Anna Ročnová / Gerbera won't break

The artists of the collective exhibition The Other Side of a Photograph share unusual visuality, the consistency of light and the concept of individual photographs that challenge conventions. Selected works by the tandem of Lukáš Jasanský and Martin Polák, Michal Kalhous, Alena Kotzmannová, Marie Kratochvílová and Markéta Othová, in dialogue with Jan Svoboda's personal approach to photography and Jiří Kovanda's subtle interventions, allow us to glimpse, through their shared sensitivity, the hidden reality of the world in unexpected detail.

The selection of analogue, mostly black-and-white photographs seemingly captures what almost all of us see. In many cases, banal and sometimes even unphotogenic situations, often emphasised in a deliberately unprofessional manner to the point of amateur photography, are sometimes embarrassing. However, the mundane in them opens up wide boundaries of beauty that we probably would not have thought of without their help. Susan Sontag descrines it in the chapter The Heroism of Vision: “No one has ever found ugliness through photography. But many have discovered beauty in this way. Except when the camera is used for documentation or as part of a social ritual, what makes people take photographs is a desire to find something beautiful..."[1]

All of the artists, like Jan Svoboda (1934-1990) from the late 1960s, have in various ways transcended the established principles and canons of photography and in their distinctive approach deliberately questioned its supposed message and formal perfection, expanding it with new possibilities of treatment and perception. "The things I do show no artistry. And I want them not to. I want them not to be pretty, to be as ordinary as possible, not to dazzle, not to shock, not to surprise...”[2] Just like Svoboda's work, the works of the mentioned artists have never aspired to conform to standard photographic practices, and like him, some of them have also expressed their opposition to the very term photographer. The theorists Pavel Vančát and Jan Freiberg introduced for their broader thinking and grasp of the medium the fitting tem of "nonphotography"[3] referencing the term anti- or non-photography coined by Nancy Foote in 1976 in relation to postmodern photography.[4]

What makes their photographs so similar is their sophisticated work with technical imperfection, the peculiar tonality of the narrow grey scale and often the use of large formats in sharp contrast to the intimacy and apparent banality of the chosen subjects. Like Svoboda, they focus on their immediate surroundings such as the environment of their homes and the ordinary objects with which we share our private space. In a photograph constructed as an autonomous surface, the role of light in its reflection and absorption is essential, and so is the relationship between objects and their background, with its demarcation often so subtle that the two planes almost merge. This is of course enhanced by the narrow tonality of grey in the choice of black-and-white photography: "Since black-and-white configurations are theoretical, they cannot really exist in the world. But black-and-white photographs do exist. They are in fact the images of the conceptions of the theory of optics, which means that they arose from this theory. [...] Therein lies their strange beauty, identical to the beauty of the conceptual universe. This is why many photographers prefer black-and-white photographs as they reveal more clearly the true meaning of photography, i.e. the world of conceptios."[5]

In regard to the legacy of Jan Svoboda and his exceptional sensitivity, the exhibition shows selected photographs from the broader oeuvres of the individual artists in which forms and procedures more or less referring to Svoboda's work can be recognized. Due to the very narrow theme scope of the exhibition concept, images from various cycles and in some cases diptychs have been selected in collaboration with the artists, and it should be noted that their meaning, which was established in the original context through the composition of their units, has been altered for this specific event.

[1] SONTAG, Susan. O fotografii. Brno, Praha a Litomyšl: Barrister & Principal a Paseka, p. 80.

[2] OTHOVÁ, Markéta; CÍSAŘ, Karel; JANÍČKOVÁ, Adéla, a NOVOTNÝ, Michal. Markéta Othová: již brzy. V Praze: Národní galerie, 2022, p. 7.

[3] VANČÁT, Pavel, a FREIBERG, Jan (eds.). Fotografie?? / Photography?? (exh. cat.). Klatovy: Galerie Klatovy / Klenová, 2004.

[4] FOOTE, Nancy. The Anti-Photographers. Artforum, September 1976, year 15, no. 1., pp. 46–54. Also here:

Douglas FOGLE (ed.). The Last Picture Show. Artists Using Photography, 1960–1982 (exh. cat.). Minneapolis: Walker Art Center 2003, pp. 24–31.

[5] FLUSSER, Vilém. Za filosofii fotografie. Prague: Fra, 2013, pp. 48–49.

Anna Ročnová / Gerbera won't break

22.05.2024 - 27.07.2024

Fait Gallery PREVIEW, Ve Vaňkovce 2, Brno

Curator: Lenka Vítková

Opening: 22nd May, 7 pm

LV: I am fascinated by the strange calmness that emanates from your work, the absence of any hint of moralizing. How has working in a flower shop changed your art practice?

AR: It's not a closed process. I was learning the floristry craft and was surprised by how many things I knew from my art work. My things are often infused with what I'm experiencing, for example, I was preparing the exhibition Mown Gooseberry in my late grandmother's house just before it was renovated, the garden was also undergoing a change, so I turned the trees and shrubs that my grandmother liked into objects. It's the same with floristry, I apply florist methods, materials to art and see how it manifests.

LV: In your studio I was really impressed by your respect for everything you handle, including the crude oil that the florist mats are made of, or the dark liquids that prevent decay in floristry. How do you work? Can you describe the process, and what is its goal?

AR: I usually start by surrounding myself with materials. I bring various kinds of wood, leaves, fruits, now I also visit florist shops, skewers, wire, dry materials, etc into the studio, I also work with more traditional sculptural materials, plaster, clay, and I like to use fabric.

I fold, glue and group, fill, cut, melt, dye, sew, burn. I may use an object I made years ago and revive it in a new constellation. The subsequent installation is just as important as the creation of each object. In the installation I create what we often see in nature. I think atmospherically it's the details of the landscape, the forest, and I'm also interested in interfaces, places on the outskirts of the city where wilderness stretches into the city, the edges of pavements, bits of concrete lost amng grass and overgrown bushes in which a colour microtene bag is caught.

I refer to the process of my work as "extended nature". And that is the goal of my work. The result is a whole that looks natural, as if it came into existence and grew by itself, just like it happens in nature. When I exhibit outdoors, the viewer doesn't have to be sure whether they are looking at a work of art or a work of nature.

What I also enjoy about working with naturalia is their emotionality, the process of birth and decline, growth and decay, rotting, drying. All these processes on the surface co-create the emotionality that my objects subsequently exude. Emotion is an important clue for me. And I think it is ultimately emotions that determine what the objects will look like.

LV: You also mentioned the need to set a kind of tension that your objects really hold for me - they make me wonder, they're not easily interpreted. Would you like to say more about that?

AR: I think the tension you're talking about is between the parts that make up my objects. Sometimes I modify them by reinforcing the emotion I want the object to emit, for example, by employing used engine oil, permanganate, or burning. My objects are characterized by fragility, I am interested in destruction which I perceive, like it is in nature, as part of a cycle, not as something catastrophic. But I'm also interested in other situations, like water running down a rock, the depth of observation from larger wholes to the tiniest detail.

LV: Acknowledging the possibility of destruction - for me it is also the acceptance of life and its cycles. But the usual requirement placed on a work of art is that it should be as durable as possible. How much do you think about this, is it a challenge for you?

AR: Actually, I have never asked myself this question during my work. Many objects are very resistant. I tested this when I exhibited outdoors. Some of the objects are still in place today and are gradually growing into their surroundings. Others have not changed their appearance at all after six months of exposure to the elements, and continue to permeate my other installations.

Fragile objects can be adjusted in glass boxes, following the example of natural exhibits. However, when installing and creating objects, I have little interest in the issue of durability and do not emphasize it in my choice of materials.

LV: What obstacles do you have to overcome in your work? Or do the flow and joy prevail?

AR: I really enjoy exploring the possibilities of new connections, the strange energy that is present during the process. Sometimes I can't communicate with the material. Then it helps to take it apart and put it back together again, to be able to touch it and connect with it in some way. I become a part of it and that makes it whole.

Interview with Anna Ročňová (AR) on the exhibition Gerbera Won't Break was led by Lenka Vítková (LV).

Go back