Although Janusz Stankiewicz’s friendship with Tadeusz Różewicz dates back to the early 1990s, and the poet’s work had always been very important to the photographer, their relationship grew closer only when Różewicz began visiting Eugeniusz Get Stankiewicz, Janusz’s brother. Get, a Wrocław graphic artist, sculptor, and author of Social copperplate series from the Ossolineum collection, had a studio in the so-called Copperplate Engraver’s House at Wrocław Market Square. Różewicz often brought treasures from his park walks to meetings, such as pine cones, feathers, chestnuts, or a plastic frog bought at a souvenir shop. These visits led to a series of Pleasant and useful games presented at the National Museum in Wrocław in 2003, and to the series Learning to walk, inspired by a Styrofoam model shaped like the letter “Y” by Jan Jaromir Aleksiun. In 2009, they created another portfolio containing plates featuring graphics by Get Stankiewicz juxtaposed with poems by Różewicz and drawings by both artists.

As the printer of his brother’s works, Janusz Stankiewicz often attended these meetings, and his photographs became unique records of their joint work. Photos taken by Stankiewicz were later featured on the covers of the volumes Exit and Learning to Walk. Each photograph is described in detail on the back, with the place, time, date, and even the hour of the meeting, or a description of the circumstances, topic of conversation, or quote – always in an elegant, calligraphic hand. After the poet moved to Biskupin, Janusz’s visits gradually moved to Różewicz's house. To the house and, above all, to the garden, which was particularly important to Różewicz. The photos taken over several years show the author of Anxiety in a private, quiet environment. This is Różewicz, unofficial and unposed: he sits at the table with cookies and liqueur, gazes thoughtfully at the flowers, displays trinkets in his “studio” – as he called the room where he wrote his poems – or walks around the garden in slippers and his much-loved blue sweatshirt, hides behind a tree like a child and, tired, leans against his favourite rowan tree. Sometimes he would read a poem and ask the photographer what he thought. “What was I supposed to answer?” – comments Stankiewicz today. These photographs were taken naturally, almost incidentally, during their meetings, but once it was different.

Różewicz called Stankiewicz – because he was the one who always called – asked him to come with his camera and added that the photos might be blurry, but did not explain anything more. He put on a large, thick sweater, sat on a stool, and Stankiewicz started taking photos. In his excitement, he forgot that there was no film in the camera yet. This session, commissioned by the poet and held in January 2012, was also the last: “There will be no more photos… You can continue taking photos of the garden,” Różewicz said after the meeting. Later, when he looked at the prints, he liked the photos very much. They were talking about Van Gogh then. Only later did Stankiewicz find the image of At Eternity’s Gate in an album of paintings, depicting a man sitting on a chair, and it was probably this painting that inspired Różewicz. A portrait of Różewicz with his face in his hands was included in the book – the poet juxtaposed it with a photo from his First Communion and the caption: “how quickly time passes.”

The last two years of this relationship focused mainly on documenting Różewicz’s garden. We watch the seasons change and time pass. The rowan grows, blooms, bears fruit, “Come, come, there is only one leaf left,” and then spring comes again. Here and there, a tiny figure of Różewicz can also be seen in the background. He liked to look at these photos later; he would call his wife and say: “Wiesława, look what beautiful photos Mr. Janusz took!” Stankiewicz recalls: “He kept thinking about trees. He pointed to one and told me that the oldest ones were with him in this garden. When I asked him to stand by the tree for a photo, he hid behind the branches and leaves. He wrapped himself in it, just like in the childhood photo with his mother, next to the blossoming apple tree.” They met again on 25 March 2014. We see the course of this meeting almost frame by frame: early spring, the first flowers blooming, the poet walking in the garden with a cane, and his wife tending to the grass. It starts raining; Różewicz goes home and asks Stankiewicz to join him for a chocolate-flavoured Pliska after he finishes taking photos. They will sit, as usual, at the table in the living room, drink liqueur, and talk. When Różewicz leaves for a moment, Stankiewicz will take a photo of an empty chair and, through the window, the garden in the rain. And this will be their last meeting. Tadeusz Różewicz died a month later, on 24 April 2014, without having had time to see the spring photos from the garden, even though they had already been developed.

Janusz Stankiewicz recently said that for him it is not so much an exhibition as a story about meetings: “I never knew if there would be another; each one could be the last, so I tried to capture as many as possible.”