Such a Cool Girl: Natalia LL and the Peace of Doing It Her Way

Mateusz Kozieradzki: People who knew Natalia LL only through her art often mythologized her. They saw her as a witch, as Brunhild, looking down from three-meter-tall photographs. At public events, Natalia always wore platform shoes that added a good 10 cm (she was just over 150 cm tall herself), hid her eyes behind dark glasses, had perfectly straightened blonde hair, and wore black, red, or furs. This created a sense of distance and commanded respect.

However, even during a brief conversation, that facade would break. People who came to argue with this ‘provocateur’ encountered a highly intelligent, incredibly well-read older woman, who knew she didn’t really have to fight for anything anymore. The real Natalia was simply a warm person. The kind of person who would call not just to talk about art, but to ask if I had eaten dinner and how the cats were doing. She hated public speaking, but she loved good food and sitting for hours over a glass of red wine.

I will never forget Natalia’s first meeting with my partner. He was a student in love with photography; she was his icon. He was very stressed. When I mentioned this to Natalia, she laughed like a child, looked at Dawid, and said, “Stressed by me? But I’m such a cool girl.” That was the real, private Natalia.

Natalia, let’s be honest, always knew that the bold themes she tackled would be easier to show in the West, and with a difficult surname like Lach-Lachowicz – well, that could be tough. That’s why, during a performance, she sequentially crossed out the letters of her surname to become Natalia LL. Yes, of course, in the process, she became a recognizable brand, although I would see that as a side effect rather than a specific goal she set out to achieve. She wanted to cut herself off from the surnames of her father and her husband.

She was looking for answers. These works feature not only herself but also a young man – who, as Natalia recalled, was hanging around near her apartment until one day she struck up a conversation and asked him to pose – as well as her partner, Andrzej Lachowicz. It was a time when the aging of her body began to show significantly. Andrzej, too, once a strong, ambitious man, became an old man in a wheelchair.

By embodying herself and the aforementioned men as mythological or archetypal figures, she wanted to delve into how art can answer questions about transience, and bring hope of youth and returning happiness. At the same time, by placing kitschy objects in the frames, she tried to convey that art is not just a ritual – there is also room in it for a bit of humor and self-irony.

What happened in 2019 was a surprise. Natalia didn’t want to speak publicly, even though many media outlets sought her out. She felt she had already said enough back in the 1970s when Consumer Art was created. After almost fifty years of her presence and recognition, she was well aware of her place in the art world. “Sum ergo sum” (I am, therefore I am) – as the original title went for her retrospective exhibition, which I curated at the Centre of Contemporary Art in Toruń a few years prior (2017). It was a very difficult period for her. As an eighty-year-old woman, she suddenly became recognizable on the streets; the ladies at the local shop would ask if she were “that scandalist.” It overwhelmed her and contributed to the decline in her health.

However, the work itself returned to the mainstream discussion. Natalia became an inspiration for Gen Z, not as a historical figure, but as an artist whose work is still alive. Watching the references to Consumer Art on social media and the banana protest brought her pleasure. She was happy that this time she didn’t have to fight for herself or explain everything on her own.

She made peace with the illness that caught up with her at the end of her life. But she never returned to making art. Her last work, Dulce Post Mortem, made in 2019 (neon signs), was meant to be her final piece, and that’s exactly what happened. She spent the rest of her life in a wheelchair. In conversations with loved ones, she often said she was afraid of losing her health and strength. She wished for a quick and easy death. To our surprise, when the illness came, she accepted it with great dignity and calmness.

However, she never made peace with the fact that she didn’t have children. She had always dreamed of them. Her husband, Andrzej Lachowicz, on the other hand, couldn’t stand them. Natalia said many times that you either make art or you have children. Toward the end of her life, she concluded that she could have managed both.