The Fool, The Death & The Hanged Man

The dream has been unveiled for me in The Day of St.Andrew's Eve, quite a long time ago, because I was 17 and I believed then, that I could read Tarot. Each time I had read it to others, it somehow worked, but when I tried to do it to myself, the cards contradicted themselves. That night, I unfolded the cards three times and reading was always the same, but the last, third time, all cards were reversed , it was something, which had stopped me. I've never interpreted this arrangement. In my dream, I was standing at the edge of the forest, the sky was overgrown with stars, it was a deep, warm night filled with cicadas songs. On the field of grass, that separated the line of houses from the trees, there was a gibbet with five hangmen on, I didn't want to look there, but for some reason I've decided, that the only path to my home was leading under it. When I was very close, the last of the hangmen, wearing a motley clothes and jester cap, with a purse at his side, has just opened his eyes. And then, I've noticed, that he was not hanging on the rope and that the noose was tightened around his ankle instead of neck and the resemblance to Tarot Hangman dressed in the clothes of The Fool has become obvious. My reversed Hangman was standing in the air and looking at me with liquid black eyes, but suddenly something has changed: the inverted Hangman /The Fool smiled broadly with this mephistophelian glimpse, and he's taken off the noose from his ankle and put it on his neck. I've just known, that he will be The Death in a moment, so I closed my eyes and ran into the woods.

The forest was dark and condensing with my growing fear, I ran straight into its depth. The pine trees were the one which has stopped me, behind them the heart of my dream was hidden. Now, I ripped through the lace of pine branches, sparkling with a cold glow, towards the source of this light. A monstrous pine tree with the body of an ancient giant grew in the a perfect circle of glade. A naked woman was hanging on it, in a pose of a tarot Hangman. Her entire body, including the light hair coiling like Medusa snakes and entwined with the branches, was luminous and it was a strong gleam, as if the woman was a full moon shrouded under the cloth of her skin. I walked closer and she opened her black eyes. A black trickle of blood was leaking from her mouth, upward, against the gravity. I woke up.

 

Die Hexe

Somehow i knew, that we had to go there, she was holding my hand. We rushed our pace in this sleepy city, which returns from time to time in my dreams with similar location of tracks, the cemetery, and the topography of my memories. For example, the viaduct we passed through and which I've dreamt a lots, is a real railway viaduct connecting two similar worlds, industrial districts in industrial town in industrial part of Poland, where I spent huge part of my childhood. When you were standing on the bridge, you looked at a coal mine on the right and smelting furnaces on the left, the air there was acidic and thick-foggy, like from London crime stories on TV, it irritated the nose, mouth and eyes. And from this place my mind built my dreamy bridge towards mystical, through which we pushed our pace this time. The sky above was as gray as above British Islands in a glassy season, the whole area of my sleep was a braid of many realities.

Nothing seemed to chase us, the dream was neutral, but some inner command told me to go faster and faster to "There", to this place. I had no emotional threads with my companion, she was familiar in the way we say good morning to the neighbors, she was an adult, although I had the impression that she was holding my hand like a little girl and that it's my duty to care about her during our journey. "There" loomed before our eyes, it was a vast autumn-winter garden in dull grays and cold, leafless browns, with a low stone wall surrounding the space with an open forged gate. Someone was now walking towards us from behind, the closer to There, the closer he was to us, he had a white cane in front of him, waving with it epileptically and in this specific dance he reminded me of one of Bruegel blind men, a blind fate flashed through my head, then I was already running into the garden, it was the Labyrinth. It was a very right time to trust own intuition, there was no time for rationalism. I exactly felt the direction, the blind fate was lost in some cul-de-sac, I ran into another corridor. And I've understood: it was no longer my intuition, but some kind of unlocked inner memory, corridor after corridor, bend after bend, I was choosing right path without any hesitation, as if I was moving following a golden thread.

We stopped in a patio-style place with such a classic wrought iron table and garden chairs, we were already safe there, it was my "There". The Woman was waiting, she was beautiful, her age was difficult to define, but if I had to estimate it, I would say that she was in infinitely middle age, although I had the impression that her body was only a temporary case, when I looked at her, I was looking through that body. -Do you remember me? she asked. Then I remembered. -Yes .- In some deep past of my eternal being, I was a witch and she was a witch too, the most important in our church. This maze and blind fate were only made by her to let me remind about. My traveling companion understood nothing, it was not her "There", but perhaps I helped her to escape her blind fate, she was the most present vessel I lived in, her name was Mar.

 

Freudian Dream

A car in the shape of a lizard was gliding along the narrow, crowded streets of a medieval town filled with tourists and colourful stalls. The car had scales and feet and a very long tail, but it looked as stiff as a limousine, and it was just trying to turn into a very narrow, tight, vein-like corridor between two townhouses. All town, with arteries of streets, salient tibia of rusted gutters, dandruff of a falling roofs, reminded alive body somehow. I figured the car wouldn't fit there and the lizard-car was actually stuck, blocking all movement. So it threw off its long tail, lost all stiffness, transformed into a large, alive lizard and ran away into dark alleys.

I needed to get to the place where my mother was, but I had to get there through extremely narrow, claustrophobic tunnel carved in the rock and it was difficult to me to squeeze my head through this, it was one-direction path, I had no chance to get back on my previous paths. Finally I met my mother, but she was speaking in unknown language and I wasn't able to understand anything.

 

Giving light

 

I dreamed about my body.  About what I have left in my works, especially at the beginning of this path: the body with cracks, crevices, hollows, sprouting seedlings, rooting trees, nesting birds in wounds.  About my body.  I looked at my thighs, from which grew branches, boughs, young seedlings.  They grew wider and larger, tooking away my access to light, so I began to trim them.  I was worried, that I was causing unnecessary pain to this forest feeding on me, but with each branch which was cut, I felt, that I was closer to myself, that I was coming back. Finally, I managed to pull out one of the largest, woody stems, gently pulling a long twig out, it settled deeply, but its roots were poorly developed. When it was taken, I've  started with the next one and next one.

They left deep, narrow tunnels to the bones, filled with light now.  And I felt, that these branches were the source of pain, not physical, but the one, which lies hidden under the bones, under the marrow, which strangles in the throat and presses on the chest, which bends us in a half and prevents from raising our heads. Trees growing on me gradually had been taking me away. Pulling them out, I left deep holes, there were so much empty places in my body as my flesh itself, roots took almost half of what was once mine. I stared at my thighs punctured like a swiss cheese, and I finally was able to breathe deeply.

Molly The Dog and Cernunnos

Dream No.17 - About Cernunnos/ Herne

The night before Molly The Dog died, I put her sick body on my chest, I felt she's getting weaker and weaker, so I wanted to give her some warmth of my heart, I really wanted to believe that she would come out of this and be a yappy dog again when the postman is knocking. I don't know, how I fell asleep, I was sleeping only for half an hour, during which I've found some relief in what came to me in the dream.

I dreamed that we were wandering through some endless suburbs bordered a great forest. Molly ran away somewhere, sometimes she was on a leash, sometimes i let her go without, we left a place where we were not feeling well, we ran away, something dark was hunting us. We stood at the crossroads, the road on the right was a cul de sac with closed gate, I had to rest, my dog was on a leash, but wandered to the other side of the gate, wading in a water so dark, that it looks like a tar puddle. An old man with greyish hair ran up to her, he scared me when he grabbed her up, but I've noticed that Molly seemed to be dead, she looked like a drowned because of this black water. But she was still breathing, her heart was still beating. It occurred to me that this man has just saved her life. He stroked the dog with tenderness and gentleness, he looked resolute, but vital and good. Molly woke up, she was more than well.

He suggested, that we should wait until the morning with him, some way he knew that we were running away. His home was full of people, there was an atmosphere of long philosophical discussions or talks about art until morning. The man showed me around the house, we sat down in a tiny room for a moment, it looked like his private space, we were alone there, Molly disappeared in other room, it looks that she felt there like it was her home for always. The older man showed me the mask and asked if I recognized him. The mask was huge, ancient, bronze, entirely covered with green patina, with a very elegant form. It was the head of a deer with two horns. I replied that I knew it, but i need some time to recall his name.

Man invited me to the huge table where the feast was, and he said that he will care for Molly, and I could leave her with him until I will come there again. There were others at the table wearing masks, but I didn't have time to look at their heads, and I woke up with Molly The Dog on my chest. This morning she died and I said to self, that when the time will come, I will be looking for the path to Cernunnos house to find my little fella and walk away together.

 

From Dreams Journal

 

I was afraid of subliminally, intuitively, through the herd instinct. Something had happened, I didn't know what exactly, but my human herd was in a panick mode, and this, what had happened has just effused, it was unfolding tentacles. We put up abatis, I worked in a forest, in a place that looked like a temporary camp, we armed ourselves against the Frightening one that was coming and was rotten, bloodless, unmerciful. It was closer and closer, and we all in the camp just knew, that we had to be afraid. We worked in full uniforms, we were all equally zealous, working like a well-organized colony of ants, but some of us were outside, always alone, always kept at arm's length. They all have been mouldering, they were like the Frightening one, which was coming, like coffin dresses, like obols on cloudy eyes. When I stood close, my fear of them was as strong as my fear of what will be standing in front of the barbed wire one day. I was scared constantly, my dreams were lined with fear, my fear seeped from everyday life to the marrow and it was the fear of a carcass. That's why we kept them at bay, those hermit ones, they were with us, but they were not ours, they were from the Abyss.

I was working with one of them outside the zone, right next to the barbed wire, and with time, my fear got used to this male looking being, he was handsome. I asked him how it's possible that he looked like us and he didn't want to eat me. He said that it's all a matter of the mind's optics and that it only depends on the will, in which direction it develops. I came closer and kissed him before it all started for good, diving into the wormhole of next dream a moment after. And there, in the sleepy antipodes, a great city with vertical corporate temples awaited for me. One of the tallest buildings had a triangular research logo in the name, the sky was clear and very morning, offices were just opening. The scientist was walking to that tall building with a logo, and he had a face of the man I kissed from the previous dream. When I ran up to him, he put a finger to his lips. - I'll explain it all to you later.- He whispered.

Bałam się w tym śnie podskórnie, intuicyjnie, stadnie. Coś się stało, nie wiedziałam dokładnie co, ale stało się, wylało, rozkładało macki. Stawialiśmy zasieki, pracowałam w lesie, w miejscu, które wyglądało jak przejsciowy obóz, zbroiliśmy się przed strasznym, które szło i było zmurszałe, bezkrwiste, nieznające litości, nadchodziło i wszyscy w obozie wiedzieliśmy, że trzeba się bać. Pracowaliśmy w pełnym umundurowaniu, wszyscy równie gorliwi, uwijaliśmy się jak dobrze zorganizowana kolonia mrówek, ale część z nas była spoza, zawsze sama, zawsze trzymana na dystans. Byli nazywani Zmurszałymi, byli jak to, co idzie, jak trumienne sukienki, obole na zmętniałych oczach. Gdy stałam blisko mój lęk przed nimi był równie silny jak strach przed tym, co miało stanąć przed zasiekami. Bałam się notorycznie, moje sny podszywał strach, był jak ze spiżu sączył się z codzienności do szpiku kości i był strachem padliny. Dlatego trzymaliśmy ich na dystans, byli z nami, ale nie byli nasi, byli z Otchłani.

Pracowałam z jednym z nich poza strefą, tuż przy zasiekach, z czasem oswoił mój lęk. Spytalam się jak to jest możliwe, że wygląda jak my, i że nie chce mnie zjeść, był przystojny. Powiedział, że to wszystko to kwestia optyki umysłu i że to, w jakim kierunku to się rozwinie, zależy tylko od naszej woli. Pocałowałam go zanim to wszystko się zaczęło na dobre i wskoczyłam w czasoprzestrzenny tunel snu. A tam, na sennych antypodach czekało na mnie wielkie miasto ze strzelistymi świątyniami korporacji. Na jednym z najwyższych budynków świeciło trójkątne logo z research w nazwie, niebo było czyste i przedpołudniowe, właśnie otwierały się urzędy. Szedł do tego wysokiego budynku z logo, był naukowcem i miał twarz mężczyzny, którego pocałowałam, z poprzedniego snu. Gdy do niego podbiegłam, przyłożył palec do ust. - Później ci to wszystko wytłumaczę. - wyszeptał.

Liminal

 

Stage before purification

ink drawing on paper, made in 2020

Primavera

 Primavera or continuation of alchemical process ( fermentation) 

ink drawing on paper, made in 2020

Quantum entanglement

 Co się dzieje, gdy klient od dłuższego czasu prosi o dobrą erotykę ( dobrą?), a dzień przed czyta się alchemicznie papiery i na nowo odkrywa mechanikę kwantową.

Wiązania.
Piórko i tusz na archiwalnym papierze, made in 2020

Wolf or the Shapeshifter

 ink drawing on paper, made in 2020

Shedim

 Shedim. 

*ink drawing on paper, made in 2020

Mandala

 

Mandala, ink drawingon paper, made in 2020

Kolejna mandala, tym razem ze środka. I z zakodowanym, miejscami zniekształconym tekstem - echo, echo ( kto chce, może spróbować to odkodować, początek w połowie z prawej strony).

Studnia,
rysunek tuszami na papierze,
Format 50 cm x 50 cm

Again with fish mandala motif, but with a different context. And with distorted verse - echo, echo - to decipher ( the beginning in the middle of the right side). Feel welcome.

The Well,
inks drawing on paper,
50 cm x 50 cm

Drzewo życia/ Tree of Life

 ze szczyptą kundalini / with a pinch of Kundalini

*rysunek tuszem na papierze, 30 x 40 cm

*ink drawing on paper, 30 x 40 cm

Kuszenie/ Temptation

 Kuszenie św. Antoniego (a rebours)/

Temptation of St Anthony 

* rysunek tuszem na papierze, 30 x 40 cm

*ink drawing on paper, 30 x 40 cm

Red ink

Ot, ładna kartka na specjalną okazję. Miało być lekko i przyjemnie, mam nadzieję, że się udało.

Just a greeting card drawn for special occasion, so it had to be nice and pleasant (and I hope it is)

*rysunek tuszem na papierze/ ink drawing on paper 
 

Vanitas

 Raz jeszcze, surowszym okiem demontażysty.

One more time, with rawer disassembler`s eye.

*Vanitas, rysunek ołówkiem na papierze,

28,6 x 39,6 cm

* Vanitas, 

pencil drawing on paper,

28,6 x 39,6 cm

Vanitas

 "Light doesn`t help the blind"

*Vanitas, rysunek ołówkiem na papierze,

28,6 x 39,6 cm

* Vanitas, 

pencil drawing on paper,

28,6 x 39,6 cm

Icarus

On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a tomatoes:
There will be no other end of the world,
There will be no other end of the world.starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,

Repeat Wiele he binds nie tomatoes:

There will be no other end of the world, 

There will be no other end of the world.

Warsaw, 1944
Czesław Miłosz ( translated by Anthony Milosz), A Song on the End of the World

W dzień końca świata
Pszczoła krąży nad kwiatem nasturcji,
Rybak naprawia błyszczącą sieć.
Skaczą w morzu wesołe delfiny,
Młode wróble czepiają się rynny
I wąż ma złotą skórę, jak powinien mieć.

W dzień końca świata
Kobiety idą polem pod parasolkami,
Pijak zasypia na brzegu trawnika,
Nawołują na ulicy sprzedawcy warzywa
I łódka z żółtym żaglem do wyspy podpływa,
Dźwięk skrzypiec w powietrzu trwa
I noc gwiaździstą odmyka.

A którzy czekali błyskawic i gromów,
Są zawiedzeni.
A którzy czekali znaków i archanielskich trąb,
Nie wierzą, że staje się już.
Dopóki słońce i księżyc są w górze,
Dopóki trzmiel nawiedza różę,
Dopóki dzieci różowe się rodzą,
Nikt nie wierzy, że staje się już.

Tylko siwy staruszek, który byłby prorokiem,
Ale nie jest prorokiem, bo ma inne zajęcie,
Powiada przewiązując pomidory:
Innego końca świata nie będzie,
Innego końca świata nie będzie.

Czesław Miłosz, Piosenka o końcu świata

* rysunek ołówkiem i tuszem na papierze, 25 x 32 cm

* pencil and ink drawing on paper, 25 x 32 cm

Ars Amandi

I znowu z kodem morse`a. Wątki się plączą jak w życiu, więc żeby odczytać ten fragment, trzeba woli, cierpliwości i czasu. Wiersz umieszczam poniżej, ale który fragment zakodowałam nie powiem, zostawiam to poszukiwaczom. Klucz do kodu znajdziecie pod zdjęciem.
Once again with morse code. Threads are tangling as in life, so, to read exactly this fragment of a poem, one need will, patience and time. Whole poem you may find below, but this tiny piece placed in my work is for those, who are seekers. The key for code is below the image.
The grass is beneath my head;
and I gaze
at the thronging starts
in the night.

They fall... they fall...
I am overwhelmed,
and afraid.

Each leaf of the aspen
is caressed by the wind,
and each is crying.

And the perfume
of invisible roses
deepens the anguish.

Let a strong mesh of roots
feed the crimson of roses
upon my heart;
and then fold over the hollow
where all the pain was.

 F.S.Flint

*Ink drawing on paper, 42 x 59 cm/ 16,5 x 23 in

I znou dystopijnie/ And dystopian again

Kolejna z bajek o końcu świata opowiadanych do snu małym karaluszkom, czyli Triyumfalny wjazd oddziału Abbi Folds Torr do ostatniego z miast, roku pańskiego 35 po narodzinach światłęgo Fold Torra.
Next from tales about the end of the world told to sleep to little cockroaches, or The Triumphal entry of Abbi Folds Torr` unit to the last of towns, anno domini 35 after the birth of Enlightened Fold Torr.

*Praca z serii Porcelana z Ankh-Morpork, czyli wszystko, co chcielibyście wiedzieć o Śmierci* (* ale o co boicie się zapytać).
Rysunek tuszem i akwarelami na archiwalnym, bawełnianym papierze, format 30 x 40 cm

*Work from the series: China from Ankh-Morpork, Or Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Death*(*But Were Afraid to Ask).
Watercolour and ink drawing on an archival, cotton paper, size 11.8 x 15.7 in ( 30 x 40 cm)