Karolina Jabłońska <br> COLD

Cold. Cold prevails out­side. Snow has even fallen, and when we open our lips, our breath turns into clouds of fog, quic­kly rising in the wintry air. When it blows harder, locks of hair stick to the face. Snow­flakes fall over the head, hair, eyebrows, and then slowly melt under the fading body heat.


Cold is also a metaphor. You feel it on your own skin, but it also seeps into your brain. It does not come out of nowhere, but is everywhere when something bad hap­pens, at dawn, after dusk, after a hot summer, after a time of peace, wel­l­being and relative prosperity. It slows down your movements and thoughts, thic­kens, turns into snow and clumps into large, hand­made snow­balls. You can bite the snow and rub with it.


Clothing protects against the cold—a thick second skin. You can hide in it, but you can also get stuck trying to pull off an over­sized sweater. Strug­gle inside, preten­ding you can’t see anything and that you are invisible your­self. Even for a brief moment. A daily, inter­nal battle: To be here or there? Inside or out­side? In your­self or with others?


There’s also a war­drobe. A large, wooden war­drobe that belon­ged to grand­mother. Open wide. Maybe someone was in a hurry or, on the con­trary, had too much time to try on more. A sheep­skin coat, blouses, a bath­robe. Gloves, belt, scarf tum­bling on the floor, tights han­ging through the door. Clothes coiled on the shelves. In the dim light, the colours of the clothes merge. They drown in cool blues like the rest of the room. 


The war­drobe can also serve as a metaphor. It’s a place between inside and out­side, between past and present, between the domestic self and the self that others see—on the street, in town, travel­ling. A place that may not be in per­fect order, where items and stories from dif­ferent generations mingle, char­ged with emotions, expec­tations and premonitions of what hap­pened or is about to happen.


In her latest pain­tings, Karolina Jabłońska emphatically relates all of this: cold­ness and violence, fear, distance and incapacity, but also a strong will, an indepen­dent self. What is my own and what is shared, what is experien­ced alone and what is inherited. She nar­rates from the only possible per­spec­tive, from inside her clothes, from the body and the emotions buried in it, as in a wardrobe.



Karolina Jabłońska

19.11.2022 – 28.01.2023

The gallery is open from Tuesday to Saturday from 12 pm to 6 pm