B/R/Z
7-21 june, Entropia Gallery
installation in collaboration with Sam Stevens
The title of this exhibiton: Biurio Rzeczy Znalezionych means Lost and Found in English, but literally it could be translated as: An Office of Lost Things. Exhibition at Entropia represented an ongoing investigation of personal objects and their stories. Social encounters and travels combine in a site-specific installation divided into couple installations.
The whole collection consists of objects and their traces, from years past shown as an open archive of frozen moments. Stories are passed through hands, objects are totems - tools or souvenirs. Everything operates by exchange and is being powered by stories collected on different continents. Lost & Found in a gallery was a space to remind people of things that matter. Because it always has to be lost in order to be found.
Lost and Found began in Los Angeles/Santa Monica (September 2017), and continued to San Cristobal, Mexico (May 2018), Oleśnica and Wrocław (December 2018), Mexico City (February 2019) until present.

Tortilla Paper Notebooks,
2018
from market in Puebla, Oaxaca and also some from the bazaar in San Cristobal, Chiapas. We packaged and mailed them to United States. Necessary documents for border crossing, those important papers were taken by buss to NYC, turned into booklets and then carried to Poland by plane. By the transmitter bringing blank pages from one world to another.
Tomato Garden Frames,
2019
He moves to Oleśnica, among many reasons, to have a small garden.
Bought in the sawmill on Krzywosutego street, picked carefully, checked by Krzysiek and Boczek. Sold by an unknown female trapped in a tiny kiosk by the entrance to the store house. Watched by senior clientele, telling loud un-censored stories. Then transported to our basement on Sudoła street, formerly Dostoyewski street, later turned into frames. Each different, but similar, just like the books he was working on a year ago.
Memory catchers with some time to fade away.

Tomato Garden Frames,
2019
He moves to Oleśnica, among many reasons, to have a small garden.
Bought in the sawmill on Krzywosutego street, picked carefully, checked by Krzysiek and Boczek. Sold by an unknown female trapped in a tiny kiosk by the entrance to the store house. Watched by senior clientele, telling loud un-censored stories. Then transported to our basement on Sudoła street, formerly Dostoyewski street, later turned into frames. Each different, but similar, just like the books he was working on a year ago.
Memory catchers with some time to fade away.

Sun Effect,
2017
The “Sun Effect”project was durational Residency Within a Residency that took place in Santa Monica, California over the span of 3 months.
During the stay we hosted guests in exchange for stories and DIY souvenirs. Personal objects that would remind us of themand later became a part of our (re)collection. All of the accumulated items were symbolic forms of memoryderived from what a given guest deemed worthy.
At the end of the stay all of the collected souvenirswere recycled and mixed into a pulp. They wereblended and turned into sheets of paper - a new coherentform that embodies the whole “collection”. Every souvenir was symbolically included on each page, dried under the sun, the only remaining object.
A bouncy ball, a small mirror. Left by the first guest, was reflecting the sun into the wall of our communal space, greeting each newcomer. It stood at the entrance, where we first met, and telling them to feel at home.
All contributors:
Ross Clark, Ada Czeczelewska, Claude Eshaghian, Anastasia Gusach, Edgar Guzman, Ivan Karcev, Thibault Knop, Oscar Lang, Sue Man, Matt Mcmunn, Yoonji Na, Amita Ye , Silvio Palladino, Tristan Quay Thevenon, Samara Rodenta, Ajay Sharma, Kat Sotelo, Joseph Tuzolino, Alvaro Zelaya.
Sun Effect,
2017
The “Sun Effect”project was durational Residency Within a Residency that took place in Santa Monica, California over the span of 3 months.
During the stay we hosted guests in exchange for stories and DIY souvenirs. Personal objects that would remind us of themand later became a part of our (re)collection. All of the accumulated items were symbolic forms of memoryderived from what a given guest deemed worthy.
At the end of the stay all of the collected souvenirswere recycled and mixed into a pulp. They wereblended and turned into sheets of paper - a new coherentform that embodies the whole “collection”. Every souvenir was symbolically included on each page, dried under the sun, the only remaining object.
A bouncy ball, a small mirror. Left by the first guest, was reflecting the sun into the wall of our communal space, greeting each newcomer. It stood at the entrance, where we first met, and telling them to feel at home.
All contributors:
Ross Clark, Ada Czeczelewska, Claude Eshaghian, Anastasia Gusach, Edgar Guzman, Ivan Karcev, Thibault Knop, Oscar Lang, Sue Man, Matt Mcmunn, Yoonji Na, Amita Ye , Silvio Palladino, Tristan Quay Thevenon, Samara Rodenta, Ajay Sharma, Kat Sotelo, Joseph Tuzolino, Alvaro Zelaya.

I’m always at home in my body.
The writing from the workers, mistakes
and pencil marks,
it seems to be in another language.
Of course I know that this is your house,
that it was your grandma’s house.
The calluses are finally disappearing from
my feet. A place to rest.
I wonder where her bed was,
Did she die in here?
A primary output of our body is dust.
Alone in an empty room, subsisting
normally, will slowly fill with dust.
Dead skin cells, the byproduct of
our thoughts. I think that I’m very
sensitive to this dust. I’m often doing
A detailed sweeping, in every corner and crack,
under every furniture, behind every jar,
moving vases and wardrobes,
stooping into corners,
feeling peaceful, entering every space in the home.
Strengthening, growing, the processing of energy.
What do we put in? And what do we give off?
Like plants growing flesh.
What is the result of all that living?
What is our fruit?
The dust, a miasma
Of our thoughts,
energy, emotions,
desires, memories,
The culmination of our
physical and mental
processes. Like the
fruit of a plant,
we are slowly making
thoughts and dust.
Sam Stevens