The Loneliness of Sightlines is a situational sculpture. Its appearance depends on the angle from which one looks at it and the circumstances — what is within its visual range. It is made up of what is casual, unforeseen perspectives and random meanings. Its character is perishable, dynamic — it remains in a state of constant updating, decomposing and composing itself from scratch. There is no hierarchy of sightlines, no preference for any of the ways of looking at it. There is no front, back or sides, no beginning and no end. Nothing here has to be what it is, or look like it looks.

The sculpture occupies a place in space, but it is also open to this space.
A viewer can bypass it or step inside. Anyone who comes within its reach becomes part of it. A visitor who looks at it, sees in turn a person entering a sculpture, fragments of a sculpture and a person, experiences the disintegration of this view, experiences the disintegration of their impressions and sees a person again . . .

The situational sculpture changes due to the appearance of the surroundings, but also influences them, makes the surroundings reflect in the sculpture. Perhaps it is more of an experience of the mind than of the eye.

There is no experience in which one is not the centre. Everything I experience is always in front of me or behind me, on my right or left. Every experience is always my experience. Even when I look at the same thing as you, I see something a little different. Even if I am in the same situation as another person, each of us is alone in it. Every experience is lonely, and our experiences of loneliness are not the same.

The situational sculpture cannot be seen as a whole, it is only possible to see it as a fragment. The person who looks at it cannot keep up with the changes that take place in it, cannot encompass the multiplicity of appearances that are created.

There is no access to what other eyes see — different, but equally important and legitimate, perspectives. To see a situational sculpture would mean to collect all these single glances. Perhaps more than an experience of the eye and the mind, it would be an experience of the heart.

– Gizela Mickiewicz, 2019