Artist Marie Brozova's recollections of the public drawing event in Lysa nad Labem.
Last year, when I came back with my project The Defense of Colored Pencils to south-bohemian town Jindrichuv Hradec, I felt a special kind of blessing, because I succeeded in stepping for the second time into the same river. As if I crossed the whole year and continued in the same reality. I tried to savor every moment of this precious gift of the fortune, as if I knew, that even a Sunday child, who I really am in every respect, could not hope for repeated wonders.
And sure enough, when I came back to Jindrichuv Hradec for the third time, I felt as if I entered a different town. I do not know if this initial impression was caused by the drained pond Vajgar, which used to mirror the castle in a compelling magic. But maybe I should have thought of the immortal quotation by Heracleitos that says that you cannot step twice into the same river, because the water is new and you yourself are not the same. And when I watched the excavators cleaning the muddy bottom I wished it would be possible to clean a human soul as easily as the muddy pond.
The atmosphere of many places in this town had changed – the charisma of the 15th Meridian vanished, even though it was marked by a new metal sign in many languages. Tourist no longer fumble around the church, they do not have to ask local people, where the hell is the glorious meridian. They can even obtain a certificate proving they have crossed the meridian. But in spite of all this, all the fairies and ghosts packed their bags and left the place, with Mrs. Sorsova in the lead, a lady who was so old she could not remember her age. But who knows, maybe they only stopped appearing to people and wait there in silence.
I was quite glad, when my public drawing event was transferred from the 15th Meridian to the main square. I started to work on my new drawing in archway full of flowers in the renaissance Langr House. Old places stopped talking to me, but it was even more adventurous to look for new ones. It took only a few steps from my easel, and I could visit Italy. At the end of a hall of Langer House you could enter a courtyard, a small green oasis in the middle of a busy town, full of colorful flowers in various pots. It was a dreamy refuge, where we could refresh ourselves after a strenuous labor of putting out the outside exhibition. Every time I found a new detail I did not notice before – a small sapling of ginkgo with its fan-shaped leaves, the most ancient kind of all trees; a living fossil hundred millions years old. It was planted in parks in Europe in 18th century brought from the Chinese hallowed gardens. It makes me happy to see the new generation beside the giant ginkgo trees. Another time I noticed a frog head carved in stone well or alpine plants planted into original pots – washed out stones with natural hollows. In the end, thanks to Mr. Langr, we could visit the ancient cellars spinning mysteriously under the Langr House.
What remained the same were the kind people you can meet only in South Bohemia. Even now I miss them. They agreed that I captured the tense atmosphere casting a shadow on Jindrichuv Hradec. They expressed their hopes that this tension could pass as easily as it was drawn in my drawing. Thanks to all these immensely hospitable people Jindrichuv Hradec moved my heart again and I did not hesitate to promise that I would come back again next year. The idea for my drawing usually comes to me not until at the place. The strangely thick electric atmosphere inspired me to a playful image "The Witches of summer storm". High above Jindrichuv Hradec you can see joyous beautiful witches speeding on their brooms through the heavy clouds, but you can see sun shining and a rainbow rain falling down on the town. All the visitors were bewitched by their beauty, and children were puzzled, because they did not know this kind of witches from fairy tale, where these beings are represented as old and extremely ugly. But what else would witches conjure up then youth and beauty?
I remember very well the moment when I heard a silent girlish voice. A little girl was scared of the storms. And her mother told her: "You see, we though that the storm was caused by heavy clouds crashing into one another. But it is only witches flying with their pots and pans to cook something delicious. And as these dishes crash, we can see the lighting and hear the thunder. Funny, isn't it? We don't have to be scared of storm anymore." I hope it worked, because I remember a very similar moment, when I had lost my fear of storms thanks to my grandpa. When I was small, I was worried probably the most of storms and spiders. Once in the summer a heavy thunderstorm caught us on the way, when we were running to a bus stop to get home from our cottage. We finally reached the bus stop, where I stood in my wet plastic raincoat under a small shelter. But alas, there was a huge spider in its cobweb inside. I was thinking what was worse – the rain or the spider? But my grandpa started to tell me a story about the lucky spider that was at home at this horrible weather, when we had such a long way home before us. And think of the thunderstorm, where does it have its home? I do not know what magic was hidden in the story, but I started to look at the spider friendlier and the thunder was not worrying me so much. Now I have no problem to catch spiders in a glass and take them out. And I am looking forward to thunderstorms because I know they would clear the air so the summer could go on – as it did in Jindrichuv Hradec. The Witches of summer storm were very kind to my public drawing event; they crashed with their dishes only during the night. All days of my drawing among the blossoming red hibiscus it was sunny. I was protected from the sun by a beautiful orange summer hat I found in a charming gallery Inspirace, run by Jiri and Sabina Langr.
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