St Kyrill 

Editor: Here we have Jerzy Nowosielski's "St Kyrill," an oil painting on wood. The piece immediately strikes me as very…deliberate, even austere. What’s your take on it? Curator: Austere, yes, and something more. Doesn't it hum with a deep stillness? I see a window opening into a very old way of seeing, the Byzantine tradition reimagined through Nowosielski's incredibly personal lens. Look at how the figure is rendered; so flattened, simplified almost to pure geometry. The wood grain itself feels incorporated into the work's texture, doesn’t it? What feelings rise in you? Editor: I definitely see the Byzantine influence. It feels reverent, almost like an artifact, yet the lines are so stark. Is that a dialogue he's creating, that tension between ancient and modern? Curator: Absolutely! Nowosielski was endlessly fascinated by the sacred meeting the profane in everyday life. And look, even his use of color – that bold, raw umber contrasting with the spectral blue of the halo…it jars you a little, doesn’t it? Not the sweet, comforting spirituality we might expect. But something rougher, earthier. The lettering too adds a fascinating dimension; they are intentionally simplified. Do you have a sense of why he’d want to pursue those juxtapositions? Editor: Perhaps to jolt us out of complacency, to see faith with new eyes. Almost like a spiritual wake-up call? Curator: Exactly! Nowosielski always did like to prod the comfortable. For him, I suspect, faith was less about easy answers and more about the ongoing, sometimes painful, wrestling with the mystery. A very tactile expression. Editor: That’s insightful! Now I see the work with much more depth; not just an image but a dialogue in paint. Curator: And isn’t that the most glorious thing art can do? To offer an insight, and start a real conversation within our minds and hearts, creating something completely new and exciting!