WELL ART: Japan as a Mirror for Poland. Paweł Pachciarek on the New Exhibition "East—East" at the Manggha Museum

On April 25, we visited the Manggha Museum in Kraków, which invited us to the opening of the East–East contemporary art exhibition, curated by Paweł Pachciarek and co-created by artists associated with Japan. It was no coincidence that the opening date coincided with the beginning of EXPO 2025 in Osaka — although the exhibition is not formally part of it, it is thematically part of a broader, international rhythm of artistic events that reflect on contemporary identity, mobility, and the place of the individual in the contemporary world.
Walking through the individual sections of the exhibition, we immerse ourselves in the intimate stories and experiences of the creators, which form a polyphonic narrative about being "in between" - places, languages, cultures, times.
East–East is a kaleidoscope of techniques and meanings present in installations, sound, ceramics, photography, textiles and video. Six artists present their works here: Mami Kosemura, Mitsuo Kim, Rui Mizuki, Tomoko Sauvage, Ewelina Skowrońska and Urara Tsuchiya. I talk to Paweł Pachciarek, a Japanese scholar and curator of the East–East exhibition at the Manggha Museum, about their work, a symbolic mirror of the East and the West, and about art that teaches us to listen carefully to other perspectives.
East-East Exhibition at the Manggha Museum - Art Between Continents, Languages and TimeMaria Jasek, Well.pl: The Manggha Museum has been operating in its current form for almost two decades. Since its inception, it has been building a bridge between Japanese and Polish art, and more broadly, between European and Asian culture. How do you perceive the role of the Manggha today, not only in the context of science and art history, but also in contemporary times?
Paweł Pachciarek: The history of the Manggha Museum shows very well how distant countries – located almost on two cultural antipodes – can enter into a genuine dialogue. Not only talk about building bridges between cultures, but actually construct them – through the exchange of ideas, cooperation and mutual inspiration.
The idea that guided Andrzej Wajda in creating the Centre of Japanese Art and Technology in Poland was connected with the history of our country before 1989 – with the Solidarity movement, but also with the fact that the Japanese in the eighties strongly supported the Polish aspirations for freedom. The best expression of this solidarity was that the outstanding Japanese architect Arata Isozaki – winner of the Pritzker Prize – designed the museum completely free of charge, and the Japanese national railways supported the project both financially and substantively, sending their specialists to Poland.
The Japanese were very keen to accelerate and refresh relations between Poland and Japan. The history of Polish-Japanese relations dates back to 1919, when less than a year after regaining independence, Poland established diplomatic relations with Japan. This long-lasting friendship is today expressed, among others, in places such as Manggha, which is becoming a kind of hub — a space for dialogue about art and culture. And not only in the context of tradition, within which we organize woodcut shows or Japanese language classes, but also through exhibitions on contemporary times. We want to talk about new relations, new situations and build the future together.
![East-East exhibition. Photo: Kamil A. Krajewski]](https://pliki.well.pl/i/06/29/69/062969_1320.jpg)
Japan is experiencing another moment of popularity in Poland – from gastronomy, through cinema and design, to literature and illustration. There are many examples. And what does it look like from the other side?
The exhibition we are talking about now is linked to the events of EXPO 2025 in Osaka. This is important because in 1970 the previous EXPO was held in Osaka, and now - after several decades - the city has become the host again. During this time, our thinking about Japan in Poland has experienced several distinct "waves". One of them was the 1990s, when manga and anime began to penetrate Poland - although often through Italy or France, which seems rather bizarre today.
Poland is indeed experiencing a real fascination with Japan. Unfortunately, the other way around is not so good – the Japanese know relatively little about Poland. The most common associations are Fryderyk Chopin or, especially among the younger, Robert Lewandowski. However, in the context of EXPO, a figure appears who enjoys enormous popularity in Japan, even greater than in Poland: Maria Skłodowska-Curie.
In Japanese schools, the biography of Maria Skłodowska, written by her daughter, is required reading. In everyday conversations, when Japanese people learn that I am from Poland, the topic of Skłodowska unexpectedly comes up often. I have had several such situations that have really surprised me - for me, Skłodowska has always been a rather severe figure from a portrait in the chemistry classroom, but for young Japanese women she is a real inspiration, a symbol of strength and perseverance. It turns out that Skłodowska can be presented in a more modern way: as a socially engaged woman, a mother, a scientist, a person who knew how to combine professional and private life.
And in this context Skłodowska-Curie appears at this year's EXPO?
One of the Japanese artists who presented her work at the Manggha Museum a year ago is preparing a large installation. Not a monument to an ideal, but a story about Skłodowska's everyday life, about her commitment, difficulties and the strength she drew from being an ordinary person. This message about the need for a balance between work and private life seems particularly relevant today.
Looking at the EXPO in a broader sense, we now have a real chance to re-emerge in Japan. Exhibitions, concerts – such initiatives are happening, although not on a large scale yet. Interestingly, many Japanese, including those from the culture and art industry, when they visit Poland and come to the Manggha Museum, are simply shocked by its existence. They say directly that they have no equivalent in Japan, and they are even jealous of the museum itself.

What we have just discussed can undoubtedly be described as post-orientalism. In your curatorial text, you write that East–East is an attempt to decode the concept of the “East” in the context of contemporary times—a world that, despite divisions, is becoming increasingly common. How do you understand this title? What does the “East” mean today and how does it connect with the topic of identity?
When creating this exhibition, from the very beginning – partly deliberately, partly for fun – I used terms and meanings. I focused on the slogan “East East”, which suggests two easts, although of course there can be many more of these “easts”. As I noted in the introductory text to the exhibition: the east means something different to everyone. For a person from Western Europe, the east may already be Poland, for a Pole – Japan. In a sense, we are all part of the same “eastern” circle, we only look at it from different perspectives.
Based on this assumption and building an opposition between the East and the West, I wanted to show that despite huge differences — in approach to tradition, artistic techniques, or the way of expressing ideas — in the end we tell similar stories and use similar language. By focusing on common denominators, and not on simple oppositions such as "Oriental spirituality" versus "Western rationalism," we are able to see much more. However, if we lock ourselves in binary divisions: East-West, white-black, we lose all the color and depth of the narratives that take place between these extremes. This is best shown by the works of artists from Japan, understood not only as people with Japanese citizenship, but also as creators raised in this culture or associated with it. Despite different means of expression, they tell stories that — although communicated differently — are very close to us as well.
It often happens that people from outside can speak best about ourselves. We, immersed in our own symbols and assumptions, sometimes fail to see obvious truths that become visible only in the eyes of a foreign observer. What is currently happening in the history of art and in the broader view of the world is a departure from simple, national narratives. We are increasingly focusing on what is universal — on common problems, values and experiences.

You deal with art from Japan on a daily basis. What aspects are crucial to learning to read it? What allows you to delve deeper into the proverbial canvas, beyond the first impression of observing form and aesthetics?
I think that to truly read art from Japan, you have to dismantle Western habits a bit. We are deeply immersed in pragmatism, in the need to immediately read and categorize everything. Meanwhile, Japanese art, especially contemporary art, very often knocks us out of this rhythm. It does not speak directly. It uses poetics, understatement, and leaves space. It is economical in form, but dense in meaning. This way of telling a story—more through silence than message—is not easy to grasp, because it does not work as a simple message. It requires time, openness, and acceptance that not everything will be immediately clear. But it is precisely in this ambiguity that its strength lies.
For me, it was also crucial to understand that the process itself is equal to the effect. This can be seen in the work of Tomoko Sauvage, who shows that time can be organic, irregular, based on the rhythm of nature, and not just the ticking of a clock. This type of thinking – very different from our Western “from-to”, “before-after” – teaches a different pace and a different type of mindfulness.
And the third context that was important to me: identity as something fluid. Most of the artists taking part in East-East experienced migration – both literal and symbolic. Today, it is no longer possible to talk about national identity as something rigid. It is constantly moving, negotiating, settling in different landscapes, including internal ones. This is something that in turn breaks down binary thinking about the East and the West, about what is ours and what is foreign.
Japanese contemporary art does not try to be universal by force, but because of its specificity it can trigger very universal emotions. You just have to allow yourself not to understand everything at once.

I recently visited one of the woodblock print exhibitions organized by the Museum, and the curatorial texts discussed the multi-layered nature of ukiyo-e in a very interesting way. These representations of everyday life—scenes from streets, theaters, homes, and nature—seem light, decorative, even banal. And yet they conceal literary references, social commentary, and sometimes even subtle criticism.
Exactly. In this context, Japanese art may indeed seem infantile or overly emotional from a Western perspective. But when we look at it through the prism of this centuries-old aesthetic tradition — deeply rooted in melancholy, transience, and the poeticization of everyday life — a completely different dimension begins to reveal itself. It may seem childish to us, but there it is a deeply rooted way of talking about the world. It is not that the Japanese cannot talk about themselves. They can, they just do it differently. Instead of a direct message, they choose subtlety, understatement, a certain delicacy in form. It is a bit like we have to learn a new alphabet of emotions, more suggestive than literal. Just compare this to the way of talking about art that is dominant in Europe today, which often resembles a news commentary: fast, expressive, immediate. And here we have the opposite — a language that requires stopping, silence, mindfulness.

The exhibition “East–East” is incredibly diverse in terms of the media used – there is ceramics, work with fabric, video and sound installations. It is not only aesthetic diversity, but also a huge emotional charge. How did the process of selecting artists go – what were your guiding principles when choosing them for this particular story?
Identity as an experience of migration – personal and symbolic – is one of the key themes of this exhibition. This was a conscious assumption – I wanted the exhibition not to speak only about “contemporary Japanese art”, but rather about art from Japan – to emphasize the fluidity of identity, the complexity of experiences and the ambiguity of national belonging. This idea is represented by, among others, Ewelina Skowrońska, who spent ten years in Japan. Thanks to this, her view of Japan is immersed in both internal experience and external observation. This is not a tourist perspective, but one deeply rooted in everyday life and at the same time not devoid of distance.
We also have people like Urara Tsuchiya – an artist who is hard to pin down to one place. She is nomadic: one day she is in Mexico, the next she is on a residency in Tallinn. She functions in between. Tomoko Sauvage, on the other hand, lives in Paris every day, but constantly moves between France and Japan, immersed in both worlds. Such a variety of experiences was very important to me. It shows that today the identity of an artist is not something rigid – it is a space in motion, always in dialogue with many contexts at the same time.

Is there one of your works that personally moves you the most?
The exhibition opens with a moving work by Mitsuo Kim. And I think that this work — and this story — is the most important to me personally. Mitsuo Kim is an artist born in Osaka, but of Korean descent. And therein lies a certain discord — because although he was born and raised in Japan, he is perceived there as “different,” as Korean. In Japan, there is even a special term, “Zainichi,” for people of Korean descent living in Japan, often socially marginalized.
His family history is dramatic. His mother fled Korea for Japan when she was five, crossing the sea with her grandfather on a boat. This boat motif, present in his work, becomes not only a metaphor for migration, but also a very personal symbol of searching for a place that you don’t really have. For a long time, Kim didn’t address this topic. He only started creating when these issues—identity, family, society—began to resonate deeply with him after the birth of his child.
The installation, with a boat filled with wax and accompanying graphics that are gradually eroded, tells the story of drifting, of being suspended between worlds, of the lack of a language that would fully convey this experience. It is not only a story about his family, but also a critical commentary on contemporary Japan and, more broadly, on any society that defines identity through national, racial or cultural affiliation. For me, this is a borderline work—emotionally and politically.

Is there anything you want viewers to take away from this exhibition – even if they only understand it later?
I would like viewers to take away from this exhibition – even if not immediately – the awareness that “the East” is not a geographical direction or an aesthetic motif, but a field of tensions, shifts and reinterpretations that reflect contemporary existential experience – dispersed and ambiguous.
The works presented at East–East do not attempt to present the “East” as a coherent, self-contained whole. On the contrary, they dismantle its representations as an exotic, spiritual “Other” or a static cultural heritage, as it has often been constructed in the European imaginary. What may remain with the viewer is the intuition that concepts such as “identity,” “belonging,” or “time” are not given once and for all, but are processes—constantly created and undermined by everyday life, migration, memory, and corporeality.
If I were to point out one message that could stay with the viewer—maybe not immediately, but after some time—it would be the conviction that every meaning is the result of relationships: between body and space, between memory and forgetting, between language and silence. And that it is in these relationships—stretched between “East” and “East,” not East and West—that lies the opportunity for new ways of seeing, feeling, and being together that are not based on domination but on co-presence.

The exhibition of contemporary art from Japan "East-East" can be seen in the Europe – Far East Gallery at the Manggha Museum in Krakow until August 10, 2025.
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