I take my work very seriously. I make films that both men and women should be able to enjoy. Like all my art, my movies are about continually accepting others on an equal basis even if one starts to doubt their worthiness. It requires the ability to listen. That doesn't mean hearing words.
I'm learning how to listen to women - even if sometimes they say terrible things. I'd like to give everyone a chance to do the same.
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 continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I'm taking 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 3: Borderlands
Janina describes the German villages from which her grandparents hailed that were settled during the Austrian administration of formerly Polish territories that would later became part of Poland once again and which now form part of western Ukraine.
Each successive pillar of culture is built upon the previous one. Just as you cannot have Saturday without Friday, you cannot have a strong military without successful children. You can't have successful children without good science. Proper science requires a strong and confident body politic to accept its conclusions. A strong body politic, a peaceful assembly, is made up of strong families. A family is built upon labor. Labor is guided by art.
Good art is a good idea well expressed. A victory over oblivion. Carry that thought down the line. Efficient labor sows the fruit of capitalism. The members of a loving family pray to each other. A just constitution keeps the assembly focused. Science studies movement. Education inspires children. Children grow strong and defend our freedom. Democracy thrives.
Our problem is not that we lack a strong army or smart teachers or scientists or political dialogue or money or prayer. Our probem is that nothing ties it together. Our culture is unraveling. We have business executives who only care about the bottom line. We have church leaders who only care about the good name of the church. We have politicians who only care about getting re-elected. We have artists who only care about their self-expression.
Our pillars of culture have climbed quite high. Yet there's nothing but hot air at the top. There's no roof over our heads. We're exposed. Either nobody taught the people at the top to listen to each other or the only way to get to the top is by not listening. Don't say nobody taught us how. Whenever people try we crucify them. That has to change. We need to accept the fact that we are building this church of Man together and it needs a roof.
We need to bridge the pillars of culture.
Pronunciation of Storytelling
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word storytelling.
Video of me pronouncing "storytelling."
Definition of Storytelling
I have yet to publish the definition of Storytelling.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for storytelling
I have yet to find good references for Storytelling
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 #4132
reddit says if theres proof aznar was in the country just publish the story. these people are literally undermining our country.
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.
What an asshole, I thought. Was he even aware of himself? So his ancestors imported game to Mars - so what? Grande cuisine: what Polack would make this for him? Why do our best chefs look outside our borders, or in books of foreign history? Don't they know that our cuisine is peasant cuisine? It favors the bold, not the delicate; the simple, not the rich. It finds what is common, not esoteric. It has its own subtle flavors which must be exploited, not abandoned. Like chicken broth: why did we abandon our Sunday broth? Once upon a time, it wasn't Sunday if chicken broth were not served for dinner. And why did we abandon it? For what? For leisure? For the sake of time? Or taste? Is it possible we actually prefer the taste of manufactured products? Like instant soup? Soup in a can? Or did that come later? Did we forget the taste of a boiling chicken's juice? Did we become estranged from our domestic traditions? Or did we choose to abandon them? Were we ashamed of chicken broth? Or disgusted? But why? when a woman like Catherine de Médicis takes it out of her ice-box and calls it aspic. Why were the French so enamored of it? Did they lack chickens or ice?
"I must compliment him once more," your grandfather continued. "This work is truly amazing: right down to the last detail. You see this little crack in the pyramid? Do you know the story behind that crack?" I shook my head.
Jesus's father was beyond tears. My sister's disappearance caused only more lethargy and more heroin use. Before long, he refused to eat. He refused to get up out of bed. He stopped selling the few books he had left. If not for the robbery, Jesus would've been forced to sell the television, or worse, the radio. He had stolen six hundred dollars from the Krupnik. My grandmother had once told me the story of how she had robbed an old woman of half a round of cheese and all her bread. "You have not sinned," said the priest. "You did not take her food out of spite or for pleasure, but because you were hungry." Jesus only spent a third of his booty on bread.
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.
Your destiny is that everything is open to you: now that the world is so open, there is no reason not to apply this new experience that we gained by living through that suspension. And we have given you that legacy; you are all very lucky. You are children of the old millennium; and yet, you are living on the edge of the new one. Your generation is going to define that millennium for the rest of history. And we are all jealous of you: because this whole new world is waiting. It is true: you don't have to change it. You just have to enjoy it. Make it do what you want. That's all you have to do.
Next to the dolls, there was a beautifully varnished music box. I took it out from the glass case and opened it. Inside, there was a beautifully carved ballerina, ready to dance in circles to the music. So I began winding the music box, expecting to hear the sound of Bartók, or perhaps the tune of some Magyar folk song - in either case, not expecting to know the music. But, when I released the knob, the ballerina began dancing to a recognizable tune. I had to chuckle: it was Henry Mancini's theme from Love Story.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 6, The Drawing Room, Paragraph 3
INDIE: Oh, is that right? Well, I'm not surprised you men are falling for it. I prefer to concentrate on the story.
ANDY: You know, the music's not bad.
INDIE: Oh, I know: but the music is there to illustrate the story, and it just so happens I know the story very well.
ANDY: Oh, have you read the novel?
INDIE: Novel? You mean it's from a book?
ANDY: Yes: it's a book by Anatole France.
INDIE: Oh, is it also called -
ANDY: Yes, it's also called Thaïs.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 12, Opera, Paragraphs 7-14
But Macy was shaking his head: he said there were still plenty of situations where such desperation would be necessary. I agreed, of course, and I began telling him the story of our second cousin, Stefan, who, as you know, sort of ran off to get married. "He went to school in Prague," I told him, "and he met someone there - a beautiful woman.
How challenging it was at that very moment, when, in my troublesome state, my eye carelessly fell upon its rectangular form: how promising did that running tape recorder seem! how reckless my judgment! how beautiful its mechanical uprightness! I actually entertained thoughts of diversions, of stealing away that tape and running down Prospect Street, hiding in dark alleys, listening in frustration, running all the way to the bridge and throwing its unhelpful carcass in the river. I thought of feigning sickness, and climbing down from the second story - to what purpose I do not know, but I did think of it.
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.
"You're straight."
"They're disgusting. They're from the poorest families in Martinique or French Guiana or something."
"It's not for everybody. I wonder where else to send you. Don't go to one of those American bars: they'll rip your pants off. They make you buy champagne. You end up shitting money for nothing."
She was a whitetail deer about to be caught once again in our headlights. Had she any idea we were stalking her-an innocent woman in the woods-what could she know? It was my dream; her nightmare. What was she to me? An image? A figure of a brave and beautiful woman? Vulnerability personified?
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: There was a girl who tried to kill me. She came after me with an axe. It reminded me of Susannah's story.
ALICE: What made you want to write a play about it?
FLETCHER: Mull.
ALICE: I'm sorry?
FLETCHER: Isn't that what you Australians like to call it?
ALICE: I guess.
FLETCHER: It's the modern artist's drug of choice.
ALICE: Even here on Norfolk?
FLETCHER: There was a time when every other artistically-inclined tourist I met asked me about it.
ALICE: Whether you had any?
– ACT II, lines 101-110
FLETCHER: 'You don't float around staring off into space? You don't flinch when I reach out my hand? You are a fish. You're a catfish. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you. I'm serious. I want to know what's wrong. Are you sick?'
ALICE: 'No.'
FLETCHER: 'You certainly don't seem healthy. I'm going to Father. Maybe he knows what's wrong with you.'
ALICE: 'Fait, Toc. I fay tay you.'
FLETCHER: Toc is my name, by the way; they're my initials. Father is John Jackson, the last of the mutineers - not our real father. 'Alright: speak.'
ALICE: 'Many year aro when you were ritter, te women try to escape in a poat fur of hor. Te men say tat tey fix it, put tey not fix it. Tey laugh when I catch te crap ant ah te women fa in te vater.'
FLETCHER: 'I know this story. Susannah, you're no stranger to water. Don't tell me you're afraid that I would put holes in my canoe and make you fall in.'
ALICE: 'After tis, ah te women talk apout is kirrin' te men. Ant two of tem try.'
FLETCHER: 'You're not saying that you might actually kill me if I humiliated you?'
ALICE: 'I tey you, Toc. You ask me; I tey you.'
– ACT II, lines 81-90
FLETCHER: That's a good story.
MS. JACKSON: From what could be gathered.
LESBIAN: I was taken advantage of once. I was at the Kammermusiksaal one day - actually, it was the night: the evening. It was fall: late fall: October. I had just attended a concert - a very good one - chamber music: it's my favorite. Anyway, this was Berlin and everything is very neat there - at least in that part of the city: the cultural part with the museums and everything. I didn't think it dangerous just to cross the street: Tiergartenstraße - to take a stroll in the park - Tiergartenpark. It's not like it was that late or anything. It was October. Naturally, the days were short.
FLETCHER: And the nights were very long-winded.
MS. JACKSON: Fletcher!
LESBIAN: I'm sorry. I don't think it's going to be very good.
MS. JACKSON: Please continue, Homo.
LESBIAN: This man came up to me in an overcoat and exposed himself. Can you believe that?
FLETCHER: Nice.
ALICE: How big was it?
– ACT I, lines 180-189
MS. JACKSON: I will go insane if I don't find out.
GREY GOOSE: It's all very simple. These two have been running a racket: a confidence game. Kokomo plays the prostitute, whose story is so ridiculous it must be true. Finding out for oneself is the challenge. If she's the best lay in the South Pacific, one should know the difference.
FLETCHER: Satisfaction guaranteed.
GREY GOOSE: Cash comes rolling in.
MS. JACKSON: I don't understand. What happens when-
FLETCHER: By the time they get to bed, they think she's a charity case.
GREY GOOSE: She vomits on them and that's it.
MS. JACKSON: Vomits?
FLETCHER: It turns me off.
MS. JACKSON: How?
– ACT II, lines 431-440
FLETCHER: Good. My mother's been trying to stop her. I don't blame her for that. I feel sorry for the poor girl. Her story is a sad one. Kokomo's grandmother was raped by the Japanese while they were occupying the island of Upolu in Western Samoa. That's where Kokomo was born. Her mother was the product of that horrendous crime. Though they were the victims, both mother and child were ostracized by their tribe. Even after her mother had grown up, only the Catholic priest would take pity on them. Kokomo was the product of that pity. Eventually, she went to American Samoa to work as a prostitute for the tuna canners. One day, she came home with fifty thousand dollars and a baby. It turned out her pimp had threatened to kill her if she didn't have an abortion. Unfortunately, Kokomo made the ill-advised decision, once the baby came, to run away with the pimp's money. He ended up tracking her down. When he showed up at the mother's hut, Kokomo, in a state of pure shock, burned the money. The guy flipped out, killed her mother, slit the baby's throat, burned down the hut and forced her onto his boat. On their way to Pago Pago, they were hijacked by a bunch of pirates from Fiji. They killed the pimp and then realized he didn't have anything worthwhile except for the girl. While they stood around, trying to decide what to do, Kokomo offered them the greatest sex they would ever have in their entire lives: on the condition that they release her. They figured: why not? They could do whatever they wanted with her no matter what happened. Kokomo blew their minds. They were so satisfied, they stuck to the deal. They let her go in Fiji, where they begged her to stay and work as a prostitute. Kokomo agreed to do it, but only until she made up the fifty thousand dollars that she burned: the money that killed her mother and her newborn baby.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Some women don't care much for context. They take words at face value. They twist them around. Never use poetic license with a woman. Never use poetry at all. A woman will only think you're trying to seduce her.
I saw Barack the other day. He looked like he was doing better. The last time I saw him his body was twitching so badly he couldn't walk. His body is still twitching but not as much. He can get around with a cane. His speech is still slurred.
I got off the bus at a small town. It was a two hour wait for the minibus to the village. People in the square stared at me. I kept hearing the words, "Dirty chocolate. Wipe your face." Something possessed me to buy a towel and a box of chocolates. I walked around with them. It made me feel like I was in on a joke.
To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.
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Michal's importing art from Poland...is he daffy?
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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