Magdalena Ujma: Interpreting Bereś (2024)

(text published in the catalogue of the exhibition “Bereś”, Cricoteka, Kraków 2024)

Fixed

Much space has been devoted to researching Jerzy Bereś’s oeuvre in the history of Polish art. Interpreted in relation to such problems as the body, the ritual and the political, and uncompromising insistence on autonomy, Bereś’s large body of work has a secure place in the canon of Polish modernity. Even so, it remains open to new updating readings.

Let us take a look at a selection of contemporary analyses to see how his work was received in the period of the artist’s most intense activity. In Sztuka Polski Ludowej, Janusz Bogucki put Bereś side by side with Antoni Kenar, a sculptor in wood and exponent of the ‘rural’ trend. The modern thought in their creative outputs was allegedly linked with a special feel for rural culture and nature.¹ Apart from rurality understood here as a reference to something primeval, the critic claimed that Bereś’s work contained a reference to the past (these items, devoid of any sort of functionality, seem like some irrational objects from the household of an ancient serf²). Bogucki stressed the moralising character of his later pieces (sculptures-toys that mock human mendacity³).

Rurality is possibly mentioned by every author writing about Bereś. In the days of the Polish People’s Republic (PRL), his art functioned against a broader background of rural tendencies. That was the default reading. The artist never made any direct reference to them simply because he did not have to, the predilection for countryside was a vital element of the visual, material as well as spiritual culture in the PRL.⁴ Simplicity, even ‘primitivism’, of form was the prevalent style in postwar modernity, apparent, for instance, in industrial design. Folk art enjoyed state support, the rustic shift in literature was well underway and amateur artists such as, for example, Nikifor, gained in popularity.⁵

Jerzy Bereś, “Clapper” (1970), photo courtesy of the Museum of Art in Łódź.

The same interpretation was proposed by Alicja Kępińska who, in her book, associated Bereś with with Władysław Hasior, an artist more modern than Antoni Rząsa. She claimed that Bereś’s early works display features of assemblage as a result of his intent to challenge the status of sculpture as a homogeneous and finished work.⁶ The internal logic of his artistic practice would consist in gradual splitting of the solid lump and incorporating the artist’s body into the work. Clunky, grotesque, monumental and deliberately useless, basic in terms of matter and technique,⁷ the pieces revealed their complexity when it came to meaning. Kępińska discovered in them echoes of pre-Slavic imagery and, on the other side, a shadow of Dada. Rather boldly she stated that landscape was the only valid context for them.⁸ To her, Phantoms were creatures suspended between the human and the non-human. She wrote: Being neither a tool nor a human in its full sense, they hold the potential for being either.⁹

Jerzy Bereś, “Phantoms”, late 1960s, photo by W. Plewiński.

Kępińska listened closely to what the artist and his critics said. Yet it was possibly Anka Ptaszkowska who, in the mid-1960s, gave the most fitting description of Bereś’s sculptures: “they appear to be somewhat undone. Barely rigged up, they are nevertheless sturdy. Their capacity to bear their own weight does not come from static calculations but from the silent tradition handed down from generation to generation. At the same time, they have soaked up the totality of 20th-century sculpture. Their unfinishedness and the margin that has been left for that which is beyond the creator have made them fully modern. […] Bereś the sculptor renounces the form fetish.”¹⁰ The critic pointed out the intentionally provisional nature of his technique which, for Kępińska, was synonymous with clunkiness and rudimentariness. By mentioning, and rightly so, the “silent” nature of rural tradition, Ptaszkowska extracted its most important features: it is material and embodied; it is not described and codified. This is the very tradition Bereś conveys through his sculptures-objects which – in spite of their simplicity – are so cleverly constructed that they can be set in motion to produce pushing, clapping, etc. Their exact balance enables them to remain stable in defiance of their twisted shapes.

Updates

The year 1989 brought an array of new interpretations. Bereś turned out to be a figure ideally suited for studies of postwar art increasingly undertaken at the time. A leading exponent of Polish avant-garde, a member of Grupa Krakowska, one of Poland’s most important modern art groups, from 1966. He was listed along with Tadeusz Kantor, one of the prominent personalities in the group, who called Bereś the second greatest artist after Leonardo da Vinci.¹¹ Researches were surely intrigued by Bereś’s steadfastness and his consistent employment of the language developed in the 1960s, including the courage to make use of his naked body.

Jerzy Bereś, Monument to the Artist”, road from Warcino to Kępice, August 25, 1978, photo by I. Wojtkiewicz.

Piotr Piotrowski’s analysis centred around the concept of the body in Bereś’s work. In a 2003 article, he pointed out that male body art represents an active body, a body which acts, a body which gives rise to situations.¹² Bereś made use of an acting body. He was a political artist par excellence, while also viewing history as a vital reference point. Moreover, the meaning of Bereś’s actions could be fully understood only in Poland as they formed an integral part of the grand narratives of Polish culture. The artist assumed the role of a romantic bard performing self-sacrifice and acting against communist subjugation. Piotrowski wrote: Bereś seems to be relating to two areas: a broadly understood political or, in fact, historical reality which is nonetheless always local, always Polish, and the problem of the artist […] trapped in history and responsible for how reality is being shaped, the past and – most of all – the future.¹³ Nakedness in Bereś’s work was very specific and infused with the senses discussed above. The artist’s naked body is […] a carrier of authority. It is as it were – paradoxically – «disembodied»¹⁴ – stated Piotrowski, who believed that Bereś’s approach to the body related to Christianity.

Anna Markowska devoted a chapter of her 2003 book to Bereś, as she did to Maria Pinińska-Bereś and Alina Szapocznikow.¹⁵ In his practice, she discovered moralism, renunciation of desire, unsightliness and emptiness. According to Markowska, Bereś’s reaction to political oppression was strict self-discipline while his manifestations represented an autonomous world proud of having nothing to hide, where everything can be named and elucidated.¹⁶ The artist wanted his work to be understood in a specific way so he maintained control of its interpretations that was very much like censorship which he otherwise so firmly resisted. Markowska noted that Bereś’s ritual lectures […] are undoubtedly a parody of didactic ambitions nurtured by socialist activists.¹⁷

The folksy coarseness was supposed to come forth in offering vodka to the audience (which happened towards the end of manifestations). It was an attempt at breaking the imperious loneliness of the artist-authority who sought to come into contact with the world. Earnest and ascetic, Bereś introduced ritual and processional elements to his pieces. Markowska also saw the Christian context of his actions. Like other researchers, she believed that nakedness was a rhetoric device meant to express authenticity and rejection of conventions.

Markowska’s analyses seem aptest when they concentrate on the construction of the artist’s figure. Bereś is a bard, an ascetic and a person making a sacrifice of himself for the community. Christological patterns as well as patterns taken from Polish Romanticism are easily decipherable in this figure. He is also one that enters into discussion with the patron of contemporary avant-garde, Marcel Duchamp.

Jerzy Bereś, First Dialogue with Marcel Duchamp”, BWA Gallery Lublin, 6 November 1981, photo by A. Polakowski.

Disputes with the French artist were investigated by Klara Kemp-Welch. She claimed that in the five manifestations dedicated to Duchamp Bereś explored the wider ramifications of Duchamp’s avant-garde strategy for art but also for politics and people caught in particular political situations.¹⁸ Bereś commenced his dialogues in what was an exceptional moment in Polish history – the year 1981. He carried on his actions in the 1990s when aggressive capitalism flooded into our country. In an attempt to come up with a way of comparing Bereś’s work with Western artistic practices Kemp-Welch consulted Alain Badiou’s philosophy with its relentless drive to uncover the truth and the concept of event.¹⁹

However, the researcher largely focused on the problem of nature conservation. She believed that Bereś drew attention to long-term impact of the objectification of nature in industrial societies.²⁰ Apart from illustrating her claim with specific works (e.g. the one presented in Puławy in 1966), she quoted the artist’s words to the effect that the natural is stronger than the artificial.²¹ As for manufactured goods, Duchamp provocatively proclaimed them works of art, while Bereś – half a century later – realised that industrial production was the cause of irreparable damage. Kemp-Welch maintained that his “archaic sculptures and […] manifestations […] highlight[ed] the irresponsible abuse of nature at the root of industrial civilisations. His environmental commitment was threatening; a thread embodied in the powerful, looming «phantoms.» The pressing question of the day was no longer to tackle the lure of the commodity as a philosophical protest, but on a practical level, to address the environmental consequences of the industry […]. Bereś commented bitterly on how the People’s Republic of Poland «measured its success by the number of smoking chimneys.”²² By underlining the fact that the progress of civilisation posed a threat to the natural world, the artist was supposed to take on the role of a prophet. Klara Kemp-Welch’s essay very clearly demonstrates the shift away from rurality towards ecological issues in interpretation of Bereś’s creative output.

Jerzy Bereś with “The Newspaper Puncher” (1968).

In a 2019 book on Tadeusz Kantor and how his work resonated down the years, Katarzyna Fazan took an interest in the points of contact between Kantor and Bereś’s oeuvres. She revisited the dispute that arose between them in the late 1960s, the decade that witnessed the heyday of the counterculture movement in the West, producing a ripple effect that spread beyond the Iron Curtain (even if it took other forms there). The author pointed out that the very name Bereś chose for his actions showed a connection between his work and the grassroots revolt staged by youth or dissidents. The artist called his performances ‘manifestations’, in this way becoming an inseparable part of the revolutionary and countercultural reality.²³ The argument he had with Kantor was sparked by the presence of hippies in the Galeria Krzysztofory. Bereś was to them a kind of guru²⁴ but Kantor, having tolerated them for a short while, threw them out offhandedly.

Bereś mounted his manifestations in response to the “political-systemic enslavement.”²⁵ It was for this reason that the artist took such great care to get their meaning straight (which is consistent with Markowska’s observations). Fazan emphasised that these actions were political within the Polish context. She also believed that they contained reflection on the position of the artist. The author agreed with Kemp-Welch’s argument involving Duchamp while adding that Bereś not only dialogued with Duchamp’s idea of art but expanded it as well. By recalling his figure, Bereś indirectly raised the question of the situation of avant-garde under Soviet rule. Unlike Markowska, Fazan claimed that Bereś conversed with the audience, showed empathy, even weakness, and took the blame for other people’s wrongdoing before the eyes of the spectators.²⁶ Religious symbols in his works, according to the author, did not come so much from the Church but evidenced spiritual sources communicating through religious forms.²⁷ At the time, it was common in Poland to use the language of religious provenance, suffice it to say that Kantor employed it in his theatre.

Tropes

Contemporary interpretations of Jerzy Bereś’s work tended to revolve around breaking up sculptural volume, the political, the situation of art and the role of the artist in Poland as it was in the communist era, the rustic nature of his oeuvre and its commitment to nature. Are they still relevant today?

Body, subjectivity, the figure of the artist

Genderwise, Bereś’s body is a male and – true to tradition – acting one. It is also rhetorically signifying, and therefore – a body-costume, symbolic and ‘telling’. It is a flash of the Real as the wretched body-flesh that appears in his manifestations in its bare physical existence is exposed. Referencing the excruciating corporeality of Catholic saints and Christ himself, Bereś releases meanings inherent in their images and indicates the kind of power that is born out of weakness and sacrifice. The employment of such strategy is amply justified given the political oppression and strict censorship. Today, we are predominantly interested in the mode of action. Bereś preferred ‘weak’ forms and methods which he adopted to warn, to educate, to raise objection and to quarrel with the world. Apart from making Christological allusions, he posed as a prophet. He would paint his body and torment himself, for example, by standing naked in the cold or doing long-distance barefoot walks, which could be seen as driven by impotence and directed – for want of proper public space and authentic collectivity – at himself. I disagree with Anna Markowska who insisted that such actions were narcissistic;²⁸ to me, there is a touch of masochism to them as in self-sacrifice. Masochism, not dissimilar to self-harm, could be related, as Natalia Kaliś claims, to political violence under the communist regime. Artists may use it to manifest their independence and personal liberty.²⁹

Jerzy Bereś, “Transfiguration I”, Center of Art in Södertälje, 6 X 1972, photo by Władysław Hasior.

Today, weakness is reflected in the conceptions of feeble action and feeble resistance. Discussing them in reference to Vaclav Havel’s 1978 essay The Power of the Powerless, Ewa Majewska writes about the departure from heroism and daring deeds: “contestation must […] take on other, more ordinary […] forms” because “simple actions […] showing resistance can be performed by everyone.”³⁰ The artistic context may also benefit from Boris Groys’s thoughts. The term he used to describe artists in general applies also to Bereś’s case: the avant-garde artist is a secularized apostle, […] who brings to the world the message that time is contracting.”³¹ Groys maintained that the assumption that avant-garde was partial to technological progress was erroneous. On the contrary, avant-garde was against technology: our own time […] is chronically messianic, or, rather, chronically apocalyptic,³² artists oppose the devastating powers of progress and, having too little time, grab anything that is at hand – feeble means of expression, feeble gestures. Art exposes the nature of the world as we know it, a world on its way to self-destruction. It was for this reason that Bereś put nature at the centre. His work makes it clear that human civilisation represents a deadly threat to the environment.

Temporality

Bereś’s spatial objects draw upon ancient times (early Slavic totems, prehistoric tools of unknown use) and, at the same time, upon contemporariness. For Ewa Klekot, they are products of folksiness being constructed as primordiality.³³ The objects are both close and far.³⁴ The intuitive sense of epochs drawing together and the shrinking – condensing – of time is consistent with Groys’s words quoted above. The phenomenon is not unknown to modern civilisation, evident in its pace of life, the disappearance of physical distance that came with the development of electronic media and ever improving means of transport. Having examined how time is experienced today, Giorgio Agamben suggests that we live in a messianic time, kairos, a time that has an end which is fast approaching.³⁵ We are living in the last days of the time that remains. This kind of premonition is present in Bereś’s work. It was surely associated with the specific perception of time (and space) in the Polish People’s Republic – “insularity” and “stuffiness” were the terms commonly used to describe the situation we were in.³⁶ Krzysztof Piątkowski recalled: We had a specific sense of time: it seemed to crawl from one breakthrough to another (in hindsight, it was a very short time, flattened).³⁷

Jerzy Bereś, „Round Table”, 1971, photo by M. Gardulski

Hybrids

Our perception of the artist today differs from how he was received when he was active – our perspective is that of late modernism and postmodernism, shaped by retro-avant-garde styles such as, for instance, Dada and Surrealism. It is the weirdness that we notice in his Phantoms and Oracles, all that exceeds the definitions and norms known to the art of the day. The non-human element suggested by Alicja Kępińska points us towards seeing these pieces as a hybrid mix of objects and humans. Great richness of associations, from the theatrical tradition of puppetry, via Kantor’s bio-objects, to the recent popularity of cyborg creatures and avatars, offers itself. Let us, however, analyse Bereś’s works in connection with Bruno Latour’s actor-network theory that has revolutionised current research.

Krzysztof Abriszewski explains that, according to Latour, it is wrong to habitually differentiate between the moral, social and political and the environmental, natural, unreflective.³⁸ The traditional order of cognition, as seen by Latour, involves: 1. the emergence of hybrids; 2. purification; 3. reinforcement of division. It could thus be said that Bereś lingered in the first stage of cognition. He valued hybrids and must have sensed that they were part of the (‘impure’, heterogenous) truth about the world; he did not reintroduce divisions, purify or pigeonhole the human-non-human beings he created.

Rurality

Folksiness, which formed an aspect of Bereś’s oeuvre, resonates with Poland as it is today and the nostalgia for the days of the Polish People’s Republic. The spectacular cultural, social and technological advancement of the countryside after the Second World War was followed by its falling from grace in the first decades after 1989. The transition to capitalism in Poland met with a conservative reaction in this regard. Copies of old manor houses spread across suburbs, the society purported to have noble ancestry. Peasantry underwent symbolic degradation: country folk were now presented as anti-Semites, demanding ruffians who contributed nothing to culture. It was only a dozen or so years ago that the country was steered back towards the symbolic centre as the growing popularity of “folk stories” – research, books, films and artworks – shows.³⁹

Jerzy Bereś, “Eye” (1983), photo by Marek Gardulski.

Bereś’s creative output serves as an illustration of the importance of rural inspirations and their potential for generating meaning. Materiality of the countryside provided the artist with inspiration for his objects; he drew on the rural reservoir of knowledge on production, material and technology. The way he treated natural materials with intense and sensory awareness is very rustic, too. This is where the haptic properties of his objects come from.

The influence of counterculture is there as well. Katarzyna Fazan saw it as a source of Bereś’s actions full of anger and dissent. In my opinion, the artist found the countercultural search for the origins of culture and its first manifestations – in beliefs, rituals and ceremonies, stimulating. Somewhere in the midst of these inspirations there is also the intellectual concept of natural man.⁴⁰ Bereś used a very simple language consisting of basic gestures, signs and rudimentary materiality. To him, it was a certificate of genuineness and authenticity.

The romantic roots of this art’s rural nature are not hard to find. Romanticism allows rurality to identify with authenticity, genuineness, spontaneity, nativeness, attachment to land and rite, patriotic commitment and sacrifice, wrote Maria Janion.⁴¹ Remains of this vision have survived to this day. Interestingly enough, there is not a sign of the crisis of rurality so understood in Bereś’s work. Even though a dilemma arose already in the early avant-garde. It had to renounce the countryside because novelty turned against traditionalism: […] City against the Country, that was the problem of Polish futurists as Janion pointed out with Tadeusz Piper’s words.⁴² Life in the countryside, in spite of its being the centre of Polish culture, was stricken with lethargy and indolence, exploitation and deprivation. Modernity was turning its back on the country; Bereś, however, did not glorify rural life, he employed the knowledge of rural people.

The avant-garde was soon to notice the dangers involved in the development of technology and industry. Bereś joined the faction that opposed progress which its destructive effect on the environment. Today, the traditional picture of the countryside is fading away. It is now either a limitless bedroom suburb or areas of vast monocultures: industrial cultivation of plants and animal husbandry. Everything is subjected to efficiency and profit, nature governed by technology.

Bereś knew that smoking chimneys were extremely harmful to the environment. In 1970 he planted a tree upside down in Wrocław; in 1966 he commented on old-growth trees being felled to make room for the expansion of the Azoty Works. In the Galeria Krzysztofory, he took care of a group of hippies. Andrzej Kasperek wrote that environmental protection had […] continuation in twentieth-century counterculture and then […] it became a major component of environmental movements.⁴³ Bereś naturally had his part in that. He believed that nature could be an ally.⁴⁴

Jerzy Bereś, “Secret” (1993), photo by Marek Gardulski.

He denied in relation to his Phantoms that he revived “corpses” or manufactured products.⁴⁵ He claimed that nature was in communion with his practices which brought its fragments back to life by putting them together in the Phantom series. He also wrote about nature staging a rebellion. Bereś claimed that the Great Phantom from Puławy was a cooperative creation, in this way addressing the theme of the alliance between plant and human. His words on empathy with nature that is free from sentimentality, on being a spokesperson for it, seem prophetic enough in the light of current artistic activism and attitudes informed by anthropocentrism coming to its end that are on the increase in the era of climate crisis.

Old new sensitivity

Bereś’s work is situated at the crossroads of several subject matters of considerable importance today. Firstly, there is the question of the artist, his position and authority. Weak though he might have been, he entered into a dialogue with the world and took accountability for his actions and words. Despite the adverse circumstances of the PRL and nearly dying of shame over his public appearances and nakedness, he plucked up enough courage to act and make whatever gestures could be made in those days. The most valid interpretations present him as an artist working in the shadow of a catastrophe, be it a forbidding political system or a civilisation of smoking chimney showing total disrespect for the natural world. The oppressive regime might have been toppled, yet Bereś’s words and stance have retained much of its relevance. The values represented by the artist include independence and liberty as well as great sensitivity to all attempts at curtailing them. But first of all, he believed in the performative power of art, in the change it is able to effect.

One more value – solidarity with plants.

translated by Monika Ujma

1
J. Bogucki, Sztuka Polski Ludowej, Warszawa 1983, p. 296.
2
Ibidem, p. 297.
3
Ibidem.
4
See e.g. K. Piątkowski, “Estetyka PRL: ludowość i groteska”, Konteksty. Polska Sztuka Ludowa, 2011, no. 1, pp. 70-74.
5
However, it should be stressed that Bereś related to folksiness or rurality only by using specific unprocessed materials, including wood, fibre, hemp shiv; he was also knowledgeable about their properties and ways of using them to build objects. He never took up ‘rural’ themes.
6
A. Kępińska, Nowa sztuka. Sztuka polska w latach 1945-1978, Warszawa 1981, p. 96.
7
Ibidem, p. 98.
8
Ibidem. The author photographed Bereś’s sculptures in nature thus implying it was the right place for them. On the other hand, the artist intended his Phantoms to be among people, e.g. in cafés. (From the author’s conversation with Bettina Bereś).
9
Ibidem.
10
A. Ptaszkowska, catalogue essay, Stowarzyszenie Artystyczne Grupa Krakowska, Kraków, 1964, quoted after: Jerzy Bereś. Kalendarium, https://beresfoundation.pl/kalendarium-jerzy/ (accessed 2.03.2024).
11
After: P. Krakowski, “Trzydziestopięciolecie Grupy Krakowskiej” [in:] Grupa Krakowska. Dokumenty i materiały, p. XI, ed. J. Chrobak, Kraków 1993, p. 169.
12
P. Piotrowski, “Ciało i tożsamość. Sztuka ciała w Europie Środkowej”, Artium Quaestiones, 2003, v. XIV, p. 245.
13
Ibidem, p. 249.
14
Ibidem.
15
A. Markowska, “Tańce”, [in:] A. Markowska, Definiowanie sztuki – objaśnianie świata, Katowice 2003, pp. 143-164.
16
Ibidem. The name Bereś chose for his performance acts, “manifestations”, evokes such associations.
17
Ibidem, p. 150.
18
K. Kemp-Welch, “Radical Expansion of the Ready-Made Event”, [in:] Jerzy Bereś. Art Bends Life, Kraków 2007, p. 35.
19
See B. Kuźniarz, “Pierwszy krok w chmurach: O teorii siedliska wydarzeniowego Alaina Badiou”, Diametros, 2013, no. 37, pp. 69–84.
20
Ibidem, p. 43.
21
Ibidem.
22
Ibidem, p. 44.
23
K. Fazan, Kantor. Nie/Obecność, Kraków 2019, p. 276.
24
Ibidem, the author is quoting from J. Hanusek’s essay “Short Biography of Jerzy Bereś”, [in:] J. Bereś. Art Bends Life…, op. cit., p. 12.
25
Ibidem, p. 279.
26
Ibidem, p. 288.
27
Ibidem, p. 291.
28
See Markowska, Definowanie sztuki…, op. cit., p. 146.
29
N. Kaliś, “Pan niewolnik. Męski masochizm w performance okresu PRL-u”, 22 February 2019, https://magazynszum.pl/pan-niewolnik-meski-masochizm-w-performance-okresu-prl-u/ (accessed 3 March 2024).
30
This and next quotation: E. Majewska, “Słaby opór. Obraz, wspólnota i utopia poza paradygmatem heroicznym”, Praktyka Teoretyczna, 2019, no. 2, p. 11.
31
B. Groys, “The Weak Universalism”, e-flux journal, April 2010, no. 15, https://www.e-flux.com/journal/15/61294/the-weak-universalism/ (accessed 7 March 2024).
32
Ibidem.
33
E. Klekot, Kłopoty ze sztuką ludową, Gdańsk 2021, p. 202.
34
See Kępińska, Nowa sztuka…. op. cit., p. 98.
35
G. Agamben, The Time that Remains, translated by P. Dailey, Stanford 2005.
36
E.g. Leszek Sobocki’s self-portrait from 1984 was called Duszno [Stuffy].
37
Piątkowski, Estetyka PRL…, op. cit., p. 70.
38
This and following quotations: K. Abriszewski, “Teoria Aktora-Sieci Bruno Latoura”, Teksty Drugie, 2007, no. 1-2, p. 119.
39
See e. g. Elementy. Sztuka i dizajn, no. 3/2023: “Końce świata”, https://elementymag.art/category/nr3/.
40
See Klekot, Kłopoty ze sztuką ludową…, op. cit., pp. 33-46.
41
M. Janion, “Dwie wizje ludowości romantycznej”, Rocznik Towarzystwa Literackiego im. A. Mickiewicza, 1975, v. 10, p. 5.
42
Ibidem, p. 6.
43
A. Kasperek, “Zielony romantyzm, kontrkultura i ekologia. Kilka uwag na temat romantycznych inspiracji ekologicznego oporu”, Chowanna, 2017, v. 2, p. 123, p. 127.
44
J. Bereś, “Szkic autobiograficzny”, [in:] J. Bereś, Wstyd, ed. J. Hanusek, Kraków 2002, p. 167.
45
J. Bereś, “Zwidy”, [in:] J. Bereś, pp. 181-182

Jerzy Bereś

Magdalena Ujma: Interpreting Bereś (2024)

Fixed

Updates

Tropes

Body, subjectivity, the figure of the artist

Temporality

Hybrids

Rurality

Old new sensitivity

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bereś

maria
pinińska
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The artwork contains elements of nudity

Jerzy Bereś

Magdalena Ujma: Interpreting Bereś (2024)

Fixed

Updates

Tropes

Body, subjectivity, the figure of the artist

Temporality

Hybrids

Rurality

Old new sensitivity

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mariapinińskabereś

jerzy
bereś

maria
pinińska
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