In Anticipation of the Sun was triggered by a discussion with my 3-year-old son when I had to explain to him why he had not gone for a walk for six days, when at the beginning of 2017, the air quality alert in Warsaw, where we live, was raised to the highest level “red”. Air pollution was above health standards and therefore harmful. At the same time, air quality in the city of Rybnik in Poland was worse than in China. My explanation took the form of a drawing in black pencil showing smog, and I called it “In anticipation of the Sun.” (You are talking about two things, but it is only one). It prompted me to do more research on what smog is so I could explain it to my son.

The more I looked into the effects of smog on people, animals, plants, and the entire ecosystem, the more I realized that this would turn into a personal story. I suffer from asthma, lung disease, and respiratory problems that get worse in the winter and when air pollution is high. I realized smog is a silent killer that slowly attacks the lungs and penetrates deeper into the cardiovascular system. Smog is a cause of heart attacks, strokes, and skin diseases. It invades all areas of our living environment and kills from the inside out. It severely pollutes both the air and the water. However, we are the culprits, and that was something I had to teach my son as well.

In Anticipation of the Sun series explores the imperceptible yet series threat of air pollution through symbolic imagery. The objects depicted recapitulate in material form my investigation of air pollution and its less visible effects and consequences.

Something stopped us that day. Even now, I do not know exactly what it was.
It all started at an unnaturally early hour. At least for me. Kajtek, my son, is very practiced at eating porridge at 5:30 in the morning. Outside the window: Egyptian darkness. We waited for the sun. In winter, it sleeps in and rolls out of bed hours after Kajtek, who was already sitting astride his sled in the hallway. I opened the window and let the caffeine circulate through my veins. The pain in my chest set in with the first inhale. Asthma flared up. There was a smell of burning chimneys.

It was not smoke rising from the familiar shapes in the yard, not really. It was a mist, thick as night, violent act against the suppressed sun. I rubbed my glazed eyes. I called out to Kajtek. Nose pressed to the windowpane, eyes wide, his mouth formed the question of the day, “Dad, what is it?” Through a mental fog, an answer from an earlier geography lesson emerged. “Clouds on the earth, son!”…

-Jakub Stanek