Minimalist Art and Poetry: Wróblewski’s Influence

I just read three new poems by Grzegorz Wróblewski this morning. It is the start of 2025. Well over a week into it really. Also feeling my middle age. I still have at least 17 years of work. Or probably more, since I am not sure I can ever afford to stop working with no property, piddly savings etc. So guess I am still middle aged. Squarely middle aged. Whatever that means. Time to build or let go. Life expanding and contracting.

Well, one thing for certain. I feel my mortality differently. I expect that will continue.

There are comforts. Great art, as always. Especially minimalist. Without pretensions. I think I need that more than ever. Endless hours of techno narcissism. Little narrow alleys of specialised professional niches. No thank you. I want the bigger picture!

Grzegorz Wróblewski has always been a favourite. A good friend. Someone whose art nourishes. Even if at first glance it might seem heavy and pessimistic. It is not one thing only. It is sometimes like the poetry of James Tate and Charles Simic, direct and often humorous. Surreal-absurd. It cuts through the bullshit.

Here are three new poems (translated into English) of Grzegorz Wróblewski. They deal with life and death. Directly. Also birds. Solipsism and hot mammals. The flow of life. Read them over at North Of Oxford.