A Day in the Life: Piotr UklanskiBy Meghan Dailey
Published: June 3, 2008
11:35 A.M. In the car with Gingeras. Construction snarls traffic. “Oh, you can write this,” he says, playfully. “It’s a juicy bit: I got this car in exchange for an artwork.” Laughs his trademark laugh. Cranks Hindi music. 12:12 P.M. Arrives at CWA and warmly greets its founder, Christo Holloway. Several craftspeople move the eagle’s wings into place on the steel, wood and foam structure, which will be coated with a white stuccolike material. Uklanski compares the piece with a source drawing: an image of an unbuilt monument conceived by the 20th-century Polish American artist and cult figure Stanislav Szukalski, whose eccentric works wed motifs of the ancient past with futuristic forms. “It’s going to be very majestic but very minimal,” he tells me. “Grand and cheap at the same time.” 12:23 P.M. Climbs a ladder to adjust the angle of the eagle’s eye. Snaps a few pictures; descends. Discusses the completion schedule with Holloway: One week from today, the sculpture will be delivered to the gallery. It’s agreed that he’ll return after the weekend to check its progress. 12:37 P.M. In the car back to Greenpoint, he reflects on how the show is coming together. “Most of the factors are familiar now. I know my people, I know what they can or cannot do. I know where the fuckups can come from. There’s still enough time. We won’t have to compromise the quality of anything.” 12:55 P.M. Gingeras drops us at the studio and drives off to an appointment. 1:10 P.M. Phones Sam Orlofsky, the point person at Gagosian, to discuss another element of the installation, a 100-foot-long red fabric curtain (reminiscent of a backdrop for a Communist Party function). The company making it wants more money: “I’ll try something else, and they can give us another estimate.” Hangs up. Says he thinks that when people see the Gagosian name they automatically charge more. Did the gallery give him a budget? “No. I told them what I wanted to make. Nobody asked me what it would cost.” 1:18 P.M. Quickly checks a Polish news Web site, then sets about revising the curtain. 2:00 P.M. Everyone wants Chinese food for lunch, but he tells me, “You have to write that we had Polish.” An assistant calls in the order. A truckload of stretched and prepped canvases is delivered. With a slight, self-mocking smile he says, “We’re not painters here.” Uklanski did, in fact, study painting at the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts. 2:15 P.M. While waiting for his dumpling soup, picks up a thick red marker and some paper and refines the composition of a painting in progress. 2:43 P.M. Gingeras returns, lunch arrives. Sid begs for egg rolls. 3:17 P.M. Confers with CWA about the desired color and surface texture of the eagle. “A lot of art is about control,” he says. Nods as Gingeras says she’ll order more dishware on eBay for the mosaic. 3:30 P.M. Orlofsky calls back. It’s fine to go with the original curtain design after all. 3:37 P.M. Turns to an unfinished “blood painting.” Already the surface of the nearly 20-by-10-foot canvas has been covered with a glossy red resin, which has dried to a mirrorlike shine. Changes into paint-splattered jeans and Converse low-tops. Plugs in several spotlights to illuminate the painting, which he’ll work on in sections over several days. Someone makes a coffee run to Grumpy. 4:50 P.M. Calls the gallery about the installation schedule—the paintings have to be ready in just seven days. Then he and Capalino don surgical gloves and gas masks as protection against toxic fumes. Pours white epoxy across a small area of the canvas, tilted on an ingenious support system of his own devising so that the coating oozes down. Adjusts the flow with a brush, working with and against gravity. Wipes away an errant drip. “This medium is alive!” 5:36 P.M. Ignites blowtorch, waves it over the surface to cure the resin.
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