Wandering Through Poland's Hand Painted Village

I am currently writing to you all from the Polish countryside, while on a 10-day roadtrip through Poland with my lovely mother. For those who may not know, I am a dual citizen of the U.S and Poland. Both of my parents immigrated to America from Poland where they met and had my brother and I. Polish was my first language growing up, and is very much intertwined with who I am today. I grew up coming to Poland every summer as a child to visit family here, but have not had a chance to make it back as much as an adult and to explore the country more. As an artist, I am constantly grounding myself and my work in the idea of home, so this trip was important for my practices and future work. I am so excited to start sharing bits of my trip with you all.

Nestled in a small village just an hour outside of Kraków, Poland is a magical place called Zalipie. Venturing through the village, you will find an abundance of beautiful homes, hand painted by women with vibrant floral folk art.

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The tradition began in the late nineteenth century when Polish women painted over soot-stained walls with white paint, as many of the homes had become blackened from smoke produced by wood-burning furnaces. What began as a practical way to brighten their homes soon evolved into something much more expressive. Women started adding hand-painted folk florals over the whitewashed surfaces, and over time those floral motifs spread to nearly every corner of their homes. Today, you’ll find these intricate paintings decorating stoves, sewing machine tables, interior walls, fences, wells, dog kennels- you name it. The paintings have become both an artistic tradition and a symbol of pride, preserving generations of craftsmanship through color and care.

We began our journey on a hot and sunny Saturday morning, as a heat wave made its way through Europe. Our first stop was Dom Malarek (translated to the Painter’s House in English), the cultural center of the village, where visitors can learn about Zalipie’s history through exhibitions, browse handmade souvenirs, and gather information before exploring the area. As you walk the grounds, you’ll find a recreation of a traditional cottage covered from head to toe in hand-painted florals.

Every detail of the painted florals were intricate and imaginative, as many of the women painters did have a specific “style” of floral they were attached to. As many resources were not widely available, the women made their own paintbrushes using birch twigs, millet stalks, or cow and horse hair. The paints were made from powdered dyes and milk.

I especially loved the artwork that was showcased inside Dom Malarek, small pieces of the tradition saved and documented through time. I love the artists use of color and placement, and a variety of techniques like paper cutting to create such intricate details. Everything about this visit was so overwhelmingly inspiring.

I think as artists today we believe we need to have every high end tool available in order to properly create art, but the truth of the matter is that sometimes the most incredible pieces of art were made through innovation and resourcefulness. It can be easy to give up on a project because you’re missing certain tools, but sometimes the challenge within itself to be creative within your making can spawn something unimaginable.

My Polish heritage is ingrained deeply within me and, in turn, within all of my work. Wandering through this village stirred something I’ve been carrying for a long time. Since before college, a through line in my practice has been a never-ending search for home. It’s something I’ve wrestled with, while also allowing the idea of home to expand into something larger than a place; a concept that has opened me to possibilities I may not have otherwise imagined.

As a dual citizen of America and Poland, raised by two immigrant parents, I grew up feeling as though these two parts of myself could never fully coexist. Especially as a child, they often felt separate, as if I had to choose between them. But as I’ve grown older and allowed myself to sink more deeply into my work, I’ve realized that this duality is exactly what makes my perspective worth sharing.

I cherish the folk artwork that has come from my long Polish ancestry, I am moved by Polish women’s abilities to create color and light within an otherwise dull home- and I think in many ways those qualities live inside me and always have. It is within my innate desire to do the same, to create work that feels like home, to create work that tells a story.

There’s a conversation that lies within here of the importance of women’s art, and how it was (and in many ways still is) overlooked for centuries. While we can all appreciate the beauty of the hand painted florals within Zalipie, so much of it is compressed into this narrative of a housewife wanting to fill her time and space, a homely craft to keep her busy. But as we can see, years later, the impact that this work has on others. Even when no one is watching, women continue to make art, continue to create beautiful homes, even when resources and time are stacked against them.

Women's art matters not simply because it has been overlooked, but because it has always shaped culture in ways that history has too often refused to acknowledge. The paintings in Zalipie stand as evidence that creativity does not require institutional recognition to be meaningful. For centuries, women expressed themselves through domestic crafts, textiles, murals, and other forms of artistic labor that were dismissed as hobbies rather than celebrated as cultural achievements. Yet these works preserved traditions, strengthened communities, and documented everyday life in ways that more "official" forms of art often could not. Recognizing the significance of women's art means recognizing that beauty, innovation, and cultural memory have always existed beyond museums and galleries, flourishing instead in the homes and hands of women whose contributions deserve to be valued on equal terms.

Visiting Zalipie reminded me that creativity doesn’t always have to exist within galleries or studios. Here, art is woven into daily routines and ordinary spaces. A fence isn’t simply a fence- it’s a canvas. A stove isn’t just functional- it becomes part of the story of the home. That perspective made me think differently about where art belongs and how something as simple as decorating your surroundings can become a tradition that lasts for generations.

There was something incredibly moving about seeing artwork created not for an audience or to grab attention online, but simply to bring something special into everyday life. It was a gentle reminder to myself that your work does not always need to be monumental to be meaningful. It can serve a purpose to brighten a familiar place, to celebrate your community, or to preserve one’s heritage.

Let this be a reminder to use what lies around you to inspire you. Whether it’s an old bookshelf, a rusty fence, a boring mailbox- anything can be a canvas if you so wish. There is always opportunity to bring color and light into your home, to create something so individual to you that it seeps through the walls and the home itself becomes a self portrait of you.

And as I sit on a balcony of a beautiful backyard in the Polish countryside, I paint some folk inspired florals. I hope to continue to explore folk art deeper within my own work, and to weave my Polish heritage into everything else that I love. A few hours wandering through this little Polish village had me rethinking every piece of furniture or art in my apartment, wanting to fill it with as much color and joy as these homes held. I want to practice patience within building a home full of art I love.

And a reminder to delve into your culture, your heritage, your home country, because you never know what small pockets of inspiration there might be for you.

If you ever find yourself in Poland, try to make an afternoon trip over to Zalipie- I promise you will not regret it.

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