Monika Wiechowska

I saw her through the foggy café window; a charming young blonde with scintillating blue eyes and the most infectious smile. And what is this? She is smiling at me? Well, I mustn’t be rude. Surely I should go in there, and sit by her. And hey, if she just happens to be, like, a photographer or something, perhaps I should interview her.I opened the door to the stuffy, bustling interior of the Atlas Café, and walk over to the table where she has already spread out her MacBook and various books of her work. We shake hands, saying how nice it is that we should finally meet each other. Without as much as a word, I pull out my handy-dandy voice recorder and we get right down to brass tacks. Imagine that! Almost as if this whole encounter were planned! OK, so it was. I came here knowing all the basic facts about her. Monika Wiechowska, Polish photographer. But why would all this be arranged if not to know more? The first five minutes already yield some useful information: In a room stuffed to the gills with the usual array of Nouveau-Williamsburgites, she is one of the only people without a faux-surly look plastered on her face, and by God what a cute sense of fashion she has! And the funny thing is, she looks exactly as I imagined. Fine, I added her on Facebook, and Poland doesn’t exactly have a shortage of blue-eyed blondes anyway. But it’s more than that. As our conversation draws on, I realize Monika is kind of like her photographic work, at least some of it. At first glance, she is an absolute doll, smiling and full of youth. But there is a seriousness about her, too, which makes her all the more intriguing. (Trust me, you’ll see what I mean in just a bit!)

Untitled, Tbilisi 2004

Monika grew up in Poland, and was 15 when Communism ended. Having myself been raised in a Russian Jewish family who lived under a Communist regime, all I’ve heard all my life was how miserable and awful it was. Interestingly, Monika reveals some of the other aspects of that life: “I, and I think a lot of Polish people have nostalgic feelings for those days. Life was hard, but at the same time it was very creative, and people were sharing eachother and living together.

Me and My Mother, New York, 2007
I remember going out with my parents to visit friends, and we had to stay for the night because you could not be out on the streets after 10, so a lot of people would have parties until the early morning hours. My mother was an artist, so I was always in this semi-Bohemian circle. I remember it as being very fun….Growing up, we had to queue for bread and butter, but people were still making and creating. The best books were written, and the best films were made. I think the restrictions in the system actually made people create things that were extraordinary.”Still, one thing differentiated Monika’s experiences in Poland from that of most others. Because her father was the captain of an Amsterdam-based ship, she had the rare opportunity to travel outside the USSR. One visit led her to the Gerrit Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam. “I think they were curious to have someone from Eastern Europe attend the school. Nowadays they probably don't care because there are so many people going back and forth.” She was not initially a photographer when she entered. “I wanted to be a graphic designer, because I was always very interested in Polish graphic design from the 70's. We had amazing designers like Henryk Tomaszewski so I thought, ‘Let's revive it’… I started making designs using images, and they started paying more and more attention to my photography which I wasn't really studying, I was only using it as a medium. Slowly by slowly, I would go to photography teachers and finally I graduated from the graphic design school presenting only photographic works.” She then landed a spot at a two year residency program at the Rijksacademie where she honed her skills as a photographer (which friend and fellow upstART artist Hans Broek had previously attended). She would for next 12 years of her life live in Amsterdam, yet Poland was, and continues to be a crucial part of her work.
Mushroom Hunting, 2004
Much of Monika’s work has to do with childhood memories and a longing for the past, viewed in a way that is at once comfortably familiar and freshly conceived. There is an ongoing motif of recognizable parts of a Soviet childhood. “Mushroom Hunting” shows a classic activity for Soviet families to do after the late summer rains. I myself can almost smell the wetness of the forest, and the sweet musk that my mother tells me indicates an edible shroom. Despite her urban lifestyle, Monika is “definitely a nature girl,” in her words, as seen in these gorgeous pictures(This one in particular reminds me of Jurgen Teller's photographs of Japan, which Monika and I share a great fondness for!)

Untitled, Szczecin, 2001
Untitled, Szczecin, 2007
Untitled, Poland, 2004
Another series of images was taken on a deer-hunting trip with her father. They appear to portray death through the fascinated gaze of a child, who still hasn’t grasped its finality.
Deer 1, 2004
They are at once beautiful and morbid, and convey the hidden darkness of Monika's work. Something that was once teeming with life is shown in a state of death and decay, yet photographed in a way that seems to capture the lithe sprightliness of how it once was.
Deer 2, 2004
The desire to not only capture, but reevaluate her childhood would come into fruition during a spur of the moment trip to another former Soviet satellite. “I went to Georgia with a friend from there. We were looking through an old family album, and I came across photographs that could have been taken in Poland…Georgia in the 70's basically looked the same as in Poland— We even had the same cups and utensils because they all came from Russia. That was really striking, and I thought I should go and see what it's like now, because the transition took much longer in Georgia.
Untitled, Kobuleti, 2004
Untitled, Tbilisi, 2004
I thought I would find the past here in the present, still there." Even though the memories are uniquely Monika's, the feeling of nostalgia is very palpable. It is as though the viewer is at once bewitched by the charm and familiarity of the surroundings, while disheartened by how much they have changed. Indeed, she concedes, "I'm not sure if I found what I was looking for, but I found something else."
Untitled, Kobuleti, 2004
When asked if she actively avoids or embraces the label "Polish Artist," she answers "I don't avoid it. I never hide my origin. I'm also not putting a label. Some artists intentionally use Poland to help them get attention and I think a lot of times when Polish art was a hype, it help them a lot. I'm somewhere in between." While there are recognizably "Polish" or "Soviet" elements, they do not overwhelm the photos, or make the mood of remembrance any less apparent to those who did not grow up in those particular circumstances.
Untitled, Kabouleti, 2004
"One of the things that fascinate me about photography is the ability to trick the viewer. If you frame the image a certain way and leave the details out of the picture you can present an object or a landscape or a person in a different light or manner. Some people wouldn't even know what they are looking at."

Under the Bed, Paris, 2001
"Under the Bed is a very simple example. The image is cropped, so all you see is this never-ending corridor. A lot of people didn't even know it was under a bed." (Count me in as one of those people!)

Untitled, Bronx Zoo, 2007 Landscape 5, Hoover Dam, 2007
What makes this all the more intriguing is the spontaneity with which Monika takes pictures. The only thing that is planned beforehand is the location. From there, like a curious explorer, she simply sees what she can find. "But the reason was very clear. I just would go there and work in that context. I always have to have a margin for happy accidents."