From The Peopling of New York City

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Who Am I?

Artur Dabrowski.

This man is an architect.

A dreamer.

A poet and an artist.

Son of Polish immigrants,

native of Brooklyn,

migrant via the F.

I could go on more, but if you really want to know him.

I've heard you will most certainly find him in the basement of Shepard Hall.

He will get sleep... one day.
He will get sleep... one day.

Where I'm From

My Family History Treading Back Three Generations: My Family History (Short)

For multiple generations my family, with very little exception, has been substantially Polish. The story originates in Poland, former and current, for many generations. However, it is on my father’s side that harbors a purer Polish root. But what my family history lacks in cultural diversity, it makes up in regional diversity. My grandmother’s family lived in the northeast of Poland but was of different societal scenes; a carpenter/farmer married with a middle-class girl. They raised six children on a small farm and lived one hundred miles away from my grandfather’s family, whom lived on the outskirts of the town Lomza. Although the surname Dabrowski originates from a very noble family, my family were just commoners. Unlike his father, my grandfather was an avid learner. But when World War II came, the government looked for people to drop their education to work. Thusly, my grandparents met at a little town called Stare Juchy, raising three boys whom coincidently only raised boys as well. But my father, Krzysztof, wanted to experience something new and left for America, the first in his line of family to do so.

My mother’s side of the family was less rural. Although, her grandfather’s relatives were from the eastern countryside of Poland, her grandmother’s parents were living in Detroit, Michigan. Daughter of a coal miner, my grandmother Janina Szalanska was an American citizen, unlike her parents. As a youth, her entire family returned to Bialystok, Poland. During World War II, her brother managed to sneak out from the closed border but she was unable to, and ended up raising a family. She later went back to visit relatives in New York. My mother came a year later while her brothers stayed and raised families. Sometime then, my parents met in Brooklyn where we continue to live. It is safe to say my brother Robert and I are first generation Americans. Although technically my grandmother was born here first, we have been culturally raised in an American way, in both our dialects and our education. It wouldn’t be far off to assume me and my brother will most likely be the awkward branch in our family tree.


New York City is a place of exploration. It is an architectural playground and a cultural gathering point. What I experience here shapes and cultivates my intellect, and my architectural expression. It is from here that I will learn the societal responsibilities and the inherent contract of an architect that I am to bound to, while still developing my creativity to challenge and contradict. My New York City is full of inspiration, and in the future I hope to be part of this inspiration, through my architecture and philosophical endeavors.