediately deported. Better to just keep going as it is.
Franz does not have malaria; what it is, no one knows—some kind of infection. He has a fever despite quinine, constantly around 38°C, and he is very despondent and depressed. I had to write again that he has rarely read such an enchanting book as the one about your ships. Last night he told Barbara about it. He has already read it three times.
Embraced,
your Ilse
On March 2, 1943, a train carrying 1,105 people departed from Westerbork camp to the then unknown extermination camp Sobibor. After a journey of three days, the train arrived on March 5. It was the first transport from the Netherlands to this camp. Eighteen more transports would follow, until the last one on July 20, 1943. In total, 34,313 Jewish men, women, and children were forced to make the journey to this horrific place in eastern Poland. In less than five months, all except about a thousand were gassed on the day of arrival. Of the more than 34,000 deported, only a few returned.
The first transport, like the second, was carried out using a passenger train. After that, cattle cars were used. No one from the first transport survived. Notably, of the more than eleven hundred people, two-thirds were women and one-third were men.
WEGGUM.COM
Bruno Asch held various public offices in Höchst am Main, Frankfurt am Main, and Berlin between 1920 and 1933. He was mayor of Höchst from 1922 to 1925. After that, he served as a councillor in Frankfurt am Main. In 1933 he fled Germany because he was Jewish and a socialist. On 16 May 1940, he took his own life.
At the end of 1939, his eldest daughter Mirjam (1920) left for Palestine.
At the end of 1939, his eldest daughter Mirjam (1920) left for Palestine.
Via Zionist circles, Ruth met Philip Jacobs and they became engaged. In the summer of 1941, arrests of young Jewish men increased; they were deported to labour or concentration camps. Under this pressure, Philip Jacobs left the Netherlands at the urging of his parents and friends. After a long escape route, he eventually reached Great Britain, where he joined the British Army and served in the Royal Air Force. He never saw his fiancée again.
In 2020, during the trial of the Sobibor perpetrator Demjanjuk, he tearfully described the loss of his family and his fiancée: “The events of that time shape every day of my life.”
In 2020, during the trial of the Sobibor perpetrator Demjanjuk, he tearfully described the loss of his family and his fiancée: “The events of that time shape every day of my life.”
Mother Margarete was deported three weeks later, on March 10, 1943, together with Ruth’s sister Renate Charlotte, from Westerbork to Sobibor. This was the second transport that left Westerbork for Sobibor, carrying a total of 1,105 people. On March 13, 1943, they arrived at the German extermination camp Sobibor, where they were murdered immediately upon arrival.
The Nazis realised that carbon monoxide in enclosed spaces was less efficient than Zyklon B, but in Sobibor, Treblinka, and Belzec (part of Aktion Reinhardt), permanent gas chambers based on engine exhaust fumes were used.
The Nazis realised that carbon monoxide in enclosed spaces was less efficient than Zyklon B, but in Sobibor, Treblinka, and Belzec (part of Aktion Reinhardt), permanent gas chambers based on engine exhaust fumes were used.
OESTREICHER, Maria Karoline, better known as Maria Austria (born Karlsbad, Austria, 19-3-1915 – died Amsterdam, 10-1-1975), photographer. Daughter of Karl Oestreicher (1864–1915), physician, and Clara Kisch (1871–1945). Marie Oestreicher married (1) on 1-4-1942 in Amsterdam? Hans Walter Bial (1911–2000), businessman (divorced: 4-12-1945); (2) on 15-3-1953 in Amsterdam? Hendrik Pieter Jonker (1912–2002), municipal official, later photographer (divorced: 28-10-1969). Both marriages remained childless.
Maria Oestreicher was a late-born child. Her father, an internist in the spa town of Karlsbad in Bohemia (today Karlovy Vary in the Czech Republic), died fourteen days before her birth. Together with her brother Felix and sister Lisbeth, she grew up in a Jewish intellectual and artistic milieu. After finishing gymnasium, she went to Vienna, where she received a solid professional training in photography at the Höhere Graphische Bundes-Lehr- und Versuchsanstalt. From February 1934 to July 1935 she worked as an assistant to the Viennese photographer Willinger, for whom she photographed many avant-garde theatre productions.
In 1937, Maria Oestreicher moved to Amsterdam because she could hardly work any longer due to anti-Jewish measures in Vienna. She moved in with her sister Lisbeth, who had been trained at the Bauhaus as a textile designer and was at that time earning a living in Amsterdam by designing knitting patterns. Eva Besnyö took the photographs of the models, but gradually Maria took over this work. The Oestreicher sisters worked under the name “Model en Foto Austria,” and Maria began using the name Maria Austria for her photographic work. In these pre-war years she mainly took commissioned portrait photographs.
Maria Austria married the German businessman Hans Bial in 1942. When she was ordered to report to the Westerbork transit camp later that same year, she did not comply—unlike her husband and her sister. She worked as a nurse in the Portuguese-Israelite hospital and as a nanny until she had to go into hiding in September 1943. During her time in hiding on Vondelstraat, she became involved with Henk Jonker, who worked at the Amsterdam population register and was active in the resistance. He forged identity papers, and Maria provided the passport photographs.
After Liberation, Maria Austria resumed her photographic work, but now without her sister—who by then had married and temporarily given up her work as a textile designer. She herself divorced her first husband in 1945. She produced fashion reports on commission, but her heart lay mainly in social documentary photography of the Netherlands during reconstruction. Together with Henk Jonker, who had developed into a skilled photographer during the occupation, Aart Klein, and Wim Zilver Rupe, she founded the photography agency Particam in 1945, a contraction of “partisan camera.” The agency (based on Amsterdam’s Willemsparkweg) specialised in documentary reports on everyday life of working people as well as cultural life in post-war Netherlands.
Maria Austria became particularly known as a photographer of the performing arts. Together with Jonker, whom she married in 1953 (thereby obtaining Dutch nationality), she produced countless theatre photographs and portraits of musicians, conductors, actors, dancers, directors, and cabaret performers. They continued to live and work at Willemsparkweg 120. Their clients included major ballet companies and the Holland Festival (from 1947), the Netherlands Opera Foundation (from 1949), and the Concertgebouw Orchestra and other orchestras (from 1951). From 1949 to around 1960, Austria and Jonker also had a photo column on the back page of the Algemeen Handelsblad, a series on various social themes. After Wim Zilver Rupe left, the name Particam was changed to Particam Pictures. When Aart Klein also left in 1956, the agency consisted only of Jonker and Austria. In 1963 the couple separated, and Maria continued the agency on her own. During this period she did, however, have a number of trainee assistants, including Vincent Mentzel, Jaap Pieper, and Bob van Dantzig.
In this period Austria increasingly focused on experimental theatre (she became the house photographer of the Mickery Theatre) and the Holland Festival. She distanced herself from the glamour photography of repertory theatre and preferred to photograph performers up close, almost “on their skin.” These expressive photographs of groundbreaking productions brought her national recognition.
In addition, Maria Austria developed a strong interest in socio-political theatre that emerged in the Netherlands in the early 1970s. She photographed performances by theatre companies such as Werktheater, Proloog, Baal, and Sater. She also felt closely involved with avant-garde movements in music and new developments in dance. Performances by Kurt Stuyf and Ellen Edinoff of the Foundation for Contemporary Dance particularly fascinated her. In these dance photographs, her attention to beauty and perfection is clearly expressed.
Until the 1970s, Maria Austria used a Rolleiflex camera. Only shortly before her death did she switch to a 35mm camera. She possessed the experience and intuition to work under difficult and unexpected circumstances. She used her time very efficiently, often photographing during dress rehearsals or run-throughs, and working through the night to deliver her work to editorial offices on time.
From 1945 until her death, Maria Austria was a board member of the Photography Section of the Association of Practitioners of the Applied Arts (GKf) and of the Dutch Association of Photojournalists. She campaigned for photography as a fully recognised art form and, as a board member of the GKf, advocated at the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science for a dedicated budget within the national arts budget. She considered it a grave injustice that newspapers published photographs without naming the photographer.
Her tireless dedication to her profession took a toll on her health. Barely recovered from a severe flu, she died unexpectedly in 1975 at the age of 59.
In the Netherlands, Maria Austria is known as the theatre photographer par excellence. She was a strong personality: perfectionistic, combative, and ambitious. Her intense temperament and outspoken views did not make her universally popular. Her name lives on in the Maria Austria-Particam Photo Archive Foundation, established a year after her death to preserve and make accessible her archive. The foundation also worked toward the creation of a Dutch national photo archive. There is also the Maria Austria Institute (MAI), which manages the archives of well-known photographers such as Eva Besnyö and Philip Mechanicus. For a time, the Amsterdam Fund for the Arts awarded the Maria Austria Prize (every two years). In the IJburg district of Amsterdam, a street has been named after her. In 2018, Martien Frijns published a biography of Maria Austria, and the Jewish Historical Museum (once again) dedicated an exhibition to her work.
Maria Oestreicher was a late-born child. Her father, an internist in the spa town of Karlsbad in Bohemia (today Karlovy Vary in the Czech Republic), died fourteen days before her birth. Together with her brother Felix and sister Lisbeth, she grew up in a Jewish intellectual and artistic milieu. After finishing gymnasium, she went to Vienna, where she received a solid professional training in photography at the Höhere Graphische Bundes-Lehr- und Versuchsanstalt. From February 1934 to July 1935 she worked as an assistant to the Viennese photographer Willinger, for whom she photographed many avant-garde theatre productions.
In 1937, Maria Oestreicher moved to Amsterdam because she could hardly work any longer due to anti-Jewish measures in Vienna. She moved in with her sister Lisbeth, who had been trained at the Bauhaus as a textile designer and was at that time earning a living in Amsterdam by designing knitting patterns. Eva Besnyö took the photographs of the models, but gradually Maria took over this work. The Oestreicher sisters worked under the name “Model en Foto Austria,” and Maria began using the name Maria Austria for her photographic work. In these pre-war years she mainly took commissioned portrait photographs.
Maria Austria married the German businessman Hans Bial in 1942. When she was ordered to report to the Westerbork transit camp later that same year, she did not comply—unlike her husband and her sister. She worked as a nurse in the Portuguese-Israelite hospital and as a nanny until she had to go into hiding in September 1943. During her time in hiding on Vondelstraat, she became involved with Henk Jonker, who worked at the Amsterdam population register and was active in the resistance. He forged identity papers, and Maria provided the passport photographs.
After Liberation, Maria Austria resumed her photographic work, but now without her sister—who by then had married and temporarily given up her work as a textile designer. She herself divorced her first husband in 1945. She produced fashion reports on commission, but her heart lay mainly in social documentary photography of the Netherlands during reconstruction. Together with Henk Jonker, who had developed into a skilled photographer during the occupation, Aart Klein, and Wim Zilver Rupe, she founded the photography agency Particam in 1945, a contraction of “partisan camera.” The agency (based on Amsterdam’s Willemsparkweg) specialised in documentary reports on everyday life of working people as well as cultural life in post-war Netherlands.
Maria Austria became particularly known as a photographer of the performing arts. Together with Jonker, whom she married in 1953 (thereby obtaining Dutch nationality), she produced countless theatre photographs and portraits of musicians, conductors, actors, dancers, directors, and cabaret performers. They continued to live and work at Willemsparkweg 120. Their clients included major ballet companies and the Holland Festival (from 1947), the Netherlands Opera Foundation (from 1949), and the Concertgebouw Orchestra and other orchestras (from 1951). From 1949 to around 1960, Austria and Jonker also had a photo column on the back page of the Algemeen Handelsblad, a series on various social themes. After Wim Zilver Rupe left, the name Particam was changed to Particam Pictures. When Aart Klein also left in 1956, the agency consisted only of Jonker and Austria. In 1963 the couple separated, and Maria continued the agency on her own. During this period she did, however, have a number of trainee assistants, including Vincent Mentzel, Jaap Pieper, and Bob van Dantzig.
In this period Austria increasingly focused on experimental theatre (she became the house photographer of the Mickery Theatre) and the Holland Festival. She distanced herself from the glamour photography of repertory theatre and preferred to photograph performers up close, almost “on their skin.” These expressive photographs of groundbreaking productions brought her national recognition.
In addition, Maria Austria developed a strong interest in socio-political theatre that emerged in the Netherlands in the early 1970s. She photographed performances by theatre companies such as Werktheater, Proloog, Baal, and Sater. She also felt closely involved with avant-garde movements in music and new developments in dance. Performances by Kurt Stuyf and Ellen Edinoff of the Foundation for Contemporary Dance particularly fascinated her. In these dance photographs, her attention to beauty and perfection is clearly expressed.
Until the 1970s, Maria Austria used a Rolleiflex camera. Only shortly before her death did she switch to a 35mm camera. She possessed the experience and intuition to work under difficult and unexpected circumstances. She used her time very efficiently, often photographing during dress rehearsals or run-throughs, and working through the night to deliver her work to editorial offices on time.
From 1945 until her death, Maria Austria was a board member of the Photography Section of the Association of Practitioners of the Applied Arts (GKf) and of the Dutch Association of Photojournalists. She campaigned for photography as a fully recognised art form and, as a board member of the GKf, advocated at the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science for a dedicated budget within the national arts budget. She considered it a grave injustice that newspapers published photographs without naming the photographer.
Her tireless dedication to her profession took a toll on her health. Barely recovered from a severe flu, she died unexpectedly in 1975 at the age of 59.
In the Netherlands, Maria Austria is known as the theatre photographer par excellence. She was a strong personality: perfectionistic, combative, and ambitious. Her intense temperament and outspoken views did not make her universally popular. Her name lives on in the Maria Austria-Particam Photo Archive Foundation, established a year after her death to preserve and make accessible her archive. The foundation also worked toward the creation of a Dutch national photo archive. There is also the Maria Austria Institute (MAI), which manages the archives of well-known photographers such as Eva Besnyö and Philip Mechanicus. For a time, the Amsterdam Fund for the Arts awarded the Maria Austria Prize (every two years). In the IJburg district of Amsterdam, a street has been named after her. In 2018, Martien Frijns published a biography of Maria Austria, and the Jewish Historical Museum (once again) dedicated an exhibition to her work.