Liliana Zeic (Piskorska)
  • Bio
  • Works
    • Intarsia | 2024
    • PEARLGEM
    • Portrait of Natalia Bobrowna in her studio”
    • Afternoon cup of tea
    • Intarsia works | 2023
      • Little sun
      • When our mensies synch up there will be a sea of blood
      • Girls
    • The One Who Looks at the Sky
    • Let’s Slip a Moist Flax Seed into a Soil
      • Looking at the sun through St. John’s wort leaves
      • Sleepyheads
      • Neetlebrides
      • Brush-maker woman 1
      • Plants
      • Berry foraging
      • Dancing magnolia fruits
      • Let’s Slip a Moist Flax Seed into a Soil 1-4
      • Strayberries 1
    • Dear Madam
    • Smudge bundles for the institutions that broke my heart
    • Benefits of BDSM for trauma survivors | Meristems
    • Apples Grow on Oaks
    • Summer has completely come today
    • Gently running downwards
    • Zeic
    • Sourcebook | Książka źródeł
      • Eyes
      • 2339 letters 8 574 pages
      • Cucumbers
      • portrait of narcissa żmichowska
      • sketch for narcissa żmichowska
      • Wahlverwandtschaften #1
      • Sourcebook no 33
      • Useful knots
      • from the soil right here beneath this house
      • Wahlverwandtschaften #2
      • Wahlverwandtschaften #3
      • The Berry Maids #1
      • White lady
      • In each of these pairs, one would masculinise herself outwardly
      • drawings
      • text
    • A pine with six hands
    • I would rather not talk about this at church
    • Eighteen Christmas trees
    • Red-faced monkey
    • Strong sisters told the brothers
    • Well written act
    • Fifth Column
    • Legal Order
    • Group practices
      • Strajk Kobiet Wrocław
      • Collective Manifa Toruńska
      • #2613 (bez tytułu)
      • #2615 (bez tytułu)
      • Toruńskie Dziewuchy
      • Strajk Kobiet Kłodzko
      • Strajk Kobiet Zgorzelec
    • I find this strange
    • Herb of Grace
    • You’re going to love the lavender menace
    • It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home
    • Public displays of Affection
    • Annihilate by speaking
    • About diseases of plants
    • The field I am buried in
    • Self-portrait with borrowed man
    • Freedom and Equal Opportunity (…)
    • Gays and artists create ODP
    • A Journey
    • Bitches. Self-portrait with a lover
    • Other works
      • She-wolf
      • Rosa Winkel
      • Stalin’s Revenge
      • Playing with Myself with a Piece of Art
      • Blue blood. On TV I’m always a queen.
      • Unsorted
      • Linguistic and gender asymmetry
      • Methods of camouflage in contemporary Poland
      • SCUM
      • Breathing exercises
      • Eleven skinned spruces
      • double self-portrait
    • Solo shows
      • My hands are full
      • Let’s Slip a Moist Flax Seed into a Soil
      • Neetlebrides
      • Maids are sitting in a circle, Hawk was hanged
      • The star is burning over Betlehem
      • The long march through the institutions
      • Side effects
  • Texts
  • Publications
  • Contact
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Eighteen Christmas trees object, 2017/2019

silicon, thread, max. dimensions: 230x153cm
photography print 6,5x9cm

A “Christmas tree”, put up at Christmas, may be a spruce, a fir, a pine. Historical Polish names include podłaźniczka, jutka, sad rajski (paradise orchard), boże drzewko (God’s tree), wiecha. Every year during the three December weeks there are 6 million Christmas trees sold in Poland, and 50 million – all over Europe. The fashion for “living” Christmas trees is systematically growing, while in January and February the majority of trees ends up, en masse, in the dumpster bins of Polish cities and villages.

At the end of December 2017 I started to live with a dog. For the first time in my life I walked her, getting used to a way of spending time which was previously completely alien to me. We kept stubbornly walking around my part of the city; several times a day we passed by firs, pines, European and blue spruces lying next to the dumpster bins. For the first two months of the years I did not travel anywhere, it was warm for January and muddy, the days were very short and there was very little sun. I started bringing Christmas trees into my apartment-workroom in a block of flats. Szelest the dog had separation anxiety, we spent entire days at home, in the evenings I started dragging Christmas trees to my 3rd floor. Over three weeks, we brought in 45 trees. I peeled them out of their branches with a fretsaw, leaving sad thin trunks; the neighbours wondered why there were spruce needles in the stairway every morning. The trees soon stopped fitting in my workroom, and so I squeezed them into the hall, the kitchen, my bedroom. There were several smaller ones in the sofa, one upon the other, the firs were heavy, enormous, I had to push them through the apartment doors, forcing them through with my entire body, resin and needles were everywhere, two months living with the smell of the forest. Then I peeled the skin out of eighteen of them with silicon; the rest is still waiting for something in the basement.

exhibition view, Portrait Studio Gallery, phot. Maciej Łuczak
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exhibition view, Portrait Studio Gallery, phot. Maciej Łuczak

© 2025 Liliana Zeic (Piskorska)