Michael Polakowski and The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Melannie Chard
July 26, 2026
MICHAEL POLAKOWSKI
Fire on the Mountain
Michael Polakowski in his studio. Images by CJ Benninger
When Michael Polakowski dropped off the first group of paintings for his upcoming exhibition, Fire on the Mountain on Friday, I couldn't wait to see them in person. My first impression was simple: they're beautiful. Timeless, delicate, and set in meticulously crafted, hand carved frames. Then, after a few minutes, I started to absorb what was actually happening…and that's when the work became much more interesting.
I began to really look at the travelers wandering through forests and see volcanoes erupting beyond distant villages. I noticed vessels spilling over mountainsides. Gemstones, stars, serpents, and winding paths guiding small figures toward or away from something unseen.
Later that afternoon I showed a few of the works to a visitor at the gallery. As we talked about them, she said, "They remind me of tarot cards."
That statement made a lot of sense. Like a tarot deck, every image carries weight and feels symbolic. These works are not a painting about one thing. They are about choices.
This really became evident when I considered the scale of the figures. They're almost always small, moving through much larger landscapes. Nature and architecture looming as they navigate their way through difficult terrain.
You begin to realize that while we don't get to determine our circumstances, we can decide how to move through them. Perhaps, that is why paintings that feel like they've been lifted from a medieval manuscript still feel timely.
There is a tension between the beauty of this work and its subject matter. We're almost lulled into comfort by the luminous colors, inviting landscapes, and carefully balanced compositions. But beneath that beauty is a growing sense of unease. Fires burn in the distance. Water rises. Volcanoes erupt. Tiny figures continue their journeys through landscapes that seem increasingly unstable. The danger is rarely immediate but it is definitely there.
Michael isn’t painting fantasy for the sake of escape. He’s using the language of myth to speak about contemporary life.
Climate change, political extremism, and the growing feeling that the ground beneath us is shifting are difficult things to picture directly. Rather than illustrating today's headlines, Michael transforms them into allegories. When you see it this way, a winding path looks like a choice. A gate becomes a threshold and an erupting volcano feels like danger in the distance. All the while, his symbols remain open and allow us to bring our own experiences into the work.
We aren't being told what to think or given a prediction on what comes next with this work. We are being asked to consider. Particularly the choices we make while uncertainty becomes a larger and more ominous part of everyday life.
I hope you'll join us for the opening reception of Fire on the Mountain on Friday, August 7, from 6–9 PM. The exhibition opens July 30, and I can't wait for you to experience these remarkable paintings in person.
See you soon!
