Jan Saudek

Jan Saudek

얀 자우덱... 놀랍다
초기작들이 더 맘에 든다....

 

Karolina, Marie and the Faces of Love

Once there was a man who worked in a factory from six in the morning until three in the afternoon. He lived in a basementwith the plaster crumbling offthe mouldywalls, and all he could see through the window was a gloomy enclosed area. That man was Jan Saudek, and he owned I ittle more than the bicycle he rode to the factory and an old Pentacon six. H is most valuable assets were certainly his immense energy and relentless ambition. In the early 1970s, when he found himself in this basement converted into a makeshift home, his life took a significant new turn. By no stretch of the imagination could he have continued to photograph here as he had done before. In the 60s his pictorial world had been peopled with family members, children and friends. Their lives determined the geographical reach of his own activities. He often took photographs in the street, by courtyard walls or in gardens-frequently snapping his subjects quite spontaneously. The highpoint of this relatively extrovert period of his career as a photographer was his journey to the United States in 1969. After 1970 his photographs concentrated increasingly on "the room" with the decaying walls that became a synonym for his photographic output.

It is hard to imagine which direction Saudek's work might have taken had he not moved into the basement. The fact is that photographing landscapes and isolated objects has never interested him. There is documentary evidence of his ambitions regarding live-photography, and as late as 1974, when he was already mainly taking photographs of nudes, he told a friend that he was occasionally trying his hand at reportage. Perhaps circumstances prevented further experiments in this direction. While his paid work in the factory did at least allow him to survive, it left him little chance of pursuing his photographic work in daylight.

Censorship and Success

In certain respects Saudek's work has a sol itary character. In contrast to many other photographers of his day the trauma of 1968 did not prevent him from developing new ideas. Social reality had no place in his visual world-neither before nor after 1968. He paid little attention to political events until that terrible day when the student Jan Palach burnt himself alive. For Saudek the late 60s were above all a time of personal upheaval.

According to a diplomatic comment by Zdenek Primus, nowadays Saudek is viewed in his native land as one of the artists who pursued their own path in the 70s, independent of social change around them - and without the protection of any artists' union or other state authority. Put rather more bluntly, this means that he was simply cut dead by the latter. Saudek himself tells of periods when people thought he was I iving in another country or was working as an FBI agent or had recently died. Apparently the Czech M inistry of Culture even denied his existence altogether in response to one enquiry from abroad.

,As an observer from the West, one tends to view Saudek purely as a victim of the political situation. The fact is, however, that his increasing international recognition from 1975 onwards meant that he was able to pursue a successful career untroubled by financial concerns. Naturally this aroused a certain amount of jealousy which might have contributed to Saudek's lack of contact with other photographers in his own country. However, the root cause of his isolated position is most probably the fact that in his work with nude subjects he was concentrating on a theme that was not of particular interest to many other serious Czech photographers at the time. In the 70s, when Saudek was starting to focus on human sexuality, Czech photographywas predominantly documentary. Vladimir Birgus, professor at the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague and himself a photographer, even maintained that the nude photography of the 70s was qualitatively and quantitatively well below the standards achieved in the 60s both in its understanding of classical nude photography and in its `staged' images. In his view, part of the responsibility for this must be attributed to the various, often absurd, decrees and bans that had made it impossible to exhibit or to publ ish photographs of nudes.

Thus Saudek was on a col I ision course - and this was not without consequences. H is flat was repeatedly searched. Prints and negatives were confiscated, when they could not be hidden away in time, and the State Security pursued individuals who appeared in his photographs and inter I viewed his friends and relations. At times Saudek was obliged to report at regular intervals to the poIice.

Doubtless this sometimes extremely burdensome situation arose from the obvious interest his work generated abroad in the form of exhibitions and publications. Since his first presentation at the University of Indiana in Bloomington in 1969, scarcely a year has passed without a solo exhibition of his work in the U SA. He has also achieved notable success in Australia and France where he soon made inroads into leading exhibitions and collections.

However, he owes his wider breakthrough to a Dutch publishing house that specialises in publishing and distributing postcards, posters and books. In the mid-8os, when he was able to give up his factory job, `Art Unlimited' closed a contract with him. For nearly ten years he produced work for them - even to the point of exhaustion.

In Germany, to date, Saudek has been treated with extreme caution. Though he has enjoyed commercial success there since 1978, so far no museum or gallery has felt they could honour Saudek with a solo exhibition. With the exception of the Gruber Collection in the Museum Ludwig in Cologne one may seek him in vain in any of the leading collections. Even in Czechoslovakia there was a distinct reluctance to recognise his work. Anna Farova, former director of the photographic collection set up in 1970 by the Prague Museum of Arts and Crafts, made no secret of the difficulties she had with Saudek's work: "I hated his leaning towards bad taste and kitsch," she wrote in 1983. "I equally disliked the unnatural air and the brittle sentimentality of his early pictures." At the same time she did admit that "in his own way, this man from Prague was extraordinary." There is, of course, no denying that in exhibitions and photo-journals his pictures always caught the reader's eye -they were so unusual compared to the reportage style and the realism of his contemporaries.

Fifteen years later Farova's assessment has by no means lost its relevance. Opinions are still sharply divided when it comes to Saudel<'s work. Experts in the field either reject his work over the last decades altogether or are at least very restrained in their response. And as to his paintings-silence seems to be the preferred option. Yetwhile some are still hesitating, others have long cast their vote and in no uncertain terms either-for it is not only in Czech bookshops and souvenir shops that sales of Saudek's postcards, calendars and books easily outstrip all other artworks except those bearing the name of Picasso or Matisse.

Icons of Longing

"In 1935 my mother gave birth to a son, I
Today it is hard to fully understand the upset that Saudek caused in Prague in 1963 when he first exhibited his work. H is earliestwork, from 1951, shows a young, semi-naked man lying on his back on the ground with his arms outstretched as though he wanted to embrace the universe. The broadshouldered man in Hey, Joe! (1959, ill. p.37) who has stopped his motor-scooter on the banks of the Moldau conveys a feeling of tense expectation. Chains of Love (1960) shows a young couple from above wearing only blue jeans, lying face downwards on the ground with theirwrists chained together. Pictures like these express something of the impetuous energy of a young man who still does not know where he should invest his strength, and whose relish for life and love has already, far too soon, swept him into the harbour of marriage.

The success which later came to Saudek must be ascribed to his ability to express deep-seated longings in universally comprehensible images. He rarely tells the viewer anything about his own everyday life - instead his work reveals all the more clearly something of the feelings of a person living under a rigid Communist regime, longing for freedom and only able to imagine this as some kind of a dream. This power of imagination in the face of all kinds of difficulties also made him extremely receptive to Edward Steichen's beautiful dream of the `Family of Man'. That exhibition in the Museum of Modern Art in New

York showed photographs of people of every colour at existential moments in their lives, from birthto death. The exhibition travel led to 44 capital citieswith its optimistic message thatthere is more uniting the nationsoftheworldthanseparatingthem. "We beginand end," Steichenwrote inapress release-"there is none amongst uswho could do any differently. We are alI human beings, one Iike the other."

In 1963, deeply moved by the catalogue of `The Family of Man' which had by now been on tour all over the world for eight years, Saudek decided to portray human life from birth to death. He blithely set about this self-imposed task, entirely unbothered by the fact that Steichen's exhibition in fact brought together hundreds of photographs from all four corners of the earth. He was similarly unworried by the fact that these photographs largely addressed their subject matter using the techniques of live-photography. Aside from a few photographs thatwere clearly inspired by `The Family of Man' Saudel< did quite the opposite. Instead of observing the behaviour of a particular person and releasing the shutter at the decisive moment, he imagined a scene and then proceeded to stage it for the camera. In his own way, Saudek was continuing in the tradition of the "tableau vivant" and the "pose plastique" which had their roots in the leisure pursuits of the aristocracy in the l8th century and lingered on into the l9th century in official photographs of Queen Victoria's children.

Saudek's method is well illustrated by the genesis of his famous picture, Life, which he took in 1966 (ill. p.44). The photographer had hit upon the idea of a big, strong father holding his tiny, new-born child close to his chest in a protective, loving gesture. It struck him that a weightlifter in his circle of friends might be the ideal model. Ho vever, during the photo sessions it became abundantly clear that this man did not have the slightest idea of how a father holds his own baby in his arms. Saudek therefore substituted himself as the father and, in doing so, came to a surprising conclusion: it is not the sight of swelling muscles but rather the relationship between father and child which is crucial to the impact of the pictorial message.

The Lover Arrives

Jan Saudek's work after 1970 creates the impression that the artist has turned his back on the world outside. It may well be- leaving aside his personal circumstances-that his move into the basement was a subconscious strategy to withdraw from the field of battle and to remove himself from the controlling hand of the authorities. Life in the open could become extremely precarious for a controversial figure like Saudek. It hardly even counted when he had to run home once in his underwear- in the early 60s - because the police had confiscated his blue jeans. Even today, nine years after the lifting of the Iron Curtain, visitors from abroad are still perplexed to find his curtains drawn in the middle of the day - lending any visit to the artist's flat the air of an intimate rendezvous, hidden from prying eyes.

When one looks more closely at the few photographs taken in the open air it soon becomes clear that these were as carefully set up as his studio photographs. Reality never enters his pictures. In 120 km/hr (1975, ill. p.41) the message is concentrated into a few details which are all the more telling in view of the passport and travel restrictions that were in force at the time: a steam locomotive rushes by at a closed railway crossing; a young man sits on the barrier, overgrown gravel in the foreground showing that this crossing has not been used for a long time now. This is one of many pictures that Saudek tinted by hand after 1977, heightening the surreal atmosphere. In Destiny Walks Down to the River(1971) the town with its filthy chimneys is the perfect backdrop to a mother striding towards the valley with her two unruly daughters. The girls- clinging to the proud young woman in her best clothesare naked; the street is empty; no cars, no people in sight who might have added a touch of the everyday to the image. Saudek knows how to turn a location into a set.

Unlike photographs by his American colleague Joel-Peter Witkin, who consciously sought out pain and distress, Saudek's images are rarely disturbing. He works in a room cut off from the outside world. Whoever steps into the twilight of his studio enters a territory controlled by Saudek with its own laws. He himself once referred to the way that he creates a dream world for his models, which then automatically takes on a life of its own. The American portrait photographer Irving Penn worked in a similar manner, although in his case it meant taking a portable tent-studio round the world with him: "When I took people out of their natural surroundings and put them in front of the camera in my studio, this didn'tjust isolate them, it completely transformed them." Saudek, unlike Penn, is not satisfied with this transformation alone. He takes action; he divests his models of their usual clothes, brings props into play. In her 1991 monograph Daniela Mrazkova has talked aboutwomen "willingly joining in the game," saying that "they simply al low themselves to be undressed and dressed, to be moulded according to his vision."

One would have to be unusually naive to see Saudek's images as no more than an apotheosis of woman offering herself to man. Indeed the poet August von Platen once wrote that "creatures reflect the joy of their Creator." Even aside from questions regarding the level of intimacy and personality that comes across despite the poses, it is clear that no other photographer has worked with women as closely and over as long a time as Jan Saudek. In his photography he has explored all possible aspects of the miracle of womanhood - and not just as an observer, but as one who is himself utterly bound up in the whole process. He himself has been very clear about what this means: "I don't have the capacity to portray other people's lives. I am portraying my own."

Doubtless the most interesting pictures for the viewer are those where Saudek captures something of the `chemistry' of the relationship between himself and the model: like the provocatively inviting gesture of the young woman in Marie no. 142 (1972, il I. p. 54) pul I ing up her sweater with her teeth; the self-confident, relaxed ease of the androgynous Susanna (1978, i II. p. 78) with her wreath; or Oh, That Virgin Els! (1985, ill. p. 77) defiantly exposing her meagre chest. Looking at these photographs one has the sense of witnessing an intimate dialogue. The photographer's gaze is concentrated on his opposite number, showing her from the knees upwards and rarely-at least in the early 70s-at full length. But Saudek also brings in the decaying surroundings. The wall shows the ravages of life that have, as yet, left no trace on the softly I it bodies of his young models. By contrast, other bodies reveal the effect that age has had on their form and appearance. In some images he focuses on specifically female behaviour: young women staring at their own reflection from behind, how they handle their own breasts or how they display submission. Saudek often brings to mind thoughts of M ilan I
Grief only ever enters Saudek's works with a lyrical overlay: for example, the profile of a friend he lost after his divorce, shown in a small medallion held in someone's hand (1970, ill. p.34); or the sadness at a `love story' that has come to an end - a rose in flower that gradual ly loses its petals one by one (1974, ill. p. 35). Real disaster is generally kept at bay or only shown -as in the hanged woman in a theatrical guise (1977, ill. p. 118/119). The utter confusion that he felt during his stay in the USA in 1969 is reflected in the picture of a man hanging from an oversized billboard (1969, ill. p.39). Only once, in 1976, did he abandon the stage of the Saudek `theatre of life' in order to photograph his father, worn out and old, in amongst the gravestones in an overgrown Jewish cemetery. It is a simple, completely unpretentious picture, an exception in Saudek's increasingly lavish, theatrical world-an image filled with sadness (1975, ill. p.33).

Throughout the ages the Czech people have had to accept ci rcumstances that were forced upon them. One aspect of their adaptability is the capacity to create their own imaginary, magical reality. ~audek, who could never bring himself to emigrate, has become a true master of the imagination. In 1976/77 he began to photograph dreamlike scenes set in the window looking out onto that dismal inner area. Significantly, these were soon followed by his first attempts at colouring black and white prints

by hand. Anna Farova has talked in this connection of colours that go against nature; Daniela M razkova saw it as his final break with reality.

Saudek's window pictures quite rightly remind one ofJosef Sudek's cycle "The Window of My Studio". During the Second World War, under the Nazi threat, Sudek retreated into his studio in the backyard. There he discovered the window-the glass clouded, spattered with raindrops, freezing overand used it as a projection surface for his own ideas like a mysterious veil between himself and the outside world. However, where Sudek's thoughtful gaze lingered contentedly on the phantasmagoria that revealed itself before his eyes, Saudek radically alters what he finds. Using light-montage, he copies in fleeting images of pedestrians hurrying by, or the vapour trails of aeroplanes in the cloudy sky, or the moon and stars. Yet there ist something strange about all of this: while the window offer many wondrons sights-we even see a lover arriving -we never see anyone leaving.

On the reverse side of Saudek's vital ity are the existential fears that Daniel M razkova vividly describes. These are not simply the fears a person would feel who was exposed to permanent danger as a child, growing up amidstthe Nazi persecution ofthe Jews, and whose family again had to fightfor their survival in 1954, merely because of their German ancestry. Saudek's fears are also those of an outsider who for long periods was subjected to scrutiny by the state. In addition, Daniela Mrazkova describes the artist's fear of losing his creative powers, his constant self-doubts and consequent fear of decl ine and death. Every five years Saudek photographed his lover Veronica (ill. p.82/83) -clearly an attempt by the artist to combat his own share of uncertainty: the endeavour to save individual moments of this life as `pars pro toto' while it moves inexorably onwards.

The show must go on

Saudek's work after 1984 provokes mixed feelings above all in those who previously gladly succumbed to the magic of his poetic, once powerfully nostalgic visual world. Now they gaze in consternation at pictures, which seem at times to be indulging in extremes of Mannerism and outrageous imagery. Yet all the time it is perfectly obvious that Saudek could not spend his whole artistic career as the worshipful lover or as the besotted father. The most innocuous of these worl
Many of his works from the 80s already bear witness to the toll that his breal
Saudek balks at nothing. In PhotographerasJesus (1991, ill. p. 163) he hangs between two scantily dressed women like Jesus on the Cross between the thieves. In a self-portrait he strikes a Hamlet-style pose, clad, it seems, in the meagre clothing of a concentration camp prisoner. It is only on closer examination that one discovers that this is in fact a designer jacket by the firm of "Matsuda", for whom he took fashion shots in 1989 and 1991. Instead of a skull he is holding a camera in his hand.

Saudek reaches as casually into the treasury of historical pictorial motifs as he might do into the box of props that he once bought from a theatre in Prague. Again and again one comes across tableaus in his work with clearly Christian origins or ideas borrowed from contemporary colleagues. Most of all, however, one finds scenes based on erotic photographs and postcards from the turn of the century. In his early works Saudek used wreaths of flowers, diadems, animal skins and scraps of tulle to lend his images the sensual, rather sultry atmosphere of a "fin de siecle boudoir". After the mid-70s his models wear whimsical, old-fashioned clothes, are swathed in pearls and lol I naked on luxurious fabrics as they might have done a hundred years ago. In the 80s Saudek did many more photoseries based on picture postcards. He staged small wanton scenes of maids going to bed, but also more salacious, pornographic sequences with threesomes indulging each other.

As a young man, Saudek bel ieved he had "what it takes to stand in front of the camera". H owever, later he admitted that life had taught him that his place was behind and not in frontofthe camera. The fact is, that Saudek is just as impassioned an.actor as he is a di rector. If he does not see himself as such, then perhaps this is only because he has long since become an integral part of his own stage-whether in artorinlife,whetherbehindorinfrontofthecamera."The show must go on." Christiane Fricke
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