Works on Paper - Author's Commentary

Clearing (Polana), 2024, 28.7 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

Another work inspired by Japan. The torii gate is hidden in the shadow of the forest wall. The clearing is illuminated by the sun. In Japan, symbolically marks the transition from the mundane to the sacred, and a spot where kami are welcomed and thought to travel through. The presence of a torii at the entrance is usually the simplest way to identify Shinto shrines (after Wikipedia). Anubis in this context takes on a new meaning.

In the Middle of Nowhere (Gdzieś, nie wiadomo gdzie), 2024, 28.7 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper.

This summer, I went to Szczebrzeszyn, a place that is very important to me. The last time I was there was a few years ago, and a lot has changed. My sister told me there was a new train stop, in a different location. The Szczebrzeszyn station was never large, just a wooden house with one room, a small ticket window and a tiled heating stove, two wooden benches. At the back of the structure, much more loading infrastructure, a few cottages nearby, but all quite a distance from the town. Today, all this has been reduced to a modern stop in the middle of a meadow, at the intersection with the ‘White Road’ leading to the charming Brodzka Hill.

I got off at a shiny and new stop, the light from the new street lamps building a strong boundary between the platform and the surroundings. The air smelled like a meadow. Not a living soul around. The train left and I felt like I had landed on an alien planet.

Społem, 2024, 28.7 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

I am a child of the communist era. A time when hunting and gathering was the basis of survival. The turn of the 70s and 80s was terrible for the adults around me, while for me it was simply my childhood. The nostalgia of blocks of flats, neighbourhood shops, and press kiosks is dear to my heart. I like to paint what I remember of winter days when twilight came earlier and snow covered the local toboggan hills promisingly. I have positive associations with the light of fluorescent street lamps. Just like peering into lighted windows. This was a time before the advent of anxiety, which is linked to a deeper understanding of life. A time when someone held my hand tightly and guided me home.

What’s in the bag? (Co się kryje w tej torbie?), 2024, 28.7 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

I like dogs a lot. I am moved by their attentiveness to us and everything around us. My dog, long ago, barked at the waves when she saw them for the first time. I often paint Anubis in the company of a canine friend. Anyone who has had a dog and lost it will understand. I like to think that somewhere out there, Jagoda continues to bark at the waves and collect sticks.

Foggy, 2024, 29.7 x 32.5 cm, acrylic on paper

A work painted from a photograph by UAX, a Nigerian R&B musician and privately a fan of the Anubis series. Seyi is a versatile artist, he is interested in visual arts and takes very cool photographs. He didn’t mind if I painted a work based on one of them. The morning mist in Lagos creates a mysterious aura.

Haunted Gas Station (Nawiedzona stacja paliw), 2024, 29.5 x 29.5 cm, acrylic on paper

Another work from the series featuring Anubis with a yōkai motif. My path to the world of yōkai was through pop culture. I was fascinated by GeGeGe no Kitarō, a series by the excellent mangaka Shigeru Mizuki created in the 1960s; it popularised yōkai and gave many creatures, hitherto living only in oral legends, a concrete form. A great influence on my imagination was Hayao Miyazaki, co-founder of Studio Ghibli, famous for many anime films, including Spirited Away.

The little demon who eats ice cream at the gas station is a reference to the aesthetics of Miyazaki’s films. It’s worth taking your demons out for ice cream once in a while.

Seichi Ichiyo, 2024, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

Mount Togakushi is sacred to the Japanese; according to legends, yamabushi, mysterious ascetics, lived here. This place – Zuijinmon, which I know only from the photographs of my friend Arash Ebrahimi – appears regularly in my work. Zuijinmon Gate keeps coming back to me as if in recurring dreams. It is strangely fused with my memory, I feel like I was physically there once.

An avenue lined with giant cedars leads to the Tokagushi temple; they say it was the power of the place that made them grow so big.

Somewhere in Poland (Gdzieś w Polsce), 2024, 29.5 x 29.5 cm, acrylic on paper

Project Riese (German: giant) is the code name for Nazi Germany’s largest mining and construction project, begun and unfinished in the Owl Mountains and at and under the Książ Castle between 1943 and 1945. It was to have been one of Adolf Hitler’s headquarters. Lower Silesia has many secrets, but the Riese Project is the most terrifying of them all. Visiting the post-German adits depressed me on a par with visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau, perhaps because the organised groups allowed into the dark interiors of Włodarz are more in the spirit of adventure than reflection.

After coming to the surface, I was relieved. War frightens me, not only because of the destruction it brings, but because of the mark on the human soul it leaves for generations, whether we realise it or not. Outside, the trees continue to grow, the herbs are in bloom.

Lonely (Samotny), 2024, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

We are often alone, but never truly lonely. It is important to remember that, and that is what this work is about.

Green, 2024, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

The child in the Cracovian costume is me, and the location is Wolski Forest. The title of the work comes from the title of a folk song I heard beautifully interpreted by Bela Komoszyńska.

On The Way to Work (Po drodze do pracy), 2024, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

I had a period in my life where I had a so-called normal job. This site, visible in the picture, no longer exists – it has been replaced by new blocks of flats. On many occasions, I would wait at this railway crossing until the barriers were raised and I could get to the other side of the tracks. The light in the signal box building was often on, visible well in the morning gloom. Passing by this place, I always wondered what the flagman’s room looked like.

Cold Summer Evening (Chłodny letni wieczór), 2024 22 x 22 cm, acrylic on paper

Back to Szczebrzeszyn and the kiosk theme. I will return to it many more times. The kiosk was located at the market, near the church. It no longer exists, of course. Much like the beautiful trees, lawns, and rose beds. All clearcut away. Some residents of Szczebrzeszyn are grieving this urban greening as if they have lost a loved one. I am among them too, but I also miss the kiosk. I used to buy magazines and comic books there; it was a treasure trove of cool little objects of my desire. It lit up the night, in summer and winter. An irrevocable part of the childhood landscape.

The Scent of Cologne (Ten zapach wody kolońskiej), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

The place is real, a barbershop hidden in one of the older streets of a New Jersey town. As is the mural featured on its wall. Its author is Tony Sjoman, a New Yorker, a wonderful artist and a friendly man. The title is a record of the moment – there really was a smell of a very elegant, somewhat old-fashioned, gentleman’s gentleman.

The Shadow on the Other Side of the Street (Ten cień po drugiej stronie ulicy), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

I am fascinated by the colour of bricks. I don’t know if it’s because of my undisguised love of Hopper, or if it’s because I grew up in a big red brick house myself. As a child, I enjoyed serving brick cakes with a touch of mud to the adults. The brick townhouses of New York and New Jersey have stolen my heart and often appear in my work.

The Heated Asphalt in Front of the Shop (Ten rozgrzany asfalt przed sklepem), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

The cool thing about southern France is that there is always a castle nearby. And where there is a castle there are usually local vineyards and shops selling local food. Here is one of them. You can’t see the castle hill in the frame, but it’s there. Chateau Crussol rises majestically on the rocky slopes, while below it is placed, quite incongruously and somewhat out of context, a sprawling shopping centre, a gas station, and a McDonald’s. Together, this creates a very abstract picture.

The Sound of Insects Hidden in the Grass (Ten dźwięk owadów ukrytych w trawach), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

My running path along the River Rudawa (Krakow). Once natural, today paved over. It makes me sad because I liked the beaten path. As a memento, I have this work.

The Snowflakes Melting on a Pizza Box (Te płatki śniegu na gorącym pudełku od pizzy), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

Very good pizza, highly recommended.

The First Smell of Autumn in the Mountains (Ten pierwszy zapach jesieni w górach), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

Leśnica, on the Slovak-Polish border. Not far from the village lives a bear, everyone knows exactly where, and no one goes there. A fascinating symbiosis between nature and humanity.

The Migrating Birds II (Migrujące ptaki II), 2022, 42 x 29.5 cm, acrylic on paper

I have a slight obsession with murmurations. Murmurations are the simultaneous flights of thousands of birds; I love watching them. I watched them in Valence, as the town lies on a starling migration route. I read somewhere that this perfect flock synchronisation has its origin in a mathematical model: birds group themselves into sevens, agreeing on their flight trajectory with their nearest neighbour. This discovery was used by scientists to build models to coordinate groups of flying machines, such as drones for firefighting.

Here Comes the Sun (Nadchodzi słońce), 2022, 29.5 x 42 cm, acrylic on paper

I once returned from a holiday by car through Slovakia. We passed a fantastic vintage car rally. I took pictures of a few of them – they are beautiful. I have a great affection for oldtimers. My grandfather was a mechanic and loved his ‘beauties’ – that’s how he referred to them. I really enjoyed sitting in his garage, even though it was strictly forbidden.