Radek Husak

Growing up in Poland, it is difficult to pinpoint an exact moment, although I can say that from an early age, I was artistically inclined. My parents always encouraged my brothers and me to express ourselves in a way that suited our characters. When I was a young teenager, I tried anything from model-making and macrame to dance, singing and acting. My teacher, identifying my potential talents in the plastic arts, suggested that I should pursue this path in the Art Lyceum.
During these formative five years, my focus shifted to design and traditional printmaking. A few years later, when I moved to London (at the time, I was studying Art History in Poland), new avenues became available to me. Like many others, I decided to stay and continue my education in the United Kingdom. I was fortunate to be accepted to the BA Graphic Design course at Central Saint Martins. The ethos of the college emphasised the blurring of the boundaries between art and design. This, in turn, led me (after a few years working as a commercial designer) to the print course at the Royal College of Art. As you can see, I was always (directly or indirectly) interested in what constitutes contemporary art.

I am a firm believer in what some people call a ‘good practice’. During my undergraduate studies, I was fortunate to be mentored by Professor Phil Baines. He taught principles of understanding and creating. That was the start of my obsession with the ‘process’. Exploring all the elements of the project – materials, techniques, even people involved – confirmed for me that there would be no ‘go-to solution’ in my work. Quite the opposite: by exploring the material, I was able to uncover exciting behaviours, properties and the often hidden inner beauty of it.
The way that my approach contrasts with other artists is the mode of work. I plan and prepare. There is very little room for a spontaneous outburst of creativity. Although I am naturally very chaotic and clumsy, I am meticulous and organised when it comes to my work. Furthermore, my attitude toward materials seems to be different. I have great respect for all the matter that constitutes my practice. Nothing gets discarded, all is re- or up-cycled (my friends call me a borderline hoarder). If you work with it, the final result is often the beginning of the new process.

Again, it’s all linked to my interest in the process, history and the people behind it. It was at the Royal College of Arts where I met and befriended Brittonie Fletcher, an American artist now working in Edinburgh. She taught me the principles of cyanotype, salt printing and the noblest of them all, platinum-palladium. Those 19th-century alternative processes open entirely new avenues for my mark-making. Later, as I was looking for a new ‘canvas’ for my imagery, I ventured into the glass and ceramics department.
After a lengthy discussion with one of the technicians, I started sandblasting random surfaces. It was a ‘eureka’ moment when a piece of aluminium was turned into a piece of solid ‘stardust’. The material and medium became an aspect of my storytelling. Inorganic and elemental matter become a support for the organic and fleshy – presenting movement on a static surface. I like to challenge the temporary or fleeting aspect of art with something that aspires to be there for posterity.

It is highly controlled chaos; there is very little that is accidental in my work. It takes preparations before I hit the shutter. All of my figurative works explore the essence of movement. What interests me is how a flat surface can become as expressive as actual motion. My experience of art is deeply rooted in my Christian upbringing. My first contact with art was in our local parish church. Figures of saints and paintings with biblical themes and emotions contained within engraved themselves deeply on my ideas and understanding of what art can be. I tend to employ those principles in my work, often over life-sized figures captured in the moment of contemplation, shock, pleasure or a ‘mental’ ecstasy. The heightened emotional state, often reinforced by the use of a diptych or triptych, creates my version of ‘gesamtkunstwerk’. I aim for the audience to engage with the work on an emotional and spiritual level.

As the Greek philosopher Protagoras once said, ‘‘Man is the measure of all things’’. This maxim applies to the Pop Art of the mid-century with the difference that the icon, idol or star takes centre stage. The everyday human is just an insignificant speck. I want to augment that by introducing the anonymous nude figure into my work. The naked youth becomes an archetype. Something so fundamentally primary as an unclothed body becomes my common denominator: an entry and exit point. What I borrow from the pop movement is the way the image is constructed and treated. Just think about Warhol’s Double Elvis series with the overlay of the photos, repetition and tension on the shimmering silver background.

My abstract works are a form of self-portraiture. The inspiration always comes from within. However, in a broader context, the series explores the human condition within a digital age – the glitch and unstoppable entropy. The idea that we can be reduced to scripted code is simply fascinating. The level of abstraction varies across the portfolio of works and what interests me is how far you can push the representation before recognition of the image becomes possible. There is a possibility that they will soon turn into a full feeling of the sublime, a contemplation of a violent and destructive nature.

My work ethic and daily routine help. I knew that the transition from design to art full-time wasn’t going to be easy. However, by retaining the ‘9-5’ structure of my working week keeps me motivated. I hardly have time to dwell on what people might think about my work. Furthermore, it is a sense of discovery that keeps me focused, never knowing where my next project might take me.

Photo London was a milestone in my artistic career. Together with the Dellasposa Gallery, we worked together to bring the best of ‘me’ to the broader public. It was crucial for us to present both sides of my practice: figurative and abstract. We also decided to show the different mediums that I use in the studio, including silver gelatin prints, sandblasted aluminium and digital. I hope that visitors left more open-minded as to what constitutes contemporary photography today. Furthermore, the subject of nude is still very much relevant and that we should be encouraged to think again about how we perceive the body.

Later this year will see an inclusion of different metals (brass, copper and silver), wood and glass and how those materials can influence the reading of my work. With the growing public interest in my work, I hope to engage with people of different socio-political backgrounds. I am aware there still is a stigma attached to the representation of the nude, especially the male. Initiating a discourse or an exchange of ideas and generating new insights on the subject would be an ideal outcome of my work.