Page 40 - Art Review

straight down the middle to form a portico, pill packets are used as wall
insulation. It reflects a current trend I have noticed in Warsaw, from Hanna
Rechowicz’s decorated wooden scenes of exotic fauna at BWA Warszawa,
˙
to Monika Drozyn ´ ska’s subversive serwetki (embroidered linens, a staple
of traditional Polish homes) at Biuro Wystaw: a resurgence of assemblage,
conceptualised folk traditions and dreck that I associate with the film
Sanatorium pod klepsydra ˛ (The Hourglass Sanatorium, 1973, directed by
Wojciech Has) or the art of Władysław Hasior (1928–99). It is interesting
that these methods were developed by artists during the 1960s and 70s,
who were arguably still responding to the devastation of the Second World
War, and that they should be in fashion once again.

And the chicks…

As I exit past a flagpole sculpture by Axelrad, I think of the word ‘Pole’ in
English, sometimes uttered with an angry, othering inference when talk-
ing about Polish migrants in Britain: ‘we’re sick of Poles taking our jobs!’
above Detail of Honorata Martin’s Wikiup, 2017, on view at Zache¸ta
National Gallery of Art as part of the exhibition for Deutsche Bank’s Since my Polish dad encouraged me to apply for dual nationality
Spojrzenia award (his paranoia proving correct after the British referendum to leave the Euro-
pean Union), I am now a Londoner who is officially a ‘Pole’ too. Though
I don’t feel it strongly in Warsaw, Poland’s hyper-Catholic, nationalist
father and Poland’s former leader Władysław Gomułka. As the film ends, atmosphere is hostile to anyone outside heteronormativity, let alone
the audience is summoned by the sound of a woman singing in the
unmistakably plaintive tones of a Jewish song. Outside the auditorium,
chairs are arranged in front of a table with microphones, water glasses,
a selection of books; a seemingly typical setup for a panel discussion.
There’s no dimming of the lights or anything to suggest a spectacle,
but what follows is possibly an hour (it is always a good sign when you
lose track of time) of transportive song, delivered by the three talented
performers of the Urban Research Theater’s Judaica project. Lyrics range
from traditional stories to excerpts from the team’s research into Jewish
identity across the globe. The performers gradually interact with the
books, furniture and space, and members of the audience spontaneously
join in when they know the songs. I left POLIN and walked back alone
through the former ghetto, full of the reverberations of this embodied
excavation and sharing of knowledge.

Turn right

At Zache¸ta National Gallery of Art, the emboldened rise of white supremacy
reverberates in a new film by Ewa Axelrad, who is nominated alongside
Przemek Branas, Agata Kus, Honorata Martin and Łukasz Surowiec for the
biannual Spojrzenia (Views), the Deutsche Bank Award for Polish artists
under the age of thirty-six. Exposing, perhaps, the true self-perception
beneath the alt-right’s seemingly conventional white polo-shirt uniform, above Warsaw from the rooftops
Axelrad works with more recognisable tribal accoutrements, such as flag- below Warsaw from the street
poles and armour. Shtamah #1 (2017) (the word originates in the German
stamm, meaning ‘tribe’) draws on anthropologist Ludwik Stomma’s
research into what Axelrad quotes in the exhibition text as ‘brotherhood
in arms, athletic love, contempt for the “other”, the uniform in place
of mawkish conscience’. The film begins with an image of a pale, waxy
body vest, penetrated by flagpoles that smoothly extend into the infinite.
I feel the film’s thunderous, hand-drummed beat in my chest as a woman’s
hand appears, gently feeling and blending in with the surface of the ‘flesh’.
The camera zooms in on her finger as it proceeds to gouge a hole through
the vest, working with a determination that is at once violent and erotic.
Following this, Honorata Martin’s ramshackle hut Wikiup (2017),
meticulously created using the entire contents of her grandmother’s
apartment, has a calming but wistful effect. An old carved chair is sliced

40 ArtReview