Julie Wolfthorn was born Julie Wolf on January 8, 1864, in Thorn, West Prussia, a city now known as Toruń in Poland. She was the youngest of five children in a Jewish family, and her birthplace held such meaning for her that she later wove it into her name, becoming Julie Wolfthorn. Before she was even born, her father had died, and at just six years old, she lost her mother too. These early losses shaped her childhood. She and her sisters grew up under the care of their grandmother, who moved the family to Berlin in 1883.
Berlin became the launching point for her artistic journey. She began studying graphics and painting there, but Germany’s art academies remained closed to women until 1919. So in the early 1890s, Wolfthorn followed the path many ambitious young women artists took: she went to Paris. At the private Colarossi Art Academy, she found freedom and inspiration, connecting with fellow artists like Ida Gerhardi and Jelka Rosen. Paris gave her what Berlin could not at the time: a chance to develop her craft without the barriers that gender imposed back home.
When she returned to Berlin in 1893, she continued her studies at Curt Herrmann’s painting and drawing school for women in 1895. Her work soon appeared in prominent exhibitions across Germany, in Munich, Hamburg, Weimar, and at the Great Berlin Art Exhibition. Her art ranged widely in style and subject. She painted portraits, intimate nudes, and landscapes inspired by her travels. Her approach moved fluidly between impressionism, expressionism, Art Nouveau, and New Objectivity. In 1897, she had her breakthrough when she exhibited a life-size pastel portrait titled Frau Konsul Auerbach.
By the early 20th century, Julie Wolfthorn had become one of Germany’s most accomplished female artists, standing alongside Käthe Kollwitz and Dora Hitz. Her portraits captured the faces of Berlin’s cultural elite: art patrons Ida and Richard Dehmel, actresses Tilla Durieux, Carola Neher, and Marlene Dietrich, director Björn Björnson, writer Gerhart Hauptmann, surgeon Carl Ludwig Schleich, and many others. She had a particular gift for portraying influential women, and her work reflected her commitment to honoring their contributions to society.
Wolfthorn was deeply engaged in the artistic movements of her time. In 1898, she co-founded the Berlin Secession alongside Max Liebermann and other progressive artists who rejected the conservative art policies of the Wilhelmine Empire. She also joined the Verein der Künstlerinnen und Kunstfreunde Berlin that same year and became a member of the Künstlerinnenvereinigung München, which had its own academy for women. In 1922, she joined the Hiddenseer Künstlerinnenbund, a collective of women artists. Her activism extended beyond her own career. In 1905, she and over 200 female artists signed a petition demanding admission to the Prussian Academy of Arts, but the academy director Anton von Werner rejected it.
Around the turn of the century, Wolfthorn settled in Berlin’s Tiergarten district, living at Kurfürstenstrasse 50 for more than 40 years. The building no longer exists today. She made study trips to artists’ colonies in Worpswede, Hiddensee, and Ascona, and traveled to Italy. In 1904, she opened her own studio for students, and the following year, she married art writer Rudolf Klein. Throughout this period, her portraits remained in high demand, her work appeared on the covers of the magazine Jugend, and she continued to be a visible and respected figure in Berlin’s art world.
Everything changed in 1933 when the Nazi regime came to power. As a Jewish artist, Wolfthorn was expelled from associations, forbidden from publishing, and restricted to exhibiting only with the Jewish Cultural Association, the Jüdischer Kulturbund. Despite these brutal restrictions, she kept creating and teaching, even after being officially banned from her profession in 1939. In 1933, her portrait of Christian Rohlfs, a painter whom the Nazis had ostracized, was shown at the first Kulturbund event in Berlin. Around 1938, she painted Woman in a Green Dress, a portrait of Paula Lutze, wife of high-ranking Nazi official Viktor Lutze, though the circumstances of this commission remain unclear.
For a long time, she refused to leave. After the November pogroms of 1938, she finally tried to arrange her escape, seeking a visa to the United States, but by then it was too late. When her deportation notice arrived in 1942, she hid and distributed her paintings, trying to preserve what she could. On October 17, 1942, she wrote a farewell letter to her friend, architect Carl Eeg. Her words were simple and heartbreaking: “Today I am sending you my last greeting. We are waiting here for transportation to Theresienstadt and are almost happy to finally be rid of the uncertainty. Do not forget us”.
On October 28, 1942, at the age of 78, Julie Wolfthorn and her sister Luise were deported to the Theresienstadt ghetto. Luise died shortly after their arrival. Julie survived for more than two years in the ghetto. Even there, under unimaginable conditions, she continued to draw. One of her last known works, created in 1943, is a watercolor pencil drawing showing the face of an older woman marked by illness. On December 29, 1944, just days before her 81st birthday, Julie Wolfthorn died, weakened by malnutrition and the brutal deprivations of the camp.
After the war, her legacy was largely forgotten. Many of her works were lost or hidden away in private collections. But in 1993, the Association of Berlin Women Artists organized an exhibition that brought her contributions back into public view. Since then, her memory has been honored in multiple ways. A street near Berlin’s Nordbahnhof bears her name, and a memorial plaque stands in Berlin Mitte. In 2002, Stolpersteine, small brass memorial plaques embedded in the pavement, were laid for her and her sister Luise at Kurfürstenstrasse 50 in Berlin-Tiergarten. Another Stolperstein was placed in Vitte on the island of Hiddensee in 2011. Her name also appears in the “Room of Names” at the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin.
Julie Wolfthorn’s story is one of talent and resilience, of a woman who carved out a place for herself in a world that resisted her at every turn. She fought for recognition, for herself and for other women artists. She created beauty and meaning even as darkness closed in around her. In her final letter, she asked not to be forgotten. Today, we remember her not only for what was taken from her, but for what she gave: a life devoted to art, a legacy that endures.
Your donation, no matter the size, helps sustain authentic research, creative writing, and the spirit of sharing that connects us all. Let yourself relax and click below to show your support.