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Group show at Solatorium

Title: Summertime Sadness Artists: Joanna Bocheńska, Ten Cza, Kamila Maria Kamińska, Weronika Minias, Weronika Nowak, Michał Pańczyk, Katarzyna Sporn, Kacper Tomaszewski, Agata Włodarczyk Curator: Aleksandra Liput Venue: Solatorium Text: Aleksandra Liput, Ten Cza Holiday sorrows, gusts of passion, melancholy, broken hearts, sudden elation, long kisses. Summer goes by so fast. The days are getting shorter.…

Title: Summertime Sadness

Artists: Joanna Bocheńska, Ten Cza, Kamila Maria Kamińska, Weronika Minias, Weronika Nowak, Michał Pańczyk, Katarzyna Sporn, Kacper Tomaszewski, Agata Włodarczyk

Curator: Aleksandra Liput

Venue: Solatorium

Text: Aleksandra Liput, Ten Cza


Holiday sorrows, gusts of passion, melancholy, broken hearts, sudden elation, long kisses. Summer goes by so fast. The days are getting shorter. And each of them spent on sweet laziness means less and less time to experience a holiday adventure. Less and less time for everyday dilemmas, inner tears and eating cherries.This strange state is the starting point for the creation of the Summertime Sadness exhibition, the title of which is taken from Lana Del Rey’s cult song, an anthem evoking the longing, care and joy of the holiday. Not without significance is the place where the works are presented. The intimate space of the Finnish house will be filled with artifacts of holiday sadness. The paintings will hang on the walls covered with wooden cladding like trophies won during summer travels. The objects will decorate tables and chests of drawers, turning them into intimate altars. The whole is complemented by a melodramatic love letter written jointly by the artists participating in the exhibition.
Letter:On that quiet summer night, we met in a desolate forest clearing. Only the bonfire glowing between us protected us from the cold gusts of wind. We were connected by a flame, closed in this hot relationship, we only wanted a little warmth. Sometimes it seemed that the redness of Our flushed cheeks shone brighter than the burning branches between Us. And apart from Our presence there was only darkness, coldness and emptiness. When the moisture of the falling dew woke me up in the morning, you were gone. All I have left is the memory of the fire and the still-warm potato tubers hidden between coals as black as my loneliness.

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