In this new series of works by Bartłomiej Flis, everything is happening for the first time. The first chick hatching from an egg. The first fragile shoots peeking out from beneath a blanket of melting snow. The First Argument arising among the First People. The First Wild Horse allowing the First Rider to mount.

Monumental in scale and form, the paintings of Bartłomiej Flis are populated by the native People of an Early World. Their large, dirty hands tenderly dote on the tiny plants whose fruits will feed future generations. "Night" and "Field" offer an impression that his subjects are survivors, the last ones standing after the apocalypse, who are just relearning the World.

And yet, this apocalypse takes place every year. The cycle of seasons, so deeply rooted in the folk culture and highbrow culture of Poland, is the natural course of affairs. Perhaps this is the reason why the artist takes such a nostalgic approach. Raised in Eastern Poland, he experiences the natural processes of rural life on his own skin. The most apparent change is the physical separation from the Earth. The sight of farmhands covered in dirt, working in the soil is now just a memory, a myth. The figures in these paintings are turned toward the soil, in pursuit of comfort and safety. If they ever look up, it’s to judge by the shape of a cloud or the flight of a bird what the future holds.

The future of the impending Spring is remarkably uncertain: even the first blossoms on the trees no longer suggest that the End of Winter has arrived. As we have ushered the World onto the brink of catastrophe, now the seasons a just a series of one anomalous weather event after another. The world is no longer the same and no longer follows the same familiar rhythm.

The People of the Early World look at the melting snow with gratitude, patiently awaiting the First Spring, which may never actually come.

These monumental figures can be understood as sign of our fascination with what is fleeting and the hope that we aren’t the Last Generation after all. These anonymous giants are only taking shape, only just learning how to understand the world around them. They take each step carefully, as if they were afraid their giant feet would crush the new life springing forth from the ground. Every gesture (Egg and Jar) is respectful and full of curiosity about the world. Their movements are so gentle that even the First Horse accepts domestication. It’s clear that the only source of anger is another human being ("Quarrel" and "Dirty Hands"). Nature is the only companion, meriting kindness and care ("Jar" and "Field").
In this Early World, only the storks will remind us that these natural cycles are repetitive, not linear. That every Spring feels like the First.

In this new series of works by Bartłomiej Flis, everything is happening for the first time. The first chick hatching from an egg. The first fragile shoots peeking out from beneath a blanket of melting snow. The First Argument arising among the First People. The First Wild Horse allowing the First Rider to mount.

Monumental in scale and form, the paintings of Bartłomiej Flis are populated by the native People of an Early World. Their large, dirty hands tenderly dote on the tiny plants whose fruits will feed future generations. "Night" and "Field" offer an impression that his subjects are survivors, the last ones standing after the apocalypse, who are just relearning the World.

And yet, this apocalypse takes place every year. The cycle of seasons, so deeply rooted in the folk culture and highbrow culture of Poland, is the natural course of affairs. Perhaps this is the reason why the artist takes such a nostalgic approach. Raised in Eastern Poland, he experiences the natural processes of rural life on his own skin. The most apparent change is the physical separation from the Earth. The sight of farmhands covered in dirt, working in the soil is now just a memory, a myth. The figures in these paintings are turned toward the soil, in pursuit of comfort and safety. If they ever look up, it’s to judge by the shape of a cloud or the flight of a bird what the future holds.

The future of the impending Spring is remarkably uncertain: even the first blossoms on the trees no longer suggest that the End of Winter has arrived. As we have ushered the World onto the brink of catastrophe, now the seasons a just a series of one anomalous weather event after another. The world is no longer the same and no longer follows the same familiar rhythm.

The People of the Early World look at the melting snow with gratitude, patiently awaiting the First Spring, which may never actually come.

These monumental figures can be understood as sign of our fascination with what is fleeting and the hope that we aren’t the Last Generation after all. These anonymous giants are only taking shape, only just learning how to understand the world around them. They take each step carefully, as if they were afraid their giant feet would crush the new life springing forth from the ground. Every gesture (Egg and Jar) is respectful and full of curiosity about the world. Their movements are so gentle that even the First Horse accepts domestication. It’s clear that the only source of anger is another human being ("Quarrel" and "Dirty Hands"). Nature is the only companion, meriting kindness and care ("Jar" and "Field").
In this Early World, only the storks will remind us that these natural cycles are repetitive, not linear. That every Spring feels like the First.