K&K Art Galeria » THE SACRED IN SILENCE

THE SACRED IN SILENCE

Tytuł

08 June 2026

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About the sculpture exhibition

and the presence of the sacred in our lives at the Lower Church of the Parish of St Christopher in Podkowa Leśna, located at 7 Jana Pawła II Street

When we stand before a sculpture, we stand before matter that is silent—and yet speaks. Stone, wood, bronze: hard substances, cold to the touch, seemingly furthest removed from anything living or spiritual. And yet, in the artist’s hands, they become a gateway to what cannot be expressed in words. The exhibition of sculptures at the Lower Church of the Parish of St Christopher in Podkowa Leśna, located at 7 Jana Pawła II Street, opens just such a gateway to the viewer—and prompts us to ask: what is the sacred in art, and what is it within us?

“The sacred does not dwell in lofty cathedrals or museum halls. It dwells in the silence that a sculpture creates around itself.”During the Open Gardens days in Podkowa Leśna, distinguished sculptors and graduates of the A. Kenar School will present their works on the grounds of the Parish of St Christopher. The “Kenar alumni” are, after all, the central theme of Open Gardens. The parish garden is home to works by Stanisław Cukier—Madonna—and Bronisław Krzysztof—St Christopher. In the Lower Church, visitors will be able to admire works by Stanisław Słonina, Stanisław Cukier, Jan Funk and Zofia Kubicka.

Matter as prayer

Matter as prayer. Stanisław Słonina’s Madonna has something of an archaic simplicity about her: she is not ornate, nor does she flaunt virtuosity of detail. She is contemplative. This stillness is her deepest quality and, at the same time, her central message: holiness does not shout. It reveals itself in a restrained gesture, in the line of a robe falling with solemnity, in hands folded as if each finger were a decision of its own.

Bronze as memory. The bronze head of Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński by Stanisław Cukier, and Jan Funk’s Christ, speak in an entirely different language. Bronze is no accidental choice here: it is the metal of monuments, the metal of endurance, the metal that says: this matters; this must remain. Cukier’s portrayal of Wyszyński is that of a man who passed through the night and emerged from it with his dignity unbroken. His features bear the mark of hardship—but also of the calm that hardship itself brings. Jan Funk’s Christ is a sculpture focused on the most important truth: the image of God drawn close to human fate through suffering.

A chapter of its own in the exhibition is the figure of the Archangel Gabriel—a colourful, polychrome figure with golden wings, created by Zofia Kubicka. The angel is in a half-kneeling pose. He has paused for a moment. It is a moment of exaltation, the moment of the Annunciation. The announcement of birth, the announcement of death, the announcement of what is inevitable.

“The Archangel Gabriel is not a mighty angel—he is an angel who is present. And presence is a form of salvation.”

Displayed in the chapel or against the backdrop of the garden, these sacred sculptures enter into dialogue with their surroundings. The figure of the Virgin Mary with outstretched hands, by Stanisław Cukier—lightly stylised, almost like a bas-relief in its frontal composition—seems to stand on the boundary between two worlds: the one we see and the one we only sense. Similarly, the sculpture of St Christopher by Bronisław Krzysztof, set among flowering geraniums and spruce trees, becomes part of nature, while nature itself seems to adopt it as its own. Moss and time work here alongside the artist. A striking decorative feature of the church is also the pair of angels by Professor Stanisław Słonina, gleaming in the sun atop the bell tower. They rise above the church as heralds and witnesses to a place of special significance—the sacred.

The sacred in life—not only in the chapel.

Viewing the exhibition prompts a broader question: what is the sacred beyond art? What is it in everyday life, in the rhythm of the week, in the spaces of home or city? The word—from the Latin sacer—means set apart, separated, but also cursed and, at the same time, consecrated. The sacred always means going beyond the ordinary: a moment when the everyday fabric of reality becomes transparent, and we glimpse something more through it.

You don’t have to be a believer to feel it. You only need to be human, with a need for silence.

Text: Zofia Kubicka