Art in the City

This year is symbolically wrapped in mysteries. Long ago the ancient Maya predicted that in December of this year time would close in on itself and the world would end. And so today's researchers sit in front of computers loaded with software, puzzling over the finiteness of the Mayan calendar and excitedly monitoring every suspicious apparition: strange circles in the corn in Wiltshire, the birth of a two-headed kitten in Texas, a UFO sighted 250 miles north-west of Tokyo. The Bulgarian scientist Lachezar Filipov, deputy director of the Sofia Institute for Space Research, even declared that extraterrestrials are already on Earth. He has no proof, but that is only because he has not yet been to České Budějovice.

Yesterday afternoon a strange machine crashed on Sokolský ostrov, which locals have taken to calling “The Grabber”. So began an invasion of Budějovice that has lasted until this afternoon. I take the appearance of the Archimedon here on náměstí Přemysla Otakara II to be extremely serious. This enormous object carries within it the same internal contradiction as the Mayan prophecy of time closing in on itself — time that ought, after all, to be endless. Frightened passers-by ask what it is. An abstract creature, perhaps — but then what of its industrial appearance? Where does it begin and where does it end? Its shape may reassure one person while its sheer bulk unsettles another. Many questions arise; in any case I recommend great caution on closer inspection. On the other side of the square, the dividedness of the Archimedon resonates with the thoughts hidden inside a great head, which may conceal the plan of the whole invasion. A head you can step into and be surrounded by light coming through stained glass, in an almost cathedral-like atmosphere; it becomes a refuge of calm and certainty, of absorption and reflection. But can you say for certain that it will not carry your thoughts somewhere else?

That you are entirely safe here, from the world and from yourself? Your own thoughts may frighten you and send you running from the square. I would advise slowing down, though, so as not to startle the stray extraterrestrial sitting in front of the Budějovice town hall. In stoic apathy he watches what goes on around him. Let us please keep his identity secret, so that scientists from NASA do not carry him off for laboratory research.

Once you have asked the extraterrestrial everything you want to know, carry on to the blind arm of the Malše. Your journey is closely watched by a large figure seated on the Budweis hotel. With a body made of hundreds of small parts, he has the most human appearance of all the visitors. After all these demanding encounters of the third kind you may want to cool off in the blind arm of the Malše. Be careful! An enormous octopus has settled there, perhaps a direct descendant of the legendary kraken. In the calm of her majesty she watches over the flow of the river and of summer time.

I am sure the people of Prague will envy Budějovice its very own octopus, and one called Eliška at that. I apologise to the sculptors for this fanciful introduction to the exhibition, and I would like to present to you Michal Trpák, author of the great head called IN THOUGHT placed here on the square; Jakub Flejšar, who made the large SEATED FIGURE on the Budweis hotel; Jaroslav Koléšek, the engineer of THE GRABBER; and the artists who are not with us — Viktor Paluš, whose huge octopus ELIŠKA has settled in the blind arm of the Malše; Lukáš Rais, who made the Archimedon weighing more than half a tonne; and finally Jaroslav Róna, whose Martian sits in front of the town hall on náměstí Přemysla Otakara II.

In closing I would like to wish you that the sculptures shown here in Budějovice carry you off, without fear and with pleasure, to another planet — the planet of art, dreams and summer fantasy…

Michal Trpák
sculptor and founder of the exhibition