LUKASZ LEJA

ARTIST

Lukasz Leja by Fernando Guerrero, 2025.

I saw a zine by Lukasz Leja at the Bureau for General Services—Queer Division in New York City. They are one of the last LGBTQ book stores in the world. (January 22, 2026, catch The LGBTQHP there for a RUMI MISSABU PARTY and PALOOZA!) I asked the BGSQD folks to introduce me to Lukasz, but they did not. I then saw him in 3D at the Queer Zine Fest.

Fast forward to the interview. Luke is 29 and making a splash. He is interesting and interested. A painter and photographer active on social media, he works in a style that blends Tom of Finland and paintings that stare at you. It will be intriguing to see what happens to him as he gets older. He will be less nervous. Many of his works are sexual, but he does not like viewers to focus on that. He is well-rounded and wholesome.

When he moved to New York, Lukasz’s work became more intense, with the addition of a strong sense of community and creative independence, allowing him to create pieces that were more explicit and personal. As a former Emerging Artist Competition winner of the Tom of Finland Foundation, Lukasz's body of work continues to grow. It is now being shown around the world, featuring elements of eroticism and vulnerability, combined with a design approach that demonstrates rigor. His current exhibit, Satyriasis, which means “uncontrollable or excessive sexual desire in a man,” is happening now in Paris, France.

— August Bernadicou, Executive Director of The LGBTQ History Project

“I am from a small town in Poland. I grew up in a town called Międzyrzecz. It was super chill. I'm from a very rural, agricultural, heavy part of Poland: very green, with a lot of lakes and nature, stuff like that. So growing up was very charming. I was swimming in a lake and running through the forest. I had a big family when I was little.

I remember when I was in second grade, a friend of mine told us a crazy story. I was six years old, and she loved to tell lies and just make up stories. She came up to my sister and me, and she said she had an uncle and an aunt on one side of the family, and an uncle and an aunt on the other side of the family, and then she told us that both aunts were lesbian and both uncles were gay. So they were secretly—do you know what I mean? They were secretly—the gay guys were together, and the lesbian aunts were together. So that was when she told us there were the words ‘gay’ and ‘lesbian.’ I was like, ‘Oh, my God, there's like words to describe it, even if that story was fake.’ I was like, ‘Wow. Some people like it.’

I don't remember having a crush on anyone or being in love with anyone at that age. I feel like I had a lot of girlfriends and girls in my life that I liked—the boys I didn't really relate to that much.

I love to read. I love to draw. I love to paint. I was interested in instruments and music, and I tried to play instruments. I dreamed of having a camera, and then I got a camera, and I started photography, and was taking dance classes—trying everything there was in the creative world.

Painting by Lukasz Leja.

Nowhere in my town in Poland had a gay scene, as far as I knew, back then. It was a different time than it is now. There are many more bars now, and it's, you know, not like a stigma anymore, like back in the early 2000s when I was living there. It was much different, and living in a small town. It wasn't helping.

I loved Tom of Finland. I watched a movie about him, so I knew who he was, and then I learned of the foundation and the work they were doing. After he died in 1991, or in the last few years of his life, they started a foundation—the Tom of Finland Foundation—to preserve his work and uplift and support emerging queer artists. So after learning a lot about the foundation, I just really wanted to meet people. I started going through their events and submitted my paintings because they hold an emerging artist contest every two years. I submitted my paintings, and then I won the competition, so I got to meet everyone and became part of the panel.

I ask myself a lot of questions before I start a work—then the painting process is more technical. So by that time, I think about its colors, and then, when it's finished, and you share it, all those questions and feelings come back, because all of a sudden it's not just yours anymore.

I take some photographs to help myself with the lighting. I collect data—finding those things and analyzing them: how the light falls, shadows, and all of that. That takes a while. And then by the time I sit in front of the easel, I have all those questions answered. I just paint layer by layer, starting with, like, an under painting that's just one color, just browns to show the tones. Then I begin adding whites, lights, and then colors, cold colors, warm colors, and highlights. This is like a technical process. I have a collage. So, before I start painting, I make a collage of what I want. It's not anything like what the painting is going to be, but it contains the information I want to remember. I would have some notes there. I would collage sketches with photographs, textures and materials, and colors I want to reference. While I'm painting, it reminds me of all those ideas I collected.

I love geometry and everything I learned in architecture. Basically, I use it in my paintings. So when I make a composition, it's never very abstract or impressionistic. It's very geometry-heavy, with a clear grid and hidden forms in the painting. I like it when people notice that, when sometimes people come up to me, and they say, ‘Oh, I love this compositional triangle’ or something, and I'm like, ‘Oh, you see it, that's great.’ I love it when that happens. I wonder if they know about my background, or do they see everything I see.

I'm introverted, and I do more explicit paintings. When I show them to people, I don't know—the lines become blurry—even if it's something personal to me, the second I exhibit it, everyone's assuming a little bit of my personality or what I feel comfortable with.

I have nothing against porn, but I don't know how to describe it when you do like erotic, explicit—it's not the only thing I do, but like, for some reason, it gains more attention, so you kind of just being put in a little box, and sometimes that box feels tight, but I do like erotic arts. I feel like it's risky in your professional life because the world is not ready. It should be prepared by now, but yeah, sometimes it feels like a risk just to be open about your experiences and feelings, and I don't know how to do that.”