Curator - Statement Czolgaj Sie is a poem written by the young, prominent, Polish poet Marcin Swietlicki. Artist, composer and musician, Cezary Ostrowski, has created a graphic illustratiion of the poem, as well as music to accompany a reading by Swietlicki. Upon first seeing and hearing Czolgaj Sie, I assumed that it was a commentary on involuntary sex trade. The verbal and visual clues all pointed strongly in that direction. We have come to regard gender equality is the expected state of affairs; and submission and humiliation to be something forced upon an unwilling sex worker, or the victim of vicious marital abuse. Something external to ourselves. "I guess the sex trade is not the issue here", countered Ostrowski. "It's rather the man/woman (dominant/submissive) archetypic relation. Now, however, the cultural norms [in Central/Eastern Europe] are weakening, rather than going in the opposite direction. In gender relations, there has been a masculinization of women, and the adoption of a partnership model. It is part of a much bigger shift in our culture and society. The state has grown weaker, the church has suffered a loss of power, even while Polish publisher Jerzy Urban was recently fined for insulting Pope John Paul II. But even there, there was no time of imprisonment; and the fine was really quite small. So the domination of the female depicted in the poem is something we are moving away from, although the patterns of thought are still deeply engrained. "The building in the second panel is similar to an actual place in Poznan called The Old Brewery. For many it's a symbol of aggressive, inadequate capitalism. Again, a master/slave relationship. And around the building are gathered the so-called "average" (anonymous) people (customers). They are interested only in consuming every heavily promoted 'shit.' And so the submission continues, but in a new form." I noted in the fifth panel, that there appeared to be Latin and Orthodox Crosses, and the Hammer and Sickle of the Soviet era. "Beyond the obvious, answer," I asked, "What do they represent? Something that is now dead?" Ambiguously, Ostrowki replied: "No matter the system or religion - DEATH IS EQUAL." I wondered also who the sniper was. Someone who intended to keep the woman in her place, on the floor - the floor which was her "home"? Was the sniper her pimp? Her husband? Or was it someone outside of her existence, who was repelled by her existence, and sought to destroy her? Or society as a whole, perhaps? "I think we are all curious who the sniper is," replied Ostrowski. "The most important issue lies in understanding the sniper's existence." W. Logan Fry Curator