Viktor Kolář. Ostrava 1963-2024
Kolář Viktor„Vím, co nejsem: rozhodně nejsem dokumentarista,“ vymezil se fotograf Viktor Kolář v jednom z rozhovorů proti tomu, aby byla jeho tvorba zařazována do žánru, který ho nezajímá. A svoje stanovisko prokazuje i v nové knize fotografií, kterou pro nakladatelství KANT uspořádal po úspěchu dnes už těžko dostupných knih Ostrava (2010) a Canada 1968-1973 (2013). Kolářovy snímky sice neobyčejně výmluvně vypovídají o určitém místě a jeho dobových proměnách, ale dělají to spíše mimochodem. Čítať ďalej ↓
Ve skutečnosti se zaměřují na okamžiky náhlých a jedinečných, někdy až nepravděpodobných „setkání“ – v tom smyslu, jak tento výraz prosazovali surrealisté. Na výtvarně působivých černobílých fotografiích nechybí nic z neodmyslitelných rysů hornické a průmyslové Ostravy, ale výsledný portrét města je imaginární, ne realisticky popisný. Proto se v doprovodných esejích Manuela Anceau, Jana Balabána, Martina Dostála a Jaromíra Typlta o Viktoru Kolářovi uvažuje ne jen jako o fotografovi, ale jako také jako o básníkovi, který místo slov používá obrazy.
“I know what I’m not: definitely I’m not a documentarist” is how photographer Viktor Kolář defended himself in one interview from having his work assigned to a genre in which he took no interest. And this same stance is revealed again in the new book of photographs that he prepared for KANT Publishers following the success of his now hard-to-find volumes Ostrava (2010) and Canada 1968-1973 (2013). Kolář’s shots may speak with unusual eloquence about a specific place and its changes over time, yet they do so only indirectly. In reality, they concentrate on those moments of sudden and unique, sometimes even improbable “encounters” – precisely in the sense that this word was used by the Surrealists. These aesthetically powerful black-and-white photographs miss nothing of the indelible characteristics of Ostrava, a city of mining and industry, yet the resulting portrait of the city is imaginary, not a realistic description. As such, in the accompanying essays by Manuel Anceau, Jan Balabán, Martin Dostál and Jaromír Typlt, Viktor Kolář is discussed not only as a photographer but equally as a poet, using images in place of words.
“I know what I’m not: definitely I’m not a documentarist” is how photographer Viktor Kolář defended himself in one interview from having his work assigned to a genre in which he took no interest. And this same stance is revealed again in the new book of photographs that he prepared for KANT Publishers following the success of his now hard-to-find volumes Ostrava (2010) and Canada 1968-1973 (2013). Kolář’s shots may speak with unusual eloquence about a specific place and its changes over time, yet they do so only indirectly. In reality, they concentrate on those moments of sudden and unique, sometimes even improbable “encounters” – precisely in the sense that this word was used by the Surrealists. These aesthetically powerful black-and-white photographs miss nothing of the indelible characteristics of Ostrava, a city of mining and industry, yet the resulting portrait of the city is imaginary, not a realistic description. As such, in the accompanying essays by Manuel Anceau, Jan Balabán, Martin Dostál and Jaromír Typlt, Viktor Kolář is discussed not only as a photographer but equally as a poet, using images in place of words.
