Karolina Breguła

The Tropic of Cancer tells the story of three sisters living in a small coastal village. Their home – which they share with snails, crabs, and other wandering creatures – sits low on the shoreline and has been flooded by the sea in the past. Now, time is about to begin moving backward. A returning surveyor keeps warning them about this coming reversal. As time starts to unravel, the sisters understand that the water will return as well. They start preparing as military planes sweep across the sky like bats. Water, animals, plants, and objects washed ashore by the waves coexist in a state of anticipation, waiting for the transformation that the returning sea will bring.

In this hysterical deadpan pseudo-doc, acclaimed Polish artist Karolina Bregula constructs a scenario in a fictional Northern European city plagued by mysterious fires throughout its history. As the town’s peculiar inhabitants speculate about the cause of the fires, the way they may be prevented and the strange coincidence of where they occur, a possible conspiracy to destroy local art begins to emerge. Are the fires caused by a secret cabal of art historians who wish to aid local artists by eviscerating the burden of art history? Have the needs of the art market placed infinite demands upon the finite resources of artists? “Fires,” a botanist tells us, “are vital to maintaining fully dynamic ecosystems. Without fires there simply is no new life.”

A mysterious sculpture which is a remnant of the bygone political order hidden in the bushes on the square. One day the sculpture begins to communicate with the passers-by. It hums silently at first and its beautiful voice becomes a source of pleasure. Soon, however, it begins to sing louder and louder. The lyrics of the sculpture’s song gradually become clearer: “I’d like to ask you a question.” To avoid facing difficult issues, it causes the community’s complaints, misunderstandings and anger.

Long distances are part and parcel of the work of anyone delivering correspondence - narrow paths, potholed sidewalks, stairs up, stairs down. Karolina Breguła's film, shot in the summer of 2023, meticulously captures the daily route of Anna Nowak, a postwoman from Szczecin who covers an average of 12.41 kilometers each day.

The Tropic of Cancer tells the story of three sisters living in a small coastal village. Their home – which they share with snails, crabs, and other wandering creatures – sits low on the shoreline and has been flooded by the sea in the past. Now, time is about to begin moving backward. A returning surveyor keeps warning them about this coming reversal. As time starts to unravel, the sisters understand that the water will return as well. They start preparing as military planes sweep across the sky like bats. Water, animals, plants, and objects washed ashore by the waves coexist in a state of anticipation, waiting for the transformation that the returning sea will bring.

The Tropic of Cancer tells the story of three sisters living in a small coastal village. Their home – which they share with snails, crabs, and other wandering creatures – sits low on the shoreline and has been flooded by the sea in the past. Now, time is about to begin moving backward. A returning surveyor keeps warning them about this coming reversal. As time starts to unravel, the sisters understand that the water will return as well. They start preparing as military planes sweep across the sky like bats. Water, animals, plants, and objects washed ashore by the waves coexist in a state of anticipation, waiting for the transformation that the returning sea will bring.

In this hysterical deadpan pseudo-doc, acclaimed Polish artist Karolina Bregula constructs a scenario in a fictional Northern European city plagued by mysterious fires throughout its history. As the town’s peculiar inhabitants speculate about the cause of the fires, the way they may be prevented and the strange coincidence of where they occur, a possible conspiracy to destroy local art begins to emerge. Are the fires caused by a secret cabal of art historians who wish to aid local artists by eviscerating the burden of art history? Have the needs of the art market placed infinite demands upon the finite resources of artists? “Fires,” a botanist tells us, “are vital to maintaining fully dynamic ecosystems. Without fires there simply is no new life.”

In this hysterical deadpan pseudo-doc, acclaimed Polish artist Karolina Bregula constructs a scenario in a fictional Northern European city plagued by mysterious fires throughout its history. As the town’s peculiar inhabitants speculate about the cause of the fires, the way they may be prevented and the strange coincidence of where they occur, a possible conspiracy to destroy local art begins to emerge. Are the fires caused by a secret cabal of art historians who wish to aid local artists by eviscerating the burden of art history? Have the needs of the art market placed infinite demands upon the finite resources of artists? “Fires,” a botanist tells us, “are vital to maintaining fully dynamic ecosystems. Without fires there simply is no new life.”

A mysterious sculpture which is a remnant of the bygone political order hidden in the bushes on the square. One day the sculpture begins to communicate with the passers-by. It hums silently at first and its beautiful voice becomes a source of pleasure. Soon, however, it begins to sing louder and louder. The lyrics of the sculpture’s song gradually become clearer: “I’d like to ask you a question.” To avoid facing difficult issues, it causes the community’s complaints, misunderstandings and anger.

A mysterious sculpture which is a remnant of the bygone political order hidden in the bushes on the square. One day the sculpture begins to communicate with the passers-by. It hums silently at first and its beautiful voice becomes a source of pleasure. Soon, however, it begins to sing louder and louder. The lyrics of the sculpture’s song gradually become clearer: “I’d like to ask you a question.” To avoid facing difficult issues, it causes the community’s complaints, misunderstandings and anger.

Long distances are part and parcel of the work of anyone delivering correspondence - narrow paths, potholed sidewalks, stairs up, stairs down. Karolina Breguła's film, shot in the summer of 2023, meticulously captures the daily route of Anna Nowak, a postwoman from Szczecin who covers an average of 12.41 kilometers each day.

Long distances are part and parcel of the work of anyone delivering correspondence - narrow paths, potholed sidewalks, stairs up, stairs down. Karolina Breguła's film, shot in the summer of 2023, meticulously captures the daily route of Anna Nowak, a postwoman from Szczecin who covers an average of 12.41 kilometers each day.