I was jolted out of my reverie by the cracking of an egg… I am going to apply two other layers, perhaps three, though I shouldn’t… It may crack…. I am impatient. There is yolk left in may memory. I catch the thin film round the yolk and I pierce it… I watch it flowing down into the mortar; I am going to add half a shellfull of water, blend it thoroughly and it’s all done… It is a kind of ceremonial that teaches me humility and respect for my own work. The time devoted to my painting preparations is when I can consider the overall concept. I make a point of looking at my own work as if it were somebody else’s, of establishing the order, rhythm and the harmony of colour… I have to remember it because when I confront the canvas and set about painting, what is understood rationally fades away in favour of spontaneous intuition to which I submit. If I don’t do it, and remain irresponsive, the image will not be a success.
I know that if I open up and let the emotions exude from me directly on the painted surface like paint from the tube, I am likely to convey what I feel. Before I embark on another image, desires that are not always distinct accumulate, and at a certain point they become the motive power for painting a new image … This is exactly the emotion to which I yield… While bulding an image ,I do not seek to reflect a section of reality,but I am anxious to enclose within the frames what I know about composition, colour, proportion, to instill spirit… into the image… and to instill myself quite involuntarily so. At this point the external is united with the internal to reveal the unique traits of each human being. By discovering some order and system in the world, we may do the same with ourselves; we may submit to what life brings…
My progress towards the inside of an image marks the beginning of that towards my inner self. My images release successive stages of my pondering my creative process, my work.
My place in the world. My yearning for order and harmony have made me consider myself and my vocation. For a true image is born ‘of the artist’ in a mysterious. mystic way. Separated from the artist, it begins to live its own life, becomes a self-sustained being, an independent subject propelled by some kind of spirit. It has energy, it lives- it contributes to spiritual atmosphere. Art is not creating things in a void, but it is a purposeful force that should serve the progress and spiritual refinement of human beings.
Iwona Wojewoda-Jedynak ,2002