An Art Diploma Defense That Got Out of Hand

The lecture hall of the →Academy of Fine Arts in Krakow was packed—not only with faculty and students but also with numerous guests from the theater. The dean formally welcomed the audience gathered for the art diploma defense of a sculpture student’s theoretical thesis, then invited the reviewer to present his assessment.

„Professor Antoni Porczak, the floor is yours.”

The professor pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket, took out two A4 sheets, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began to read:

„Review of the diploma thesis of Wacław Wantuch.
Title of the thesis: ‘THE WAWEL CHAKRA? A Review in the Form of a Letter.’”

„Dear Waclaw,
From the sheer bulk of the work you submitted for review, I assume it deals with something significant. Based on volume alone, you could be entered into the faculty’s Guinness Book of Records. I take your word that this paper contains none of your own commentary. You have compiled the thoughts of others, yet all are properly attributed—an honest approach. Others simply copy without citation and call it self-referencing.

The title of your thesis tells me nothing. Every time I pass by Wawel (I live in the Podwawelskie Housing Estate), I instinctively turn my head away so I don’t have to look at that hill. I have been ahistorical since birth, and what Malraux called the ‘refrigerator of culture’—despite all its deodorants—still does not appeal to me.

I really appreciate the form of your work, marked by a kind of openness that allows the reader broad interpretative freedom. In this approach, context matters more than the author’s message. In visual arts, one could compare it to collage; in journalism, to reportage; and in literature, I would reference Julio Cortázar’s Hopscotch.

The order in which you arranged the texts is irrelevant. What matters is that you did it. In art, two things are crucial: a name and something that precedes it—a talent for making things exceptional. Thus, a diploma review is ultimately an opinion of the student.

I truly hope all your qualities are recognized—your talent, diligence, inquisitiveness, persistence, defiance, and originality. As I write this, I have no idea what you will present for your sculpture diploma, but based on your written work alone, I will recommend you for distinction.

I say this with full conviction, even though—I must admit—I have not read the work at all. I don’t know the text beyond its chapter titles. However, I am certain that reading it would not change my high opinion of you.

I offer you a few possible answers to the question of why I have not read the text:

a) I am lazy.
b) I didn’t have time.
c) My aging eyes can no longer bear swallowing this black ‘goo,’ as Marshall McLuhan put it—jumping from line to line, page to page, scanning from left to right like a vacuum cleaner of thoughts.

Of course, I acknowledge that non-rational factors exist, and they are as important in life as they are in art. I am also familiar with books like Life After Life and the works of Wawelologist Zbigniew Święch—such as Curses, Microbes, and Scholars or Casket of Discoveries.

But the most important part of your work is not the pages of ‘black print’—it is the idea itself. The global perspective on phenomena, the boldness of vision, the introduction of new dimensions to human sensitivity.

I look at your thesis—it lies on the table before me, its red, comb-like spine visible. The cover, the color of coffee with milk, bears two words and a question mark. Inside, white pages filled with black text—like white cheese with black caviar. Apollonius of Tyana, dowsers, physicists—I sense that all of this is important, extraordinary, unconventional.

As Winnie the Pooh would say:

„The more I don’t read it, the more convinced I am of its value.”

I shudder at the thought of reading it, of walking through Wawel, of feeling the influence of a stone upon me—this is creative impact.

I must overcome my prejudices and habits. Perhaps I will evolve, and then, finally, I will devour all this textual sustenance you are serving me today.

I trust you won’t deny me the right to write a review before reading your work.

I wish you success in your art and your life!

Antoni Porczak”

A silence filled the hall, broken only when the stunned dean finally spoke.

„Well then, may I at least see a copy of the written work, since the professor has not read it?”

„Unfortunately, I left it at home.”

„Hmm. Then let’s ask the student—where is the second copy?”

„I left it in the secretary’s office as a backup for the dean…”

„It’s late, so we won’t be able to get into the office now.”

Visibly irritated, the dean turned to the audience and asked:

„Has anyone even read or seen this work?”

After a moment of silence, a middle-aged man with a mustache stood up, as if called to the blackboard, and in a low voice declared:

„This work is now locked in the publisher’s safe, as it will be going to print in two days. It will be published as a book titled The Wawel Stone.”

The dean had just drawn a breath to respond when one of the professors—who did not particularly like my reviewer—interjected. A heated debate erupted among the professors, drawing in more and more voices. At some point, in front of a full audience, the dean had no choice but to escort the loudest participants out into the corridor.

After a while, the professors returned, but I no longer remember what happened next. The stage fright was finally starting to wear off after stepping down from the stage at the →art diploma performance — and the whole brawl was losing its meaning for me.

I was just waiting for some janitor to blow the final whistle, because the whole situation felt like an extra performance—but outside the theater.
Except this time, these were the final minutes of my art diploma defense.

What This Was Really About

This wasn’t the kind of art diploma defense I expected. But as it turned out, neither was it what most of the faculty had expected either—especially those used to evaluating primarily figurative sculptures. It’s one thing to talk about the proportions of the human body, and another to discuss paranormal phenomena.

What happened that day was a little bit of theater, a little bit of academia — and a whole lot of confusion.

And so it ended, not with applause, but with a question mark. A fitting end to a project about belief, energy, and the unknown.
The book came out two days later.