Malostranské dvorky 1981

Malá Strana (Lesser Quarter) was a scene of an exhibition-happening that provided normalized Prague and its somewhat surprised citizens and visitors an unexpected mirror. “Sochy a objekty na malostranských dvorcích” (Sculptures and Objects in the Courtyards of Lesser Town) was its full title, and it must have somehow slipped for one weekend the omnipresent communist censorship, because it was an independent artistic expression in its own right, clearly out of line with the official doctrine of that time. The year was 1981.

There was no printed catalogue available when we arrived. We had to write down the addresses of houses, authors and the names of objects from a posted list. A visitor, armed with this list, would go from one place to the next searching for the objects of art composed into the intricate fabric of Malá Strana.

A Visitor’s Experience:

I learned about the 'Malostranské dvorky' exhibition from a friend, which was common in the occupied communist Czechoslovakia during 70's and early 80's. The establishment had been systematically suppressing any signs of independent thinking in fear that anyone who stepped out of a line was potentially dangerous to the regime’s grip on the society. Non-conforming artistic expression to the official doctrine of the time (called “socialist realism”) was harassed by weary agents of oppression - police, party bureaucrats, ideologues. It was already unusual that an 'underground' exhibition could take place in public; who knows how the organizers managed to fool the system? There were no advertisements for the event (and no addmision fee for that matter).

The venue was the historical district of Malá Strana in downtown Prague. When we arrived, there were rumors floating around that the secret police had already confiscated the most striking objects within a few hours of the exhibition’s opening. It was a beautiful autumn day, and I was exploring the intricate web of old cobblestone streets, medieval houses, and courtyards with a girl I loved, those intimate parts of the city that a casual visitor rarely gets a chance to visit. We had a piece of paper in our hands with hand-written listings of the names of the authors, the objects/sculptures, and locations where they were displayed. (cont.)

(cont.) The message was clear: no matter how obscured we may be at the moment, the creative forces of this society were oozing through the windows of our jails and dark cellars and demanding change. At least that I felt.

As we walked from one address to another, following our list and looking for objects that were installed in surprising and unexpected spaces, we gradually realized that we kept seeing the same people. They also held their hand-written notes as we did, and suddenly there was a spontaneous urge among us to share experiences and talk about what we were seeing and where. It was a wonderfully refreshing break from the indifferent and even grumpy encounters with fellow citizens typical for a normal day in the Prague of that era. This newly discovered openness and appreciation was easy to interpret as a glimpse at the coming liberation from our current morass.

As we spent time there, the better future was announcing itself, and it was full of promise. It turned out that it took another 8 years until the totalitarian regime was broken in 1989 and the people could start realizing their dreams of an open and free society.

Malostranske Dvorky