Jozef Bajus (1958- )

Artist’s Statement

Long-distance dialogue

As a young boy I used to play in my dad´s workshop. The magical world of multi-coloured threads and fabrics filled with the smell of ironing, droning engine of a sewing machine...for me this environment was both interesting and natural. I remember pins in unfinished sewing or basting stitches in semi-finished jackets or coats. I remember the contrast of white stitches on linen and on shiny lining cloth that, under my father´s hands, took the form of a pad, a pocket or a collar. I was interested in removing stitches and my father was glad to entrust me with this petty, yet important work.

I have always perceived my father as someone who can dress people; he was a well-known tailor and earned a reputation as a master of his craft. Our house was busy and full of customers. My sisters and I were always dressed up; I was deeply envious of all guys wearing jeans, while I was still wearing my father’s poly/cotton blend trousers with perfectly made creases.

My father learned the trade of a tailor at the age of 17. He maintained the family, was modest, frugal and always thought of us, his children first. He put a great emphasis on our education, as he knew how important it was.

Somewhere around 2007 my father started to have health problems and I got an idea to establish a kind of artistic, long distance dialogue with him, with me over the ocean and him at home, under the Tatras. I recalled removing the stitches and the idea of a common project, a common exhibition appeared. A year or so later I was home again for a while. I was sitting in his workshop and observing his working environment. It was wonderful to be part of his world again. I persuaded him to make a few shoulder pads and we cut and stitched like we did in the past. Yet, unlike the past, I deliberately left the stitches in the linen. One afternoon I was looking around his workshop and suddenly the paper patterns hanging on the wall caught my attention. They were simply hung on nails, however, I couldn´t take my eyes off of randomly placed layers and the colour of the paper. I was captivated by the overlapping of curves, alternating with vertical lines of patterns and the sharp shadows around. For me, they were finished “readymade objects”, absolutely perfect well-thumbed material. After my father entered the workshop, I asked him if he would let me keep his “old” patterns; I also offered to cut out some new ones. After a short hesitation he agreed and we traced and cut out until there was a brand new set of patterns on the wall. Taking a long look, father started to persuade me that the new ones are better and more beautiful; he couldn´t understand why I cared about the old, well-thumbed patterns. 

Years go by and the “new” patterns have already gained patina. Recently I have had a strong inclination to cut out new patterns and take the ones we made together years ago. I did not, but I believe that in the future we will use them to cut out the new ones again. My project has been running for some time; in the meantime we sewed together again, this time I persuaded my father to make pockets. The more time I spent with him the more I realize how perfectly he masters his craft and how much we have in common. Perhaps there is some truth in the saying “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”; yet, another saying goes “one cannot stop time” and therefore I try not to waste precious moments that make my life fulfilled.

People often ask me who I inherited my talent from and why I am engaged in textiles. At first I did not know the answer. I was searching my memory for artistically gifted ancestors, but none of them were engaged in art. Later I thought about it again and I realized that it is not quite true. I owe everything I am to my father...