In your new work Paradiso Novo, you speak about our alienation from nature – that we curate it, rather than truly live it. What first drew you to this theme?
Yes, as beings born into a pre-packaged world of paved suburbs and supermarkets, we’re losing nature’s authentic face. Raised on nature documentaries with Alfréd Strejček’s captivating voice, I decided to experience it in its raw, unironed form. This became reality when, during my studies at UMPRUM, I had the chance for an exchange in New Zealand, where as we know, its last fragments still exist. There I existed for long months, sleeping in a car and running many kilometers on exploratory missions every other day. I dare say I reawakened in those forests.
Your earlier work Erebo was immersed in darkness and chaos, while Paradiso Novo feels like an artificially created paradise. What does this shift from darkness to nature mean for you?
I draw from nature throughout almost my entire artistic practice. In Erebo, through calcified shells of organisms, I examined cycles of birth and death. It wasn’t pessimistic – I was pointing to life’s natural cycle. Still, the disruption of our apparent immortality is frustrating. To be honest, every living being’s expiration date terrifies me.
Maybe that’s why I subconsciously try to bypass that finality in my newest series. Paradiso Novo simultaneously reveals our desire to improve nature. I create synthetic beings that only mimic real ones. Perhaps this synthetic paradise is actually more terrifying than the seemingly dark Erebo.
Your work feels more like an experience than just an object. What do you think about what remains with the viewers after they’ve seen your pieces?
All new projects gradually emerged from experiences. I don’t desire the viewer to leave just feeling they’ve seen a beautiful object. I’d be happy if they were pulled, even momentarily, from our capitalist world and through these “sculptural portals” immersed back into the distant rivers of their original roots and instincts.
You connect strong symbolism with precise material craftsmanship. What significance does the creative process and working with material hold for you?
Process is as important to me as the result. I don’t command glass – I negotiate with it. It’s a material with its own will that comes demonically alive at the furnace. I enjoy “taming” it. But it has its limits. In the Paradiso Novo series, I found a way to transcend them.
Our new theme Collective Currents celebrates creators who resonate with us long-term and help shape our cultural ecosystem. How do you imagine the idea of “collective current” in your practice, and what would you like to flow forward from your works within our artistic ecosystem?
I imagine collective current as a mountain spring, where each artist brings their own mineral. If we could mix this “mountain liquor” together so it refreshes people outside the gallery bubble, culture would certainly come alive – though that’s largely in the hands of curators and media.
I’d really love to continue on this liberated, sculptural path, and I believe Paradiso Novo is a new beginning.
