The Tower of Babel /
Jan Mitaś Kubicki

24 May 2025

Exhibition of works by Jan Mitas Kubicki

The Castle in Szymbark April 25, 2025 – May 25, 2025

Sometimes it feels as though the world we live in is made of two materials—cold, hard steel and light, inert plastic. Steel—heavy, durable, unyielding—like the history of conflicts that persist despite the passage of time. Plastic—ubiquitous, convenient, easy to overlook. Like our everyday lives, our detachment from what is difficult. When we hear the word “war,” it often sounds like an echo—distant, unreal. It doesn’t sink in that somewhere, right now, life goes on amid a lack of security, peace, and a roof over their heads. That there are people who wake up hoping only to survive another day.

One might get the impression that we are living in the shadow of a modern Tower of Babel—not one made of brick and mortar, but of thoughts, languages, and prejudices. Once upon a time, people longed to reach for the heavens, to build something shared and mighty that was meant to unite them, yet it became a symbol of division. Today, even though we have access to every corner of the world and thousands of means of communication, more and more often we do not hear one another. We speak, but we do not understand. We look, but we do not see—each in our own tower.

As of today, in April 2025, numerous armed conflicts are raging around the world. People are dying every day, and their suffering is often lost amid the noise of the news and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The most devastating conflict remains Russia’s war against Ukraine, which has been 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 leading to humanitarian disasters. The Sahel region—Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger—is plunged into chaos by jihadist activity. A dramatic situation also persists in eastern Congo, Haiti, Afghanistan, and Nagorno-Karabakh. In total, there are currently 27 major armed conflicts, and as many as 183 if smaller ones are included, which means that as many as 2 billion people are living in war-torn areas today.

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

Humanity is not only revealed in grand gestures. Sometimes it is enough to look closely. Not to look away. To remember that somewhere, far from our peaceful homes, a life full of dignity is being lived, even if it is filled with loss. Art can be a bridge for us—gently opening the door where hearts have been closed off 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 toward that which is fragile and distant brings us closer together. We can perceive, even if we do not see everything; we can be close, even though continents separate us—this is precisely the lesson from the story of Babel—that true community is born not of a common language, but of a common heart. From the awareness that every injustice—however distant—touches us as well. And that our silence also speaks volumes—the only question is: does it speak of indifference, or of a willingness to listen?