Michal makes films in the name of helping women... Does he expect gratitude?
Posted:
I'm not a saviour. I'm not here to liberate women. Nor am I trying to get myself enslaved. I'm here to help women and men to liberate themselves. It's an ongoing process and it won't get done unless we start helping each other to do it. Learning how to listen is key.
I'm learning how to listen to women - even if they sometimes say horrible things. I want everyone to have the same opportunity.
I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.
Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.
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Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern Poland
Chapter 35: Marlboro Cigarettes
Janina recalls her bold attempts to sell cigarettes while in Vienna and the large fruit she found there that reminded her of her home in Trembowla and her naughtiness as a young girl.
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
In June of 2011 I arrived in Europe for what I hoped would be a great adventure; my only concrete plan, to visit Croatia. By September I had driven 6,000 miles and visited 12 different countries, all with a woman I met on the first Friday of my trip.
Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter Margo.
As an American, I was full of optimism and confidence bordering on recklessness. I was ready to run the wheels off the car I had just bought and eventually I would. As a European, she was cautious and mistrustful. She needed to make sure the air conditioner worked. Which it did. If you knew how to turn the broken knob in just the right way.
I've never gone hungry without deserving it. I've never been systemically beaten by a parent. I've never been fondled by a priest. That doesn't mean I can't listen to somebody who has had to experience such abuse and it doesn't mean I can't try to understand. Margo and I traveled 6,000 miles together. We slept in the same tent. We had to listen to each other. A person shouldn't need 6,000 miles to do it. We should be able to listen to each other just because we want to. We should've been taught to do it. If we haven't been taught, we should be learning how to do it and learning fast.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Modern Canvas Art
Art is the expression of an idea. Often that idea is simply the form of the expression itself, the beautiful or not-so-beautiful shape of an otherwise meaningless gesture. This is decorative art. It encompasses everything from origami to cheap romance novels. It is popular and if you want to put a decorative print on your wall, you can buy one at a place like Ikea.
Most artists with ambition create documentary art, meaning the ideas embedded in their work relate to something beyond the undulations of their expressiveness. Instead of just making a new twist, they try to make that twist seem extra clever. It means something beyond being just a twist. In the most obscene cases, an artist won't even tell you what it means and suggests you figure it out for yourself. No other profession gets away with this. It's like a prostitute who says he's not sure if he does anal.
I try not to be clever. Trying to be clever is what I used to do when I was a child and I wanted attention. I try to be right. I try to discover the truth and pass it along. I try to trust my own judgment.
I've read most of the Bible. It's not a code of laws or something you put on your coffee table because it looks nice. It's one of the greatest documentary works of art ever compiled. When common people started reading it, the Reformation happened. Not everybody read the whole thing, nor did they necessarily understand what they did read, which is why not everything got reformed in the right direction. In their defense though, some parts of the Bible aren't even written in the right way. We all make mistakes. It doesn't mean we shouldn't keep working towards the right reform. That is the idea at the basis of the best art. It's the idea that I'm going to keep repeating because I am too old to be clever.
Pronunciation of Modern Canvas Art
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "modern canvas art."
Video of me pronouncing "modern canvas art."
Definition of Modern Canvas Art
Modern Canvas Art is a visual composition applied to canvas that is influenced either by the incorporation of the ideas of abstraction, surrealism, and self-expression brought about by the political and scientific events of the twentieth century, or by their relative lack of incorporation.
References for modern canvas art
I have yet to find good references for Modern Canvas Art
Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #2774
the desert from here to modern valley will covered with drones. but its still a lot of territory. mcdonalds can make it through.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
The MTA stationed itself around Olympus Mons and around every major point on the irrigation system, which, after decades upon decades of eager development, became vast and unknowable to men, penetrating far-flung regions with massive amounts of pressure, complicated systems and safeguards, gauges, unseen aqueducts forming strange and multifarious designs - mostly thanks to geography, of course, but also thanks to economics and evolving technology, which insisted on placing new pipes next to old ones, better pumps next to broken ones, and whole new branches of irrigation in previously undeveloped areas wherever greenhouses popped up, according to the most recent wind patterns, leaving old branches completely abandoned wherever dust had made growing unfavorable - but whose first and greatest branch went straight down (in order to beat the Southern Ice Cap Company into submission) to the southern hemisphere, to the Hellas basin, where, being the lowest point on Mars, the first permanent settlements were made (in the dubious hope that the elevation and increased pressure would somehow prove useful to Martian civilization) which, in turn, came to coalesce and grow into the modern urban giant called Centropolis.
I was enamored of something: that is the truth. The creature was timid, or at least seemed to be so. It was bashful - supremely bashful - in fact, gloriously bashful, I decided, in the deepest, reddest chamber of my heart. This careless captivation: this momentary loss of self-consciousness that affected her eyes and made her hold my gaze for a brief moment: this almost immediate turning away and hiding of her face was a mark of modesty, that blessed virtue which remains - though largely symbolic - one of the most important of virtues - a necessary and heartwarming gesture that modern women have all but abandoned. I was grateful for it.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
I think the history of modern settlement is so fascinating, especially the concessions which the rest of nature has made in the face of our progress. Humanity has had to transform nature to its own purposes, and it is interesting that many people dislike such realities; they find them regrettable, as if they were all part of a conflict we are somehow compelled to wage. But I think the story is heroic, though indeed, our failures are always lamentable. I am the first to agree that respecting nature is critical, but we must respect nature while we continue to conquer. In this war, we cannot become the slaves of nature. Nature must be an honorable enemy. Ah, but speaking of enemies, I was supposed to tell you about the gallows of Tyburn.
But that's not all. You're not subject to your generation. You're not subject to your era: because you understand, for example, how modern technology shapes your opinion. You're conscious of things like that, and that nullifies the effect. You understand how these things keep controlling you; you're able to intuit what you don't know, and you can tell which part of the picture's missing. So when it comes to politics, you play your hand like everybody else. But you've been counting cards. And you know how every party is subject to weather. So you pick your battles - just like me. Except that I'm on the periphery, and you have to swing from one place to another, depending on which machine happens to be singing your tune.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 11, Talking Politics, Paragraph 47, Clauses 10-20
ANDY: So how are you gonna sell your mead?
NIKE: Oh, that's too easy. First of all, I'm gonna be exploiting the wonders of modern technology.
ANDY: You mean the Internet?
NIKE: Precisely. That little bugger is the boon of mankind.
ANDY: Yeah, like mediaeval crusaders, you know? The thing about the future is that it's more mediaeval than the modern age. That's another alienation technique, you know? It brings the more important things into relief.
I have also taken notice of your desire for poetry, but I must confess that I am not in the mood for waxing poetic. These modern hospitals are not quite fitting; they are too sterile, too mechanical; there are too many synthetic materials, too much plastic to be a good place for fostering passion. This corner is too quiet, too deadly quiet: a good place for writing - but not poetry; whether it be for my poetry or my prose, this hospital wing is too orderly; the rhythm here is too tired, too much going about one's business with a barely disguised reluctance. There's no way to wheedle any poetry out from these people. They are probably underpaid - but then again, I know nothing about British health care, and I'm not the sick one, so I won't complain. I don't think you want any elegies - although, when I look at Albert's quiet body: the once sturdy frame slowing sinking into itself - an elegy is all I can think of writing. But there is time for that.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 5
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Indeed, Ferrari's persistence in pursuing the art of horseback riding was born more of innate pride than talent. Witnessing other, more skilled compatriots fall from their steeds, he laughed-not ostentatiously like Francesco, but quietly, as if it proved, not that they wore heavier armor and were therefore richer, but that they might not be as good.
Peace arrived in Naples. Condotierri moved north. Ferrari, sick of war and disillusioned with its bitter-sweet fruits, went south. He was in the mood for love. He possessed new skills in the art of music. He was young and handsome. More importantly, he was a veteran.
Shephard sped up. He got close to the truck. There was a tarp over its bed. He came alongside. He peeked underneath the canvas. There was something green. It was a watermelon. The truck was full of them. If he dumped them, thought Shephard, the humvee might crash. At the very least, it would slow it down.
Nike could not harm this creature: this woman floating in shadow: this blur of something horribly sacred-a strange beast of different fabrics, white and black-a veil was it? on top of a disembodied head? a bright strip of white fluttering behind? a bird with a shimmering tail? What kind: a dove? A penguin? A canvasback pochard in flight-about to be shot?
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
FLETCHER: Kokomo is a confirmed Catholic. She was filled with the strength of the Holy Ghost.
ALICE: I didn't know axe-wielding was one of His gifts.
FLETCHER: I'll have to ask my catechist the next time we meet.
ALICE: Are you a catechumen?
FLETCHER: I'm an inquirer. Kokomo is my ever patient sponsor.
ALICE: Was that before she caught you?
FLETCHER: I suppose I wanted her to find it. She has a point, as far as art is concerned. Whatever one thinks of its medicinal uses, it can't cure a lack of imagination.
ALICE: The sensory awareness it provides or the perception of time one experiences under its influence can benefit pursuits like contemplation or flower arrangement.
FLETCHER: What's made you such a passionate partisan? Have you partaken of the peace pipe?
ALICE: Occasionally. It's been more often than that. I used to work for a florist. There was never any reason not to smoke. To be completely honest, I accidentally brought some with me.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
A few months later the professor was again observing Bill and Mark going up the hill. He noted the difference in time. He calmly consulted his formula. He calculated a 95% chance of collision. There had never been such a high probability. The professor rushed out of the house. Again he almost tripped and fell on the tripod. He set himself up on the side of the road. He made sure the lighting was adequate. He programmed the continuous drive. He heard the sound of two engines coming down the hill. He couldn't stop smiling. He was on the verge of a photographic masterpiece. Better than the shot of the two cars that got stuck trying to get into the same tollbooth. This would be a series of pictures framed and hung in a massive room in a famous art gallery. "Dueling postmen" he would call it. "No," he thought to himself. "Large Postman Collider. An Experiment in Physics."
I've never raped a woman. I would never want to. Not sexually. I told my wife once I wanted to rape her. That comment needs to be taken in context. We were at an art gallery. We were looking at a picture of the Sabine women.
"What about this one," said Proctor. He was pointing to vic number two. "According to his bondsman you put up his bail."
"Oh," said John. "I wouldn't know anything about that. It's probably something my husband did. He's an art dealer. He co-owns a gallery down the street."
"Do you drive a silver SUV, Mr. Gamble?" asked Proctor.
"No," said John. Looking as innocent as a fudge-covered child. "I still don't drive."
I don't know who decided to make first contact with the woman or who invited her down to our camp but that's where she ended up. She was staying for dinner. Her name was Mary. I thought to myself this is what happens to a hipster's child when he doesn't inherit a bed and breakfast. I wanted to ask Mary about her upbringing but she was too busy sharing with us a finger-painted monist philosophy. She kept mentioning the armature of the universe. She had taken some studio art classes otherwise I doubt she would know the word. She said the armature was penetrating each of us like an alien probe. I decided to beat her at her own game. I brought up the concept of the noosphere and Teilhard de Chardin's unification of consciousness. She had no idea what I was talking about. I hoped her confusion would cow her into shutting up. It didn't.
The Amazon called his team. One half was still following Orbitz on the cruise ship. The other half was in front of the shop. He ordered them into the neon building. They walked up to the second floor. The team leader paused. He could hear something in the room ahead. It sounded like a man rapping his fingers on a desk. He pushed open the door. There was no desk. There was no man. There was clutter everywhere. Strange objects of art and furniture stacked on top of each other loomed from every corner. The rapping continued. It was slower now. It was more cautious. The men squeezed into the room. All of them were transfixed by the sound. It was coming from behind a low curtain. The curtain was draped over what seemed like a crate. Or a cage. The men crowded in front of it. The leader reached out his hand. He grabbed a corner of the curtain. He lifted it.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
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If you love women and art...
Michal's importing art...is he meshuga?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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