"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!"
— J.M. Barrie (Peter Pan)

The painting “For Lesiu Orzesiu” is atypical for me at this moment. I used to paint in this way when I was 14 -16 years old. It was in the era when I first discovered oil paints and canvasses. My first oil painting, which I still have, presents Pinocchio, a toy made in Russia. I got it from Christopher, when I was 15 years old. I still have my Russian Pinocchio, unfortunately, he is missing his nose. The nose became detached somewhere, somehow, at some point during our joint trips. Pinocchio is made from plastic (such a very hard plastic) and is wearing knit wear made by me. I took him everywhere with me; we travelled together through almost the whole of Europe and some other parts of the world.

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The story of mouse, thatched cottage and Dunchideock by Kasia Turajczyk

A mouse (plural mice) is a small mammal belonging to the order of rodents. The best known mouse is of course the common house mouse. But in a case of Lyalls Cottage, the common species are the field mice. They have stood with us in the autumn and winter time and they are visiting us on regular bases every day in the spring, at the moment. Our mice are very keen on expensive chocolate. They also like very much my paintings, especially the ones which contain seeds. Often they are very timid face to face, but not always.
Since mice could be a perfect companion pets I don’t understand why some are so afraid for them. They can be playful, loving and can grow used to being handled. But I admit I didn’t try it with our field mice, no time for it.

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Merry Christmas to everyone!

I love this time of the year. I know lots of people think it is nonsense and commercial and only about money, food, drink, and presents and this kind of stuff.

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Since settling in Dunchideock, I have started to use in my paintings/collages/installations more and more attributes from the garden.

My studio is situated in the epicentre of the garden, in a certain way that is. It is in the middle of the gardens ‘natural resources” and flora, as well being centred in the macro and micro dimensional sense. Among the trees, bushes, and flowers there are also a huge variety of insects, birds and other animals, both alive and dead. The nearness and the intimacy with the nature has an undeniable affect on my imagination and it so happened that my new born paintings are full of leaves, styles, petals, filaments, fruits, and small stems from trees, bushes, flowers and weeds; but also some parts of dead and alive insects and birds. In some of my old abstract paintings I have already used couscous, rice, diverse seeds, grasses and bay leaves. But it was only incidental and my imagination was limited by the ingredients I had in my kitchen and on my balcony. In Dunchideock, in the garden of Lyalls Cottage I have unbounded forms, colours, pigments, consistencies, structures and odours; the last aspect is only significant for me not for the paintings I am afraid.

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I can’t remember who said that paintings should tell stories not only present them, maybe I imagined it. Maybe it referred to films and not to art, but what actually determines whether or not a painting tells a story and not only presents it? Perhaps it is the behaviour of creatures, colours, a smile on somebody’s face, a group of people arguing about something, children playing in the garden, insinuations, an absent gaze, or even musings. Is it possible, really possible to see the story? Is it really the artist who tells the story?  Isn’t it true that the artist presents the story and the receiver creates, interprets and concocts the past and the future of the given picture/story?

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