In A Lair, I rein­ter­pret old myths and Sla­vic rituals, using amu­le­ts from my chil­d­hood home, which was a ware­hou­se of my grandmother’s cabi­ne­ts of curio­si­ties. Throu­gh per­for­ma­ti­ve acti­vi­ties, objec­ts, instal­la­tions and por­trai­ts, I com­bi­ned the fore­st spa­ce with the spa­ce of the hou­se. My work resul­ts in a series of sym­bo­lic ima­ges dea­ling with the cycles of life and death pre­sent in natu­re as well as in human life.

The hou­se in Wito­wi­ce Dol­ne is my chil­d­hood home, full of spi­ri­ts col­lec­ted so scru­pu­lou­sly in the fir­st years of my life. The hou­se stands next to a fore­st so green and vir­gin that it is impos­si­ble not to disco­ver magi­cal crea­tu­res the­re. Going back, I return to adven­tu­res and ridd­les that remain unsol­ved. I’m still loo­king for answers.

My grand­ma was my gui­de to this world. She led me into the woods, and cal­led mush­rooms, sto­nes and roo­ts by their names. Some, she anth­ro­po­mor­phi­zed and took home with her. Throu­gh the years, the insi­de of the hou­se has been fil­led to the brim with objec­ts she col­lec­ted. Grand­ma never threw any­thing out. Once she has brought some­thing in, it remains with her fore­ver. The hou­se, toge­ther with her, gro­ws old, eve­ry­thing within it sub­ject to natu­ral cycles. Enor­mous roo­ts that resem­ble ani­mals, bun­ches of plan­ts and peb­bles arran­ged on the sto­ve kept wat­ching over us. They recon­ci­le home with the dark woods that sur­round it.