Set in Stone with Zuzanna Czebatul

Poland-born sculptor Zuzanna Czebatul is a master of using architectural elements to deliver powerful commentary. One of the featured artists for the SLEEK exhibition “Untitled (Matchstick)”, she uses ages-old techniques to create striking installations, sculptures, mosaics and other mixed-medium forms, all influenced by her diverse upbringing, strong political views and belief in the power of art to change the world for the better.

Tell us about the inspirations behind your work in the exhibition.

I will show two bodies of work: Daze (2021), a sculpture consisting of two entangled obelisks on a bed, in a sort of in flagrante delicto. The work emphasises the flexibility of politics, ideology and culture, which are shaped by each of us every day. The other works are newly produced pieces from the ongoing series Gentle Reminder (of the Banality of Power), which are made of concrete that looks like ithyphallic [erect penis] marble objects. They refer to opus sectile mosaics, a cutting technique used by Romans in mansions and palaces as inlays or flooring. Rare marbles and granites, mother of pearl or glass, were cut in a specific way to create a picture or pattern. This technique was a popular status symbol of the aristocracy. I am depicting it in an ironic way, one opposed to the original denotation. By mixing inexpensive concrete with pigments, I emulate opulent marble. The erected phallus is of course a banal but very real representation of power.

How do you approach sustainability in your life?

I lived a zero-waste lifestyle for some time and came to the conclusion that we accumulate and consume so much stuff we actually don’t need. There’s huge potential in changing habits and we actually could easily get rid of much single-use plastic, for example. As an artist, I have insight on how wasteful the production of many things is. I also question my work in this regard, because it’s quite heavy in terms of materials, packaging and transport, although it is nothing compared to what the industries I work with actually pour out every day. We have to push for better politics in this regard. Changes have to be made on a broad scale. The only thing we can do is to vote for political parties that are willing to implement radical environmental policies.

You use several different types of materials in your work. What’s your favourite?

I always refer to materials as friends; they all have their qualities and characteristics. But you don’t want to hang out with the same person for too long, do you? I often make use of a material excessively, that’s why after those expansive projects I turn toward opposing materials. After working up three tons of concrete, for example, I would probably work in a soft material. It’s just like in a friendship: after you spend a long time with someone, at some point you might want to see your other friends. But I love each of them – they are all amazing.

How does your work comment on current social and political issues?

My practice is always tied to various political discourses. For me, art is a medium of communication and has the ability to illustrate hidden aspects of the world or how it could be. Sculpture is a strong medium to engage the viewer with, as I believe that physically we tend to have the most direct relationship to the objects in a space, which give us a sense of our size and vulnerability. For Probably a Robbery (2021), I reproduced a couple of caryatids from the Louvre facade in order to twist the colonial narrative and steal from the institutions which are based on theft.

What barriers have you faced in the art world?

Everybody likes to talk nasty about the art world, and of course there are a lot of reasons why, as it’s still very white, male, classist and elitist. But I also have the impression this is slowly changing. As a female immigrant with a working class background, my career is based on some extra layers of work in order to be part of that world. Out of that comes the motivation to help change things. Everybody should have the chance and access to become whatever they aspire. In this regard, I think education is important in the long run. That’s why I am very enthusiastic about starting a teaching position at the Faculty of Fine Arts in Brno, in the Czech Republic, and about being able to encourage students to go for it.

You play a lot with cultural symbols in your artistic practice. How do you think they influence or shape society?

Coming from the Eastern Bloc and growing up in the West, I have experienced two opposing political systems, and I became a type of vagabond, which gave me the freedom to look at what shapes identity. We are living in times where ideologies aim to define very clear borders between us by changing discourses according to nationalist and economical interests. As cultural workers, we have an obligation to be very critical toward this trend and highlight the absurdity of rigidity and intolerance. It is not a coincidence that totalitarian regimes restrict or forbid artistic expression. In Europe, neoliberalism also shapes our visual culture. Dismantling, fragmenting or re-contextualising these symbols helps to lay bare their hidden functions.