There are still polemics on where to place the magnificent pictorial cycle of Alfons Mucha
Poor Alfons: he would never have imagined that the monumental paintings, to which he dedicated almost twenty years of his life, would have created a series of polemics. That they would, in other words, have divided instead of united his beloved countrymen. That’s the way it goes: “nemo profeta in patria”…
Conceived at the beginning of the twentieth century to celebrate the vigour and history of the Bohemian and Moravian people, also thanks to donations from the American magnate Charles Crane, the “Slav epic” is instead becoming a dangerous contention between the council of Moravský Krumlov (six-thousand inhabitants and a multitude of trees all around) and the large Prague capital city. And therefore, a symbol of division and not of a sacred union, as the “free mason” Mucha had dreamed of during his vagrant life in Europe and on the New Continent.
Yes, because from the Moravian point of view, and that of the mayor of the small centre Jaroslav Mokrý, it is the usual voracious, tentacular and arrogant Prague that wants to take away from Moravský Krumlov, “its” work of art, which is nowadays exhibited in the local castle. A typical case of “Prague-centrism” which could stifle the small councils, depriving them of precious monetary resources in these hard times. According to Mokrý, in fact, visitors to the epic are rather numerous and are said to bring many crowns into the empty Moravian council till.
Numerous are those who come here, especially during the summer months, in the small Renaissance castle designed, needless to say, by an Italian architect, Leonardo Gardo. They come to the village in particular to admire the 20 large format canvases which recount the stories and legends of Slav mythology. Twenty paintings done according to the style in vogue at the beginning of the twentieth century. Canvases that had been meditated on for twenty years re-examined and finally, exalted by the creative genius of the encyclopaedic Mucha.
To be honest, that which had become almost an existential scope, once completed, had not roused particular enthusiasm among Prague sceptics. There had been a certain amount of indifference during the definitive presentation of the cycle in 1928. And even before that, as the different pieces were being brought into Bohemia.
”An outdated project” had been the final judgement, according to the haughty critics of the first Republic of Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk. Too close to Art Nouveau, too floral the “sopracciò” Bohemians are said to have argued – being accustomed to living surrounded by countless artistic works of art, which history has, almost inadvertently granted to the capital. Well, thanks Mucha, we shall see what to do … had been the polite answer, a circumstantial thank you.
So, the Epic, which was to be immortal, ended up being exhibited at the Veletržní palác, and then… hear! hear! – in an anonymous suburban school. Rather little for one who wanted to transform it – rightly or wrongly – into an eternal flag of the Slav nation. It is the fate of the great and the noble.
The artist and patriot of Ivančice (a short distance from Brno) died at nearly eight-years of age, in 1939, probably on the will of the Nazi. He died knowing that his colossal artwork was lying in some cellar, no doubt to protect it from the hate of Adolf Hitler’s henchmen, but anyway, properly buried under the dust.
And now, however, seventy years on, the Prague municipality claims the right to hold a worthy exhibition “according to the wishes of the great Mucha – the assessor for culture Ondřej Pecha explains – in Prague the Mucha cycle would certainly find a suitable collocation, particularly on this 15th anniversary of his birth.”
Better late than never: when they had the occasion though – one must remember – the Capital hadn’t bothered so much. If it hadn’t been for the small Moravian town…
“It’s all true, but to expose the epic in Prague was in any case, Mucha’s wish” is the reply by those who demand at all costs that the paintings be transferred. Perhaps, in this war consisting of court summons, polemics between the artist’s heirs (who instead, would like to maintain the cycle in Moravský Krumlov), journalistic campaigns, little vendettas and unresolved parochial squabbles between the Capital and Moravia, a word of wisdom has finally been expressed by Klaus, the president of the Republic: “Leave the epic in the province – the sanguine Klaus has sentenced – Prague already has a lot of monuments”.
Peace, then, to the soul of the poor free mason Alfons and to his patriotic accomplishments. Has a little wisdom finally emerged between the quarrelsome guests of the Castle? …
By Ernesto Massimetti