on the street. Not just potential lovers, but furniture as well. I was poor and I had to fill my tiny basement apartment using only items I found on the street. I used a camouflage pattern to transform each dilapidated piece, worn by the memories of previous owners.
When my crocheted living space was first disassembled and exhibited at Christopher Henry Gallery, I was forced to move there for six months to live, love, and create. In 2012 the Smithsonian asked to borrow my home, moving the entire apartment, panel by panel, to their American Art Museum. All my fears came to fruition when the museum registrar presented a whole binder with notes regarding condition of the art pieces—mentioning all the stains. Thank god I wear gloves, she said. If you look close at my art, especially close, you will realize just how intimately my life fuses with my art.
Everything that enters or leaves me sooner or later will become a crocheted work or inspire one. Everyone who enters my life will also become art. Because I hate wasting time, crocheting my lovers means I am doing two things at once. If the relationship doesn’t work out, at least I have art. And when both are great, then I am truly happy. The good ones make adjustments to fit better into my crocheted suits. Some even lose their bellies.
FLM: Describe how your work reflects your ideas on feminism and freedom of sexuality?
OLEK: Some one said “Every single piece an artists makes is a self-portrait.” I couldn’t agree more. I’m like a sponge, I collect ideas, theories, experiences and the spills of last night’s vodka soaked dinner. That sponge swells, oozes, stinks and finally explodes with new art. It is a personal journey but I hope that my statements are universal. In the end it is not about me. It is about a viewer who can find something in my work for himself. Human and animal rights issues, social consciousness and esthetic gestures large and small. … and girl power.