When I first saw Aleksandra Waliszewska’s self-portraits, painted on scraps of cardboard, I felt as if I had blown off the dust covering a real treasure.
I suppose the archaeologist who dug out the Fayoum portraits could have experienced a similar sensation. There was a powerful mystery in those modest pictures. Even the smallest sketches surprised one, being drawn by a confident hand led by an imagination and sensitivity rarely found nowadays.
I was flipping through the cartons, one by one, and Aleksanda appeared on each, in a series of consecutive auto-images.
What she's after is not only all those actress-like fanciful poses and disguises, after all, thought I. She's a priestess, her little paintings being her religion; she revolves within and around them as if dancing extatically.
But even today I can not fully answer the questions which presented themselves to me then. Who is Aleksandra? what is she trying to tell us through her art? I only know that what she does reaches out to you going upstream, against prevailing artistic strategies. And I am happy to be the first to present this art and this artist to you.