The openness to potential extends to Wolska’s daily drawing practice. ‘Every morning’, she says, ‘I get up at 6am and it’s coffee and drawing for an hour and a half before my kids get up.’ This allows her to ‘warm up the hands’, both right and left, and to draw curved forms, which, if not perfect circles are nearly always shapes that cycle back into themselves: another expression of Wolska’s impetus to revisit materials and forms to create them anew. Drawing, for Wolska, is an absorbing practice that leaves no space for thinking: ‘my need is to draw, not to think about drawing.’ The fluid nets, grids and sheaths she generates are reminiscent of skin, intestines, ligaments and muscles, yet they are not representations of anatomical elements or organs. This freedom from specific referents allows Wolska to follow her intuition until she reaches the point of ‘appetising surprise’, in which potential teeters on the edge of definition.
~ Ellen Mara De Wachter
Wolska’s creations show intrepid fungal strength; expansive potential to thrive, to burgeon. Wolska’s drawings are vertiginous; their graphic forms and dynamic marks seem unmoored from human measures of scale or stable viewing points. Each of the diverse forms has the potential for multiple becomings. They could be topographies charting posthuman worlds: re-wilded mountains, desolate ravines, deep oceans. They suggest immersive close-ups of out-of-control organic undergrowth, mouldy rhizomatic overgrowth. They might be under-the-microscopic visions of mutating cells and viruses. The fine stratifications, hatchings in pen and ink, the luminous, overlapping washes of colour, indicate revved-up geology: fast-growing crystals or the seismic folding of tectonic plates. There is a further possibility that the high-tech sheen and supernatural vortices of the orifice shapes, present in her blue and red crayon drawings, mark thresholds to new virtual worlds of unstoppable, digital replication. ~ Elizabeth Perrotte