The last announcements for the first edition of the KAF Young Art Prize have been made. A couple of weeks ago we learned who the three equal-ranking winners were, along with the recipient of the jury’s special distinction. We also found out who was the favourite of the public visiting the final exhibition at the Krupa Art Foundation. In this article the winners talk to ‘Contemporary Lynx’ reporter Kuba Żary, allowing a deeper look into their art and themselves.
The KAF Young Art Prize is a new international competition organised by the Krupa Art Foundation – an independent contemporary art institution that opened in Wrocław in autumn 2023. The gallery has made a splash on the Polish art landscape – not only thanks to its impressive premises, located in a historic building in the heart of Wrocław’s Old Town, which has been meticulously modernised for exhibition purposes, but above all thanks to its programme. All across the building’s three floors, works from the extensive collection of KAF’s founders Sylwia and Piotr Krupa, as well as contemporary exhibitions and experimental projects by promising young talent, are presented side by side.
The KAF Young Art Prize is an attempt to explore the space created by artists over the age of 18 and under 36 particularly those who focus on painting. The opportunity to show their work in the final exhibition at KAF and the chance to win one of the three main prizes of €12,000 (dismantling the typical competition formula by dropping the single championship) proved more than attractive, with a staggering 1,597 artists from various countries around the world entering the competition. Twelve artists were shortlisted for the final show, from which the jury comprising of Sylwia Krupa, Antoni Burzyński, Pola Dwurnik, Katarzyna Młyńczak-Sachs, Oleksandra Pogrebnyak, and Aleksy Wójtowicz, selected the winners.
The main awards of the first edition were given to Kateryna Aliinyk, Krystyna Melnyk, and Filip Rybkowski. Additionally, the jury awarded a special distinction to Ant Łakomsk – just a few days ago we found out that it was also her who the audience decided to recognize with its prize.
We asked each of them the same three questions: how do they see themselves as artists; what are their inspirations, passions, and obsessions; and which of their works would they choose to show to a complete stranger.
KATERYNA ALIINYK
How would you describe yourself as an artist?
Everything I do revolves around nature, the war-affected or abandoned landscapes living their own life and taking on new forms. Contemplating nature in the presence of war is perhaps the most vivid and sensual experience of my life, that has shaped me as an artist and influenced my approach to painting.
What inspires you?
Nature often gives me a sense of density that seems hard to penetrate, and looking at it only from afar I feel particularly tempted to find a way to do so. Due to the Russian occupation I am unable to interact with the nature of my childhood, and I embody my desires and feelings about this loss in paintings.
For me, paint is in itself a very sensual material. Hidden in my approach to painting is a love letter to the landscape, a love letter to the fruits, the insects, and the soil. Only with a brush stroke or a word can I touch those places now, caress them, and thank them for everything. My landscape and I parted ten years ago, and from afar it is as clear as can be that it was not just a backdrop, a tool, or a resource but a full-fledged protagonist.
If you had to choose one piece of work to show to someone you’ve just met, which one would it be?
I would show them “Death on a Summer Afternoon” – it’s my latest one and shows my current state. Here I thought that grief is not poetic in reality and doesn’t make us better, but rather small and vulnerable.
In the jury’s verdict, Kateryna was appreciated “for the enduring declaration of love for her native land, all forms of life that coexist in the chernozem soil, and the practices of regenerative gardening, which are now, unfortunately, coexisting with the debris and destruction left by the devastating Russian invasion on the territories of eastern and southern Ukraine”.
KRYSTYNA MELNYK
How do you define yourself as an artist?
I would say that from a philosophical standpoint I am a classical artist. I don’t remember whose quote it is, but it stuck with me: A classical artist is one who goes out with an uncovered head, and lightning bolts pierce them. Reality is important, not in the sense that the work must be realistic or depict events that you’ve experienced, but in the sense that you feel a part of it and see your work as a conversation with it.
What inspires you and what does your creative process look like?
In my childhood, my first inspiration was a classmate who developed pneumonia. Pus accumulated in her lungs and spread to her joints. Doctors said that she would not be able to walk again. I often visited her after school – I was fascinated by her spirit. Thomas Mann once said that illness reveals humanity. Then and there I realised that pain and suffering can carry profound symbolic meaning.
It’s challenging for me to work with objects. When you introduce objects into this already overfilled world, you feel a sense of responsibility. Perhaps that’s why my work looks perfect in terms of form; working with materials has pushed me to become a master in order to justify myself. I can work on a single piece for a very long time, setting numerous technical tasks for myself. At first, I even kept track of the time. In the context of contemporary capitalist reality, this may seem like insanity.
Which one of your works would you show to a stranger, and why?
I’m afraid to show my work to unprepared viewers. I think there’s a chance that it might traumatise them. If they’re someone from the art community, I would show them a piece that has had a significant impact on me- “Covered”.There is something about it that evokes a sense of cleansing.
The jury appreciated Kristina’s work for “the innovative use of traditional painting techniques to convey a universal message, with an unpretentious approach to significant themes” and particularly for her artistic practice, which does not follow any current trends.
FILIP RYBKOWSKI
Who are you as an artist?
I am a visual artist, working with images and context. Part of my art practice is curating, or perhaps more broadly – working with the exhibition as a medium.
What themes do you deal with and work through in your work?
There is a lot going on in the creative process itself. It’s a sort of negotiation with myself, the matter, and the subject. I often create collections of engravings, photographs or illustrations as a cloud of references for the concepts I develop. I almost never design the effect of the work beforehand – it is during my work that I want to learn. This is also the case with the subjects I deal with – they often arise from one another, and are born in relation to each other. Recently, I have been preoccupied with the question of the entanglement of images in relations of power and desire. I am also working on a project stemming from the modernist tradition of artists designing camouflage patterns for the army.
What work of yours would you show to someone you are meeting for the first time?
It’s always difficult, but right now I would probably opt for ‘Attitude Study (sculpture)’. It’s a work in which the tension between the contradictory paths of interpreting it, or feeling it, is clear. The gestures, as well as the formal and semantic tropes contained in it can be read both in terms of care and concern, as well as violence and oppression, relating to constructive and destructive processes at the same time.
Filip was awarded “for the courage in crossing the boundaries of installation and painting, addressing the issues of the authenticity of the object and its representation. Rybkowski’s works, which transcend the boundaries of disciplines, are simultaneously highly inspiring for thinking about contemporary painting in contemporary art.”
ANT ŁAKOMSK
How do you see yourself as an artist?
For me, painting has always been the most intuitive of tools. I didn’t expect it, even though I was raised by a single mother who was a painter. My mother was active in the strange and somewhat scary world of the peripheral, new art of the 00s. She was not given an opportunity to make a living from her profession; at the time, art as a way to make a living was a cause for shame. It’s silly, but, artistic ambitions aside, I would like to experience an alternative scenario of her life. I see being a painter in a very practical and unromantic way: it’s living from art, in the most literal sense.
How do you work and what motifs do you gravitate to?
I am interested in clichés and metaphors. When I paint, I refer to what I remember. I try to avoid ‘cheating’ in the form of painting from images. I like memory for its selectivity and relentlessness, forgotten beautiful moments and dorky looped associations. I try to work quickly, without too much detail. Sometimes I start with realistic representations that melt away in the process, blurring into the abstract. I appreciate the intermediate forms and the different conventionalities that oil paints allow me. I see some silly and poignant value in this simple procedure.
Which one of your works would you show to someone you’ve just met?
I wouldn’t want to present my work when meeting someone for the first time, but if I had to choose one, it would be “Petrochemistry Płock”. It depicts a figure looking towards the chimneys and smoke of a deadly petrochemical plant. It’s an image from my childhood, when I lived in the strange city of Płock for a while. My stepmother worked at the refinery. When I asked what it was exactly that she did there, she told me that she worked in a cloud factory.
The jury decided to give Ant an honourable mention award “for a particular visual maturity used to capture fleeting threads of memory and private mythology. At the same time, the artist’s painting proficiency and poetic vision promise the development of a unique artistic practice.”
