Much has been said about the cinematic quality of Tomek Kręcicki’s paintings. His previous exhibition at Stereo, Giallo (2022), borrowed its title from Italian B-movies and featured a series of works evocative of film scenes. Kręcicki’s most striking paintings are infused with the spirit of dark comedy or thriller, but even those that avoid genre cinema stand out for their cinematographer’s sense of composition. His talent in this regard can turn grains of corn in a frying pan into a starry sky, and popping popcorn into a meteor shower. Fascinated by cinema, the painter creates dynamic analogies and vivid, compelling images.
If we follow this line of thought further, the patron of Kręcicki’s latest exhibition would not be one of American cinema’s cult idols, but rather a minimalist figure such as Yasujiro Ozu. Kręcicki develops a single motif with more discipline than ever before, shifting the emphasis from the cinematic quality of the image to the painterly presence of the object. The subject—still life—drawn as much from everyday life as from art history, is approached with slowness, precision, and modest means. Kręcicki frames a simple composition—almost unreal in its neutrality—and arranges elements within it. Unlike his earlier works, the painting lacks a focal point; instead, like a panorama, it draws its strength from the accumulation of numerous details. The viewer’s task is to follow the painter’s lead: to see, in a row of empty plant pots against a wall, the outline of an industrial landscape beyond the window—and to recognise their actual connection. Yet the theme of this exhibition is not so much a drying planet as it is care, revealed through scarcity.
