“Woman with a rose”

wp_20170818_11_56_17_pro.jpgWP_20170818_11_56_39_Pro.jpgBardejov, Slovakia (fot. Gosia Sachse (Glowacka), 18.08.2017)

A monument to memorize the heroes who offered their lives for freedom.


A woman with a rose in her hand is worse than a plague – she will wrap you around her finger, lead to a white fever, and suddenly freeze you with one word.

A woman with a white rose is a guarantee of the end of the government’s duodenum.





Sculptor: Els Rijerse, Amsterdam, The Netherlands (photo: Jolanta Kruszka, May 2017)

Amsterdam’s Red Light District is home to a bronze statue in honor of prostitutes around the world. It is the first and only such monument anywhere.

The statue was unveiled during the Red Light District’s 2nd Annual Open Day, March 31, 2007.

Titled Belle, the statue depicts a full-breasted woman who, feet apart and standing in a doorway at the top of small set of steps, looks self-assuredly into the world. It was created by artist Els Rijerse from ‘s-Graveland, Netherlands.

The bronze sculpture — which stands on Oudekerksplein in front of the Oude Kerk, Amsterdam’s oldest church — was designed at the initiative of Mariska Majoor. Majoor, herself a former prostitute, runs the Prostitution Information Center which is located at the same square.

According to Majoor the statue is meant to show respect to the millions of people around the world who earn their money in prostitution work. In order to prevent vandalism, the statue is fortified with steel. Belle is perched atop a high, granite pedestal meant to deter those who engage in so-called ‘wildplassen’ (urinating in public).

(source: http://www.dutchamsterdam.nl)

The “Belle” monument was the witness of many marriage proposals, wedding ceremonies or show of wedding dresses from one of the fashion designers.


So how is with this love, free choice, respect for the other person and his sexuality, the right to decide about herself/himself and her/his body regardless of sex, color of skin, religion or profession she/he performs? One Europe and seems like two worlds. February 14 – Happy Valentine’s Day 😉

“The bas relief of breasts”

23798748_2168406453185467_950321182_oArtist: Unknown Sculptor (US), Amsterdam, Netherlands (Photo: Jolanta Kruszka, May 2017)

The bas relief of breasts was made by the famous Amsterdam sculptor, the Unknown Sculptor (US). It has been built into a sidewalk at one night in 1993. Made of bronze, it is one of the remarkable Amsterdam works made by the Unknown Sculptor (US).

It has been speculated for years about US’s identity. Some thought him to be one of the old masters, but he – after many years of gossip – denied it. The City office once said US was a doctor. Still, the strongest path leads to queen Beatrix (a duchess now, after stepping down from the throne in favour of her son, Willem Alexander). Her talents are well known. Offering such important objects of art to the city (not only artistic but also very expensive, probably the reason why US could keep hers/his anonymity) requires not only experts and permissions, but also a lot of infrastructure for the installation.


Why does the “rotten West” see in women a human being, mother, daughter, wife, lover? Who are not only due respect but also require protection under the law, since they are usually physically weaker than men and are more often victims of physical violence.

Unfortunately, according to the pseudo- catholics of Poland, a woman is a live incubator, without any rights and any self-determination.  Is it perhaps a set of very deeply set complexes which makes it so hard for some men to understand that they may perhaps rule over socks, but not shape the family life of another human being? When someone accuses me of supporting the murder of unborn – I say: When you don’t know what to do, occupy yourself with your yard.

“The flying trunk”

DSC_5582Odense, Danmark (photo: Barbara Malinowska, 02.07.2016)

HERE was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved the whole street with gold, and would even then have had enough for a small alley. But he did not do so; he knew the value of money better than to use it in this way. So clever was he, that every shilling he put out brought him a crown; and so he continued till he died. His son inherited his wealth, and he lived a merry life with it; he went to a masquerade every night, made kites out of five pound notes, and threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of stones, making ducks and drakes of them. In this manner he soon lost all his money. At last he had nothing left but a pair of slippers, an old dressing-gown, and four shillings. And now all his friends deserted him, they could not walk with him in the streets; but one of them, who was very good-natured, sent him an old trunk with this message, “Pack up!” “Yes,” he said, “it is all very well to say ‘pack up,’” but he had nothing left to pack up, therefore he seated himself in the trunk. It was a very wonderful trunk; no sooner did any one press on the lock than the trunk could fly. He shut the lid and pressed the lock, when away flew the trunk up the chimney with the merchant’s son in it, right up into the clouds. Whenever the bottom of the trunk cracked, he was in a great fright, for if the trunk fell to pieces he would have made a tremendous somerset over the trees. However, he got safely in his trunk to the land of Turkey. He hid the trunk in the wood under some dry leaves, and then went into the town: he could so this very well, for the Turks always go about dressed in dressing-gowns and slippers, as he was himself. He happened to meet a nurse with a little child. “I say, you Turkish nurse,” cried he, “what castle is that near the town, with the windows placed so high?”

“The king’s daughter lives there,” she replied; “it has been prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and therefore no one is allowed to visit her, unless the king and queen are present.”

“Thank you,” said the merchant’s son. So he went back to the wood, seated himself in his trunk, flew up to the roof of the castle, and crept through the window into the princess’s room. She lay on the sofa asleep, and she was so beautiful that the merchant’s son could not help kissing her. Then she awoke, and was very much frightened; but he told her he was a Turkish angel, who had come down through the air to see her, which pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and talked to her: he said her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes, in which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids, and he told her that her forehead was a snowy mountain, which contained splendid halls full of pictures. And then he related to her about the stork who brings the beautiful children from the rivers. These were delightful stories; and when he asked the princess if she would marry him, she consented immediately.

“But you must come on Saturday,” she said; “for then the king and queen will take tea with me. They will be very proud when they find that I am going to marry a Turkish angel; but you must think of some very pretty stories to tell them, for my parents like to hear stories better than anything. My mother prefers one that is deep and moral; but my father likes something funny, to make him laugh.”

“Very well,” he replied; “I shall bring you no other marriage portion than a story,” and so they parted. But the princess gave him a sword which was studded with gold coins, and these he could use.

Then he flew away to the town and bought a new dressing-gown, and afterwards returned to the wood, where he composed a story, so as to be ready for Saturday, which was no easy matter. It was ready however by Saturday, when he went to see the princess. The king, and queen, and the whole court, were at tea with the princess; and he was received with great politeness.

“Will you tell us a story?” said the queen,—“one that is instructive and full of deep learning.”

“Yes, but with something in it to laugh at,” said the king.

“Certainly,” he replied, and commenced at once, asking them to listen attentively.

“What a capital story,” said the queen, “I feel as if I were really in the kitchen, and could see the matches; yes, you shall marry our daughter.”

“Certainly,” said the king, “thou shalt have our daughter.” The king said thou to him because he was going to be one of the family. The wedding-day was fixed, and, on the evening before, the whole city was illuminated. Cakes and sweetmeats were thrown among the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted “hurrah,” and whistled between their fingers; altogether it was a very splendid affair.

“I will give them another treat,” said the merchant’s son. So he went and bought rockets and crackers, and all sorts of fire-works that could be thought of, packed them in his trunk, and flew up with it into the air. What a whizzing and popping they made as they went off! The Turks, when they saw such a sight in the air, jumped so high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was easy to believe after this that the princess was really going to marry a Turkish angel.

As soon as the merchant’s son had come down in his flying trunk to the wood after the fireworks, he thought, “I will go back into the town now, and hear what they think of the entertainment.” It was very natural that he should wish to know. And what strange things people did say, to be sure! every one whom he questioned had a different tale to tell, though they all thought it very beautiful.

“ I saw the Turkish angel myself,” said one; “he had eyes like glittering stars, and a head like foaming water.”

“He flew in a mantle of fire,” cried another, “and lovely little cherubs peeped out from the folds.”

He heard many more fine things about himself, and that the next day he was to be married. After this he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. It had disappeared! A spark from the fireworks which remained had set it on fire; it was burnt to ashes! So the merchant’s son could not fly any more, nor go to meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof waiting for him, and most likely she is waiting there still; while he wanders through the world telling fairy tales, but none of them so amusing as the one he related about the matches.

(quelle: http://hca.gilead.org.il/flying_t.html)


Once upon a time there was a government which in its ranks had people so wise, that during the economic crisis their country was a “green oasis” on a map of red bankrupts. This government did not dabble in giving gifts and tried to manage their resources in an evenhanded manner. As a sign of appreciation, the top representative was designated to become the leader of a collective institution of nearly 30 countries, called the European Council. It really was a good government, but in the second round it detached itself from reality, made quite a few mistakes and had to leave.

Its then competitor, called Pisuar (PiS. It  is the currently elected majority party in Poland), became its inheritor. It liked to have fun: turned a legendary Arab horse farm into ashes, decided to convert primeval forest into a mass of sawdust infected by woodworm, also wanted to buy one way tickets for young medical doctors. Also it started the program 500+ to finance distilled spirits for caring parents, encouraging these to behave like rabbit families.  Friends were amply rewarded from monies left by the previous team. Lo and behold – very soon a budget hole opened – a hole so big that it was impossible to hide it from other countries under the coat of pretty newspeak. Then one of the advisors threw the “Flat +” program into the ring and said “pack!”. Easy to say, a bit more difficult to actually do. What can you pack with empty pockets and no means for a new program?

Still, this program, like the “500+” one had a great property: it gave hope for a better life and a more just division of achieved goods (not only working people can buy a flat, own a car or go on vacation. Lazy bastards also should have something). Just the slogan “Flat+” or “500+” would trigger people’s imagination about riches just about to knock on their doors. And so Pisuar was flitting about with its programs until it bewitched a beautiful princess called Poland, and a significant part of her nation became total believers, dumbed down by pretty tales. Pisuar had quite a lot of golden mouthed speakers. What great golden mountains would it build for its electorate, how greatly would they care for families and health (especially pregnant women and the elderly), how everybody else was trying to make all this impossible (probably caused by jealousy) by pointing out breaking human rights and the Constitution and ignoring/breaking laws and norms of the European Union.  People were totally bewitched, mothers would kneel before the Most Serene Pisuar  Majesty treating him almost like God, who has preserved them from having to work by giving them money to spend (unimportant that these sums had to be forcibly taken from others).

Pisuar felt very warm in the shine of its majesty, playing the same spectacle every month from its little portable steps. Suddenly it decided to stop both programs (“500+§ and “Flat+”) because of cost runaway and to take a bath in the crowd – to find out what people thought about him. He did fear for his safety, though – what if people would not recognize him and not show due respect – so he ordered his projected path cordoned off by metal barriers and many policemen. This of course positively contributes to populist nearness of Pisuar to the Nation. And what happened?

Without “500+” nothing was left of Pisuar, because when the nation is angry populism is indefensible.

“Monument of the Pawiak Tree”

Warszawa z Jose 029Warszawa z Jose 036Warsaw, Poland (photo: Gosia Glowacka, 22.08.2014)

A white elm – the witness to human suffering, heroism and crime – was the only thing that kept standing, apart from a fragment of the gate, when the Nazis blew up the Pawiak prison in Warsaw on August 21st 1944. The first plaques with the names of victims, nailed by the family members directly to the tree’s bark, started appearing in early 1945. In 1984 the tree died as the result of Dutch Elm Disease. In 1992-1993 it was preserved, by means of saturating the upper part with chemical preservatives and securing the roots with a concrete rebar structure. Smaller branches were trimmed. A special hoop was made to which the board with plaques was affixed. Thanks to these means the tree kept standing for another 11 years. In 2004 three conservation expert committees declared the tree unsalvageable and decided to replace it with a bronze copy.

The rendition of this unique monument was financed by the City of Warsaw and the Office of the Marshall of the Mazovian Voivoship. The work was executed at the 200- year old Machinery Works in Gliwice*, experienced in technical and artistic casts. The masters of the tradecreated an original and beautiful sculpture combining historical value with high artistry. It was also in Gliwice that they made a new railing surrounding the monument, which again supported the plaques revitalized in the workshop of Sławomir Szubko. He carefully recreated the shapes, colors and the lettering of the originals.

On June 8th 2005 the Monument of the Pawiak Tree was unveiled.

(Source: “Niepodległość i pamięć”, issue 22/2006)

 *Gliwickie Zakłady Urządzeń Technicznych S.A.


Hey you – the historically ignorant, who have never read a 500-page book but deem yourself experts on history,

And you – pseudo-intellectuals, educated at renowned universities, who thoughtlessly swallow every piece of pulped and twisted historical data, serving one political option,

And you – hooligans with shaved heads who instead of brains have baseball bats and fists which supposedly gives you world power, though you don’t even know who Copernicus was

All of you who deny help to victims of wars and persecutions, who use racist slogans, burn the effigies representing other nations, use Nazi salutes trying to emulate one of the worst murderers of 20th century

I’m talking to you – come to Pawiak, connect to the place of human tragedy, experience the police beating… Instead of marching in the so-called Independence March where you imitate the oppressors of your own nation from WWII and desecrate the memory of the freedom fighters who shed blood fighting for Poland’s liberation and those who were murdered as political prisoners – go back to school because you are a disgrace to our beautiful country.

“The world is standing on its head…”

unnamedSopot (next to the Georgian restaurant), Poland (photo Arkadiusz Lewandowski, 09.2015)

“The world is on its head. The vampire will teach me how to deal with people.”

Andrzej Sapkowski (from the book “Baptism of Fire”)


To paraphrase: Today an old bachelor wants me to impose a model of a family I have to have, although he never had one himself,
The priest wants to teach me how to love my husband / boyfriend, even though he himself has made the vows of purity in theory, so there is no point in it,
The offender makes law,
Multiple liar and thief teaches morals,
Old lady, whose best years of her life have gone long time ago, wants to rummage in my pants, peek under my quilt, decide what my family should look like,
A doctor who has carried hundreds if not thousands of abortions today is a roaring enemy of it,
The idiot governs the country and the sociaty instead of blow him away in an unfathomable history applaud him and call him “Chief of State”.
The government wants to punish the deaths of rapists judged by courts of other countries, and indigenous criminals for the same offenses are allowed to go free.

“I do not look down…”

IMG_2883 (1)IMG_2882Sopot (next to the Georgian restaurant), Poland (photo Arkadiusz Lewandowski, 10.2016)

“Something pulls us down to the ground
Fo the slightest mistake.
We pay with the things the world has given us.
How to move on from here?

I do not look down
At the tenuous rope I hold on to your hands
And wise words.
Do not look down,
Because I believe
That we’ve got a strength
To go ahead
Go ahead
Go ahead
Go ahead

Go, and don’t let them break you
Don’t you ever stop, keep going
Be invincible,
A tenuous thread we’re stepping on
was woven for us
Below us odds multipled
Go on ahead
Do not look down.”

(“I do not look down” Natalia Szroeder, Liber Feat)


October 3, 2017 – “Black Tuesday” – Be invincible! Never stop, go!

“Song for Barcelona”

The Park Güell, Barcelona, Catalonia (Spain)

The Park Güell (Catalan: Parc Güell is a public park system composed of gardens and architectonic elements located on Carmel Hill, in Barcelona, Catalonia (Spain)

Walking through the alleys in park almost every dozen or some hundreds meters you can meet artists of all kinds of art: painters, caricaturists, mimes, or finally – those that catch my attention and steal my soul and time – viruosos of musical instruments. Some of them perform their show on instruments well known e.g. guitar or violin, but there are also grandmasters of instruments that are not very common, and the sounds coming out of them do not let you pass beside them without interests. The music they present does not have language, color, religion or nationality – it is created by street virtuosos for all. There are no divisions in “we” and “they”, “better” and “worse”, “rich” and “poor.” It is created by young and old passionates, playing their instruments.


Barcelona will forever be associated with the music of Park Güell, delicious Sangria which is drinking in the evening at the beach and cheerful, smiling people and none of terrorists is able to change it.

“Monument of Mira Zimińska-Sygietyńska”

DSC_20170303132922488Sculptor: Marek Zalewski, Płock, Poland (photo: Dariusz Kornacki, 03.03.2017)

The monument has been placed at Tumska street, between the Płock Mazovian Museum and Nove Kino Przedwiośnie, where in 2011 was presented the exhibition of artist’s personal belongings, called: “Outstanding inhabitant of Plock – Mira Zimińska Sygietyńska”.

The statue depicts Mira Zimińska-Sygiantńska walking down the street with an umbrella and a bounch of flowers. Sculpture is characterized by great attention to details, such as e.g. jewelry. The monument was designed in such a way that each passerby could approach Lady Mira and embrace her by the hand

Mira Zimińska-Sygietyńska was born in Płock on February 22, 1901 as Maria Burzyńska. Her family was associated with the local theater. As an actress she performed, among others. In the pre-war Warsaw cabarets “Qui Pro Quo” and “Morskie Oko”. At that time, she also played in films, among others. In “Ada to nie wypada”, “Każdemu wolno kochać” and “Manewry miłosne”. In 1948, together with her husband Tadeusz Sygietyński (1896-1955), composer and pedagogue, she founded the “Mazovian” Song and Dance Ensemble. whose she dirbecame a director in 1957.

In 1986, Mira Zimińska-Sygietyńska received the title of Honorary Citizen of Płock. She died in Warsaw on 26 January 1997.


Bounch of white roses, black umbrella in hand and on 10th of July the butlern of the “master” chase chase, chase…

“Warsaw Mermaid Monument”

DSC_0359Sculptor: Konstanty Hegl, Warsaw, Poland (photo by Gosia Głowacka, 26.04.2012)

Warsaw Mermaid Monument – located on the Old Town Square .

It represents the symbol of the Polish capital city. This monument is made from bronze, measures 2.5 m. and was made by Konstanty Hegel. The original monument before the destruction weighed 1206 kg, and the employees of the Brothers Łopieńscy company have made it in 2700 man-hours. During World War II, the monument was damaged. In 1951 a broken sword, left hand and shield were made in the foundry of the Łopieński Brothers. Due to numerous damages the sculpture was refurbished in 2008


It is time to show in Warsaw the wrath of women and man for breaking human and democracy rights. We have the power! June 10, 2017