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Szczesny’s painting should not be understood from a purely formal perspective. It expresses above all a moral and ethical force, as well as a tragic grandeur, even in the least figurative of his pieces. Henri Focillon’s formula “the hand makes the mind, the mind makes the hand” could have been invented for Szczesny. There is indeed a hidden world in his work, which does not necessarily emerge from his consciousness, but which expresses itself with each brush stroke. His imperiously drawn lines, overlapping each other, are enough to produce an emotional shock in the viewer, close to stupefaction. The large formats he favors certainly add to this tragic solemnity, as well as, for some years now, the reappearance of the human figure. This one manifests itself in the form of a simple silhouette of which only the outline is traced. This body, naively and poorly drawn, by its very emptiness, becomes the receptacle and projection of our existential anguish. Szczesny’s Man is the innocent victim of all tragedies who addresses us his silent cry. “What interests us,” confirmed Picasso, “is the drama of man. The rest is false.”

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