Sensitivity towards the photon.

I move as if in a labyrinth, a bit blindly. I find the right path by illuminating the darkness before me with paints. I also have with me a container for a rainy day, many memories and afterimages from my whole life, among them the accounts of others from their journeys; these are paintings; painted once by others, but then remembered by me. Maybe not even remembered, but embraced by the collective memory, in which I also have my share. They are as if familiar shapes and colors. These moments, when I come across something familiar to me while painting, something that fits into this container for a rainy day, are pleasant moments of respite, but what I am really looking for is something that I will not find in my memory. Something that has not found its place in it, or has been lost, forgotten, unnoticed. To cope with this, constant concentration is necessary. In everyday life, an unattained state. But here, one step away from the unknown, the state of concentration seems close as the eye and hand touch the image with tenderness for each photon absorbed by the pupil.

Bogumił Książek