I never tire of photographing the University of Wroclaw. While some universities look sterile and institutional, the University of Wroclaw is nothing like that; it doesn’t look like a place of lecture halls and library fines. It has the slightly magical quality of a stage set that pale, ornamented façade, the tower, the rows of windows going gold one by one as someone remembers to turn on a lamp. I frame it low, with a fringe of tree branches at the edge of the shot. The river carries the reflection of those lovely buildings toward me in long, undulating ribbons.
Slodowa Island, a students’ haven
The real subject, however, is not only the buildings. It’s the island itself. Long a haven for students, the island does what it does nearly every evening from April through October; it fills with students who have forsaken their desks for the grass of Slodowa Island. They arrive as couples and groups, blankets rolled under their arms, with someone carrying a crate of beer purchased at the stall by the bridge. The island became locally famous because public consumption of alcohol is not allowed in Poland, but on the island, the police mostly leave them alone. So, the students who arrive as dusk begins to fall don’t come for the view, exactly; they come because everyone is there and the rules that govern other parts of the city don’t exactly apply on the island. They come with their blankets and beer because Slodowa Island is where most of their academic lives will take place, the part that isn’t found on the syllabus or covered on any exam.
This is a spot that Daria and I used to come to; in fact, it was one of our favorite places in the city, so it’s always special. I always come here when I’m in Wroclaw, and typically at the same time of day. I come at dusk, when the sun is dropping low, and the river, reflecting the lights of the university, is golden and dimpled, like a sheet of hammered copper. Across it, the university’s baroque tower shimmers in the blue light of early evening.
Photographing the university at dusk
I set up my tripod on the grass at the western end of the island, where the ground slopes downward to the river. Behind me, groups of students are clustered close, their faces illuminated by their phones. A couple sits slightly apart from the rest, their feet dangling close above the water. Nobody is looking at the university. It is easily the most photographed building in Wroclaw, but here, on an island temporarily populated by college students, the young people who study inside it have their backs turned to it, focused instead on their devices.
As the last slivers of daylight recede, the university’s reflection begins to deepen to a rich bronze and the windows across the water go from gold to white as window lamps are lit, I think of these transitions: architecture surrendering to atmosphere and history giving way to the present. It’s part of the reason that I keep returning to this place and setting up my camera on this same stretch of grass.
