Path. Tatiana Czekalska and Leszek Golec
the museum’s longest
Leszek Golec and Tatiana Czekalska’s exhibition is a story about the often unnoticed and longest-standing visitors to the gallery. The space is planned in such a way as not to threaten their subtle entities and to allow a shared experience, also on a sonic level, in the most non-invasive way possible.
To find a path. To find one’s flock. To be in a shared sense of the world, beyond language and beyond genres. It sounds like a casual, everyday existence.
To look for ways not to hurt is to look for love. It is not infantile, appropriated by religion. It comes out of action, entering into relationships built on a sense of community, of one beginning and end, or order of Life.
In this rhythm we vibrate, we humans, we animals. So many important strangers share the space of life with us. What place is occupied by these who we do not even notice? Barely brushing the air with a transparent wing, running on spider legs, in their own purpose and direction known to themselves. They, unnoticed, have a chance to avoid a flypaper or a blow with a swatter. What about those born into darkness, filth, stench, and suffering, for whom a violent death proves to be deliverance? They too are out of sight. They come back as shreds, in pieces. They are gaining new names, sopocka, krakowska, babuni. Blade, trotters, tails, and tongues. It is familiar and smells of prosperity. The master’s table dripping with death is at the fingertips of almost every human hand. What is left over can be discarded.
Being able to choose is a blessing. For others, a curse.
The position of observer is also the position of participant. Not necessarily passive one. The decision to withdraw, to not be, to be still, is an action. On this path you can recover, regenerate. To sit, to breathe, to let thoughts and feelings flow. No more shouting, no more bashing. Peaceful revolution. I do not know whether it is more effective to go out on the street or to make vegan dumplings together, discussing the paths of love with each other and with others. What I do know is that, speaking of love, there is no consent to intentional, systemic killing. No consent to taste and traditions, placed higher than life and feeling. There is no exchange when there is only the soothing of one’s conscience. Transcendence mingles with the smell of mud and blood, meditation with the feel of battered animal flesh.
Karolina Pikosz – curator
21.11.2023 – 21.01.2024