Today, I found myself immersed in Peter Pollág’s painting Christmas Sale of Carps, a work that immediately drew me into its chaotic yet strangely familiar atmosphere. At first, the blurred figures and layered brushstrokes felt overwhelming, almost disorienting, but the longer I looked, the more the scene became clear: a bustling Christmas market alive with movement, tradition, and anticipation.
I couldn’t help but think about the tradition Pollág captures here—the Central and Eastern European custom of buying a live carp in the days leading up to Christmas Eve, the last day of Advent. It’s fascinating to me how this fish, humble and unassuming, can carry such profound significance. Families keep the carp alive, often in bathtubs, which transforms a mundane act of food preparation into something magical. I imagine children peering over the edge of the tub, mesmerized by the fish swimming in their home—a living emblem of the holiday.
The carp is more than food; it’s a symbol. Resilient, adaptable, and practical, it represents survival, prosperity, and renewal. I find it remarkable that a simple meal, born of necessity in times of scarcity, has evolved into something sacred—a ritual that brings families together and ties them to the rhythms of their history.
Pollág captures this beautifully. His painting doesn’t provide clean lines or easy answers—it’s intentionally chaotic. Figures blur together, dissolving into the wintry grays and browns of the landscape. It reminds me of the way memories work: fluid, imperfect, and shared. The marketplace is alive but muted, as if the painting itself understands the bittersweet nature of tradition. Yes, there’s joy and energy, but there’s also a quiet melancholy—a subtle recognition that time is always moving forward.
Looking at Pollág’s work, I felt like I was part of that crowd—hurrying through the cold air, navigating the noise, my hands numb but my heart warmed by the collective anticipation. The beauty of this painting lies in its universality. Though it captures a specific tradition in a specific place, the scene resonates with anyone who has ever prepared for a holiday. It’s about the work, the chaos, and the effort that make celebrations meaningful.
The more I reflected on the painting, the more I thought about the importance of traditions—both preserving them and allowing them to evolve. The carp tradition has survived generations, but it hasn’t remained static. Today, some families reinterpret the ritual—perhaps choosing sustainable alternatives or modernizing the meal to fit new values. And yet, the essence remains the same: connection, preparation, and celebration.
I think there’s something powerful about creating new traditions, too. Whether it’s trying a new recipe, sharing stories, or simply spending time with loved ones, the holidays offer us an opportunity to be intentional. Like Pollág’s painting, traditions can feel messy and imperfect, but their beauty lies in the effort we make to honor them.
Peter Pollág’s Christmas Sale of Carps has stayed with me with season. It reminds me that rituals—even the seemingly mundane ones—are threads that bind us to our families, our histories, and ourselves. Traditions, whether old or newly created, carry weight because they give meaning to the moments that might otherwise slip by unnoticed. Like the carp itself—humble, resilient, and enduring—these rituals sustain us, offering continuity and connection in a world that is always changing.