In one of the rooms of the Bode Museum in Berlin, visitors may come across a sculptural portrait of Daniel Chodowiecki. However, the inscription beneath the bust does not specify who this man with a Polish-sounding name actually was. In fact, Daniel Chodowiecki (1726–1801) was one of the most renowned artists of the 18th century. As a teenager, he left his hometown Gdańsk in Poland and moved to Berlin in Prussia, where he achieved a great artistic success. The experience of migration influenced his entire life and left traces in his art. This online exhibition is devoted to that experience.

    The plaster bust depicting Daniel Chodowiecki is evidence of his high social status. This type of portrayal was reserved for outstanding, accomplished, or very wealthy citizens. Many portraits of Chodowiecki have survived, especially engraved and painted – created by him as well as by other artists. You will see some of them in this exhibition.

    Emanuel Bardou, Portrait of Daniel Chodowiecki, 1801, plaster, Bode Museum, Berlin


    It is hard to bracket Daniel Chodowiecki’s life. His origins alone reveal a complex migration background. Daniel’s father, Gottfried, descended from the Lutheran nobility from western Poland. However, being a nobleman did not guarantee prosperity, so in the late 17th century the Chodowieckis moved to Gdańsk, a major seaport on the Baltic coast. At the time, Gdańsk, also known as Danzig, was the commercial and cultural hub of the multicultural region called Royal Prussia, in the northern part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. In Gdańsk, the Chodowieckis turned from landowners into merchants. Daniel’s mother, Marie Henriette Ayrer, was French. She belonged to the Huguenots, or the Calvinists, who fled Catholic persecutions in France to more tolerant countries, such as the Commonwealth. In Gdańsk, Marie Henriette’s family found safe haven and stayed there.

    “The eye with which Poland looks at the entire world” – this is what people used to say about Gdańsk. Its port facilitated the export of goods such as grain traded by Daniel’s father. Old images of Gdańsk, one of the biggest and wealthiest Polish cities, often show its most characteristic features – granaries and warehouses on the port quay as well as ships, boats, and barges filled with traded goods. 

    Friedrich Anton August Lohrmann, Gdańsk – Fragment of a View, 1770, engraving, National Museum in Kraków


    Gottfried and Marie Henriette’s mixed marriage was not unusual in multiethnic, multiconfessional and multilingual Commonwealth. Such relationships certainly benefitted from the atmosphere of diverse Gdańsk. Its biggest and most dominant group of the inhabitants Germans, whose culture permanently shaped the city. German was the most commonly used language in Gdańsk, both in business and at home. This was also the case in Daniel’s family. So, what defined the identity of the Chodowieckis? The Polish or the French origin? The language spoken at home or the languages of the ancestors? Gottfried’s Lutheranism or Marie Henriette’s Calvinism? Or maybe their place of residence? Ties to the German-speaking neighbourhood? Loyalty to Polish kings? The mercantile profession, continued for several generations? Each one of these aspects is likely to have played a part in the shaping of the family’s identity. However, it is unclear whether the Chodowieckis asked themselves such questions on the daily basis at all.

    Is this how Marie Henriette greeted Gotfried when he came home from work in the afternoon? Some researchers of Daniel’s art claim that this engraving depicts a tenement house in Gdańsk which belonged to the Chodowieckis. If this is true, then this would mean that Daniel recalled the house from memory years later, setting it within a scene which he may have associated with his childhood.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Man in Front of a House, 1779, etching, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

    One thing is certain: the identity of young Daniel was largely shaped by his passion, the art. It was instilled in him by his father, himself an amateur painter and draughtsman, who encouraged his children to do the same. In an environment open to the arts, Daniel was developing his skills, especially in drawing and painting. With time, he began dreaming about artistic studies. However, his plans were interrupted by the death of his father. Daniel, then 14, had to go to work in a store to help his widowed mother provide for the family

    Years later, Daniel made this engraving depicting himself in his studio, accompanied by the oldest son. The boy is learning to draw under the artist’s tutelage. It is hard to resist the impression that in this scene Daniel saw himself and his father from decades ago. You will see this engraving in full a little later.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Cabinet d’un peintre (fragment), 1771, Etching, Herzog Anton Ulrich Museum, Braunschweig

    Lack of time and resources prevented Daniel from pursuing a proper artistic education. He could only practice his drawing skills at night and occasionally under the guidance of his artistically talented aunt. In the meantime, wealthy citizens of Gdańsk gladly commissioned impressive paintings, sculptures, and buildings, as they had been doing for centuries. The effects could be admired in the streets, tenement houses, palaces, and churches. Daniel must have felt frustrated, as the prospect of an artistic career was fading away.

    There was no art school in Gdańsk, but thanks to the broad scope of patronage the city always attracted painters, sculptors, and architects, mainly from abroad. German, Dutch, Flemish, and Italian artists brought leading European styles to Gdańsk. These stimulated the imagination of local artists, both professional and aspiring, such as Daniel.

    Matthäus Deisch, The Main Town Hall and the Long Market in Gdańsk, 1765, etching, National Library in Warsaw

    Soon, however, Daniel faced a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In 1743 an uncle from Berlin gave the 17-year-old boy a chance to join him in the capital of Prussia and work together in trade. A merchant career was not the boy’s dream, but Berlin offered better income than Gdańsk. Furthermore, Daniel’s younger brother was already living in Berlin, so the decision to move was a bit easier. Daniel also secretly hoped that abroad he would get a chance to take up art seriously. Did he still feel anxiety about the unknown? What did his mother feel when another child left home and the country? And could she have anticipated that she was parting with Daniel for the next 40 years?

    Daniel depicted two merchants striking a bargain in his mature period. As a young man he had witnessed many similar deals. Even though he felt unhappy as a merchant trainee and had bad memories of that time, in later years he still associated the merchant ethos with moral values such as honesty and trust. This is confirmed by the phrase which Daniel included in the scene: “God knows the heart”.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Honesty and Trust in Trade, 1774, etching from the book Kupfersammlung zu J.B. Basedows Elementarwerke, University and State Library of Saxony-Anhalt, Halle (Saale)

    Daniel’s move from Gdańsk to Berlin could be called economic emigration. Like today, emigration in the 18th century rarely went smoothly. Each migration experience is individual, but adaptation to the new environment has almost always been a challenge for the newcomer. Fortunately, Daniel was a German native speaker and was not affected by the language barrier, one of the greatest obstacles to communication abroad. However, researchers of the migration phenomenon emphasize that equally important in the adaptation process is a network of contacts, facilitating migrants’ functioning in a foreign reality. In Daniel’s case, his uncle and brother were the starting points of such a network in Berlin. Daniel also made many acquaintances among the French Huguenots settled in the city. He identified with them through his mother, a Huguenot. This group surrounded Daniel with care and their support soon proved invaluable and groundbreaking for him.

    “In a way, I also belong to those good people”, Daniel wrote about the Huguenots. He expressed his feelings about them through this engraving that depicted the Huguenot Barez family. The idyllic scene of reading the Bible together stays in a sharp contrast to the difficult beginnings of the Huguenot presence in Berlin. They began arriving in the city in greater numbers at the end of the 17th century, encouraged by the local tolerant religious policy. By the middle of the 18th century, they already accounted for nearly 25 per cent of the town’s population. However, ordinary Berliners had a negative attitude towards the growing “French colony”, considering them as competition and envying their privileges. It took decades before the Huguenots overcame this resentment and were not called refugiés anymore.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Jean Barez Reading the Bible, 1780, etching from Heinrich Matthias August Cramer’s book Unterhaltungen zur Beförderung der Häuslichen Glückseligkeit, Bavarian State Library, Munich

    What was Berlin like when Daniel arrived there in 1743? For over 40 years the city had been the capital of the Kingdom of Prussia, ruled by the Hohenzollern dynasty. With a population of around 100,000 it was more than double the size of Gdańsk, but it could not match the grandeur of Paris or London. However, as an important centre of the Enlightenment movement, Berlin was attracting more and more scientists, writers, philosophers, and artists. It also had something that Gdańsk and other Polish cities lacked – an academy of fine arts. More specifically: the Royal Prussian Academy of Arts and Mechanical Sciences, where it was possible to study painting under the guidance of professional artists. That is why Berlin was so appealing to Daniel.

    Many Berliners will probably recognize the view in this drawing: this is Unter den Linden avenue leading towards the castle, together with buildings on the square formerly known as the Forum Fridericianum. When Daniel arrived in Berlin, the area was in development, new institutions were being founded, and the city just began to embrace its capital and cosmopolitan character. This was largely thanks to the rapidly growing number of immigrants to the city: besides the French, the most numerous new groups were the Poles, Czechs, Jews, and Germans from outside of Prussia.

    Johann Georg Fünck, View of the Royal Opera in Berlin, c. 1750, etching, Stadtmuseum Berlin Foundation, Berlin

    Daniel did not undertake studies in the Academy of Arts, which was temporarily closed due to a fire shortly before his arrival to Berlin. In fact, he would not have managed to combine education in the Academy with everyday work anyway. So apart from practicing drawing on his own after work, Daniel could only enamel plates, key rings, and snuff boxes from his uncle’s store. He also occasionally managed to sell small paintings made by himself. However, after short tutoring session with one of the Berlin artists Daniel realized that he will never become an accomplished painter. Mastering the art of painting required professional studies, for which he had neither the time nor the resources, just like in Gdańsk. Initially an opportunity, the emigration slowly became for Daniel another source of disappointment.

    In Daniel’s drawing, a young man examines the painting with a critical eye. Could this be what Daniel looked like when he gazed disappointedly at his not-so-successful paintings?All this was not capable of forming me into an artist, because I received no instruction in either drawing or composing, nor did I have any acquaintance with any artist”. Daniel admitted years later. With regret and modesty, he acknowledged not only the public’s voice, but also his own limitations.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Man Looking at a Painting on an Easel, ok. 1780, sanguine, National Library in Warsaw

    In 1754, the 28-year-old Daniel put everything on the line: he left the job by his uncle and began apprenticing in the studio of Bernhard Rode, a local painter and engraver. Instead of painting, he concentrated on graphics and drawing, in which he was much more skilled. Under Rode’s tutelage Daniel mastered the etching technique and established his first lasting contacts with local artists. After more than 10 years of emigration, this provided him with the nucleus of the creative anchorage he sought after. Another personal network, perhaps even more important for Daniel, consisted of the members of the Berlin Huguenot community, who had their own publishing houses and newspapers. Seeing that a self-taught artist had joined their ranks, the Huguenots began commissioning Daniel to make drawings and engravings on religious themes as well as topics related to their own history.

    In the engraving, a dramatic scene unfolds: a grieving family bids farewell to a man in chains. The situation depicted by Daniel refers to a real event. In 1762, in the French city of Toulouse, a merchant named Jean Calas was wrongly accused and executed for the murder of his son.  Calas was a member of the Huguenot community discriminated against in France, which may have been the hidden reason for his conviction. He was rehabilitated posthumously, but to European Huguenots he remained a symbol of intolerance they faced in many places. Surge of these emotions led Daniel to create the engraving which sharply increased the interest in his work.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Jean Calas’s Farewell to His Family, 1767, etching, Gleimhaus. Museum of the German Enlightenment, Halberstadt

    Daniel finally made his name on the art market, attracting orders from outside of the Huguenot community. His integration into the Berlin artistic milieu, so far arduous and full of disappointments, suddenly accelerated. Daniel’s determination and diligence paid off, while his elegant and rapidly developing style of engraving was well received by the Berlin clientele. Especially the orders for book illustrations proliferated. Daniel became one of the most popular engravers of his time, respected and well paid. The moral principles observed by the Huguenot community, such as modesty, helped him not to boast about his success.

    A son of a witch as a hybrid of a man, a frog, a dog, and a bird? Why not! The figure of Caliban, one of the protagonists in William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, reveals Daniel’s rich imagination. Publishers, readers, and collectors appreciated his originality, narrative skills, and willingness to tackle a wide variety of topics. Daniel created illustrations for almost every kind of text: from popular novels, dramas, comedies, and satires, to calendars and textbooks, to encyclopedias and philosophical treatises.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Oh ho! Oh ho! Would It Had Been Done!, 1787, etching, National Library in Warsaw

    Daniel’s gradual settlement in Berlin occurred on a several levels: professional, socio-economic, and over time, the family level. According to researchers, starting a family during emigration increases the chances of staying abroad permanently. This is what happened in Daniel’s case. In 1755 he married Jeanne Barez, a goldsmith’s daughter, whom he met in the Huguenot community. Contrary to the common practice, their marriage was not arranged, but resulted from love. Daniel and Jeanne had seven children (five of whom reached adulthood) and despite living in a German-speaking environment, they gave their children French names and spoke French at home. This was another tribute to the roots of Daniel’s mother and the community that took him in. Daniel and Jeanne were married for 30 years until her death in 1785.

    Here, Daniel depicted himself and Jeanne about 4 years after their wedding, probably in an apartment on Brüderstraße in the center of Berlin where they used to live. With a slight smile on her face, Jeanne holds a portrait of her friend that Daniel created. The artist portrayed himself at work – perhaps on this very conjugal image. On the desk lies a magnifying glass, which Daniel used when chiseling the details. The miniature size of the work is a reminder that even in the case of painting, which he rarely undertook, Daniel was the master of small formats

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Self-Portrait with Wife, c. 1759, watercolor on ivory, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin

    Daniel put his family first. Ever since he established it, he accepted commissions for engravings and drawings not only to pursue his artistic passion, but above all to financially provide for his children and Jeanne, who took care of the household. Like many people who had limited access to education abroad and struggled to achieve professional satisfaction, Daniel made his best to ensure that his children got better opportunities than he did. He acknowledged that his children might want to become artists and did not plan for their future a ‘practical’ profession like trade, which he himself was forced to pursue in his youth. For this reason, Daniel, just like his own father, acquainted his daughters and sons with art: he let them spend time in his studio, encouraged them to study paintings and engravings from his collection and, above all, taught them to draw.

    Daniel often portrayed Jeanne and his children. The family was his favourite topic. He showed them at household activities, on walks, and at leisure. Daniel’s tenderness and affection for his loved ones emanates from those scenes. In this picture, he showed the family together on a trip to the Tiergarten park. In the foreground, in front of their parents, you can see from the right to the left: the eldest daughters Jeanette and Suzette with the youngest Justine, Henri Isaac, and Louis Guillaume.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Artist’s Family in Tiergarten, 1772, oil on board, Stadtmuseum Berlin Foundation, photo: Oliver Ziebe, Berlin

    But besides his family in Berlin, there was also another one – in Poland. Daniel’s mother and sisters still lived in Gdańsk. Over the years of separation, he wrote them letters and attached drawings of himself, his wife, and children, much like we send photos to our loved ones today.  Researchers claim that every emigration, even if turned into a professional and personal success, comes with an emotional cost. Emigrants tend to cherish their loved ones and hometowns. They also keep a close eye on what is happening in their homeland.  Paradoxically, these feelings of longing are often accompanied by a sense of ‘getting stuck’ in the new environment and diminishing motivation to return or to pay visit home. In the 18th century, the journey on horseback from Berlin to Gdańsk took up to 2 weeks. But was this the only factor that discouraged Daniel from visiting his mother and sisters? Or maybe it really was the effect of ‘getting stuck’? All in all, it was not until the summer of 1783, 40 years after his departure from Berlin, that the nearly 60-year-old Daniel finally decided to travel to Gdańsk.

    Daniel made this engraving for his mother, as indicated by the dedication at the bottom of the work. Upon completion, he sent it to his family home in Gdańsk. The engraving depicts Daniel, Jeanne, and their five children in his studio. Through works like this one, Daniel’s mother was able to see how her son, whom she had last seen as a teenager, was changing, what her daughter-in-law, whom she had never met in person, looks like, and how her grandchildren were growing.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Cabinet d’un peintre, 1771, etching, Herzog Anton Ulrich Museum, Braunschweig

    Daniel recorded his journey from Berlin to Gdańsk in detail in his drawings. They are like a travelogue: arranged in a chronological order, the drawings document the sights and scenes which he saw along the way. Daniel compared them with his childhood memories and took note of the changes which occurred since he had left. He experienced the journey very consciously and wanted to capture the feelings that accompanied it. The culmination of the journey was his arrival in Gdańsk. There, Daniel went straight to the his mother’s house which he had seen as a teenager.

    In this drawing, Daniel probably depicted the house in Gdańsk, where his mother and two of his sisters still lived. Supposedly, it was situated on what is now 7 Grobla I Street, right next to St. Mary’s Church. The drawing suggests that it was a typical Gdańsk tenement house – tall and narrow, with an ornamental gable and a stoop leading to the front door.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Chodowiecki’s Family House, 1773, pen, sepia and ink drawing, from Daniel Chodowiecki’s Von Berlin nach Danzig: Eine Künstlerfahrt im Jahre 1773, Berlin 1895, National Library in Warsaw

    Daniel’s mother awaited him inside the house. What did she and the son feel when they saw each other for the first time after so long? In the greeting scene, personal, intimate, and hushed, the artist kept his and his mother’s face hidden. He did not want to share those emotions.

    “The name of this lady will not be lost in the history of art of our times, because she was the mother of the unsurpassed Chodowiecki”, wrote Johanna Schopenhauer, mother of the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, about Marie Henriette Ayrer. When she was a child, Johanna attended the school founded by Marie Henriette after her husband’s death. Two of Marie Henriette’s daughters, who remained in Gdańsk, helped her.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Chodowiecki’s Greeting with His Mother, 1773, pen, sepia and ink drawing, from Daniel Chodowiecki’s Von Berlin nach Danzig: Eine Künstlerfahrt im Jahre 1773, Berlin 1895, National Library in Warsaw

    A few weeks spent in Gdańsk were like the end of a long chapter in Daniel’s migratory life. Sentimental time spent with loved ones, meetings with people he used to know in his childhood, and walks around the places he remembered filled to some extent the emotional gap he had experienced for 40 years. But he did not belong there anymore. On 10 August 1773, having set out on his return journey to Berlin, Daniel wrote: “Farewell, my friends, farewell, my homeland. We said goodbye to each other – my sister Louisa cried a lot … My family returned home and I am returning to Berlin”.

    Daniel’s visit was a highlight of the season in Gdańsk. His fame had reached the city, and in the eyes of many he personified the success abroad, even though local elites perceived artists as craftsmen, people who work with their hands, and therefore are lower in the social hierarchy. Wealthy citizens of Gdańsk gladly invited Daniel to parties and commissioned portraits from him. However, he was most eager to spend time with his mother and sisters, as shown in this drawing.

    Click here to see all of Daniel’s drawings from his travel to Gdańsk.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Family Walk on the Butter Market, 1773, pen, sepia and ink drawing, from Daniel Chodowiecki’s Von Berlin nach Danzig: Eine Künstlerfahrt im Jahre 1773, Berlin 1895, National Library in Warsaw

  • A POLE
    This was not the only time when Daniel called Poland his homeland. He observed events in home country and was concerned about its condition, especially when the Commonwealth faced the successive partitions by Prussia, Austria, and Russia. In 1772, after the first partition, Daniel wrote: “By my father I am a Pole, a descendant of a brave nation that will soon cease to exist”. After the Polish parliament, Sejm, had enacted a constitution on 3 May 1791 to reform the endangered state, Daniel responded with prints commemorating this event. In 1795, after the final partition of the Commonwealth, he also made a series of engravings about major events in Polish history.

    In this engraving, Daniel conveyed the uniqueness of the Constitution of 3 May by the means of allegory. The figure representing Poland has the face of King Stanisław August Poniatowski, the co-author of the Constitution. He spreads his cloak over three peasants in a protective gesture. The Constitution introduced state protection over the “agriculture populace”, which must have seemed groundbreaking to Daniel. The peasants are accompanied by two young women: Art and Science, who symbolize the beauty and wisdom of the enactment of the Constitution. In the background you can see medallions with emblems of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which together formed the Commonwealth.

    Click here to learn more about the Constitution of 3 May 1791 and to see other engravings commemorating it. You can also download for free a German-language book about the Constitution.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, The New Polish Constitution, 1792, etching, National Library in Warsaw

    However, the question of Daniel’s national belonging remains an ambiguous issue. After years in Berlin, he also became a loyal Prussian citizen. Paradoxically, his pro-Polish emotions went hand in hand with his attachment to the new homeland, the Kingdom of Prussia, which participated in the partitions of the Commonwealth. Daniel owed his success not only to his talent and determination, but also to the supportive environment in Berlin. He accepted commissions for portraits of Prussian rulers and engravings promoting Prussian history.  He advanced in the social hierarchy and, as a self-taught artist, reached the top in Berlin. In 1796, five years before his death, he was appointed the director of the Academy of Fine Arts in Berlin – the same one, at which he had not have the chance to study. Daniel knew how to take advantage of the opportunity that was given to him in Prussia.

    In this propaganda engraving, Daniel captured the specificity of the reign of the Prussian King Frederick II the Great. The ruler is supervising the army which, thanks to his reforms, achieved numerous victories and strengthened Prussia’s position in Europe. Even though Daniel avoided discussing Prussian politics, there were many similar politically engaged engravings among his works. This one was created five years after the first partition of Poland, in which Frederick and his army took part.

    Daniel Chodowiecki, Frederick the Great at the Review of Troops, 1777, etching, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

    Our contemporary need to classify people by nationality stems from the formation of the first nation-states. This phenomenon dates back to the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Modern categories of nationality make it difficult to understand the attitude of people like Daniel. Some scholars call him a Polish artist, others a German or Prussian one. They forget, or refuse to remember, that Daniel himself was aware of the ambivalence of his migratory background. There were other components making up his sense of belonging, too: his partially French ancestry and the affiliation to the Huguenots. Daniel was aware of his roots, but he put down his own in Berlin – all this started when a naive 17-year-old, who stubbornly dreamed of a career as an artist, left Gdańsk to pursue a better future. All the components of his identity permeated and later revealed themselves in his art.

    Daniel’s legacy was exceptional – three of his children became artists. This portrait of Daniel was painted five years before his death by his daughter Suzette. She was the first woman to receive a permanent membership of the Academy of Fine Arts in Berlin. Her older sister Jeanne specialized in pastel and also had her works exhibited at the Academy. In turn, their younger brother Louis Guillaume concentrated on engraving and often copied their father’s works.

    Suzette Henry, Portrait of Daniel Chodowiecki, c. 1795, oil on canvas, Stadtmuseum Berlin Foundation, photo: Oliver Ziebe, Berlin

    Daniel Chodowiecki is one of many historical figures whose life and identity were shaped by emigration. His experiences seem relevant today and many people, who under various circumstances came from Poland to Germany, may relate to them. These experiences – past and present – inspired us to create a series of podcasts about such people. One of the episodes tells the story of Daniel Chodowiecki. You can learn  from it not only about Daniel’s life and output, but also about the French cemetery in Berlin, where he was buried in 1801. We invite you to listen to this and other episodes.

    An online exhibition of the Centre for Historical Research of the Polish Academy of Sciences in Berlin

    Author of the exhibition: Maciej Gugała
    Translated into German and English by: Olga Młynarczyk
    Editing and proofreading of the German version: Agnieszka Zawadzka

    The visual material used in this exhibition comes from legal sources and was acquired in accordance with copyright law.

    The life and work of Daniel Chodowiecki are the subject of many publications. For those interested, in addition to our exhibition and podcast, we especially recommend the books:
    – Kalina Zabuska, Daniela Chodowieckiego przypadki, Gdańsk 2018
    Daniel Chodowieckis Reise von Berlin nach Danzig im Jahre 1773/Daniela Chodowieckiego podróż z Berlina do Gdańska w 1773 roku, exhibition catalogue by Gudrun Schmidt, Berlin 2001
    Gdańszczanin w Berlinie. Daniel Chodowiecki i kultura 2. połowy XVIII wieku w Europie Północnej/Ein Danziger in Berlin. Daniel Chodowiecki und die Kultur Nordeuropas in der 2. Hälfte des 18. Jahrhunderts, edited by Edmund Kizik, Ewa Barylewska Szymańska, Wojciech Szymański, Gdańsk 2002

    You can also watch the animated film Chodowiecki by Jakub Pączek available on YouTube.

    If you would like to see more of the digitized works of Daniel Chodowiecki, we especially recommend the online collections of: the Polona portal of the National Library in Warsaw, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, the Stadtmuseum Berlin and the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

    Image on poster: Daniel Chodowiecki, The Farewell, 1773, pen, sepia and ink drawing, from Daniel Chodowiecki’s Von Berlin nach Danzig: Eine Künstlerfahrt im Jahre 1773, Berlin 1895, National Library in Warsaw