She pulled the covers over her eyes. She always did this when it was dark and when the shadows began to creep across the walls of her bedroom. Under the covers, she could imagine the sun shining into her eyes so strongly that she had to close them and hide her head under a pink pillowcase. Otherwise, the bright rays could even blind her.
The world under the covers did not look like the world outside. The shapes were less distinct, although well known. Like that unfortunate ladder on which she broke her knee one summer. She would swear by her mother, father, uncle Kaz, by all those close to her that she remembered it perfectly well. Now, however, she is not sure if the structure was her height, perhaps fifteen centimeters above her head. Whether she walked upright under it, or on crouched legs, if not on all fours at all. Regardless of everything, it is the same ladder. The paintwork is still shining, the snaky arms still twist at the sides. She can still feel its slippery, cool touch. Flaking patches of black paint stay in the hollows of the hand, stick to fingerprints. If she opens her clenched fists, she will see it there. Crushed, old, slightly faded but still present. Like that splinter that once entered a fingernail and could not come out for a long time. And even when her mother removed it with a thin needle that she used to sew together fashionable patterns from fashion magazines, it was impossible to say with 100% certainty that the splinter was gone. Because she could still feel the stinging blade under her skin. A trace that does not disappear for a long time.
What else was under the pink crepe duvet? A wooden stave, the one from which the splinters sometimes came out, arranged in a herringbone pattern. Scraps of materials. Hands laying down to sleep, smoothing folds on bedding, which is a bit faded today. Plus the feet sticking out of the bed and dangling funny as if they were too big. And the bright sun, she thinks about it again. How it warms shoulders and calves, walls of tenement houses, grass on the playground, snake ladders. Tomorrow, she decides, she will go see it.
Lescer Art Center is happy to present a solo exhibition by Marzena Nowak, an artist from Piaseczno, whose work is appreciated and exhibited all over the world. Represented by the Berlin gallery Gregor Podnar, Nowak showed her works, among others, in Vienna, Madrid, Berlin, Ljubljana, Salzburg, Dessau, Basel, Skopje, Düsseldorf, Tirana, Verona, Venice, Tel Aviv, Mexico, São Paulo, Bogota and New York .
In Lescer, the artist presents sculptures, paintings, drawings, and video work, the aesthetics and meaning of which remain in the sphere of her many years of interests and research related to memory, dreams, and autobiographical elements. This time Nowak returns to her childhood spent in Piaseczno, which is why the exhibition in Zalesie Górne, located nearby, is a very personal experience. She invites the viewer to the inner world of flashbacks, dreams, and memory that can play tricks.
Text: Ewa Sułek
The exhibition is co-financed by the Piaseczno County and the Municipality of Piaseczno.
The exhibition is organized by Fundacja Pomieszczenie Wystawowe
