Inside the Studio: Adam Niklewicz
- Art Dealer Street
- 3 days ago
- 5 min read
Some artists build meaning by adding more. Adam Niklewicz does the opposite.
His work begins with what is already there — food on a table, a chair against a wall, a book left behind — and asks us to slow down long enough to notice what these things quietly carry. Memory, habit, rhythm, belief. Nothing is forced. Nothing is overstated. Meaning appears through arrangement, timing, and trust.
A pivotal moment came in 2000, during a lecture by Christo and Jeanne-Claude. What stayed with Niklewicz was not scale or ambition, but joy — the unguarded, almost childlike pleasure of two artists fully committed to what they believed in. That joy became a personal measure, one he still returns to when deciding whether a work deserves to exist.
In this Inside the Studio conversation, Niklewicz reflects on intuition, poetry, food, time, and the “secret powers” hidden in ordinary things — revealing a practice shaped less by control than by listening, patience, and faith in what unfolds when objects are placed just right.
Read on to learn more in an exclusive interview with Adam Niklewicz :
You’ve mentioned that a lecture by Christo and Jeanne-Claude in 2000 completely shook the path you were on. Looking back now, what changed in you as an artist after that night, and what part of that “before and after” is still alive in your practice today?
You are referring to a lecture by Christo and Jeanne-Claude at Central Connecticut State University. I attended it mildly interested and got my mind blown in the process. Now I think I responded to the sheer joy and child-like enthusiasm these two adults put on full display. I find a good measure of joy with my “post-Christo-lecture” work and keep gauging it by this standard.
Your work often grows out of very ordinary things—food, books, chairs, walls, small details most people overlook. Can you share how an everyday object first becomes a “spark” for you and at what point you know it is turning into an artwork?
All this comes from my process of getting ideas — and it gives me some, but not too much, power to select things. Most of the time, I think up my concepts around 3 a.m., when I’m on the verge of being asleep. The brainstorming produces some more or less formed ideas. Objects (already transformed) briefly flash in front of my mind’s eye. I easily remember them in the morning. I quarantine those ideas for some time and if they still have legs after the waiting period, I turn them into artworks. The objects that appear are always very ordinary.
You’ve spoken about the mix between the visual world of your Polish childhood and the commercial, pop-cultural imagery of America. How has this blend of two cultures shaped the way you see symbols, humor, and storytelling in your work?
I hope this expands my vocabulary. And if a piece of art touches upon anything universal (as it should), it should also ring true within both cultures.
You once said you “trust in secret powers dwelling in all things.” Could you tell us about one piece where those secret powers surprised even you and the work ended up going somewhere you didn’t expect?
I adopted this sentiment from a line by the great Polish poet Wisława Szymborska. She stated she trusted in secret powers of words and the alchemy of right (perfect) arrangements of words on a page for the release of these powers.
It reflected my aspirations of a visual artist to such a degree that I based my artist statement on it. In full, it reads: “I trust in secret powers dwelling in all things. A right arrangement of items, symbols and words (of the title) can bring the secret powers to life and give a vivid, meaningful union.”
It was at that very moment that I stumbled into an idea which, I thought, solidified this description. I felt I had no choice but to title the resulting piece Secret Powers in All Things, 2025.
Food appears in your work not just as material, but as memory, heritage, and sometimes music or movement. What is it about food that makes it such a powerful carrier of meaning in your artistic universe?
Eating is among the basic human needs. Our lives revolve around food on super regular bases whether we like it or not.
Many of your pieces involve time, change, or a delicate balance—shifting light, fragile materials, things that might not last forever. What draws you to works that feel alive in time rather than fixed and permanent?
Panta Rhei (everything flows), a line from the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, describes how nature works (and nature is ingenious). It is, therefore, at the core of our human condition. I wish there could be more of it in my works.
You have collaborated with Alessandro Berni Gallery and presented your work in that context alongside fairs and exhibitions. How has working with Alessandro and the gallery influenced the way your pieces meet audiences and the way you think about showing your work?
It made me think about the element of durability in my work. Whenever possible (and, obviously, without jeopardizing the artistic integrity of it), I’m making my sculptural pieces a tad more solid, packable, and movable.
If you could invite viewers into your studio for just one afternoon, what moment in your process—or what kind of question you ask yourself while working—would you most want them to witness to understand who you are as an artist today?
I’d love my art to qualify as poetic. I read and admire poetry. The viewer would find collections of poetry from Polish poets in my studio — Adam Zagajewski, Czesław Miłosz, Wisława Szymborska, Miron Białoszewski.
I do not envy visual artists their brilliance, but I feel a sting of jealousy when I read a particularly poignant metaphor in a poem.
With them are the secret powers.
Adam Niklewicz’s work doesn’t demand interpretation — it invites attention.
What remains after encountering it is not a clear conclusion, but a heightened awareness. Of time passing. Of small gestures. Of the quiet intelligence embedded in everyday life. His sculptures and installations remind us that meaning does not always announce itself; sometimes it waits to be noticed.
Guided by poetry, intuition, and a deep trust in arrangement, Niklewicz creates spaces where objects are allowed to speak softly — and where joy, subtle and sincere, becomes a form of resistance against noise and excess.
If there is a lasting takeaway from his practice, it is this: the world is already full of hidden power. All it asks of us is patience, presence, and the willingness to look again.
You can learn more about Adam Niklewicz and his work via these links:
Website: Adam Niklewicz Instagram: @adamniklewicz Twitter: @adamniklewicz Artsy: @Adam Niklewicz