ZŁOTOWŁOSE 1954

Kazimierz Mikulski made ZŁOTOWŁOSE with oil on cardboard, and right away, I’m struck by the painting's otherworldly light and constrained palette. There’s something dreamy and unsettling about the way Mikulski approaches representation; it's not quite realism, but it's not totally abstract either. The colors are muted, like they've been bleached by the sun, and the paint application is smooth, almost slick. You can barely see any brushstrokes, which gives the whole thing a kind of flattened, illustrative quality. But then you notice the subtle variations in tone, like in the faces of the two women, and you realize there’s more going on beneath the surface. The dog-like figure in the background feels like it has stepped out of a dream. I'm interested in the artist's desire to represent what is not seen, or barely seen. This picture reminds me a little of early Giorgio de Chirico, and feels like a conversation with other artists about how we can see the world through different lenses. It’s a reminder that art is always in dialogue, and there's never one right way to see.