The Grasshopper Lies Heavy

The Grasshopper Lies Heavy

Venue: Galeria u Jezuitów, 10 Dominikańska Street, Poznan
Opening: April 10, 2026, 6:00 PM
On display until April 14, 2026 (12:00–6:00 PM)

The title of the exhibition is taken from Philip K. Dick’s novel The Man in the High Castle. The book presents an alternative history in which Germany won World War II, and North America is divided between the Third Reich and Japan. In this reality, an American resistance movement operates. Members of this movement secretly read a novel (a novel within the novel) titled The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which describes a world in which Germany lost the war in 1945.

We are thus faced with a situation in which fiction is truth and truth is fiction. This interests us for two reasons. Firstly, because this is, in a sense, the very nature of art. Secondly, because contemporary media space is increasingly beginning to resemble art in this respect.

The phrase “The Grasshopper Lies Heavy” originates from a mistranslated fragment of the Book of Ecclesiastes. The original meaning is closer to: the grasshopper shall drag itself along. This distortion symbolizes fundamentally misleading historical narratives. In any case, the prophetic vision suggests that difficult times are approaching.

The exhibition presents works created within the Department of Experimental Film at UAP.

Artists:
Maria Dubec
Aleksandra Koteras
Jakub Borowski
Wiktoria Borucka
Agnieszka Kubiak
Olga Malinowska
Julia Mendyk
Iga Brzozowska
Tymon Modrzyński
Sofya Maroz
Angelika Grewling
Zuzanna Sakowicz
Blanka Kęstowicz

Artistic Director: Piotr Bosacki

Featured work:
Blanka Kęstowicz, Monstrous Bonnets 3 (audio piece)

This is a surreal poetic prose piece rooted in the literary traditions of Witkacy, Mrożek, and Sajnóg. The text begins:

“Sister Wanda did not really exist. It began when we bought her a deckchair shaped like a garden stand — I think it was May. She complained that her life was one of many friends of her mother and that she had to straighten the hive on her shoulder. The folding chair came with a pouch for rosary beads, so she could embroider, just in case. We found one — speckled, truly hers, covered in floral patterns like her kitchen apron, so that she could blend into her jam-scented naps, while wasps laid pentagonal honeycombs upon her. Sister had missions of no use to anyone, but that worked in her favor. She would sometimes serve us local insertions of potatoes, melting forks, and the potato blood of nearby pumpkins. In the evenings, by the candlelit window, she threaded bonnets with wire so that the menorahs would not fall from our heads.”