Called both the New Greenwich Village and the New Left Bank, Prague and its galleries have been attracting everyone from Christo to Yoko Ono these days. Taking advantage of the cheap airfares (not to mention favorable exchange rate of the Czech Koruna), my boyfriend and I headed across the Atlantic to the City of a Thousand Spires, just in time for the dueling Biennale Festivals: Prague Biennale 3 and Prague Biennale of Contemporary Art (what would art be without inherent politics, conflict, and melodrama? One Biennale festival?). We stuck with the Vaclav Havel-endorsed Biennale of Contemporary Art. Vive la revolution.
Staying in Zizkov -- Prague's answer to the East Village -- threw us right into the city's bustling (and expat-laden) art scene. We hosteled it at Clown and Bard which, while not a haven to the Czech Hemingways and Picassos, is sure to have an impromptu performance of "No Woman No Cry" around 1 a.m. when the basement bar closes. However the temptation of a longer stay (say, permanent) and renting an apartment ran high; you can live in lavish Bohemian splendor for prices lower than in Weehawken.
The groups of expatriates that have taken over Praha since the Velvet Revolution have re-infused the city with its original surge of art, Pilsner, and more art. Prague has always loved an expat, and it shows in many of the artists now mingling with their local counterparts.
Our first day of the festival was spent along the Vltava with British artist Julian Opie. For a crash course in Opie, check out the album cover for the "Best of Blur," a showcase for his minimalist pop-portrait art. It's along these lines that some of his works currently line the Kampa Gallery; however he's moved from paper to LCD screens (with computer animation!). Not one to be able to sit and stare at art for hours, I was hypnotized by "Ruth Smoking," watching her cigarette smoke curl up, her eyes blink and the second hand of her watch tick.
The real show, however, is on the Vltava River. Through some fancy canal work (and a glass floor), a small stream of the river is actually brought through the Kampa's floor and empties into a pool in the courtyard, part of Opie's "Walking on the Vltava." The second part of the exhibit features Suzanne and Bruce, two illuminated LCD figures that, attached to a weir on the Vltava proper, show you how to do it Jesus-style as they appear to "walk" on the river. They're at their coolest if you check them out at night.
Kampa is near the Charles Bridge (picture Times Square suspended above water), which became our crossing point for most of the weekend. We walked back over to the other side, Nove Mesto, to check out Jan Saudek's newly christened permanent gallery space. His photographs are toe-curlingly good: one part burlesque, one part Mapplethorpe, with a touch of Kafka-esque irony -- must be something in the water.
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