With great fondness: the sculptures of Karel Nepraš

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as a Fountain 1

I was lucky to catch the retrospective of Karel Nepraš at DOX Center for Contemporary Art on one of its last days. Considered an overdue examination of an important figure in Czech sculpture, the curators place Nepraš as an artist whose work contributed to the resurgence of visual cultures in the 1960s and who influenced Czech sculpture today. His artwork existed alongside and responded to the political changes of the past decades, often responding with absurdity to the perceived inconsistencies and oddities of life. Machines that look like people could so easily be kitschy or sentimental, but Nepraš’s dark humor prevents that.

Rodina (Family), in a characteristic and vibrant shade of red.

It is precisely because his sculpture of machine parts, kitchen utensils, and other common objects are dark and disjointed creatures that I felt they inspired great affection. Clunkily, endearingly humane, his sculptures root in his early years as a cartoonist became clear in this exhibition.  The exhibition continues up, floor after floor, culminating in the more complex works like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as a Fountain 1 (at top of page).

Check out the fantastic virtual tour of the exhibition for the (almost) full experience!

 

David Černý’s Upside-down Horse, Prague

Statue of  Saint Václav, commonly known in English as King Wenceslas, of Christmas Carol fame, in front of the Czech National Museum, Prague

The traditional 19th c. heroic statue of King Wenceslas by Josef Václav Myslbek dominates the top end of Wenceslas Square, a notable boulevard in Prague. Astride his steed, young King Wenceslas is a revered figure of the Czech people.

Enter Czech sculptor David Černý.

Saint Wenceslas by David Černý

Černý is known for his provocative sculptures, and, this one, inside the Lucerna Palace gallery not far from the traditional statue, demands similar attention. Sometimes considered a parody of the 19th c. statue, what deeper critique about the contemporary Czech republic lies here? Černý doesn’t comment on his work–and I imagine rarely needs to, since it is far from subtle–but this piece is generally considered an attack on Czech President Václav Klaus. There is an implicit contrast between the sainted Vaclav, who is legendary for being a pious and good leader, and the current president, and of course, riding a dead horse, strung upside down, hardly puts him in an effective position.

At the risk of accusing Černý of reverence for anything, one might say he too falls into the hero-worship of the distant past. Or perhaps the infant terrible merely thought it would be shocking to desecrate an iconic image. Saint Wenceslas is an incredibly effective installation, capturing the eye and provoking questions if not outrage. On my itinerary for my next trip to Prague, hopefully soon, is this great walking tour of Černý’s sculptures in Prague.