The shopping carts are small, and they twist with impatience as they wait to enter the pawilon. With Kolejka, Marcin Dudek evokes a memory shared by many in his generation, the hours spent queuing for everything from sugar to toilet paper. This was a task shared by everyone in the Dudek family: each took a turn, clutching food stamps and cash, chatting with neighbours, or remaining static in the long wait for basic supplies.

In Kolejka, the bodies of the queuers are replaced by their empty shopping carts. The size of their baskets moderates one’s expectations: the carts are not made for the mass consumption we are familiar with today, but rather for the slim pickings of a time of crisis, when even the most modest product becomes a sacred find. As they get closer to the entrance of the pawilon, they become more distorted, twisting from hunger or perhaps just from nerves – those at the front have been there for the longest, after all.