In recent years, there has been a notable shift in both museum practice and the art market, with contemporary projects and publications challenging the long-held assumption that the history of art has been predominantly shaped by men. Yet, women fought against prohibitions and damaging stereotypes to secure their own place within culture, using artistic creation as a means of asserting their agency and subjectivity. Among them was the Polish sculptor Maria Papa Rostkowska.
The exhibition Maria Papa Rostkowska & Wifredo Lam. Imaginaires Croisés – Albisola et au-delà at the prestigious Galerie Diane de Polignac in Paris forms part of a wider series of Parisian projects devoted to the artist’s oeuvre. Less than two years ago, her work was on view at the Musée de la Fondation de Coubertin, and shortly after the closing of the presentation at Galerie Diane de Polignac, six of her sculptures will be displayed at the Embassy of Poland in Paris.
Imaginaires Croisés – Albisola et au-delà explores both the personal and artistic ties between Maria Papa Rostkowska and Wifredo Lam, who worked together during their time in Albisola. It marries terracotta and marble sculptures by the artist, presented to the public for the first time. Celebrating the exceptional talent of Maria Papa Rostkowska, the curator of the exhibition and Director of the Galerie Diane de Polignac, Mathilde Gubanski, talked to us about the context and behind-the-scenes narrative.
Julia Gorlewska: Let’s start from the beginning. Maria Papa Rostkowska made her debut as a painter in the early 1950s, producing works in the spirit of Socialist Realism. When the political “thaw” arrived, she moved to Paris and turned towards sculpture, which soon became her primary medium. Today, more than half a century later, it is precisely in Paris, where such a significant shift took place in her work, that you have decided to present her works. Could you please tell us about the concept behind the project? What was the impetus for the exhibition? What did you find so compelling about Papa Rostkowska’s work?
Mathilde Gubanski: Actually, I didn’t know about Maria Papa Rostkowska for a long time. The idea to look at her work came from her son, Nicolas. We’ve been representing another artist, Robert Helman, from Romania, for many years. That’s how Nicolas and Joëlle, Maria’s daughter-in-law, discovered our gallery; Robert was a close friend of his mother. They moved in the same circles and were both represented by Galerie XXe Siècle in Paris.
So Nicolas and Joëlle approached me and said, “You know, you represent Robert. He was a very good friend of mine and of my mother. I think it would be interesting for you to look at Maria Papa Rostkowska’s work.” I did, and I immediately found it very compelling, and also very aligned with our gallery, since we specialise in post-war artists.
Most of the artists we represent were born between 1900 and 1930. We focus on artists from all over the world who chose Paris as the place to live and work after World War II. That is what we call “La Seconde École de Paris” (the Second School of Paris): artists who came here from different countries, met each other, became friends, spent time in the same cafés, exhibited in the same galleries, and formed a coherent community. Our artists all crossed paths and exhibited alongside one another at some point, so the group is very cohesive, and Maria Papa Rostkowska fit perfectly within it.
It was also a great opportunity for us to represent sculpture. Our gallery usually focuses on paintings and drawings, and we have never staged a fully sculptural exhibition before. We embraced the challenge and completely fell in love with her work.
J.G.: What captivated you about Maria Papa Rostkowska’s sculptures? What makes them so distinctive?
M.G.: What fascinates me most is how she balances abstraction and figuration, creating a harmonious blend of both. This recalls the approach of Jean Arp, whom I admire and who was also a close friend of Maria’s. It is this balance that deeply resonates with me.
I am also struck by the softness of her sculptures and the optimism in their titles, like Source de vie. These works evoke a sense of happiness and a love of life. Despite experiencing hardship, particularly during the 1930s and 1940s in Poland, she created art that radiates beauty and joy. This contrast between her personal struggles and the spirit of her work is compelling and deserves to be shared.
J.G.: The exhibition invites us to rediscover the golden age of Albisola, which, from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s, was a meeting place for artists experimenting with clay and terracotta. At that time, Maria Papa Rostkowska worked alongside Wifredo Lam and Lucio Fontana, among others. In the catalogue, these encounters are described with a sense of nostalgia by the artist’s son, Nicolas. But how did her time in Liguria influence her artistic output? Why was it such an important moment in Papa Rostkowska’s career?
M.G.: It was a real turning point: it’s when she moved from painting to sculpture. And Albisola was also a decisive place for many artists connected to our Second School of Paris. We explored this context before, for example, through an exhibition of Roberto Matta’s early works. His shift from traditional painting to works made with earth and sand happened in Albisola, where he discovered clay and raw material as part of the artistic process. I also researched the archives around the artists who gathered there around Tullio Mazzotti [also called Tullio d’Albisola], the poet and ceramicist who played a central role in bringing this community together. Before that, Albisola was a small town [on the Liguria coast close to Savona], but Mazzotti managed to attract major artists for more than ten years, making it an exceptional artistic hub.
When I spoke with Nicolas and Joëlle, we agreed that Albisola was the best starting point to introduce Maria Papa Rostkowska. It’s a story we know well and have shared with our collectors, so it creates an immediate point of entry. It also connects naturally to Wifredo Lam, an artist we have shown before and whom our collectors already recognise.
So Albisola is not only a strong introduction: it is the beginning of everything: of her sculpture career, which is why it made sense as the starting point for our first exhibition.
J.G.: As you said, the exhibition emphasises not only the work of Maria Papa Rostkowska, but also her artistic dialogue with Wifredo Lam. Tell us more about their creative relationship.
M.G.: Yes, because in Albisola she met many artists, and that changed everything. In Paris, with her second husband, Gualtieri di San Lazzaro, she was already very present on the Parisian scene. But Albisola opened a different circle. She met major sculptors there and became close friends with Wifredo Lam and Lucio Fontana, which immediately expanded her creative horizon.
That is where she began to work with clay, with her hands, and for her it was a revelation. You can see it in the reliefs, these clay “paintings,” where the transition from painting to sculpture becomes visible. They are still square or rectangular surfaces with colour and composition, but she is already physically digging into the material: cutting it, piercing it, creating holes and crevices. André Verdet [the French poet and art critic] called them “fragments of planets,” which I find beautifully accurate. From there, she gradually turned toward volume, toward three-dimensional form. She left the wall: she was no longer making something meant to be hung, but something with an independent presence in space.
In Albisola, she also began creating the clay heads: half figurative, half abstract. They remain heads, but often blind, without facial detail, marked by scars, holes, and fissures. It feels like a search, perhaps for herself and like a way of working through trauma. Clay and terracotta became almost therapeutic: the process of carving, digging, and shaping was a form of release.
After Albisola, everyone moved on. She kept searching, and when she turned to marble, she truly found her medium. The marble works are calmer, more meditative, almost zen, and much more optimistic. In that sense, Albisola was a major experience: it set the entire transformation in motion.
“It feels like a search, perhaps for herself and like a way of working through trauma. Clay and terracotta became almost therapeutic: the process of carving, digging, and shaping was a form of release.”
J.G.: Let’s talk about what happened after she left Albisola. As you said, in the second half of the 1960s, Papa Rostkowska moved to Pietrasanta, where she discovered Carrara marble. In the exhibition, you present fifteen marble works by her, the majority of which have never been exhibited before. What is the provenance of these works, then? And why have they never been shown previously?
M.G.: This approach is very much part of how we work as a gallery, and we’ve been doing this for fifteen years. We want to offer collectors very exclusive works, which is why we work directly with estates. We represent a small number of artists (around twelve) and collaborate with the person who manages the estate: a son, daughter, niece, or whoever holds exclusive responsibility for the artist’s legacy.
Working with estates gives us access not only to archives, which are essential for research, catalogues, and context, but also to works that remained in the studio and essentially never circulated. It allows us to present a truly unique selection. It’s also reassuring in today’s art market, where questions of authenticity and provenance are constant. We deliberately focus on works that come directly from the source, from the estate itself.
In Maria Papa Rostkowska’s case, we were lucky to work with her son, Nicolas, Joëlle, and Edith-Laure, her granddaughter, who are deeply devoted to her work. Since her passing, they have organised around twenty exhibitions in Italy, France, and Poland, and have also donated major sculptures to museums and foundations. They have done extraordinary work in building her legacy.
Until now, however, they had not really collaborated with galleries on the commercial side, placing works into private collections. But that is an important part of recognition as well.
For this exhibition, we selected marbles from the family’s own collection, works that had never been shown before, or only very rarely. We also focused on smaller pieces that can truly live in private spaces, especially in Paris, where space is often limited. Nicolas and Joëlle have a clear strategy: keeping the monumental works for museums and institutional exhibitions, while releasing a small number of more intimate sculptures for collectors. That way, people can live with the works and carry the artist’s story forward in everyday life.
Ultimately, an artist’s recognition depends on both sides: the institutional side, museums and the commercial side, galleries and private collections. Both are essential for the artist’s future.
J.G.: As you mentioned, she was repeatedly recognised by the French public. Her works were shown in Paris salons, as well as in group and solo exhibitions (for example, in 2024 at the Musée de la Fondation de Coubertin). What role did she play within the French art market, and why is it worth reminding audiences of her today?
M.G.: Paris has always been home to many artists, and some of them were gradually forgotten, especially women artists. In France, women artists of the 1950s suffered greatly from invisibility. Thankfully, over the past few years, there has been a real shift, and they have been coming back into focus.
What is particularly striking is that, even in the past year alone, there has been a strong movement of recognition for Polish women artists in France. In just one year, we saw multiple exhibitions, among them Sarah Lipska in Meudon, Alina Szapocznikow in Grenoble, Magdalena Abakanowicz here in Paris, and also presentations connected to the Marek Roefler collection in Musée Montmartre in Paris. So the context is very strong right now, and it is extremely positive.
Maria Papa Rostkowska fits perfectly into this moment. For example, six of her sculptures are soon to be inaugurated at the Polish Embassy in Paris, which is a major milestone. That is also why we wanted to organise our exhibition now, in January, we moved quickly so that we could echo and accompany this important event.
It is the right moment to bring her back, because in her own time, it was not easy for her to fully exist as an artist in Paris. She arrived first as a painter, began experimenting with sculpture, especially through her friendship with Émile Gilioli, but she was also the wife of a very famous artist and art critic. It was difficult to hold all identities at once: to be a woman, a wife, and an artist in her own right.
I believe that is one of the reasons she needed to leave France and go to Italy to become herself as an independent artist, not simply someone present at dinners, openings, and vernissages. Italy allowed her to develop into the extraordinary artist she became.
So today, it is a real honour to bring her back to Paris with her son, and to reintroduce her work, finally giving visibility to the artist she truly was.
J.G.: But it’s also great to hear that Polish women artists have become much more visible than they used to be. Or women artists in general, finally finding their place in the spotlight.
M.G.: Yes. Poland is very dynamic in the art world right now. It’s fascinating how quickly it has secured its place on the international market. Poland has become a key art – market hub in Europe, and it’s amazing to witness that growth. And since I have a Polish name myself, I’ve always felt a special sensitivity toward Polish artists. To have this opportunity and to see these remarkable artists finally receiving the recognition they deserve is truly wonderful.
J.G.: Initially, when producing works in terracotta, Papa Rostkowska tended not to title her sculptures. Only the marble works appear under titles such as: The Woman with the Necklace, Eureka, and The Mother and Child. This choice of themes suggests that marble allowed her repeatedly to redefine herself: as an artist, as a woman, and as a mother. How do you view this as a curator? Did the act of titling her works, in fact, carry a specific meaning?
M.G.: Absolutely. I think she went through a form of therapy through terracotta. She was literally digging into the clay to find herself, and perhaps she wasn’t ready yet to define the works through titles. That may be why so many of the terracotta pieces remain untitled.
With marble, it’s very different. It is an extremely long and demanding process: marble carving takes time, and it’s physically tough work. But that duration also gives you space: time to reflect, to search, to process what you’re trying to bring out of the block. You can ask yourself: What am I looking for here? What do I want to say? What shape am I trying to find?
And through that slow process, she could finally arrive at titles. After everything she had already gone through in terracotta, her vision became clearer, along with a stronger optimism about life. I also think that leaving Paris played a role. In her studio environment: working alongside other artists, no longer defined by her husband, no longer “the wife of,” but simply another artist among artists, she gained the freedom to name the works and, in a way, to define herself.
At the same time, family remained essential to her. You can see it especially in Mother and Child, which is a major sculpture for her. She had a very strong bond with her son, and she celebrated maternity; she embraced her role as a mother. But I think she first needed distance and independence to truly find herself after everything she had been through.
J.G.: Earlier, you mentioned this joy of life, which feels so characteristic of her work. It’s also surprising, because when we think of other Polish women sculptors like Alina Szapocznikow or Magdalena Abakanowicz, there’s often a lot of pain. In that context, Maria Papa Rostkowska’s work feels truly exceptional.
M.G.: Absolutely. Szapocznikow transformed her trauma directly into art; she even documented her illness and the deterioration of her body, which makes the work intense and deeply dramatic. You also feel struggle and pain in Abakanowicz; trauma remains present in her artistic language. With Maria Papa Rostkowska, it seems different. I think she went through the process and chose life; she wanted to enjoy being alive and leave the past behind, especially in Italy, where she could start anew.
And that’s what makes her so unique: looking only at the sculptures, you wouldn’t guess what she had lived through. That is why her story matters, but the works themselves remain calm, serene, and incredibly beautiful, and truly a joy to live with.
“Looking only at the sculptures, you wouldn’t guess what she had lived through. That is why her story matters, but the works themselves remain calm, serene, and incredibly beautiful, and truly a joy to live with.”
J.G.: What else is worth mentioning is that Papa Rostkowska modelled her practice on Michelangelo’s sculptural technique. On the one hand, she used tools from the Renaissance period; on the other, she finished her sculptures with electric grinders. How do you view this classic – contemporary dualism in her work?
M.G.: That’s a very good question. She was deeply fascinated by Michelangelo, and that is precisely why she chose Pietrasanta. She used to say that, as a sculptor, you should follow the path of the greatest “maestro” and for her that was Michelangelo. She was strongly drawn to that classical tradition. She always insisted she learned to sculpt the antique way, through traditional techniques. She trained accordingly, working at a marble factory and learning to carve directly into the stone herself.
And this is important: she did the sculptures herself, which is not always the case. Many major sculptors design models and leave the carving to craftsmen; Rodin is a famous example. With Maria, direct carving was part of her identity as an artist.
Marble is also a physically demanding, traditionally masculine world, yet some women mastered it as well, such as Alina Szapocznikow, and in Pietrasanta, artists such as Alicia Penalba and Louise Bourgeois.
Later in life, especially after a stroke, she may have used electrical tools for finishing and focused on smaller works. But her ambition remained rooted in the oldest traditions of marble carving. It also means that every sculpture is truly unique: even when shapes or titles recur within a series, each piece is handmade by her, and nothing is industrially produced.
J.G.: Marta Smolińska, who curated Maria Papa Rostkowska’s exhibition at the Centre of Polish Sculpture in Orońsko in 2023, described her work as a “haptic resonance of matter”. I’d like to ask about your own experience: do you also perceive her oeuvre as such – something that invites touch?
M.G.: Yes, it’s a very strong title. I think she really captured Papa Rostkowska’s work, because the sculptures are so soft and inviting. The forms are organic, almost as if they were alive. People often think of marble as cold and inert, something fixed, something “dead.” But for her, marble was light and moving. She spoke about it as a crystallised sea. For her, it was a warm, living element, and she managed to convey that.
When you stand in front of her sculptures, you feel it immediately: they are welcoming. You almost want to hold them, to hug them. The works feel gentle, comforting, joyful. The exhibition creates a sense of peace; you feel at ease, not intimidated. Some art can feel powerful or even anxiety-inducing. With artists like Alina Szapocznikow or Magdalena Abakanowicz, you feel an overwhelming force; you can feel small in front of the work. It’s extraordinary, but it can also be unsettling. With Papa Rostkowska, it’s the opposite. Her sculptures invite closeness. You feel you could touch them, and being with them is a real pleasure, especially in times like these.
Maria Papa Rostkowska & Wifredo Lam. Imaginaires Croisés – Albisola et au-delà
January 15 – February 7, 2026
Galerie Diane de Polignac, Paris
