HUNGRY LIKE A COUNTRY DOG AND WITH A HEAD FULL
Marta Bielska
Izabella Gustowska
Martyna Miller
Teresa Pągowska
Pracownia kuratorswa:
Zofia Sałasińska
Zuzanna Tetera
Kajetan Wójcik
24.10 - 21.11.2025
Hunger refers to a state caused by a lack of food. Metaphorically, it may also mean an absence of or a need for something. What was Teresa Pągowska hungry for when she wrote to Wojciech Fangor:
“[...] I already had 12 canvases prepared, I felt as if I no longer remembered how to hold a brush, as if I didn’t know anything about it, and full of this uncertainty, I suddenly leapt into action.
Of course, hungry like a country dog and with a head full of dreams, smells, ideas, desires. And everything turned out to be possible” [1]?
The curators interpret Pągowska’s words on the one hand as the voice of an artist with a deep need to create. On the other – as a confession of a woman tired of everyday domestic duties. She shares some errands with her husband, and her friends, as she writes, “help her a little with the heaviest groceries.” She seems somewhat embarrassed to ask for help. However, she intends to use the time gained creatively. She is hungry to create –
something she had to set aside at that time. At last, she can devote herself to painting. Her canvases are both calm and full of energy. She paints nudes that break with the tradition of depicting the female body, portraying it as a being situated beyond space and time.
Among artists, the boundary between paid work, creative activity, and the need for rest is blurred. Some have to balance their professional and domestic responsibilities with artistic activity. Each of us faces similar difficulties. In a world where work and productivity rank among the highest values, we increasingly lack the time, strength or inner permission simply to rest. We are subjected to processes meant to increase our efficiency, almost like cattle. We are expected to be both obedient and useful.
Martyna Miller explicitly compares herself to a cow, “subjected to inseminations, expectations of increased productivity, her subordination, agency, and pleasure.” Exploitation and violence clash with the body’s need for rest. The ambiguous symbolism of cattle also manifests itself in language. In Polish, cielęce oczy (calf-like eyes) denote a drowsy and trusting gaze; on the other hand, one toils like an ox (harować jak wół).
When, after a full day’s work, we are finally about to go to sleep, we realize that resting is not easy. Deep, effective regeneration seems almost impossible. Even while lying in bed, we process our emotions and thoughts. In truth, we rarely exist here and now. Perhaps it is easier for us to achieve that in a dream rather than in waking life?
In 1991, Izabella Gustowska wrote: “Why am I surrounded by dozens of girls dreaming their dreams, young, older, and very old women? Dozens of dreams dreamt by many at the same time. Figures wrapped in white sheets and naked bodies from summer nights, recorded on black glass, submerged in glass panes. Unfathomable – like everything that still lies ahead of me.”
As she later admitted, that “unfathomable” turned out to be the imminent passing of someone dearest to her.. For Gustowska, death seems to be the ultimate form of sleep – perhaps the only one which permanently releases us from the rhythm of time’s relentless flow. In her imagination, even asleep we are not entirely safe to rest. Within it, we are confronted with subconscious desires, eroticism, and the fear of death.
One of the women who haunted Gustowska’s imagination is Krystyna Piotrowska, portrayed in Krystyna’s dream. A series of three works depicts the artist’s friend in almost identical poses. Subtle nuances of movement suggest shifting and restlessness. The artist gently examines her exposed body, portraying the mysterious, psychological, and somewhat sexual nature of sleep.
Marta Bielska also presents a drowsy woman – the poet Halina Poświatowska, awakened after a heart surgery. The helplessness of a person in sleep is analogous to their helplessness when faced with a serious illness. The artist notes that after the surgery, a hint of calm finally appears on the poet’s face. Bielska invokes not only Poświatowska, but also other artists: Francesca Woodman, Aino Kannisto, Susan Sontag, and Elin Danielson-Gambogi. In their reclining poses, she sees not only a moment of relaxation, but also a quiet form of resistance. As Bielska herself emphasizes: “Lying down is not laziness; I am lying down right now and thinking about my work about lying down. Rest is not laziness – it is caring for oneself.”
From thirteen women [2] immortalized in Izabella Gustowska’s film, we learn various strategies for resting. They relax in different ways on a characteristic pink bedding: through playing instruments, singing, prayer, meditation, or dance. The bed is not only a place for sleep – it should also be a safe zone and perhaps even a place of inspiration.
Beginning with Pągowska’s hesitant plea for help and her reclining nudes, we arrive at the emancipation of rest in Gustowska’s Sunny morning. Fatigue affects everyone: artists, curators, and viewers alike. We hope that the exhibition Hungry like a country dog and with a head full can become a place of respite. We propose an alternative mode of visiting an art-space. In the gallery, a shared resting area has been created. The works can be viewed
standing, sitting, or lying down – in sleep or awake. By breaking the traditional exhibition format, we offer a space devoted to fulfilling the need for rest, where the gallery becomes a place for celebrating regeneration.
[1] A letter from Teresa Pągowska and Henryk Tomaszewski to Wojciech Fangor, 09.02.1995, © Archiwum Wojciecha Fangora / FANGOR Foundation. Courtesy of Muzeum Sztuki Nowoczesnej w Warszawie.
[2] They are: Annelise Bianchini, Telma Bernardo, Sofia Lund, Sari Caine, Naomi Bell, Meredith A. Watson, Ciara Griffin, Kate Tenetko, Danielle Brewer, Chantez Carter, Abigail Classey, Izabella Gustowska and Clarise Jensen