Wschód / East

Ku słońcu / Towards the Sun

Color inks drawing on paper

Bestiariusz/ The Bestiary

Spacje pomiędzy "dużymi" pracami będę zapełniać drobinkami bestiariuszowymi. Pora powyrzucać z głowy wszystkie podskórne bestio-byty. Jak zbliżę się do stu, pomyślimy o wydaniu bestiariusza -].

Spaces between " big" works will be filled up with bestiary particles. It`s time to throw out my mind all subctutaneous beasty existences. When i come to one hundred, I will think about publishing the bestiary -].

Technika: rysunek temperą na złotej kalce, 25x17 cm/ temper drawing on gold calque, 25x17 cm

Sprawy intymne/ Intimate affairs

tempery na złotej kalce/ tempers on gold calque, 25x32 cm

Ene due like fake
torba borba ósme smake
deus deus kosmateus
immorele baks.

Ene, tene, mone, mei,

Pastor, lone, bone, strei,

Ene, fune, herke, berke,

Wer? Wie? Wo? Was?

Persefona

tusz i tempera na złotej kalce, 25x32 cm/ ink and temper on gold calque, 25x32 cm

Persefona

Persephone, ink and temper on gold calque, 25x32 cm

Niestety, nie znalazłam polskiego tłumaczenia.

Louise Glück, Persephone the Wanderer

In the first version, Persephone
is taken from her mother
and the goddess of the earth
punishes the earth—this is
consistent with what we know of human behavior,

that human beings take profound satisfaction
in doing harm, particularly
unconscious harm:

we may call this
negative creation.

Persephone’s initial
sojourn in hell continues to be
pawed over by scholars who dispute
the sensations of the virgin:

did she cooperate in her rape,
or was she drugged, violated against her will,
as happens so often now to modern girls.

As is well known, the return of the beloved
does not correct
the loss of the beloved: Persephone

returns home
stained with red juice like
a character in Hawthorne—

I am not certain I will
keep this word: is earth
“home” to Persephone? Is she at home, conceivably,
in the bed of the god? Is she
at home nowhere? Is she
a born wanderer, in other words
an existential
replica of her own mother, less
hamstrung by ideas of causality?

You are allowed to like
no one, you know. The characters
are not people.
They are aspects of a dilemma or conflict.

Three parts: just as the soul is divided,
ego, superego, id. Likewise

the three levels of the known world,
a kind of diagram that separates
heaven from earth from hell.

You must ask yourself:
where is it snowing?

White of forgetfulness,
of desecration—

It is snowing on earth; the cold wind says

Persephone is having sex in hell.
Unlike the rest of us, she doesn’t know
what winter is, only that
she is what causes it.

She is lying in the bed of Hades.
What is in her mind?
Is she afraid? Has something
blotted out the idea
of mind?

She does know the earth
is run by mothers, this much
is certain. She also knows
she is not what is called
a girl any longer. Regarding
incarceration, she believes

she has been a prisoner since she has been a daughter.

The terrible reunions in store for her
will take up the rest of her life.
When the passion for expiation
is chronic, fierce, you do not choose
the way you live. You do not live;
you are not allowed to die.

You drift between earth and death
which seem, finally,
strangely alike. Scholars tell us

that there is no point in knowing what you want
when the forces contending over you
could kill you.

White of forgetfulness,
white of safety—

They say
there is a rift in the human soul
which was not constructed to belong
entirely to life. Earth

asks us to deny this rift, a threat
disguised as suggestion—
as we have seen
in the tale of Persephone
which should be read

as an argument between the mother and the lover—
the daughter is just meat.

When death confronts her, she has never seen
the meadow without the daisies.
Suddenly she is no longer
singing her maidenly songs
about her mother’s
beauty and fecundity. Where
the rift is, the break is.

Song of the earth,
song of the mythic vision of eternal life—

My soul
shattered with the strain
of trying to belong to earth—

What will you do,
when it is your turn in the field with the god?

Dionizje/ Dionysia

ink and temper on gold calque, 25x32 cm

Magnolie/ Magnolias

" Wszystkie wiersze o miłości nigdy nie zamienią się w miłość" - Edward Stachura, Fabula Rasa.
" All poems about love never turn into love" - Edward Stachura, Fabula Rasa

temper and ink on gold calque 25x 28 cm

Perskie opowieści/ Persian tales

Pierwszy z dywanów/ First from carpets

Persian Tales No.1, tempers and watercolours on gold calque, 25x32 cm