Can you tell us a bit about the story and whether there was something about the subject that felt better suited to images than words?
 

Drawings are all around me; I find them in the animal steps in the forest or on my street, the edge of shadow on pavement, shapes on the walls. I think my first sketch of this story was created when I saw this wild boar on my street. Have you seen this creature in real life, in nature? I was surprised by its long, swift legs and funny, intelligent snout. It’s completely different from the ones in Britannica or Wikipedia. The wild boars began to jump around my sketchbooks, small and large, happy, sad or angry. Then there was the context: apartment blocks and architecture as an idea and a way of life. Architecture, as we know, is drawing, especially if you appreciate the work of Juhani Pallasma. 

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In this piece, I was particularly looking for ways to speak not about form, but about the practice of the city. I chose drawing because, on the one hand, it allows me to invite the reader into a multifaceted story and is more open to universal interpretations. On the other hand, in drawing this story, I tried to immerse myself in materiality. This gave me the idea for ‘living comics’ –the art of telling stories in real-world conditions, using tools found in various places, such as sticks, plants, feathers, stones and concrete textures. Wild boars and Warsaw’s Unité d’habitation are a perfect match!

Was there a moment in the process when the story changed direction because of something you drew – or tried to draw?
 
Yes, it was a coincidence. There was a construction error in the building where I lived, and my downstairs neighbour could hear every footstep, every direction of movement from the kitchen to the bedroom. And, as Sarah Pink writes, walking is like drawing; you trace the lines and shapes of your experiences. And so, through this drawing of walking, from downstairs, I was approached by someone who had spent years designing old, classic Lego bricks. It gave me an interesting perspective on architecture and housing developments. This story hasn’t appeared here yet, but it’s in the script and sketch notes.
 

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How does your approach to storytelling change – if it does – when you draw?
 
I think drawing is a way of experiencing, understanding and interpreting. When I sketch, I try to find an interesting perspective, a clue, a joke or a paradox. Of course, drawing also bridges distance and builds relationships, so sometimes we delve deeper and sometimes it’s just like saying hello.
 

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How do you decide what to show visually and what to leave to the text or dialogue?
 
I’m not sure if it’s about ‘to show’ something. Rather, I attempt to find ways of engaging, exploring and discovering. I like the idea that drawing and writing share the same roots in bodily experience and imagination. Separating the two gives primacy to writing and changes the perception of drawing, making it less important and serious. My goal is to create a graphic notation that would give voice to music, the sounds of the forest, rivers, whispers and various creatures. This requires consistency and sympathetic readers who knows you and your style.
 
Looking at these drawings now, I think the inscriptions, created much later, almost with publication in mind, were like signs pointing the way for readers. Like a gesture, ‘This way please’, and the rest is a matter of imagination. I’d like this gesture to be as discreet as possible.
 

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Are there specific authors, visual influences or stylistic references that have inspired and/or influenced your work? How and why?
 

On the one hand, I enjoy conceptual and abstract thinking, like Hilma af Klint or Wassily Kandinsky. On the other hand, I look to ‘non-professional’ artists like Teofil Ociepka, Brunon Podjaski, Maria Wnęk and many others.

 

I also draw inspiration from comics, but there are so many good artists, so many comics I’d like to read, that I’m afraid I’ll forget my best ones. From Warsaw, I recommend Maciej Sieńczyk for his distinctive, ‘imperfect’ linework and surrealistic atmosphere. His stories can also be found in English.

 

I also enjoy politically engaging projects, such as Paweł Althamer’s ‘Drafters’ Congress’, ‘Draw to Change’ and ‘Positives/Negatives’. Similarly, I like digging through museum archives for ethnographic sketchbooks or searching for drawings at flea markets.

 

My latest personal inspiration is the idea of ​​performative drawing. The open act of drawing, sometimes in sand, sometimes with black ink, beetroot juice or shadows, refreshes the imagination, breaks the comfort zone and… you never know what will happen next.