The surrealist imagination, like the conceptual one, is an ability to break and build unexpected relationships. Surrealists, however, unlike conceptualists, were not afraid to withdraw into the shadows and give the field to chance, dreams and/or the unconscious. Their imagination is built from fragments torn out from their universe. These fragments are, for them, the richest source of the much-prized and eagerly pursued incoherences and anachronisms, of all the possible discrepancies, deviations and misunderstandings. Their imagination is a carrier of adventurous and unstable (nomadic), relational and empathic (non-axiomatic) knowledge, and its critical and non-consensual mode of judgment frees it from belonging to any dictionary or norm. This kind of dynamic, sometimes oneiric simultaneity, seems to me to be the main, if not the key, strategy of Ciuchta.
For what else – clearly not indecision – could be the source of this multiplicity of her roles? How to explain the fact that each of her solo exhibitions is always also a group show?3 What kind of strange puzzle is this, where painting becomes sculpture or functions as architecture? Where photography is painted over, and sculpture is an element of a stage design? On what principle and according to what rule do these vectors – inseparable, irregular and never final – work? What is the role of quotation and borrowing in this work, and what do the travelling motifs (fragments) appearing in various contexts, various incarnations and at different stages of her work mean? What does this carelessness (or perhaps it is more the freedom from caring?) about the identity of her own quotations, but also of the works themselves, mean? What does this double leaning mean: from one side toward the previous shows through quotation, and, from the other, toward the future ones through understatement? What is the binder of this swinging work, which is open on all sides? What carries it? Is it centrifugal force (which would it be, since the artist so consistently liquefies all her creations?) or centripetal? What is the underlying poetics, in the absence of any linearity, of any defined aim: a poetics built on a grid of more or less predictable choices, emotions, and series of porosities? What is this heuristic situation, whose principle seems to be the title of one of the artist’s projects: ‘When you see me again, it won’t be me’ (2010)? Can this title be read as her artistic credo?