Maja Kitajewska’s Elastic Sculptures

Patrycja Ignaczak: I’ll start with a somewhat provocative question, as I know you don’t like or want to categorize or label your art in any way. However, I’d like to ask about your way of thinking about the medium you work in, namely fabric. When talking about your works, you often say you create paintings and flexible sculptures, not artistic fabrics. So, what does fabric mean to you?

Maja Kitajewska: This is a very difficult question because I’ve never really thought about it in depth. Fabric is definitely the starting point for me, because the canvas itself is made from linen or cotton, which is primed and then painted on. Fabric is also connected to my artistic beginnings. I chose artistic fabric as my specialization at the Academy, and it was then that I began to view the flatness of the painting as something elastic and springy. I started to treat the painting itself as an object. This allowed me to explore further, and I began attaching sequins and beads to it. Currently, I create works that, although they are made of glass beads, are still paintings, and since they are made using needle and thread, I can say they belong, in a way, to the domain of artistic fabric. Later, the form of the painting transformed into more spatial forms, and that’s when my flexible sculptures began to emerge. I think I prefer to use this original term, as it denies what traditional sculpture is. It is usually made of wood, stone, or metal, while my flexible sculptures are soft, fluid, and sensual. Gravity plays a special role in them, like in my table (Beyond the Principle of Pleasure, 2021), where a rifle melts in the hands, and forks slip through the fingers helplessly. There is no fabric there anymore, just the essence—needle, thread, and glass beads.

PI: So, for you, fabric is more of a tool to achieve various forms rather than a value in itself to which other elements are subordinated?

MK: Yes, weaving is something that complements my painting. What’s important to me is primarily the material itself—its symbolism. Glass, its weight and fragility, plastic sequins—their shine and eternity—plastic decomposes over hundreds of years. Paint has always been associated with illusion, and the painting gesture with a breath, the simplest trace one can leave behind.

PI: I find the contrast in your work, which is overall multidimensional, particularly intriguing. On the one hand, there’s the divergence between serious, existential content, as in your vanitas bouquets, and the decorative, light form; on the other hand, there’s the contrast between their visual spectacularity and their intimate size.

MK: Often, when something is presented in a contrasting way, it automatically amplifies its significance. It’s like adding salt to caramel to enrich it, or mixing chili into chocolate to intensify its flavor. It’s the same with me—combining contrasts, showing serious topics in a childish way, enhances their message. Besides, this form particularly resonates with my fragile sensitivity. In my art, I show my longings, desires, and worries through forms that are also fragile and delicate. On one hand, those sparkling sequins and glass beads seem trivial, but on the other hand, one of the properties of glass is fragility, which I believe not only matches my nature but also evokes thoughts of transience.

PI: You’ve mentioned your sensitivity and how much you draw from your inner experiences. Is your art introspective, or does it have a more universal character?

MK: I always see myself in the context of the world around me. I perceive myself as part of a certain—paradoxically indivisible—whole, so through what surrounds me, I theoretically talk about myself, but in practice, it’s a mixture of both spheres. I talk about how I find myself in reality, how it affects me. So, I always speak about my sensitivity in the context of reality.

PI: If I told you I identify with one of your works, would that be a compliment to you?

MK: Yes, because it means that someone feels the same way I do. It’s always a kind of comfort because I don’t feel isolated in my emotions and feelings.

PI: A central point of your work is treating light as an equal component of the artwork. As we know, you’re inspired by Byzantine mosaics, which were monumental paintings of the empire, but I perceive your works as exceptionally intimate, discreet, and lyrical. What makes you choose such a form? Do you dream of something large-scale?

MK: It’s definitely a matter of the limited resources I work with, but also the energy I can muster. The fact that my current works are intimate and not grand in scale, however, makes them much more personal. But indeed, I dream of creating something large-scale in the future, with royal grandeur, something big.

PI: Do you already have a potential vision for such a piece?

MK: I do, but unfortunately, I can’t speak about it publicly yet…

PI: Of course, then I’ll eagerly await it. I was thinking that this small size is something that brings your work closer to Gothic panel painting, which was often intended for private devotion. Your works, as you say, are also meant for such personal experiencing.

MK: Yes, although in December 2021, I had an exhibition at Galeria Szydłowski, where I presented works that were 1.40 m × 1.10 m, and they were quite large for me. But I combined painting with embroidery, uniting both sides of my work. This cycle was important to me because I unified both techniques on one surface, and it was a confirmation for me to let them coexist equally. Additionally, because I used painting, I could create these pieces on a larger scale. It’s different with the flexible sculptures, which serve as a kind of relic for me. I usually make them in a 1:1 scale, so, for example, the embroidered heart is life-size. The same goes for the table (Beyond the Principle of Pleasure) or the vanity (Beyond the Principle of Pleasure II, 2021)—they also have authentic dimensions. So, to create something bigger, I would need to find a theme for it, but I would like to someday. Definitely.

PI: Looking at your works, I’m reminded of a story. Jerzy Nowosielski once saw icons at an exhibition in Lviv and immediately became captivated by them. Staying on the subject of mosaics (and thus icons) and also referencing your works’ presence at the Ravenna Mosaic Biennale in 2022, I wonder if you’ve ever experienced such a mythical, cathartic moment of inspiration from a specific work?

MK: Not really, but that’s because I generally like to discover new things on my own. When I work on something, I focus on the idea itself and try to come up with the best possible means to convey it appropriately. Besides, discovering my technique of sequin embroidery was a pure coincidence. At the time, I had a studio in Okęcie. I always passed a certain shop on the way there, and eventually, I thought I’d check it out. The abundance of sequins both amazed and overwhelmed me. I bought a lot of them, really just to have them. It sounds strange, but that’s how I thought. Later, I decided to try to create something unconventional with them. But going back to the issue of inspiration, I was mostly fascinated by the craftsmanship in medieval paintings, the work put into them, the precision… My works are just as time-consuming and meticulous. I also admire their complex symbolism, and with it, the multi-dimensional reception. Beyond what we see, there’s also what we understand and, ultimately, what we feel. I’m inspired by the metaphor of gold, the fact that it extends beyond the painting, reflecting light in a completely different way than paint, offering entirely new possibilities. In this way, I draw inspiration from other works: primarily, visual effects inspire me. I don’t mimic them; I look for my own qualitative path to achieve them.

PI: So, if anything, you mostly draw from form, not from the specific ideas or concepts of individual artists. Is there anything that intimidates you in art?

MK: Intimacy. Showing very personal topics to a wide audience. That’s why I touch upon universalism because I wouldn’t be able to fully expose myself emotionally and speak directly about myself. I believe there’s a certain boundary I try not to cross.

PI: And when exhibiting a work, have you ever worried that you might be treading too dangerously close to that boundary?

MK: Well… I have one idea that I’ll be working on during my PhD, and I’m worried that I might unintentionally reveal too much and say too much about myself.

PI: When will this idea materialize?

MK: Most likely in a year, during my PhD defense. And it will be a self-portrait. For now, I’m making sketches in my head, though, because I never make finished sketches. I can’t reproduce something from a sketch because it feels like doing homework. I prefer to work live, spontaneously.

PI: Since you’ve already revealed that this will be a self-portrait, perhaps we can stick with these identity themes. In your work, you explore traditional craft techniques, which are often associated with feminine practices. I’m particularly thinking of embroidery here. Does this have any significance in your work?

MK: No. Of course, I think about it a lot, especially now when there’s such an intense discussion about women’s rights. Personally, I deeply feel this, but when it comes to my art, I wouldn’t assign a specific gender or profession to it. Embroidery, on the one hand, has been associated with women since the late 18th and early 19th centuries, but on the other hand, for centuries, monks, court embroiderers, and city embroiderers practiced it as well. Moreover, today there are many outstanding male couturiers in fashion houses. There are no feminist aspects in my work. What I do is universal, for everyone.

PI: Instead, in your works, you strongly emphasize the spiritual and metaphysical aspect. Some elements of your works are also created using semi-precious stones, which, as I know, you want to continue exploring in your doctoral research. Does the use of these stones, apart from the luminosity they provide, also have a transcendent or alchemical dimension?

MK: Yes. I created a series of paintings with worms on canvases (Shake the disease, 2017–2018), which I plan to repeat on a larger scale. In it, I used semi-precious stones as cicada abdomens (Shake the disease V, 2018). What I wanted to achieve was showing a kind of beauty in ugliness by adding a touch of nobility to insects that are often negatively associated. Again, it’s about juxtaposing opposites, evoking ambivalent feelings, but also showing that everything in nature wants to live.

PI: It reminds me of the early Renaissance masters who sometimes included naturalistic, illusionistic flies in their paintings. They, too, were attempting to show the beauty of something ugly.

MK: Yes, there’s even an anecdote about how Giotto painted a fly on Cimabue’s painting.

PI: Returning to the characteristics of your work, currently, it is predominantly marked by this existential and spiritual dimension. However, if we go back in time, your works from 2011–2010, in my opinion, strongly reflect a pop art style, even bordering on a camp aesthetic. I’m thinking of works like The Man Who Gave Death (2010–2011), Bad Moment to Take Off Your Pants (2011), or your painterly travesties of works associated with the high culture iconosphere, like Godzilla vs. King Kong (2011). What prompted this shift?

MK: That was during my student years, when I was directing my creative path. It was then that I was discovering what I really wanted to do on my artistic journey, so it was much easier for me to work with products of pop culture because it was the quickest, most accessible form. All these themes drawn from television, newspapers, and the internet, I referred to as "quick themes" because they didn’t require additional analysis. Even back then, I worked with contrasts. The juxtaposition of opposites was about confronting the subject with some funny title. The names of my works, usually humorous, were incredibly important during that period. I even remember spraying the titles on the walls of my diploma exhibition through stencils so that their meaning was on par with the painting. It was a superficial drawing from the world, but now I focus on my condition and how I find myself in the world. I think back then, in my student years, I needed to take a good look at the world first.

PI: I understand, then, that you were using the pop art, accessible form quite utilitarian—so you could freely explore the narrative layer.

MK: Yes, that’s right.

PI: You started with a pop art aesthetic, but now, looking at your works, I observe with fascination and slight unease that the theme of death seems to be almost ever-present. Just mentioning works like Death-Resistant (2012), The Tiger Smothered to Death (2012), or Perfect Drug (2014) with charming skulls comes to mind. Why is that? Do you have any particular turpistic interests outside of art, because as you’ve said, the style you’re particularly fond of is Rococo, which was frivolous, pastel, and whimsical.

MK: Above all, death is the most universal topic for me. It’s something that concerns everyone. Each of us will encounter it someday, and that’s what connects us all. Moreover, I’m very taken by all the symbolism of death. In Tarot, the death card is considered a symbol of change. For something to be born, something else must die. Death in my work has many layers of meaning. It is also one of humanity’s greatest fears, from which all other fears arise. The fear of death, the fear of non-existence, is of great importance.

PI: So, how do you reconcile that with Rococo?

MK: Because it’s the most joyful, carefree, hedonistic, and life-giving art. At the same time, Rococo often placed these joyful states in binary opposition to death, its inevitability. And death is also life. One is part of the other.

PI: Exactly, on one hand, we have the theme of death, and on the other, a lot of sensuality and light eroticism, which appears, for instance, in your reinterpretations of Rococo paintings in the Fragile (2018) cycle or in your embroidered shells. This all sounds very Freudian.

MK: Yes [laughs], I am very inspired by Freud. I got to know his works better during my studies in philosophy classes. That’s when I became seriously interested in him and started reading a lot of books. To this day, I consider him one of the truly amazing scientists and pioneers who succeeded in capturing something elusive—the human psyche. Later, I also delved into the work of his daughter, who expanded her father’s theory while supplementing it with new, personal threads.

PI: Given Freud’s influence, I assume some element of psychology is present in your art. It’s as if some of your works are not just a reflective surface hiding existential content behind its façade, but also a mirror in which the viewer can see themselves. I’m particularly thinking of Rhapsody of Echo (2012). Am I right?

MK: Yes, that’s again a universal theme: a mirror in which you cannot see yourself. A certain way of thinking about someone you can’t meet, the impossibility of making any contact. Looking in a mirror where there’s no reflection brings to mind the theme of death. It’s a therapeutic collision, a confrontation with non-existence. By the way, I taught many psychotherapists and psychologists drawing and painting. I asked them many interesting things. What I most remember is how often they told me that people in fear or stress act in very stereotypical ways. We think we are very individual, complex, but in reality, many things unite us.

PI: Yet, you also express a desire to tell your own individual story. In your series of self-portraits made with beads, the glass beads extend beyond the canvas, hanging and forming microscopic cascades at different angles, almost inviting touch. Does this cycle include a performative aspect of interacting with the artwork, changing the bead arrangement? How do you feel about people touching your works?

MK: In general, I don’t like when people touch my works, but these self-portraits indeed have such a character by design. This form comes from the desire to present the entire spectrum of emotions in one portrait. The artwork changes through movement, so the canvas requires changing its position; it can be hung upside down or rotated. Returning to your question, in a gallery context, it is important for me to show these kinetic properties. The gallery owner can demonstrate them, but for the protection of the works from mechanical damage, I prefer that they are not touched by the viewers.

PI: In preparing for our conversation, I came across your old YouTube channel with brief videos where you illuminate your works with light from various angles, making them flicker and come to life. Have you ever thought about incorporating artificial light into your works, perhaps creating a moving installation?

MK: I completely forgot about that channel. As far as I remember, I wanted to show the properties of the image in a given light in those videos. What you’re saying is really a great idea, and I’ve had the urge to try something like that before. I wanted to make the painting have a mechanism, so the canvas would rotate, or perhaps include a built-in light source. However, it turned out that it’s technically quite complicated and has to be perfectly designed. I think that’s still ahead of me. I probably created that account because my works are so difficult to document and capture their true nature, the flickering of light.

PI: Definitely something to be seen in a gallery.

MK: Definitely.

PI: Which of your works do you think everyone should see?

MK: I really like my Rhapsody of Echo cycle. I’m proud of it, partly because it’s exceptionally coherent in its message. It’s very romantic, easy to understand, yet striking. The second work that I would like everyone to see is my table (Beyond the Pleasure Principle). Primarily because it’s about the present situation, a certain unease. There’s some alarming dysfunction in it. The table symbolizes relationships, positions within a group, hierarchy, and at my table, there aren’t even any chairs. I can also officially say that I submitted this work, along with the vanity table (Beyond the Pleasure Principle II), for the 2023 Jutta Cuny-Franz Award competition and received an honorable mention.

PI: Congratulations, and I wish you many more successes like this. Thank you very much for this conversation.

MK: Thank you.

1st February 2023