By Katy Savage, Standard Staff
It was the start of World War II and Germans just invaded Oliver Wittasek’s country. It was a time of air raids and dead bodies swinging from lampposts, a time when airplanes dropped bombs on houses at random and bullets whizzed nightly over Croatian rooftops.
At this time of death and horror, Wittasek and his father dug their hands into clay.
“It was a kind of an escape for my father at the time,” said Wittasek.
Ceramics was something Wittasek shared with his biological father for the brief time they knew each other — and something that created a bond between them, shaping and forming his life. * After he was born, Wittasek was abandoned by his biological parents. He never knew why.
He was raised by his maternal grandmother until his mom reappeared in his life when he was 8, introducing Wittasek and his older brother to her husband and two children.
Wittasek’s stepfather perpetually locked Wittasek in a bathroom when Wittasek acted out and he hit Wittasek so hard that his head would bleed — almost daily. Wittasek never cried. He wasn’t afraid.
The beatings just caused more anger and rebellion in him. Wittasek was a troublemaker. He and his friends thought it was fun to crawl over barbed wire to cross the border to Yugoslavia and then sneak back when border guards weren’t looking.
He was angry at his grandmother for leaving him. He was angry at his mother.
“They couldn’t control me anymore,” Wittasek said.
Wittasek’s mother dropped him off at an orphanage and took off to Argentina, abandoning him a second time.
Whatever fear Wittasek had was quashed by his strong religious beliefs. He felt connected to a higher power at age 4 and he describes voices in his head — God telling him what to do. God became a symbol for the father he didn’t have at the time.
So when his real father walked into his life, “that changed my life, totally,” Wittasek said recently.
Wittasek was 13 when he met his father. The man showed up unexpectedly at a funeral one day, showing Wittasek what love meant for the first time, after 13 years of feeling abandoned.
Wittasek had structure for the first time in his life.
“It turned me totally around, from a street kid I became interested in school, in studying, learning,” he said.
Wittasek was a teenager in the early 1940s and he devoted himself to philosophy and learning, searching for answers to life’s meaning when so many were dying. He found solace in knowing how everything worked.
Wittasek came to the United States after he received a scholarship to study science at the University of Chicago. He then enrolled in the Art Institute of Chicago to pursue ceramics. * Wittasek is 90 now. He lives in Woodstock. He’s short and hunched over and his hands shake.
The devoted learner became a teacher, first at the former South Royalton College and then at his private studio attached to part of his house. He calls his studio the Potter’s House — a place for children, the disabled and adults to learn for free.
In his later life Wittasek learned that his father also pursued ceramics. He worked for the well-known Wedgwood Factory in England, the company that makes the queen’s china. Wittasek acquired some of his father’s artwork when his father died — detailed pieces that are in his studio, beside his own artwork.
This is how he stays connected to his father who he lost contact with during the war and never saw again. He never had this type of connection growing up.
Wittasek’s priority was never money or work. It was always family. He moved to Vermont after his first son was born in Chicago, arriving here after his car broke down on the way to Maine and liking it enough to stay.
He sat with his kids for a couple hours every day after school and they worked on homework together. Wittasek helped them construct volcanoes and win science fairs and science medals and made sure they had everything that he didn’t.
“My dad and I would get so worked up and excited about (the science fair), we would come up with some crazy ideas,” said Nathan Wittasek, who is now the vice president at Simpson Gumpertz and Heger Inc., in California.
“He was a very loving dad,” said Wittasek’s oldest son Matthew, who is the director of IT Infrastructure at Compassion International in Colorado.
When they weren’t doing homework and science projects, they spent time on ceramics.
Wittasek’s studio was an open place for anybody to learn. Wittasek is still teaching.
Lee Larson of Graniteville comes to Wittasek’s studio once a month and spends all day.
“He is one of the most incredibly creative people I’ve ever met,” she said. “He’s just a remarkable, generous spirit.”
Wittasek instills in his students a desire to create something.
“I think he really does love to work with people and see what they can do and help them with their projects,” Wittasek’s wife of nearly 50 years, Patricia said.
This article first appeared in the August 4, 2016 edition of the Vermont Standard.