Paintings without titles, without explanations and without mercy — and yet you return to them like to a dream that does not want to end. Zdzisław Beksiński painted worlds after the end of the world and refused to say what they meant. I understand that refusal better than many commentaries on art.
A photographer, too, leaves a frame without a caption and lets the viewer get lost inside it. Beksiński did that with paintings: the precision of a craftsman colliding with a vision that cannot be explained in one sentence.
In his works there is the silence of ruins and a melancholy I know from empty valleys after the season. I do not look for fear in them. I look for what remains when everything else disappears — shape, light and endurance.

