June 16, 2019 | Weekend Miser

When plans fall stagnant in the middle of the day, follow a trail of sound until you reach a lively destination. That’s what lead me, Casey and Brie to the Regabus 25th birthday party celebration that was posted up outside of a sports arena. I’m not sure if we needed any credentials to get into this event, but the giant camera around my neck usually serves as an all access pass in these situations.

We approached the stage where a woman was singing and dancing with children surrounding her while parents cooed and videoed. Mothers are protective of their children’s privacy, so I didn’t get too many warm expressions when I pointed my lens in the direction of a child. If I was in the U.S., I’d just say, “can I airdrop that to you?” and keep it pushing. Instead, I resorted to smiling with my eyes as if to make a half-assed, cloddish apology before I began to bob and weave through the crowd again. Regabus had a craft station for children to retire to when they had enough attention for the afternoon. I was not allowed to to make a paper chain. Though a shame, I understood. I wouldn’t let me either if I was them.

A man swapped places with the singing woman on stage and called for the contestants of the dance competition. Five couples took the floor with battle energy, ages ranging from teens to elders. One man in attendance volunteered as crowd control to prevent interferences and distractions. The tension was thick. Cookies with printed fondant photos of Regabus buses were at stake. People flailed their arms to the rhythm and shouted with every musical climax. In the end, the woman to the left stole the show with her husband.

And it was no surprise to observers, including myself.

The Czech Republic is home to incredible works of art, art history and artists. Church ceilings are bedecked with fresco paintings, streets are lined with renowned architecture and museums showcase pieces from the hands of distinguished artists. Though outsiders may not visit with the intent to see it, they do not leave without a newfound appreciation for the art.

We visited the museum of Czech artist Alfons Mucha this week; it’s the only museum in the world that is dedicated to his work. Mucha is known for his influence in the Art Nouveau movement, producing massive murals, posters and book covers. He is also responsible for many of the designs that are found on Czech banknotes and stamps today. From 1909 to 1928, he created the Slav Epic — a celebrated collection of 20 murals that visually convey the history of Czechoslovakia.

Standing before some of these pieces left me in awe. There appears to be a parallel between his art and the modern works of current artists globally who have taken to Adobe Illustrator to create similar silk screen looks. His impact continues to inspire both students and professionals alike.

June 13, 2019 | Noticed

My high school dark room, circa 2015: I stumbled through the dark in a small supply closet turned photo lab praying to Margaret B. White that I wouldn’t #$!% anything up. I worked under a single red light as any other type of light with the exception of green would subject me to failure. My photojournalism teacher, Patricia Lewis, stood outside of the door guiding me and my classmate through the development process. I was tense, to say the least. That was my first and what I thought would be my last dark room experience.

We spent a a quarter of the day at the Museum Fotoatelier Seidel absorbing the photo powers of the late Josef Seidel through his walls. Backyard, attic and everything in between. Each of us learned how to operate a large format camera. Dreamy. We got into costume, and I assumed the role of the metrosexual professor. When it was time to make my partner’s portrait, I pulled the invisibility cloak over my head and focused her upside down reflection on the back of the device. For a moment, we were all taken back to the first photo assignment in the introductory photo composition course — camera obscura. I think we’re all proud of our growth since then.

We spent time in both of the house’s dark rooms developing negatives, making prints and crafting aesthetically appealing photograms. I mentioned that I would one day have a castle in the blog post before this one, I believe. That castle will have a dark room. Overall, it was so refreshing to bond with our hosts over the art of photography and its learning curves. Imagery brings people together.

June 12, 2019 | Little Wonder

I love a culture that appreciates the art of snacking between meals. In the Czech Republic, the people have a saying that represents their eating cycle. “Take breakfast for yourself, lunch with a friend and save your dinner for your enemy.” This essentially means have a light breakfast, pig out during lunch and eat a very light dinner. Lunch is the primary hearty meal around here, which makes sense because the majority of kitchens close an hour after sunset. In turn, snacks have been imperative for me as I’m accustomed to 24-hour restaurants and godless 7/11 convenient stores.

We have arrived in Český Krumlov for our two day venture outside of Prague. Our three hour bus ride was interrupted by a detour halfway through to tour the Zvikov castle built in the thirteenth century. I can only hope that my two degrees build me a castle of my own one day. I’d live in the watchtower and tell visitors that they have to pay the troll toll if they wish to enter. (Really missing It’s Always Sunny…)

After ditching our tour bus, we kicked up our feet to rest in our bed and breakfast-esque hotel rooms before touring the town of only 13,000 people. During this tour, we saw yet another enormous castle. America needs more castles. We ended the night with a Medieval style dinner, complete with oatmeal for dessert. It was delicious, albeit I remained hungry.

Snack time.

June 11, 2019 | Around Here

TW: Violence, Holocaust

A day of mourning. In the garden of the Lidice memorial, there are at least a dozen different kinds of roses that represent the resilience and hope for the village. Though beautiful, photographing the scene was not my top priority. The history was indigestible. We grieved the lives lost as we breathed the rose scented air that once smelled of ash. The photo above was taken this evening at a park near my flat. It grew the same roses that lined the edges of the garden. Like the flowers at Lidice, they too were in full bloom as if they existed only to honor the tragedies in their soil.

77 years and one day ago, the village of Lidice was destroyed at the hands of the German Nazis in retaliation to the assassination of German General Reinhard Heydrich. Why Lidice? The village had no correlation to the assassination. It was offered up to Adolf Hitler by Karl Herman Frank. He believed that the masses would become too fearful to turn against him once the SS exterminated an entire civilization. Genocide was a tactic which was not seldom used.

Hitler ordered for all adult men to be shot. They lined up 173 men behind a barn, propping mattresses up against the wall to be sure that the bullets did not ricochet and harm them. All 184 of the women were sent to concentration camps where 153 survived. 105 children were sent to the Chełmno concentration camp. 82 were sent to the gas chambers while the remaining others had potential for “Germanisation.” The children who passed are memorialized by a bronze sculpture of 82 children titled “The Lidice Children.” They are each the actual size of a child with eyes wide in terror, forever staring at the remnants of their home.

June 10, 2019 | The Nocturnalist

Predictability is a universally common human trait. I’ve observed its prominence while studying here and its congruence with the habits of Americans. In the past, I would chalk it up to my own intuition. Intuition is merely a symptom of predictability. It truly boils down to the observed behavioral patterns that become indications of a next move. Wholly speaking, this allows us to prepare our headspaces for affliction, revelation or, in my case, a decent photo.

People are nosey. I know this because I came here for the sole purpose to be nosey. This is nothing out of the ordinary for me; I just wanted to vary the proximity of my compulsive curiosity. These young men remained perched at the corner of the steps eyeing groups of tourists walking to and fro destinations. I’m unsure of how long they sat, but I ironically watched them watch people for seven or eight minutes. I just knew the shot that I wanted. The controlled variable in this waiting game was their seated position, which was just left of the center. I knew that it probably would not change as the only things they moved were their noggins, but I needed them to look to my right. Alas, the repeated behavior of the boys allowed me to assume that I could achieve the shot I wanted with bit of patience and a lot of cute lady tourists. (Not a formidable task as men are rather predictable regardless of circumstance.)

I’m aware that I just analyzed a basic chain of events, but we encounter simple foreseeable moments each day. To experience them, we only have to prompt ourselves to be aware. A woman with long hair will wait near the furthest point of the metro terminal, and when it arrives, the wind from the pressure of the tunnel will blow her hair into her face. She’ll either smile or be annoyed. Either expression makes for an engaging image. The elderly here will walk with trekking poles that make a click-clack noise as they pass you. When I hear that sound, I know that I’m soon to see a precious and/or disgruntled older person. Affection is honest and shameless in this city. If I see a couple anywhere, I know for certain that a sweet moment is bound to come of their closeness at any time. And they’re usually too preoccupied to give a damn about the creepy photographer. All of these things represent the beauty that is predictability.

It’s almost a science – just like the day yields the night. Every time.

June 9, 2019 | Weekend Miser

The rumors are true. Prague has one of the best zoos in the world. Personally, my favorite section was the reptile exhibit that was housed in the same building as the smaller cats. I watched as a little girl probably no older than five years old hissed at her father after he placed her on top of the railing in front of the anaconda aquarium. Afterwards, she turned to face her scaly kinsfolk and proceeded to whisper while tracing the glass with her finger. Parseltongue comes in handy.

The Prague Zoo is passionate about animal and nature conservation. Exhibits serve as sanctuaries for many of the animals as the sole mission of the zoo is to provide the best living experience possible to their residents. The staff upholds this by ensuring that the ecosystem surrounding each animal is fit for their species. In 2018, they successfully and safely bred 1,340 animals. The zoo raises animals up to a certain age within their simulated natural habitat and then takes them to their homeland where they are released to be with the rest of their kind and repopulate.

I identified with the aforementioned anaconda girl as she came into her boldness when platformed in front of a 16 foot long snake. Her reflection became her supporting actress, and her balled fists the size of tangerines could pack a canned heat punch. She was ferocious, undaunted by the serpent behind the window. Nonetheless, she thought she was the predator herself.

June 8, 2019 | The Nocturnalist

Charles Bridge is a northern star for me while navigating Prague. The towers that rise tall at the end of each side indicate that I’m not as lost as I think I am. In fact, if I close my eyes and click my heels, it feels like I’m standing on the Medieval equivalent of the Moody Pedestrian Bridge.

Built in 1357 under the reign of Charles IV, the bridge is a liaison connecting Old Town to Lesser Town. Peter Parler was delegated as the architect for the structure. He had a heavy hand in the design of the cathedral at the Prague Castle. However, Charles Bridge is not the first to hold residence over the Vltava river. The Judith Bridge heralded Charles’ gothic majesty as the first stone bridge over the water. It was ruined by a flood in 1342, giving way to the Knights of the Cross. Legend has it that egg yolks were mixed into the mortar during construction to strengthen Charles Bridge.

Currently, Charles Bridge hosts a plethora of vendors and artists that lie in wait to immortalize a tourist’s experience. I’m astounded by the talent of the sketch artists; they can replicate a subject’s identity without hesitation. Language barriers are not a detriment to the encounter as words are unnecessary. The artist does the speaking through sleight of hand.

I’ve visited this bridge at least a dozen times now to enjoy a leisurely stroll or the dusk that follows a sunset. I may be walking on eggshells, but at least I know where I am.

June 7, 2019 | Around Here

My official proclamation: I’ve developed a fondness of beer! Specifically Pilsner Urquell, but I’m open to anything that foams and warms my chest. The brew connoisseurs within my family will no longer shun me at the mention of my late disdain for the beverage. Cheers, Uncle Chad. I have evolved.

We were fortunate enough to take a tour of the Plzeň  brewery, home to the brewing style that has acted as a catalyst for two-thirds of the world’s beer. Emerged as a new light beer in 1842, Pilsner was the lovechild of Bavarian brewer Josef Groll. The pale lager is born of fine barley, Saaz noble hops, Pilsner soft water and the careful fermentation of yeast. It’s inspired beers around the globe, America included. Imitation is the finest form of flattery.

In a seven degree celsius cellar, we drank unfiltered, unpasteurized beer out of the tap while standing atop stones coated with water. Being surrounded by historical walls that propelled a Pils revolution felt right. It tasted right too.