Teresa Pągowska (1926-2007)

She would have been celebrating her 96th anniversary – but she left us 15 years ago. We were in close contact though I wouldn’t dare call it a friendship. Surely, she proposed that we get onto first-name terms – but many said to and about her “Teresa”. Only her husband tenderly called her “Tesulka”. In turn, he was affectionately called “Henio” in his milieu which by no means did diminish Henryk Tomaszewski’s position in the world of art. Both Teresa Pągowska and Henryk Tomaszeski let people in only as much as it suited them.

Yes, Teresa liked my texts; she thought I was accurately interpreting her art; she was happy to have long conversations, give interviews.... And I had an admiration not so much for her, but for her paintings. I peregrinated to some of Pągowska’s exhibitions out of Warsaw to report on them later.

It has been two decades since her presentation at the Sopot State Gallery of Art (Państwowa Galeria Sztuki – PGS), then located in a not very representative single-storey building, which has long since been demolished. But the surroundings didn’t matter, what mattered were Teresa’s canvases. That show was accompanied by another event - awarding the artist with an honorary doctorate at the Academy of Fine Arts in Gdańsk.

SIGN UP TO OUR PAGE Now (since 2009) the PGS has been located in a fat seat at Zdrojowy Square, in the Sheraton hotel complex.

Playing hide-and-seek

I thought about this while looking at her paintings displayed at the current exhibition entitled “Deeper Than My Knowing”. A well-chosen quote. One can say the essence of Pągowska’s art.

I remembered her fragile, with the years almost filigree figure. Why would she gain weight, since she ate mainly tea, sometimes something stronger, ate as much as nothing, and she worked furiously physically – because painting means standing for many hours, walking, extracting energy-consuming tension, concentration and emotions.

Pągowska herself described the painting process as following: “It’s tension combined with the ease close to flying is born in these many hours of work, which is hard work of a craftsman-poet. This is when the preservation of the childish joy of painting is combined with the maximum control that allows seeing so sharp, so clear, that the impossible and unexpected (”faddish and unpredictable”) will come into being on the canvas, transformed into pure form.

It was not only creativity and teaching work that absorbed her strength. Teresa piloted each of her exhibitions, sometimes becoming a nuisance for the curators. When she did not accept the arrangement, she corrected the curatorial decisions politely, but in a form which didn’t tolerate objections. She was able to change the arrangement of works at the last moment, even take them off the walls or replace them with others. Everything had to be as she imagined.

And something else: Teresa, with admirable care and tenderness, took care of her sick husband, Henryk Tomaszewski, for several years – but I will talk about their relationship in another paragraph.

All this seemed to overwhelm her frail strength – but in some inexplicable way she replenished her energy reserves. What’s more, she was able to maintain elegance always and everywhere. It was clear from the first glance that she was a real lady.

From her youth to her end, she had made an impression of being different, especially against the background of the People’s Republic of Poland. Few people could afford the western look at that time – and she looked like a French movie actress. Boyish figure, outfit as simple as possible, often trousers and flat-heeled shoes and, on top of that, refined jewelry. Is it any wonder that she fascinated and irritated at the same time?

As she got older, she did not change her image. She also wore the same coiffure over and over again – short cut hair, which she stubbornly dyed black when it turned white. She immortalized this hairdressing procedure on one of her canvases (“White Towel”, 1995), slightly mocking her indestructible femininity.

It was not the only self-ironic self-portrait, enigmatic for the “uninitiated”. Similarly, with a large dose of irony, she portrayed herself in the painting “Black Tears” (2005). These black “drippings” on the cheeks were the result of another cosmetic and beautifying treatment – applying henna to eyelashes. Again recalling her own reflection in the mirror – and laughter when Teresa saw herself. A white, female apparition, with blackened hair and dripping water from the eyes. A figure without contours, like smoke penetrating an undefined space, with a fairly clear face – a mask. The black spots, or rather black blotches instead of eyes, are complemented by red lips (lipstick?), also flowing from the lips to the chin. The show is a bit vampire-spooky, but with humor.

There are many more paintings in which Teresa hid herself… I find her in “Beach in the Rain”, “Siesta”, “Poring Time”, “Walking in the Clouds”, “Insomnia” and many other works. She seemed to provoke: please, guess what’s instead of me...

Pągowska was perverse and did not allow herself any “similar” likenesses. As always, she was keen to give up her own (sub)consciousness; finding oneself in the context of the landscape, in relations with animals, in relation to nature and earthly existence in general. I don’t think any man has better portrayed the sense of his own corporeality than she did – sometimes almost intangible, sometimes existing fragmentarily, sometimes fragmented, so inconsistent that it hurt.

It is significant that the she gave the title “Self-portrait” (1997) to the image of ... an empty chair. The shape of a chair with a bent backrest shines white in a black and green space. A prophetic image, a look at the object and the place where she will be no more. This is how – by way of an orphaned chair – she imagined death.

Now, in the Sopot gallery, I once again marveled at this painting. The passage of time has done nothing to it. The paintings have retained their freshness and that something that determines the rank of creative achievements: the individual “sparkle” of the author. Impossible to forge, although seemingly possible to imitate.

While running a studio at the Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw, Pągowska often had to deal with students who were “influenced” by the professor’s style. She fought epigones. Anyway, you can immediately see whether it’s a personal touch or a secondary one.

Already in the 1960s, Pągowska developed an absolutely unique painting manner. It was supposedly a figuration, but not literal, forcing the viewer to intuitively perceive her composition. There was also expression, but airy, never brutal. Her paintings are a record of scenes and situations: seen, remembered, but sublimed by the subconscious.

She worked quickly, but at the same time for a long time, because sometimes she spent hours thinking about each effect. However, when she moved into action, as if in euphoria (or maybe fury?), she struck her brush quickly, strongly, unmistakably. She chose a method that did not allow any corrections. The first version had to be the last.

This is best seen in the series, which became her flagship achievement, setting the direction of her search. I mean the two series “Monochromes” and “Magical Figures”. These are the most economical compositions in terms of color, limited to various shades of white and black, occasionally punctuated by a small spot of a sharper color. Landscapes, objects and silhouettes barely marked with paint were confronted with unpainted parts. It turned out that the bare gray canvas had plastic value. Against this background, the spontaneity of the gesture and the mystery of these compositions become even more visible.

“You have to know a lot to reject a lot. I’m always wrong, I miss, I fight with the canvas –my friend and enemy in one. We are alone in it – the canvas and me”. These are, of course, Teresa's words.

Well-endowed

For as long as I can remember, her paintings have reminded me of Japanese haiku poetry. Like the Far Eastern masters, Pągowska was looking for the shortest form to record ephemeral states – mood, landscape, pose. This was what she wanted most – to record what was beyond description. Hence the fascinating lightness and seductiveness of her works. Her figures are fleshly and incorporeal at the same time. Sensual and mobile, like the author. At the same time, a certain sadness emanates from them, because in a way she regretted that nature had endowed her with ... visual qualities.

A beautiful woman, she was an object of men’s admiration and of women’s envy. She had no enemies, but few supporters either.

She didn't complain, but grumbled that her male colleagues got a lot more artistic bonuses. She was comforted by two awards of which she was proud: the Alfred Jurzykowski New York Foundation award (1990) and the Jan Cybis award, which she was honored with in 2000. Well, she belonged to a generation for which serious painting was a masculine domain. Women-artists had a chance in “lighter” disciplines: design, textiles, illustration.

Pągowska, on the other hand, was not afraid to compete against her fellow painters. And she started at a very young age. In 1950, she moved to Sopot (hence her liking for the city), joining the Academy of Fine Arts in Gdańsk for the next several years – thanks to Professor Stanisław Teisseyre, who appointed her to the position his assistant at the Gdańsk Academy of Fine Arts. She was only 24 years old, an incredible career even today.

Another important ambassador of Pągowska’s talent was Piotr Potworowski, one of the legendary colorists. After his death in 1962, Teresa independently “run” the master's workshop for two years.

She then taught in Poznań, an afterward – at the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts (1971-1992). And although her talent was appreciated, her path to the Parnassus of the arts was extremely bumpy. She complained that her achievements were underestimated, favoring grace, class and beauty. Angry at this unfair division, she once told me in an interview: "I am a female painter”.

A room full of love

Her most faithful patron and fan was her husband, Henryk Tomaszewski, a master of Polish poster art. The Pągowska-Tomaszewski duo was amazing. Although they created in the same house (in Warsaw Sadyba) and influenced each other – in every sense, including the artistic one – they both created in solitude. They did not visit their studios without invitation. Tomaszewski “took her away from” Stanisław Teisseyre.

A couple of times his posters announced Teresa’s exhibitions. They were blunt. A woman's slipper, announcing the exhibition of Teresa’s paintings, was associated with ... well, the most intimate part of her body. “Love”, the famous poster announcing Tomaszewski’s individual show at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam (1991), deals with love in general. HT turned the word LOVE into ambiguous forms, suggesting erotic associations. “O for a hole, a “v” for a “Bermuda triangle” ... What can I say, it was about sex. But also an intellectual agreement.

I often visited them at Jazgarzewska Street in Warsaw. Teresa, with her inevitable cigarette, invited me to the atelier to talk about the latest paintings. After greetings, Henryk would retreat to his room, not imposing himself on his wife or her guest. Their home ritual, on the other hand, included late-night meetings for two. They sat and talked until morning.

As I mentioned, they acted separately, behind closed doors. Henryk often couldn’t stand it any longer and demanded Teresa’s assessment: “Tell me now, which of these three projects you like best?” She did the opposite. She forbade her husband from entering the studio until the painting was finished. Or when she had a problem with the canvas. Then he insisted on seeing his wife’s work. Sometimes harsh judgments were made: “You can take this off the easel, nothing is happening here yet”. Pągowska fell into despair. They argued terribly, but, as she admitted, the truth was always on his side. However, “Before I met Henryk, I used more paint”, admitted the “female” painter.

It happened that the artist began to paint during the day, but did not notice when dusk fell, then night... She painted in the dark, her eyes somehow getting used to the darkness. In the morning, Teresa received notes from her husband, which were placed under the door of the studio. “T., my most beautiful, good morning. I want to be a good morning”; or “Please do not open. A room full of love for T.”

Beautiful, right? Every woman would like to receive such correspondence…

Two years after Henryk’s death (2005), Teresa, who was planning her next exhibition, died suddenly. In her own home, after discussing the next show (it was supposed to be, and took place, albeit with a delay, in the Warsaw Graphics and Poster Gallery). After agreeing on many details, after the curator left, she sat down tiredly on the landing of the stairs, under the eighteenth-century sculpture of an angel. And… flew away.

She left in her style – suddenly and without witnesses. Because death does not want company, does it?…. Just like painting.

– Monika Malkowska
– Translated by Dominik Szczęsny-Kostanecki

TVP WEEKLY. Editorial team and jornalists

”Deeper than my knowing" – an exhibition Teresa Pągowska’s painting at the State Art Gallery in Sopot, open until January 8, 2023