< back | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | next >

July 1940. I had heard that the Nazis had a dentist in their camp, so when I developed a terrible toothache, I got one of my Polish friends to go to the camp with me. Since the Germans wouldn’t have helped me if they had known I was Jewish, I taught my friend to say, in German, “My sister has a toothache.” After the dentist took out my tooth, he gave me a bar of chocolate. When I got home, my mother was shocked that I had had the nerve to go to the Nazis for help.

No. 9, The Dentist. Embroidery and fabric collage, 1997. 29 1/4 in. x 33 in.