Exhibition, Jan Mitaś Kubicki

The Tower of Babel / Jan Mitaś Kubicki

Tytuł

24 May 2025

MIEJSCE WYSTAWY -

CZAS TRWANIA-

WERNISAŻ -

Exhibition of works by Jan Mitaś Kubicki

The Castle in Szymbark 25.04.2025–25.05.2025

Sometimes it feels as though the world we live in is made of two materials—cold, hard steel and light, indifferent plastic. Steel—heavy, durable, unyielding, like the history of conflicts that persist despite the passage of time. Plastic—everywhere, convenient, easy to overlook. Like our everyday lives, our distance from what is difficult. When we hear the word “war,” it often sounds like an echo—distant, unreal. We don’t realise that somewhere, right now, life is unfolding amid the absence of safety, peace, a roof overhead. That there are people who wake up hoping only to survive another day.

It can feel as though we live in the shadow of a modern Tower of Babel—not one made of brick and tar, but of thoughts, languages and prejudices. Once, people wanted to reach for the sky, to build something shared and mighty that would unite them, but it became a symbol of division. Today, although we have access to every corner of the world and thousands of ways to communicate, increasingly we fail to hear one another. We speak, but do not understand. We look, but do not see—each of us in our own tower.

As of April 2025, many armed conflicts are raging around the world. People die every day, and their suffering is often lost in the din of information, amid the bustle of everyday life. The most devastating remains Russia’s war against Ukraine, ongoing since 2014 and escalated in 2022. A bloody conflict is also unfolding between Israel and the Palestinians, particularly in the Gaza Strip. In Yemen, Sudan and Myanmar, internal fighting and repression are causing humanitarian catastrophes. The Sahel region—Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger—is mired in chaos due to jihadist activity. The situation remains dire in eastern Congo, Haiti, Afghanistan and Nagorno-Karabakh as well. In total, 27 major armed conflicts are currently underway, and as many as 183 if smaller ones are included—which means that as many as 2 billion people now live in areas affected by war.

And yet, there, in places torn apart by war, there are still people who—though they speak different languages—feel the same. They long for peace, safety and closeness. They are just as afraid, just as longing, just as loving. Perhaps that is precisely why it is worth pausing for a moment today. Not to blame ourselves, but to feel a connection—to recognise that someone else’s fate, though different, is not foreign to us.

Our humanity is revealed not only in grand gestures. Sometimes it is enough to look attentively. Not to turn away. To remember that somewhere, far from our peaceful homes, life goes on with dignity, even when filled with loss. Art can be a bridge for us—gently opening a door where hearts have been shut by indifference. It can be a space for those whose voices are lost in the noise of the world.

There is no single answer to how to help. But every gesture of tenderness towards what is fragile and far away brings us closer to one another. We can notice, even if we cannot see everything; we can be close, though continents separate us—this is precisely the lesson of the history of Babel: true community is born not of a shared language, but of a shared heart. Of the awareness that every injustice, however distant, affects us too. And that our silence says something as well—the only question is whether it speaks of indifference or of a willingness to listen.