Hi there, I’m Peter Gil!

Let me tell you my story, not as some polished artist statement, but as it actually happened. The messy, human version. 

I grew up in a tiny Polish town by the Vistula River, where my grandma’s kitchen was my first art studio.

I’d hide under her linen tablecloth — the one with those intricate Kociewian flowers embroidered by her mother — and watch her cook through the fabric.

The light from the window and steam from the pots filtering through the threads? Pure magic. It’s where I learned that beauty isn’t just seen. It’s felt. 

My parents were working in trade, hospitality and many various endeavours across the years. We traveled a lot. They have dragged me to every museum and market from Madrid to Manila as a kid.

Well yes, I have complained about it then. And no, I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything! Little by little I opened to art, in whatever form it comes.

Those trips planted this certainty in me that art is not for quiet, white galleries.

It can be found in luscious gardens, bustling open air markets and a million other, completely ordinary places. It’s how we talk across time, borders, and generations.

…art is not for quiet, white galleries. It can be found in luscious gardens, bustling open air markets and a million other, completely ordinary places.

At 18, I thought I had it all figured out. I marched into the Academy of Fine Arts in Gdańsk, ready to conquer European industrial design, and the rest of the world soon after. But art school chewed me up badly.

Between late-night critiques, teachers who made you feel small, and that voice in your head whispering, “You’re not good enough.” I lasted a year. Walked away thinking that maybe creativity isn’t for people like me.

So I did the “safe” thing. Studied law, specializing in sustainability — how to help governments and companies actually do better for the planet.

Got my Masters writing on energy policy. After that I jumped between law and marketing jobs. After some time, clients got bigger, and so did my impact.

I’ve worked with big corporations, jet-setting for campaigns that looked glamorous on LinkedIn, but could not find a way to actually do anything about the things I felt and experienced.

Burnout hit me like a truck, but ask anyone in the corporate world and they tell you that you should just get through it.

So I did for quite some time, but when my parents got suddenly seriously ill, I completely fell apart.

Darkest year of my life. Therapy, meds, and a lot of staring at walls taught me this: running from who you are always backfires, no matter how fast or far you run. 

Here’s the turning point no one talks about:

One day, I picked up a paintbrush again — not to be a Capital-A Artist, but just try to “breathe”. To remember that kid under the tablecloth.

All those Kociewian patterns from grandma’s linens came rushing back.

But this time, they mixed with everything I’d seen since: the geometry of corporate boardrooms, the ache of losing myself, the really urgent questions we all ask in the shower, like: Who am I? Where do I belong? How do I hold onto love when life keeps changing?  

My art today? It’s me working through those questions stitch by stitch, stroke by stroke. I take those traditional floral motifs — the ones that comforted me as a kid — and collide them with knotted lines, heavy textures, and colors that feel like modern anxiety.

It’s not really supposed to look “pretty,” but rather “alive.” While some days it’s a love letter to my heritage; other days it’s screaming into the void (but in a decorative way, if you know what i mean).  

People ask, “What’s your style?” Honestly? I don’t know. Kociewian folk art meets a midlife crisis. It’s sustainability nerd meets someone who finally stopped caring what the “art world” thinks.

Mostly, it’s me saying that You can love where you’re from without being trapped by it; You can fall apart, rethink yourself and make something beautiful of it.

People ask, “What’s your style?” Honestly? I don’t know. Kociewian folk art meets a midlife crisis.

Want the elevator pitch?

I make art for people who’ve ever felt stuck between past and future.

For anyone who’s rebuilt themselves from scraps.

If you’ve ever looked at a family heirloom and thought, “How do I carry this into my messy, modern life?” — we’re already speaking the same language.  

And hey, if you’re still reading?

Thanks, really. This isn’t a “tortured artist” shtick. I’m just a guy who finally stopped running, picked up a brush, and let the flowers do the talking.

If my work makes you feel less alone for five minutes? Mission accomplished. 

Press

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Kociewie etnocultural region

Find out more about origin of the artist. A short introduction to the Kociewie ethnocultural region.

Portfolio of selected works

For insight into some works by Peter Gil. See the oil and digital paintings by the artist, along with detailed photos and descriptions

To connect with Peter, see more about the work process and some insight into his vision, proceed to artist’s social media profiles.