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.

The Golem in the Attic, and Other Tales


Buried deep in the New York Times this weekend, you might have noticed the article entitled, Hard Times Give New Life to Prague’s Golem. This would be scary were it true; a golem is, after all, a monster. Yet the golem is a unique and relatively recent monster, one of debatable bloodlust.

The inhabitants of Prague might now consider it a deformed patron saint of sorts, akin to Quasimodo in Paris, when they see vendors hawking little statues and images of it. The Golem is a historically Jewish monster with a long history. Mentioned once in the Bible, the instructions for fashioning one are in the Book of Creation, part of the Kabala, and involve forming it in clay and bringing it to life with words. What results is a strong creature with blazing eyes and an inability to speak. It will keep going on whatever task it’s creator assigns it until it is destroyed.

The most well-known story of the golem is connected to a Rabbi Loew, called the Maharal of Prague, in the 1500s. It was said that he created a golem out of clay to protect the Jewish community from blood libel and to help out doing physical labor. (Medieval inhabitants sometimes even planted children in Jewish houses to spur riots against the Jews who were ritually killing and drinking the blood of Prague’s children.) The golem acted as a protector of the Jewish community for a time.

Then the golem ran amok, threatening innocent lives. Rabbi Loew removed the Divine Name he had written on the golem’s forehead, rendering it lifeless. He saved the clay body in case it was ever needed again. It is widely suspected the golem is still lying in the attic of Rabbi Loew’s temple in Prague.

Whenever times are tough, and people need protection, the golem becomes more popular. Unfortuantely, as the legend shows, golems literal and dogged following of instructions often has bad results. So this odd hero/protector/monster is returning to populairty in Prague, according to the New York Times. If he mad more artistic debuts, we’d be lucky.

The golem has sprung up all over the arts for the past few centuries. He had appeared in early silent films (since lost) and even a ballet. (This conjures up images of the elephant ballet dancers from the movie Fantasia, so I can’t even imagine what it a golem would dance like.) The golem of Prague has appeared in more recent novels, such as Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, in which Josef Kavalier helps save the Golem of Prague from Nazi invasion, Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, and Dara Horn’s The World To Come, about the life of artist Marc Chagall. All three of these books are fascinating reads of historical interest with great storylines.

Statue of the Golem of Prague