As Tadeusz Kantor wrote, the childhood room is never a bright and sun-drenched space — such images are rather literary fiction.
How can you capture and recreate what it was really like? Extracting the individual elements: the door, the window...
The window of the children’s room faced outwards, on the street with a pink storey tenement. Around the bend, which was the end of the world, the mother, who was leaving for a long time, had disappeared.
The space behind the door was also important. Standing behind them, at the threshold of a children’s room, we stand on the border between two worlds: childhood and adulthood.
“(...) a place BEHIND THE DOORS
somewhere in the back and on the periphery of THE ROOM,
a different space
and in another dimension,
where our memory accumulates
and our freedom ferments,
in this poor place,
somewhere in the corner,
behind the door
in the measureless interior of imagination...
we are standing at the door, bidding our childhoods goodbye
behind this door
storms and human hell are raging,
waves of deluge are surging,
from which the white and weak walls of our ROOM
will not protect us (...)
Important events are approaching inexorably,
all you have to do is open the door...”.
Wielopole, Wielopole, staged in 1980, was an attempt to recreate a childhood room, in which tenants — the family — still repeat the same activities. Characters induced from memory impersonate the relatives and deceased; they are sick, misshapen, unwashed. Their evocation from the past is suspicious. The childhood room is constantly set up anew and is still dying.
 T. Kantor, Writings. Texts from 1975–1984, Wrocław 2004, p. 208
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