Small - woven from glass threads, cubes with dimensions of 5x5x5 cm contain shreds of official and bureaucratic documents, totemic trinkets, shreds of tickets, buttons, dried flowers, fruits, insects. There are notes, annotations, finds, things seemingly important and insignificant. The apparent insignificance is emphasized by the scale of these objects. These less than five-centimeter trinkets wouldn't catch our attention if not for their ennoblement by the artist. For centuries, people have written diaries, created journals; many of them have been turned into masterpieces, becoming historical documents, artistic declarations, political programs. Komorowska, in an extremely simple and modest language, according to her code, tells us about one year of her life. (...) Are we immersed in the river of time, flowing in it like a leaf in the wind, or does time endure while only we change, age, and die? Are we condemned to exist in constant motion, moving towards our nothingness? Every passing minute, every step of ours constantly moves toward it. In the rhythm of the latticed cubes, you can feel the weight of multiplied steps of dragging feet filled with fear and the pulse of a hospital apparatus, saving the last heartbeat and the movement of the cleansing glass of the life vehicle's wiper, a vehicle paving the way into the depths of time and space. And yet, a person loses themselves when all their actions become meaningless, absurd, when they are cut off from metaphysical and transcendental roots.
Wojciech Müller, excerpt from the review, Poznań, June 2012