In a city like Prague, where art is simply a part of the every day experience, we had plenty of choices to indulge our visual and auditory cravings.
We first visited the Alphonse Mucha exhibit in the Municipal Building in the center of town. The building itself was of course, gorgeous. We rode the fanciest elevator I have ever ridden, complete with tinkling Art Nouveau glass light fixtures, a green velvet sofa, and a tuxedo-clad door man.
The work was a collection of Mucha’s posters owned by the famous Czech tennis player, Ivan Lendl.
Up until this point, I had only seen pictures of Mucha’s work in art books. As I walked through the exhibit, I smiled the entire time. I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing his art for real.
Years ago, I wrote a poem about Mucha’s figures, which later turned into a song, thanks to Benjamin and an old friend of ours. Some lyrics include:
She is a woman with sandstone skin
hips draped in muslin of leafy green
languid arms, elegant hands, in various pose
Alphonse, how the public loves a curve
and you are no exception
When I wrote this last line, I did not mean that Mucha was not exceptional, of course not, far from it. His drawing and painting skills are unquestionably brilliant. And it wasn’t like I was trying to say, “Oh, Alphonse, you typical man. Of course you want to draw nudes.” I wasn’t there, so this could have been true, but in the poem I was not trying to say something condescending or common.
It was the expressions on most of the women’s faces that made me write that line. To me, they looked like they were teasing him in a familiar, warm, and friendly way. Yes, they are sexy, but more than this, they seem to be sharing in some moment of humor, knowing that what they were creating together, he as the artist and they as the subject, would indeed be popular. Even the figures who look serious or scary seem to be having fun in their drama, enjoying the stage and their role.
The man’s subjects have such a subtle grace combined with a lovely mischief. When I saw his work up close, when I was there, among the physical paper, I understood that his love of female curves was a true one, a devoted one, a pleasure. And this was beautiful.
My favorite piece of his is called, “The Lily.” In the Municipal Building, I saw the completed poster with its characteristic pastel colors and black outlines. This is another quality of Art Nouveau that I like, how so much of it looks like coloring book pages. I say this as a complete compliment to Mucha. There is nothing more relaxing than coloring with crayons. We do it as kids, but try doing it as an adult. I promise, you will remember how good it feels. “The Lily” was stunning. She stood up very straight and confident, with her head and body covered in tiger lilies, and again, there was that pose. Like his other models, she seemed to be sincerely playing up the moment.
I was in awe seeing the finished poster of “The Lily”, but then, when we visited the Museum Kampa, I saw his drawing of her. Wow. There is something about drawings that quiets me. When sketches are in front of me, I like to imagine that I can hear the process…the scratching. In galleries and museums, I stand as close as I can to sketches, specifically for this reason. To hear them. And “The Lily” made a lovely sound. This drawing is so perfect, I was humbled. The lines flow like nothing I have ever seen. I have been in several figure drawing classes, so I know how hard it is to make that first mark. Once you’re inside it, lost in ‘art time’ as one of my teachers used to say, it’s not that it gets easier, it is a challenge for every line, gesture, and contour, but there is a connection that you feel. You’re not physically touching the body with your pencil, but it feels like you are, like you have to, to get it right. Another teacher of mine said, “Drawing is seeing.” And it is. Your eyes guide your hand.
Alphonse Mucha, thank you for your eyes.