Day-by-day Festival Review by Marta Ryczkowska, PhD

When the spectators entered the Cistern, the artist was already there. She was sitting in the vestibule, wearing a black dress, a black blindfold on her eyes. She was rocking on a stone and smiled. Then she started moving on her knees, the inevitable smile on her face. During her pilgrimage, she was remembering pleasant memories. She kept on wandering, relying on her memory of the space and her physical, visionless perception. In front of the stairs, a woman touched the artist’s shoulder for a moment, in a silent gesture of warning. Her body, dysfunctional, devoid of feet and eyes, was struggling with the space. The artist climbed the stairs on her knees, turned round towards the audience with a smile that aroused a kind of vague sadness (the way she moved suggested that she had no legs). Her smile seemed to have been forced, as if it concealed suffering. Marta Bosowska created an analogy to reminiscences that become more and more oppressive with time. Finally, she took off her blindfold, stood up and tore up her stockings at the knees. It turned out that she placed clumps of hair there. She removed them and placed them in two small heaps on the floor. The hair was a protective element as it reduced the friction between the knees and the floor, but after some time it began to cause pain. They became a link between the world of memories (the hair belonged to persons important to the artist) and the reality that she had to face.

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