I watched a film on Netflix, produced by Leonardo DiCaprio, about the Polish-American sculptor Stanisław Szukalski. Wow.
First—I’d never heard of him. Not entirely unusual, but surprising. I’m fairly good at remembering something—anything—about significant artists. Okay, Szukalski was popular in Poland in the 1930s, a place and period I hadn’t deeply researched. But he was also connected to the Chicago Movement, a current I am familiar with. The film grabbed me. I watched, entranced. Now—three weeks later—four facts remain lodged in my brain.
1. He was talented.
Like… seriously talented. Michelangelo. Rodin. Szukalski. That level. Powerful forms. Intense imagery. I was stunned I’d never heard of him.
2. He was completely nuts.
He spent 40 years writing 75 volumes to prove that humanity has been locked in a battle against the offspring of Yetis since the dawn of time. Also, that we all come from Easter Island. Yes. That Easter Island.
3. He lost everything.
In 1939, his early work—nearly all of it—was held in a state-sponsored studio/museum in Warsaw. It was bombed on day one of World War II. He, his wife, and two suitcases escaped to the U.S. His entire life’s work—gone.
4. The anatomy story.
Someone once asked him, “How did you learn anatomy so well?” His reply: “From my father.” Apparently, while Szukalski was an art student in Chicago, his father died. Szukalski went to the morgue, convinced them to release the body, and performed a complete dissection in his studio. Yes. You read that right. I can’t get over it. Or forget it. He didn’t murder his father—but was he waiting? Was this premeditated? Planned? Was he a vulture in disguise?
Knowledge and Its Cost
It’s disturbing. And now I can barely look at his sculpture without thinking about how he learned to shape flesh and muscle. That kind of anatomical knowledge doesn’t come from books. But what does it cost? This film left me not just awed—but haunted. Not just by his talent—but by his method.
Final Thought
Apparently, I don’t just judge by what you know. I also judge by how you know it. And maybe that’s the real question: What knowledge are we willing to carry, once we understand its origin?
