With sculptor Michał Jackowski
I meet him in his Białystok studio, which he is rather reluctant to open to visitors. We talk about relationships, the essence of love, pleasure, and the things that enslave us. We’re surrounded by sculptures, their prototypes, and ideas for new works lurking everywhere. A bronze Narcissus and a marble Aphrodite cast cool glances in our direction, as if checking whether we’re looking each other in the eyes.
Anna Lewczuk
Michał Jackowski: Don’t be under the false impression that this workshop is all my doing.
It started with my grandfather, then my father ran a poultry farm here. I often helped him. It was a ruin—a heap of concrete that needed to be civilized, to let some light in.
I organized the studio, space for the furnace, essential machines, a workshop, and storage rooms where bronze ingots and tons of stone are kept. I have four employees who—like Italian artigiani—help me at the stage of work where the artist’s hand is not yet needed. Sometimes I feel like a composer, and sometimes like an orchestra conductor.
Anna Lewczuk: You often emphasize that you sculpt to learn something about yourself, but each of us was also “sculpted” at some point in childhood. This place is an important part of your story…
That’s true. Sometimes we carry a burden, and sometimes we receive a gift. Sometimes we first have to scrape away our inheritance, but sometimes we can start building right away, in our own way.
And how was it for you?
That’s a question about the figure of the father—something I think is very important when it comes to spiritual matters. A mother is associated with unconditional love. A father’s love usually has to be earned.
Isn’t that changing now?
Everyone wants to hear their father say, “I love you.”
It’s like an antique game—a timeless play.
You don’t need it from your mother, because you usually just feel it.
We knew our dad loved us, though he was shy and you had to draw it out of him. My brother and I worked on him in our adult lives.
As the father of seven children, you must be sensitive to their needs.
A lot happened here as they grew up. I organized, among other things, a dance school and an archery club for them. José Torres even played for us once, and taxi drivers would sometimes joke that they were taking guests to a nightclub. For the last 8 years, a Fathers’ Club has also been running here, which I founded. We received the President of Poland’s Award for that work.
Recently we’ve been talking about life missions. I try to return often to the question of what I’m really doing in life.
But you’re a sculptor.
People often change careers. But what matters more is understanding how what you do changes the lives of others.
One of the fathers once said, “I help children have beautiful dreams.”
How does he do that? He’s a writer—he writes books for children. He found his own mission.
What, then, is your mission?
I feel that my mission is to connect and inspire people. To spark reflection in them.
It matters to me to stir human thoughts and direct them toward the search for their own truth.
If—through an encounter with my art, or even just a conversation about it—I can shift something even by a millimeter, or maybe even change someone’s fate for the better, I consider that a huge success.
Observing the art market and the global situation, one gets the impression that these days we can mostly afford bitter reflections.
It’s easier to frighten or sadden someone than to comfort or cheer them up.
On one hand, there’s art that brings hope and is like light.
But there’s also art of hopelessness. My background is Christianity. I can’t stand relativism, and I will always hold the belief that there is good and evil.
Beksiński’s paintings, though technically excellent, are for me art without hope. Not hopeless, but without hope.
It’s a world that doesn’t offer even a ray of brightness.
Artists are capable of portraying the dark side of reality in compelling ways.
One does it to purge painful experiences.
Another to warn the viewer.
Yet another is pained by how unthinkingly we immerse ourselves in a sugar-coated world.
The intentions vary.
We usually find it hard to talk about uncomfortable topics.
Even a difficult conversation can be carried out in a pleasant way.
I consciously chose the attractive aesthetic of antiquity as a universally understood language. We like songs we already know, and ancient Greece is a familiar reference point. In my work, antiquity is the bait on the hook—because it’s easier to approach art that is beautiful. First, I lure the viewer in, and then I try to ask them difficult questions.
So you’re playing a certain game with the viewer yourself…
The Antique Games series of sculptures was born out of the belief that human relationships haven’t changed for centuries. We’ve always played the same games. The scenery and tools change, but we continue to ask the same questions.
I’m not talking about matters of science, but about what’s most essential between us. What is love to me? Do I accept the other person as they are? How deep and true is my relationship? Do I look another person in the eyes—or, despite being “bonded,” are we staring in opposite directions?
Am I just draining the other person, or do I give something of myself? How much of a narcissist am I? Am I ready to hear the truth about myself? Can I accept it? What is my relationship with money and material things? Where is the limit of my satisfaction?
These are the questions that change something—and I try to uncover such dilemmas.
Regardless of the times, we’ve always been torn between the physical and the transcendent. Between forming relationships and acting selfishly.
I believe that each of us has access to our own truth. If that’s the case, we must search for it—and fight for it.
Did you start by asking yourself these questions?
Yes. In general, I sculpt myself.
Even if we know where our truth lies, we often ignore it. Self-indulgence, pleasure, narcissism—they tempt us to choose something else.
It’s easiest to break the contract with oneself. We’re immersed in countless things. We won’t drop everything to become sages or philosophers sitting over an empty bowl. But we do need to find time and space for mental hygiene.
I hope that my art can offer such a moment—a symbolic pause on the road. Someone once bought my sculpture Fast Food so that walking past it every day, they could check whether they were consciously preparing their mental “meal.”
Which artists have made you pause for longer?
My mentors include both contemporary artists and those from past centuries.
I draw inspiration from Robert Indiana, who asked big questions in his LOVE and HOPE works. I admire Claes Oldenburg’s humor and pop art motifs drawn from mass culture.
I value Roy Lichtenstein for his comic-style mirror on social issues, but I also carry in my memory and heart Michelangelo—for giving marble a psychological dimension; Bernini, for his baroque madness and mastery with stone; and Canova, for his delicacy and return to Greek mythology.
And finally, the closest to us—I feel—is Igor Mitoraj, who passed the baton of classical inspiration to my generation.
I believe it’s important to continue that relay—rooted in the past, while growing new branches toward the future.
In your book In the Circle of Life, you wrote: “working with clay is a journey with a blurry map,” “the river of bronze doesn’t always flow obediently,” and “marble is subtraction.” What material do you sculpt yourself from? Are you as pliable as clay, rebellious like bronze, or rather like difficult-to-chisel marble?
I think all these experiences are present in the human condition. I feel closer to marble because I know who I am and feel the value of what is happening around me. However, this doesn’t mean that I remain closed off. I don’t want to harden like stone and become set in my purpose. I want to leave space within myself for reflection, criticism, and change.
And you provoke others to the same. Starting a sincere conversation is not easy these days.
When you manage to be one-on-one, it’s easier. But I remember many moments at art fairs and exhibitions around the world, where people wanted to talk and confront my art with their own experiences. In 2017, at the Biennale in Florence, the most discussions, even arguments, I had were around the sculpture Yesterday. It’s a cracked head of Aphrodite, accompanied by a fragment of a song by The Beatles: Yesterday love was such an easy game to play…
What were you arguing about?
About the question of whether love is an emotion.
And what? A game?
Yesterday love was… Let’s focus on that… Love was, love is, love will be?
Love should be something timeless…
… like Aphrodite, who was, is, and will always be a goddess! Can you say that love was? And add: an easy game? That contradicts the essence of love! When you break down the concept of love, it shatters. That’s why I first sculpted Aphrodite’s face, then broke it, only to glue it back together at the end.
So can we say that love is just an emotion? I feel hungry, I feel cold, then warm after a moment. In this context, an emotion is changeable, and it doesn’t fit with love.
So, what do you think love is?
Love is a promise. When you say you’re in love, you’re describing a temporary state. But when you say “I love you,” take a moment to think, because that’s already a promise. And if a kiss or an act precedes this promise, it feels like a lie to me. Only the promise of eternal love changes everything. Because it’s for better or for worse. It doesn’t become outdated, though it may change. That’s why it’s so important for me to detach from emotions, to consciously prepare for it, and to ask yourself if you truly want to give that person your love. This is a crucial moment, yet often treated too lightly. Once it happens, love must be cared for and constantly nurtured.
Maybe that’s because everyone wants to love and be loved?
Rather, to be in love… Everyone wants to be loved, but does everyone want to love? We don’t have to know how to love; we can learn it, but first, we have to want to. These are the kinds of questions that make a difference and even lead to arguments around the sculpture (laughs). I’ve seen couples, during such conversations, embracing more tightly as if to confirm their love. There were also lonely people who told me, “That’s not true! Love fades!” You could see that they were carrying their own stories and wounds.
You sound like a therapist.
Well, art is therapy. The question is: should it be pleasant or true?
That brings us to the “slaves in pink ribbons.”Before we talk about the “Slaves of Pleasure” project, I’ll ask about colors. We know that antiquity was colorful. For you, pink seems to be significant.
Pink represents joy, pleasure, but also the glaze, the sticky sweetness. I take it very seriously, as a symbol. In the “Slaves of Pleasure” project, which I’m preparing for this year’s Nord Art exhibition, I use pink to tell the story of the eternal pursuit of pleasure. Pleasure itself isn’t bad, but how we use it is of immense importance. Do we use it to build relationships? Do we look each other in the eyes, or, quite the opposite? The two versions of the sculpture Sticky Pink change its perception and meaning. We can be glued only by the back and stretch the rubber to its limits, or we can bend into an arch and look each other in the eyes.
How did the idea for the Slaves of Pleasure project come about?
The past period has been difficult for me; I had two knee surgeries. While lying immobilized, I went back to my idols. I remembered Michelangelo and his unfinished sculptures of slaves, which he was creating for the tomb of Pope Julius II. Do they look like captives? They are beautiful and sensual. Looking at them, I thought that we are modern-day slaves. At first, the pursuit of pleasure set the path for our development. And now? We are animals struggling with evolutionary delay. In the past, it was hard to walk by a pile of lard because, for the next week, you might not have access to food. Today, we gorge on delicacies in advance. We’re constantly chasing the reward. Here a like, there a heart, and the brain demands more. Pink entangles us, ties us up, and we don’t even feel it. The lack of mindfulness is hardly surprising when so much surrounds us. Distractions, based on the weak human nature. And there is something to attach us to. Even the phone, which should be just a tool, makes you either a victim or a product.
What’s your solution to this?
In my opinion, the remedy is relationships. The other person is given to us so that we don’t perish. Where was Adam when the serpent spoke to Eve? She was alone… When do we take out our phones and start scrolling? Most often, it’s in solitude. When reason sleeps, demons wake up. These are the moments when we get caught in a web, we start dancing with pleasure, and we don’t even notice when we turn into a cocoon. Another person can be our guardian – our paraclete, whether it’s a wife, brother, friend, or coworker…
Do you feel like a enslaved artist, addicted to applause?
We all want to be beautiful, young, famous, and rich. It’s nothing new. Of course, I’d like to believe that in the beginning, I sculpt for myself, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense. I ask myself all these questions first, and then the audience. On the other hand, this is my work, which I must use to provide for myself and my family. I am called to be a husband, then a father, and finally a sculptor. In that exact order.
If an artist has to be a salesman, manager, porter, and negotiator, it’s hard to talk about freedom and the joy of creation…
Oh yes, sometimes it’s pure schizophrenia. It may turn out that we find a great art dealer and gallery that will do all of this for us, but that doesn’t always happen. But if an artist never breaks through in the art market, does the substantive value of their art change? No. However, if I want to be an artist, but also a father and a husband who brings bread to the table, I can’t just sit and create. For the past six months, I’ve barely left the keyboard. I write emails, negotiate, talk, because I know certain things need to happen for me to be able to share my next ideas.
So, is the computer one of the tools of the modern Michelangelo?
People have a romanticized view of sculptors. And that’s been the case forever! Just read the book about Michelangelo’s life, The Agony and the Ecstasy.
How many contacts, how many conversations must happen for a sculpture to be created…
Michelangelo had to organize the way to the quarry to extract the marble. Sculpting is the cherry on top. There’s no rule — that’s the only rule. Fashion changes, and in a moment, something else will capture the public’s attention. The only thing that’s permanent in all of this is the understanding with oneself. The awareness that you’re not following fashion, but you know what you’re doing and why.
࢝ But you are Michelangelo of the 21st century…
I’ve gone through the classic school of sculpting: from the hammer, chisel, and clay, through tools like the pneumatic hammer and angle grinder, to modern technologies that allow you to scan a clay sculpture and roughly process the stone using a CNC milling machine before finishing it by hand. The path you take to tools has huge consequences. I was able to experience the old world, and today I am open enough to reach for contemporary possibilities. I’m fascinated by how new technologies make our lives easier, but I’m vigilant because every tool has its limitations. You can’t make sharp edges with a milling machine. To achieve that effect, you need to grab a chisel. How will a 21st-century sculptor, who’s never touched a chisel, do this? The range of tools is very important for consciously searching for form. It’s great if someone knows how to use CNC machines to achieve their goal. It’s worse if it turns out that their projects are what they are just because they are unconsciously using this tool and not another.
࢝ You said in one of your interviews: I take the antique to move forward… Where are you going, and who do you want to be tomorrow?
You’re referring to the title of the exhibition “Who do you want to be tomorrow?” Above all, myself! (laughs) This is not really my question because it’s asked at the end of one of Yuval Noah Harari’s books. He doesn’t direct it at an individual but at civilization as a whole. We already have such demiurgic possibilities that if we don’t answer today who we want to be tomorrow, tomorrow will create us as we might not want to be at all. Instead of being molded like clay, it’s worth asking the questions that lead to the truth. Let the truth be the tool that shapes and forges us into who we want to be.
I like that you can combine different arts, which you demonstrated with the exhibition “In the Circle of Life.” There was music, poetry, and sculpture, and now you’re adding film and theater to your latest project…
As the winner of the Nord Art Audience Award in 2022, I view this year’s edition as both an opportunity and a huge commitment. I’m raising the bar. I’m building a pavilion inspired by a Greek temple, where I will tell the story of a person torn between the physical and the spiritual, between their inner self and the search for relationships. At the end of the pavilion, there will be a niche where initially there was to be a sculpture of a person wrapped in symbolic pink ribbons. Ultimately, I decided on video art. I’ve invited a dancer, animators from the Białystok Puppet Theater, and musicians from the Sarakina band to join this project. We are working on a hypnotizing video art piece. You’ll see a character, lured into a cage. They notice something pleasantly pink and allow themselves to be bound by it, wrapped in a tight cocoon of pleasure. Once one figure is sucked in, another person enters… And so it goes on…
So, there is no happy ending?
You know how pleasant it is to watch? It all captures your attention. You look at something that is beautiful, but unsettling. You want the person to be entangled in the pink, like in a hedonistic dream. Will you say “enough”? On one hand, it’s the anatomy of temptation, on the other, a warning. The question is, what will you do with it? Why does something that seems beautiful not end well? What is your pink, your cocoon, that takes away your freedom? I hope the reflection of the viewer will be the happy ending of this work.
During the Artistic Award ceremony of the President of the City of Białystok, you said that your greatest work is your family. Could it be said that you’re fulfilled?
You can always set new goals for yourself and achieve them. But you also have to be ready for death, for departure.
Can you prepare for that?
It’s worth living in harmony with yourself and not postponing important things for retirement. Balance is felt when you know that, as much as you can, you are in touch with what is most important to you. Of course, you can always be a better father, husband, boss, or employee. Growth never ends. I think it’s worth living with a compass, not with a watch in hand. I believe we will be judged by our direction, not by how much time we spent running or how many kilometers we covered. Even if you’re lost, it means you want to get somewhere. We are not perfect like gods.
It’s worth living in harmony with yourself and not postponing important things for retirement. Balance is felt when you know that, as much as you can, you are in touch with what is most important to you. Of course, you can always be a better father, husband, boss, or employee. Growth never ends. I think it’s worth living with a compass, not with a watch in hand. I believe we will be judged by our direction, not by how much time we spent running or how many kilometers we covered. Even if you’re lost, it means you want to get somewhere. We are not perfect like gods.
The Harari you quoted says that we are becoming them already.
Yes, but only in a technocratic sense. Morally and spiritually, we are still in the same place as Cain and Abel. Even though we know more and more, the fruit plucked from the tree of knowledge does not make us evolve. It only gives eternal dissatisfaction, shows limitations and possibilities. It doesn’t provide satisfaction. It doesn’t tell us how to live to love. Returning to the feeling of fulfillment – of course, I would like to create projects on an urban scale, influence space with sculpture. I am happy that in Białystok, thanks to a private donor, Mrs. Joanna Szymańska-Kok, my sculpture Sticky Pink – OBIETNICA will stand. Every artist dreams of becoming part of art and world history. But when lying on their deathbed, does anyone think about why they didn’t do one more big exhibition? Relationships are the most important to me, and everything else stems from them. This is my art of life.
Thank you for the shared walk through the studio, for the important questions, and for the inspiring answers.
