May 3. Prague
Friday May 3, Prague.
Finding ourselves in the Jewish quarter, Chris and I decided to walk around that area next. She had especially wanted to see the museum in the Pinkas synagogue near the old Jewish cemetery, where she remembered having seen drawings by the children of Terezin. Chris had been particularly moved by the fact that most of the children were within a few years of her in age, and most had eventually died at Auschwitz. She felt connected with them through the very different life she might have lived if her family had not left Germany when she was 4 years old. Photo 2 shows Chris looking at the display of the drawings.
I was moved by the way drawing was taught, the way the children were invited to draw troubling memories, hopes, and dreams, to play with copying and modifying great paintings, to play with mythological themes. I read about the art teacher and about many of the adults who worked hard to shelter the children under those extraordinary conditions, to help them express and make sense of their experience and go on growing and learning. I don’t know if those adults realized how catastrophic the situation really was and how many of them adults and children alike would die. But I am deeply impressed by how, on the face of trauma, they kept hope alive in large part by their service to the young.
As we returned home, I noticed that the large metal sculpture across the street from our hotel was a gigantic head and that it was built of metal bands that moved. I looked around for the sculptor’s name and it was David Cerny (the same sculptor as the one who made the hanging Freud). I went online and learned about this controversial and provocative sculptor and I may see if I can find some more of his sculptures tomorrow. They puzzle me - I can’t really quit make meaning of them - but they fascinate me and linger in my mind the way strong dream images do. Photo 4 shows a couple views of the head.
Dear Trail Friends,
This morning Chris and I were intending to do a self-guided walking tour of the old town area but I decided we needed to see the seven foot Freud statue Hanging Man by David Cerny. Photo 1 is a collage with the statue shown in relation to the buildings around it on the left and a close-up on the right. Unfortunately my iPhone camera isn’t able to give a clear hi-resolution close-up, but perhaps you get the impression of Freud in his suit and vest, one hand in his pocket, hanging nonchalantly from a great height. I am unable to find a meaning or metaphor in the sculpture that relates to my version of Freud, but I find that it stays with me and I can’t let go of my desire to find some meaning in it that is relevant to me.
Finding ourselves in the Jewish quarter, Chris and I decided to walk around that area next. She had especially wanted to see the museum in the Pinkas synagogue near the old Jewish cemetery, where she remembered having seen drawings by the children of Terezin. Chris had been particularly moved by the fact that most of the children were within a few years of her in age, and most had eventually died at Auschwitz. She felt connected with them through the very different life she might have lived if her family had not left Germany when she was 4 years old. Photo 2 shows Chris looking at the display of the drawings.
I was moved by the way drawing was taught, the way the children were invited to draw troubling memories, hopes, and dreams, to play with copying and modifying great paintings, to play with mythological themes. I read about the art teacher and about many of the adults who worked hard to shelter the children under those extraordinary conditions, to help them express and make sense of their experience and go on growing and learning. I don’t know if those adults realized how catastrophic the situation really was and how many of them adults and children alike would die. But I am deeply impressed by how, on the face of trauma, they kept hope alive in large part by their service to the young.
The thought of how few of those children would survive brought back the photograph of the swan sitting on her egg, an egg that might never hatch.
Judy arrived in the early afternoon and she and I walked around with no definite aim. We wandered through bookstores, tea stores, a backpack store. We followed a man carrying a round white circular screen (photo 3) hoping to discover what it was for, but to no avail. We followed him into a cafe where he set it down and since we were too shy to ask what it was, we simply went on our way.
As we returned home, I noticed that the large metal sculpture across the street from our hotel was a gigantic head and that it was built of metal bands that moved. I looked around for the sculptor’s name and it was David Cerny (the same sculptor as the one who made the hanging Freud). I went online and learned about this controversial and provocative sculptor and I may see if I can find some more of his sculptures tomorrow. They puzzle me - I can’t really quit make meaning of them - but they fascinate me and linger in my mind the way strong dream images do. Photo 4 shows a couple views of the head.
Though I’ve seen the metal bands move I haven’t seen anything like some of the films I found on the internet; for example, see this YouTube;
When I watch these I relate emotionally to what the artist said about a similar sculpture called Metalmorphosis installed in North Carolina, that it was in some ways a portrait of his experience of himself. I do experience myself as sometimes quite intact and recognizable as a person, a face, and at other times (as the sculpture appears at times in the video) as something inhuman, elemental, in motion and utterly impersonal. .
It’s late and I’m tired. There were a few other photos and themes I had hoped to touch on but I think I had better go to sleep for now.
Thank you as always for walking with me. We will see what tomorrow will bring along this trail. The formal tour group gathers tomorrow afternoon.
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