Material Fatigue

The plastic clasp (marked with the match) was designed to break after taking a certain volume of strain, cutting down the potential service life of Bosch blenders.

Caption for a photo showing an example of “planned obsolescence,” Wikipedia¹

I am an artist. I am a woman.
I am a wife. I am a mother.
(Random order).

I do a hell of a lot of washing, cleaning,
cooking, renewing, supporting,
preserving, etc. Also
(up to now separately) I “do” Art.

Mierle Laderman Ukeles, Manifesto for Maintenance Art – Proposal for an Exhibition “CARE”²

Materials science often seems to be the key to reading the works of Gizela Mickiewicz, who has been drawing on particular attributes of matter for years now, across a variety of sculpture series. At first, her efforts involved everyday objects removed from their typical contexts in order to question their utility, like blinds turned wholly opaque, or the seat of a stool mounted dangerously on a thin toothpick. Using these objects in unorthodox ways, Mickiewicz sought to interrogate human relationships and the absurdities of our daily lives. She has also often experimented with more novel materials which have not yet been assigned a specific use or function. As Ewa Klekot writes: “The maker thus shapes the material, ushering in a new form – one the material never before assumed, despite carrying the potential for its emergence.”³ Consequently, before engineers found a use for selected substances in heavy industry or space exploration, the artist would weave them into her works, assigning them roles from a wholly different order – the world of anti-utility. The world of abstraction, governed by metaphors rooted in the properties of objects and substances and their surprising oppositions – light/heavy, fluid/solid, hard/soft.

It is hard and it is soft, just like the anecdotal “one thing hanging over another” (to borrow Norman Leto’s sarcastic description of modern art featured in Photon),⁴ but in Mickiewicz’s works it is much more than just a deft combination of raw materials.⁵ Drawing on her own experience, which Mickiewicz seeks to universalize, the artist encapsulates in the materials she chooses the complex system of human conditions. And fatigue is often a part of these experiences – its protracted form, insidiously accruing in the body and infecting the mind, and its acute incarnation – incapacitating and potentially debilitating.

The 2013 sculpture Granica uradzeń [Limit of Debate] features a plastic bag hanging from a rod sticking out of a wall. The bend in the rod suggests that the bag is filled with something heavy, such as liquid or sand. Only it’s not a metal rod at all but a wooden slat, and the bag hanging from it is completely empty – yet the modest sculpture still stands as an illustration of what materials science calls “critical load,” which denotes the load that will buckle a given structure.⁶ Like a branch heavy with snow or a human who has taken too much upon themselves.

With the long-running Masa i stan [Mass and State] series, Mickiewicz attempts to visualize complex internal situations, with multiple subtle sensations and emotions overlapping. Through their forms and materials, the sculptures from the series reflect complicated, rarely externalized human conditions and tensions. Solids become a medium for “vague feelings”⁷ which are difficult to name. Mickiewicz, meanwhile, gives them a physical shape and often focuses on moments of re-evaluation, of transition – passage from one state into another, disintegration, collapse, sudden disempowerment.

In the 2016 sculpture Prawie osiągnięcia [Near Achievements], materials usually considered rigid (wood, glass, metal, cement) are instead loose and flaccid, hanging limply like a rug over a beater and illustrating “effort without completion and gratification.”⁸ Experiences like these are almost universal: working a night shift, collapsing right before the finish line, rushing a bedtime routine only to fall asleep fully clothed on the couch. It’s normal for a body forced into sustained effort without any fulfillment at the end to react with a slump, often leaving the affected lying down without the will to get up again – “one thing hanging over another.”

Flaccidity sits surprisingly close to fainting and falling, breaking and disintegrating, all of which may well result from liminal states and easily metaphorized “material fatigue.” According to the definition – because the concept is not just a metaphor – fatigue is the appearance of cracks in a material as a result of cyclic loading. A boulder may even be tired, although the condition is difficult to perceive. As the authors of Kamień w służbie człowieka [Stone in the Service of Humankind] wrote:

For centuries, humans had little idea that materials could even experience “fatigue.” It was only modern metallurgy that discovered that a surprising number of material defects sprang from “stress.” First in metal and then in stone, researchers identified more or less pronounced changes in structure; in time, both metal and stone lose their strength and eventually break. Usually, the fracture is preceded by a change in shape.⁹

In the 2016 Upadanie przed upadkiem [Falling Before the Fall], consisting of a series of sculptural installations or, to put it differently, performative sculptures, Mickiewicz accelerated the process, infusing the concrete forms with DYNACEM, a substance that causes materials to crumble. This makes the disintegration not only visible but relatively predictable. The act of pouring the compound into openings drilled expressly for that purpose gives the artist near-demiurgic powers – enabling her to control the pace and the very process of disintegration. The effects of these efforts, however, can still be surprising. The carved ruins may, as if out of spite, decay into the logo shape of a popular athletic brand (as happened during the 2017 Jest tak, jak się państwu wydaje [It’s Just You Think] exhibition at the Galeria Arsenał in Białystok), or prevent the gathered audience from participating in the show, only to disintegrate hours later in the silence of the night (which occurred at the Artist Colony in Gdańsk in 2016). The event in Gdańsk produced a very interesting bit of documentation in the form of a sound recording, which features attendees who had no opportunity to witness the decay being asked to recreate from memory the forms of the sculptures prior to their accelerated erosion. Their memories touch not only on individual materials used in the pieces, their colors and properties, but also the emotions that accompanied the attendees’ wait for decay to take place. Listening to the accounts, one could think that some projected upon the simple boulder at the core of Mickiewicz’s piece their irritation caused by prolonged waiting. After all, it was the rock that failed to break apart at the “appropriate” moment. Emotions and affects are thus transposed onto materials not only by the artist but also by her audience.

Mickiewicz achieved the greatest degree of control over the cracking process in her 2017 piece Rozpad dnia [Disintegrating the Day], in which she placed particular emphasis on designing the dramaturgy of the erosion itself. Already familiar with the properties of DYNACEM and the installation’s components, she devised a choreography that exploited different levels of “fatigue” in the materials she used. Some concrete elements began cracking and decomposing even at the exhibition’s opening. After the process ran its course, all that was left were ruins with architectural connotations – some parts of the installation turned into dust, others remained nearly untouched. The whole thing looked like an abandoned city, exhausted by protracted existence.

Overload and collapse, the usual consequences of sustained strain, cannot always be predicted and stopped. In works exploring powerlessness, fear, or extreme fatigue, the artist fleshes out delicate states that are already beyond control, in which bodily reactions precede rational thinking. Prawie ciągła uważność [Nearly Constant Awareness] (2021) highlights momentary distraction that might come with serious consequences. A car’s steering wheel – the piece’s central element – is weighed down on one side with a concrete sheath. The work implies a sudden sharp turn, overshooting a bend in the road, caused by brief distraction or drowsiness. Similar concrete blotches, suggesting specific tensions signaled by Mickiewicz, appeared earlier in works featured in the 2020 exhibition Oświetlenie wewnętrzne [Internal Lighting] at Galeria Stereo. These were a natural extension of the Masa i stan series and continued the threads it developed. The sculptures Upadanie na stojąco [Falling Standing Up] (2020) and Ciężar obaw [The Weight of Concern] (2020) contain figurative elements, which is rather rare for Mickiewicz, who typically operates with abstraction. Their powerful message is driven both by the materials used and the chosen form, which forces a bodily reaction by suggesting a range of specific gestures.

Upadanie na stojąco sees two stumbling legs linked by heavy concrete shoes. The limbs, wrapped in pant legs made of a soft duvet, stand in stark contrast with the material the footwear is made of, which forms a foundation of sorts. However, even this sturdy concrete base does little in the end to prevent the eponymous fall. The simultaneous depiction of two opposing body positions mentioned in the title is a metaphor for inner turmoil triggered by trauma, shock, or sheer fatigue. The legs are paralyzed, detached from the body, “but you still have to act. You stand there, trembling, but feel like you’re falling.”¹⁰ As Mickiewicz said of the work:

You’re paralyzed by the situation, which leaves a mark on the body, rendering it powerless as well. But you still have to stay level, try to handle things, all the while barely keeping it together. […] I wanted the place where these two positions meet to look a bit like a monument, to seem immovable, fixed, which is why I chose concrete.¹¹

The unseen frame of the legs, concealed by the soft duvet safeguards, is made from hospital-grade plaster bandage, typically used to immobilize fractured limbs or other body parts. In the case of Upadanie przed upadkiem, material fatigue is inevitable, and the collapse takes place somehow right before our eyes, even if it is only a metaphor for internal turmoil.

In Ciężar obaw, the upper limbs are tasked with conveying physical and mental states. The arms are depicted in the distinctive pose of caring for or holding something or someone precious. The concrete patches weighing down the forearms suggest that the constant carrying, care, and attendant responsibilities also require considerable effort and cause tension and stress. “Clasped together in a gesture of care and concern, the arms are nevertheless tired and weighed down.”¹²

Mickiewicz seeks to universalize the depicted internal states, but many of the portrayals are rooted in personal experience and observation. For the two aforementioned pieces, the necessary context came from the experience of childbirth and infant care, along with the attendant fear, constant and exhausting. Like other precious “materials” carried in the arms, the fragile body of an infant requires constant vigilance, which can be draining.

Work on the pieces making up the 2020 exhibition unfolded in the specific circumstances of the worldwide pandemic. Mickiewicz reminisced about that strange time in an interview with Dwutygodnik:

Daycares were closed, so I had to somehow reconcile working with caring for my daughter round the clock. […] In these circumstances, the most I could do was respond to emails; using sharp objects and tools was out of the question. I could work only at night, after putting her down to sleep. I used to take a cold shower to wake myself up, and I worked through the fatigue. I worked nights, put my body through the wringer. […] I overdid it a little, but I needed it to stay level. One of our rooms was temporarily repurposed into a workshop, but I also worked in my basement, even out on the balcony. It was uncomfortable.¹³

But the “discomfort” she mentions is something deeper than just inconvenience. The experience of working in the midst of a pandemic and the fatigue brought on by prolonged uncertainty and instability has left a prominent mark on us all. As Iwona Kurz writes:

At its core, [the pandemic] offered a glimpse of the quintessentially Polish experience of time, forever “on hold.” This is closely related to persistent fatigue, the body carrying the memory of what was and anxiety about what will be. With a void where the present should be.¹⁴

What has accrued in Gizela Mickiewicz’s later works are precisely the remembered observations of embodied sensations. Researchers have proven that,

It is only when the body is made to react as if it is in a constant situation of threat – being alert all the time – that it becomes damaging. Then not only are bodily fluids, internal organs, and muscles affected, but also the emotions, causing depression, anguish, feelings of insecurity, irritation, and rage.¹⁵

Perhaps because in her Oświetlenie wewnętrzne exhibition the artist used a manner of figuration that stemmed from reflection on her individual experience, it was easier than usual for the audience to identify with the emotions elicited by the sculptures. Lowering their crossed arms or stretching out, they inadvertently recreated the gestures included in the works, releasing the tensions captured by Mickiewicz. “If the sculpture were to move, it would do exactly the same,”¹⁶ the artist said, celebrating the fact that her personal observations resonated so well with the individual bodily reactions of her audience. Mickiewicz has devised a rudimentary “state framework”¹⁷ – a universal structure that the viewer can then wrap with their own accumulated experiences. In Mickiewicz’s work, the body – conceived as an instrument of gestures, a kind of barometer of fatigue – is caught in a freeze-frame packed with meaning. As she explains,

While I do make use of the body, I find myself closer to sculpting with gesture or posture alone. I’m very interested in how arms arranged a certain way can connote care. How legs caught in the middle of a certain motion can suggest a specific activity or condition.¹⁸

Among other things, it is likely that observation of these involuntary reactions in the audience, alongside the need to capture a series of symbolic messages transmitted by body systems, encouraged the artist to take another step forward and create sculptures directly on the bodies of the models, almost inviting the audience to complete the gestures they suggested: wearing them like gloves or putting their hands into palm prints, traces of touch imprinted in matter. The 2020 piece Przymierzanie sytuacji [Trying On Situations] used the latter, encouraging the audience to repeat the movement captured in the form. Kształt potrzeb [The Shape of Needs] (2020), however, was an arrangement of arm shapes, melted together using polymorphic plastic and formed directly on the bodies of Mickiewicz’s family members and friends, producing a “figure of basic emotional need.”¹⁹ The piece Podtrzymywanie słabnących stanów [Maintaining Weakening States] (2021) boasts a similar character, with its empty shell in the shape of a crouched body with a hand placed upon it. Depending on the perspective adopted, the yellow hand may look either as if it’s clasping the body in a gesture of terror, or as if someone else was supporting the body with a strong arm. Themes of maintaining and losing strength, familiar from the artist’s previous work, converge here in a single composition. Additionally, by hollowing out the forms (the hand is also just an empty shell) and encouraging engagement with the piece (by sliding one’s hand inside the shell and recreating the hugging gesture), the artist emphasized the universal and communal nature of the sensations and emotions it draws upon. Exhausted, both individually and communally, we all need support.

Gizela Mickiewicz often mentions “grounding,” which in her lexicon denotes the “human aspect,” a realization, or a “reference point” for abstraction.²⁰ Grounding may come in the form of a body or concrete shoes helping keep a figure upright. It may manifest itself in the bare feet of the sculptor, who, in stressful situations or when extremely tired, takes off her shoes to work in close contact with the floor. Grounding means connection with exhaustion. We began our conversation about this peculiar and multidimensional state with technical terms, strange materials, and abstract forms. The exchange concluded with discussion about sleep deprivation brought on by incessant anxiety about the future, the uncertain status of artists in Poland, and housing problems. Because, as Mickiewicz mentions, in the end, it’s always about human affairs²¹.