How My Immigrant Upbringing And First Home In Poland Influenced My Life As A Creative And Inspired My Business

Small Business Owner — *My first home in Padew, Poland / Last visited June 2023*

DECEMBER 11, 2021

When you think of the word home, what comes to mind?

Maybe it’s the familiarity of your childhood bedroom. The muffled sounds of upstairs neighbors through your popcorn ceiling. The warmth of the bathroom tile under your toes, illuminated by the hot midsummer sunshine. Or perhaps you’re at a loss with associations. Or — have decided to safely compartmentalize and tuck them away, opting rather to dissociate yourself from its meaning, if home carried any negative connotations for you. As with any instance of place, we carry our own unique and personal connections to home, each predicated upon our own intimate experiences and modeled views of the world.

For me, I am fortunate and deeply indebted to carrying the former associations — ones of comfort, warmth, nostalgia, and familiarity. My first home was by no means lavish or grand — in fact, it was quite the opposite. A stark, CMU-constructed structure, it was bare, simple, and most modest in features. But what it lacked in ornament or striking details, it made up for in meaning and story. My grandfather built it himself in 1965. It was the first of many dwelling spaces to come in a bare, open field in a local Polish village near his hometown. In it, he raised his family with my grandmother and welcomed their first grandchild (yours truly). My experience in that first home ended up being very short-lived — shortly after my brother was born when I was 2, my family immigrated to Connecticut, uprooting our lives for more opportunity in a new country. While I was too young at that age to hold any recollections, I would come back and reconnect to that first dwelling space over long summer vacations as a child, forming associations of my experiences during those first 2 years through countless photo albums and stories shared to me by my family. It is in these ways my initial fond connections to home were born.

What are those connections? Beyond shelter and safety, home meant comfort, intimacy, familiarity and warmth. It also meant community. With family being the cornerstone of my upbringing as a child, it welcomed visitors daily. Whether for quick conversations, meals, or gatherings, it fostered a beautiful sense of closeness and belonging that to this day continues to be ever-present and integral in my life. To be home meant to be together, to connect, to share, to be supported.

While my home story is unique to me, and me alone, I’ve come to recognize the inherent value in sharing its recollections and meaning in my life with others. While gathering research for my Master’s of Architecture thesis in college (on the topic of home) (but of course), I came across a beautiful sentiment on the phenomenology of home by French philosopher Gaston Bachelard. In his book, “The Poetics of Space”, Bachelard writes —

“I alone, in my memories of another century can opn the deep cupboard that still retains for me alone that unique odor, the odor of raisins drying on a wicker tray. The odor of raisins! It is an odor that is beyond descriptions, one that takes a lot of imagination to smell. But I’ve already said too much. If I said more, the reader, back in his own room, would not open that unique wardrobe, with its unique smell, which is the signature of intimacy. Paradoxically, in order to suggest the values of intimacy, we have to induce in the reader a state of suspended reading. For it is not until his eyes have left the page that recollections of my room can become a threshold of [daydreaming] for him”.

Bachelard’s words (ever-so-poetically) imply the beauty and potential of influence when we become vulnerable and open up to share pieces of our personal stories with others. Through the description of our own intimate recollections of home, we can induce the daydreaming and memory for others, inviting them to relive their own associations of dwelling, however that may uniquely be for them.

Over time, I’ve grown to view this moving sentiment from Bachelard as a powerful metaphor in my life and life’s purpose. Extending beyond those intimate, personal recollections from my life in Poland, home for me has evolved to embody all that brings me comfort, familiarity, and warmth in my everyday. Most notably, through my profession as a graphic designer, artist, and maker, as well as an ever-curious soul fascinated by subjects on art, design, architecture, wellness, and travel. What’s more, (and further tying back to Bachelard’s sentiment), I recognize the inherent beauty that is sharing my work and personal interpretations of these interests with others. By doing so, I ultimately seek to inspire individuals to discover the meaning of home in their own lives.

There is a quote by Salvador Dali that states “A true artist is not one who is inspired, but one who inspires others”. This creative outlet that is studio domka, at its core, truly seeks to inspire. Driven by my personal associations of home, it welcomes visitors to experience its content and leave moved to question what things in their daily lives mean home for them. Like my first, simple, dwelling space in Poland, there is nothing complicated or overly-adorned in this space. In fact, simplicity and minimalism is sought whenever possible — because more often than not, one discovers the most beauty in the everyday, in the seemingly ordinary moments, and (always) in the details. Whether that is a natural morning-light-filled kitchen space, an oil-splotched brush stroke found in an abstract painting, a stack of weathered photos from an old family album, or the charming hole-in-the-wall coffee shop you unexpectedly discover on your next city venture. There is a sense of home to be found all around us. A *bit extra* stillness, mindfulness (and inspiration) may just be required.

If you are curious and wish to enter, I welcome you in through my door. The front one, made of sturdy oak with the heavy, brass door handle you have to turn slowly until it softly clicks open. Shoes off (Non-negotiable. The hand-scraped wood floors were just cleaned). You can grab the chunky-knit throw blanket and cozy up on the couch, or join me in the dimly-lit kitchen on the creaky chair with the good armrests. A cup of chamomile tea is recommended. As is a live Dave Matthews live album softly looping on Spotify in the background. This is home.