In her work, Bogna – simply Bogna as she likes to emphasise – questions the origin of our need for a sense of aesthetics and the role of nature in erasing technologically induced illusions and overstimulation. A young artist, who sees her age as an advantage, or rather, a “beautiful moment in life”. At only 19, Bogna recently made her mark at the Graphic Arts Biennale in Poznan. Her presented piece, Where Do I Look, invites to a meditation on the selective and limited perception of the observer, earning her a Contemporary Lynx’s honourable mention at the Biennale.
Bogna Lupińska is pursuing her studies at the University of Arts in Poznań in Poland. As she tries to focus at that time as much as possible, she also recognises she’s in the process of “shaping herself in every possible way – artistically, character-wise, and even physically”. And, as she often says, she “would like to enjoy the results only later in life”. Specialising in graphic arts, she ventures into various non-traditional media such as glass, fabric, or beetroot juice. Looking to explore unfamiliar territory, she is currently working with the Tiffany-style soldering technique, which has become central to her recent projects. “For me”, she adds, “art is a zone of constant self-discovery and art-discovery”. Even if she can’t put a definition and meaning to this word yet. But that beautiful exploration is excitingly ahead of her.
We caught up with Bogna after the 14th Graphic Arts Biennale: IMPORT/EXPORT exhibition and asked her to share insights into the realities of her creative process and the motivations behind her recent work.
Maria Sarna: Your work sits at the crossroads of disciplines, yet you have specialised in graphic arts. How has your time at the University of the Arts shaped your direction and the choices of your current media?
Bogna Lupińska: It had a significant impact, especially when it comes to this choice of media. The fact that I chose to study graphic arts specifically was initially more of a coincidence than an actual choice. Despite my initial disorientation, studying at UAP [University of the Arts Poznań] opened a range of techniques that I now consider vital in my everyday work. Graphic art is, above all, a printing process – a craft. Today, when we can print everything digitally, creating a matrix by hand may seem unnecessary, but it is in this craftsmanship that the essence lies. Graphic art is a real skill, which is what I value most. Craftsmanship combined with meaningful thought is what I strive for and would like to seek in what I do.
M.S.: Are there aspects of your creative process that remain constant in your practice – certain rituals or methods you return to?
B.L.: I always try to sit down with a blank piece of paper and write down everything that pops into my head. This isn’t that easy for me, as I tend to think in images and find it quite difficult to translate into words. This is the only ritual I stick to. In later stages of my work, I tend to look for anything that is “anti-static”. I appreciate when the medium, which I decide to use, surprises me, teaching me humility.
“Today, when we can print everything digitally, creating a matrix by hand may seem unnecessary, but it is in this craftsmanship that the essence lies.”
M.S.: Continuing from there, when do you know that a piece is finished? Do you experience moments of hesitation, and if so, how do you approach them?
B.L.: Sometimes I know from the very beginning how a final piece is supposed to turn out. It works a bit like a vision that appears in my mind. In those cases, it’s simple, all I need to do is to pursue it, and once the actual form is more or less resembling the visualised image, my work is done. The fact that I am by no means a perfectionist makes this easier. However, things become more complicated when the vision itself seems vague or unfinished. Then I try to act intuitively and concentrate on the process itself. It seems to me that this approach is much more enjoyable and more aligned with who I am, but the result can seem less satisfying.
M.S.: With your glass work Antytillusuion (2025), you reference Huxley’s Doors of Perception. Were his reflections the main catalyst for your work around the theme of perception? What other experiences drew you towards this issue of the limited attention of the modern-day observer?
B.L.: I actually thought of Huxley at the very end. What mattered most to me was shaping a narrative around the illusory character of the world around me. I didn’t have to think much about it, because it’s simply a daily experience. I feel the need to escape from the overstimulation with what is unnatural, artificially created by man. I wanted to create an object which would be the opposite, something “anti” – a form of such an escape. But I didn’t know what materials to use, yet I intuitively thought of glass, and that’s when I remembered the passage from “The Doors of Perception”, which was so dear to me when I was younger. I feel that for my generation, these subjects of perception, overstimulation and the illusory world in which we grew up, come up rather naturally. We might be among the first to fully feel the negative effects of the technological revolution, and there are many.
M.S.: Your piece, Where do I Look (Gdzie patrzę) (2025), presented this year at the Graphic Arts Biennale in Poznań, builds on this idea of perception and our agency in choosing what to hide or expose. What was the journey behind the creation of this work?
B.L.: In fact, I have long wondered about people’s sense of aesthetics. I myself have felt the need to aestheticise the space I inhabit since childhood. However, I have also asked myself where this need comes from. Does it have to do with the way we are raised? Or was it the influence of society? And yet, even early humans have felt such a need. About two years ago, I visited the replica of the Lascaux cave, known for its well-preserved wall paintings. What stuck out to me the most was the fact that not only were these drawings made using a variety of techniques, but also with a remarkable sensitivity. I think this proves that when it comes to the sense of aesthetics, it is something rooted so deeply in us that it is essentially primal.
In Where Do I Look, I also wanted to return to this idea. A curtain is, after all, a highly decorative element, which aesthetises the space. However, a curtain can also serve an entirely different role – of a barrier. This need for isolation fascinates me. Unlike my mother or my grandmother, I don’t seem to have such a need any more. Quite the contrary, actually – there’s a need for social closeness. Whether that’s due to my relatively young age or a generational issue, I do not yet know. I leave this question open for the time being.
M.S.: There’s also another major theme in your work – your relationship to nature, deeply woven into the pieces you created this year. We see clear connections in Trunk or Forest, where you critique the gradual shift in our collective vision of nature. You offer a more subtle reference to the forest through the title, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Has this connection to nature always manifested in your art, or is it a more recent turn?
B.L.: Given that a connection to nature has always accompanied my perception of the world, most likely the same goes for my art – even if more subconsciously. It was, however, only this year that I started to speak about how I feel about this subject. I’m not exactly sure what provoked it. It seems that it has to do with a certain confidence. Being a human being, it is much easier to speak about people than anything else. Opinions seem so much more justified then, and I like for what I think or say to be grounded. Besides, this year I have become more conscious of abandoning anthropocentric thinking – which I am also very pleased with by the way! I certainly don’t want to let go of this mindset.
“Given that a connection to nature has always accompanied my perception of the world, most likely the same goes for my art – even if more subconsciously.”
M.S.: While exploring this direction of integrating nature, you give a strong space to the medium in your storytelling – other than the passage of time, what else drew you to organic materials? How did the interest in fabric emerge?
B.L.: As I mentioned earlier, I am looking for an escape from the illusory. What can be less artificial than real material detached from human activity? This is why I look for organic, often ephemeral materials, even though it isn’t always simple. Almost anything that appears adequate to use in the creative process has, in some shape or form, passed through a modification by human hands. Jute, which I am very fond of, is a good example. It seems incredibly natural, both visually and to the touch. And yet, it’s been processed multiple times.
I dream of creating complex structures with elements of completely natural origin. Although such materials also happen to be difficult to work with, partly because of their low resistance and durability. When it comes to textiles, I enjoy working with them in various forms. At first, I was drawn by its texture and softness. Over time, though, I wanted to eliminate that association by interfering with this delicate structure by hardening it. Nowadays, I’m still intrigued by the duality concealed within it and continue to explore it.
M.S.: First, the Biennale of Graphic Arts, then your work was on view at the Galeria Wiele Sztuki in Poznan until mid-May. In what direction do you see your creative work evolving now?
B.L.: To be honest, right now it’s the process itself that interests me the most, and that is what I would like to keep focusing on. The results that might come out of it are secondary to me for now. The only thing I would like to do is to continually develop and enjoy what I do.
