I have just painted a picture influenced by a peculiar vision. It flashed before my eyes, and for lack of a better term, let’s call it “the patriotic gland”. At first I saw it very clearly because I suspected it to be a vestigial organ in my body. I deduced this from the lack of a pronounced reaction of my body to the stimulus. Someone shouted: “Poland!” – okay, yes, I felt the piercing in my ears, but not much more. And I’ve heard how people get this warm feeling inside – a tingling that spreads from the fingertips to the rest of their body. But I must confess to my shame that I don’t really get choked up at the thought of my homeland, although maybe that’s good because it’s probably not a pleasant feeling. However, as in the case of people experiencing a certain lack of something, the imagination goes into overdrive. The most perverse sexual fantasies are created in the minds of the impotent, while those who are actively promiscuous tend to be restrained in this respect. This is how I understand the distinctiveness of a vision or the sense of higher duty which pushed me to paint this theme, as well as the subsequent ones. I fervently covered the stretcher bars with canvas, so that the “logotypes” of Polishness budding from this primal “patriotic gland” – such as Rodło, Toporzeł or Szczerbiec – did not escape my attention and allowed me to continue my molding, intersecting, entwining, amalgamating and stretching. I quickly discovered that all of them are cast from a malleable source that can be handled with extraordinary ease, a magma.