Looking at Minginowicz’s paintings of human faces on bird heads, cute kitten pillows, and horses with manga tears, leaves the observer feeling like they’re watching a friend’s text thread superimposed onto a gallery wall, but, to the artist, that’s just a byproduct of observing life, these days.
“We can’t escape the language of the internet; it’s now our emotional alphabet,” Minginowicz says. “Sometimes a hashtag or emoji expresses more than an entire essay.”
“I don’t intentionally insert trends into my paintings… but I also don’t filter them out. I absorb the world, I scroll, observe, analyze. So yes, the internet seeps into my work, through color, gesture, distortion, glitches. Humor, or rather, bitter absurdity, emerges from that saturation.”
But Minginowicz’s real inspiration? It goes way further back than the Internet: “Medieval and early Renaissance illuminated manuscripts, alchemical codices, and miniature painting (they’re) full of wild humor and irony,” she says. “Buttocks playing trumpets, men with animal heads, animals dominating humans, or dismembered body parts each expressing different moods without restraint. These are astonishing works where humor mingles with mystery, far more intriguing than today’s memes.”
YES, THE INTERNET SEEPS INTO MY WORK, THROUGH COLOR, GESTURE, DISTORTION, GLITCHES. HUMOR, OR RATHER, BITTER ABSURDITY, EMERGES FROM THAT SATURATION.”
To come up with her paintings, Minginowicz says, “I oscillate between loud excitement and quiet hyper-focus. These two states flow constantly into each other. I can’t stay suspended between them for long. It makes sense; something needs to truly move me, to keep me emotionally stirred, for me to dive into a subject fully, to the point of merging with it. I like being all-in, two hundred percent.”
When she’s excited, Minginowicz says she gathers materials, like visual notes, literary fragments, emotions she’s experiencing, and music. When she’s focused, she says she becomes silent, “a deep internal processing. I work for hours without noticing time passing. There’s never enough of it.”
When she is finished gathering, and ready to pick up her airbrush, Minginowicz says: “At this stage, the emotions are less explosive, a kind of clarity emerges in me, accompanied by an acceptance of uncertainty. Because it’s always there, the unknown. I try not to rush.”
And when she needs to relax or recharge? “That’s a tricky one. I often struggle to focus on a single activity,” Minginowicz says. “I usually need something rhythmic for my body to do, which lets my mind unwind. So I look for ways to combine the two. Cooking, for example, with the right kind of film playing in the background—is incredibly relaxing for me. Usually something I’ve seen a hundred times [laughs]. It’s not about the plot, but the atmosphere. When I really want to disconnect, I seek out places immersed in nature, like the mountains. The rhythm of climbing helps me shed the everyday narrative.”
This intense routine has paid off in recent years for Minginowicz. In 2025 alone, she has shown in shows across Europe and in America: “This year has been intense, and I’m incredibly grateful for that. I’ve just opened a solo show at Prima Galerie in Paris. Next up are group exhibitions at Hesse Flatow in New York and Yusto Giner in Marbella. Then in the fall, I’ll have two more solo shows— one at Lotna Gallery in Warsaw, and the final one of the year at the Centre for Contemporary Art in Torun. It’ll be a lot of work—but I’m beyond excited.”*
This article appears in Hi-Fructose Issue 74. Get the full issue here.