Like a hawk or an old hero, staring down the back of his future’s head, this boy takes to empty wooden rooms held hostage by his own beating heart. The deepness of the red almost drowns him as all his fates tussle on his shirt, yet Kamil is innocent. Under Aldona Karczmarzyk’s gaze, he explores what happens when potential is confronted with the sound of silence.
In the safety of a white suit, he blows himself about the empty space, spinning between instruments like a bird on a courtship dance. He is light as a feather. Leather weighs heavy on him, adds ballast to his reality, suddenly makes it terrifying, makes him want to sleep - it’s easier and perhaps, with the right eyes, he can woo it into bed too. And yet the itch persists, making the eyes sore. No matter how big his clothes are they cannot hide him.
And we are wild to make it stop: stuck in an empty booth, bold colours warming us up, no microphones in sight trying to record an album that’ll never be released. Kasia Laszcz’ stripes hold him though, caressing him like fingers, keeping us safe from the colours bursting from him. The pink is a cacophony against the emptiness - a melody line paced in a second-hand birthday suit, easily hemmed in by the mess of dumb objects surrounding it. Sometimes we’re the centre of an inanimate universe; sometimes we cannot possibly face it head on ‘til - suddenly - an attitude presents itself. No holds barred as he banishes fear like a tear from an eye, sound roaring back, grabbing his neck.
We are left suspicious but fearless under our hairnet.