An Exhibition in Levice, Slovakia
The aforementioned exhibition drew the attention to two poets and admirers of Franz Kafka that haven’t visited the exhibition, but heard about it and saw pictures and the film. They not only revived their affection towards the great writer, but also were so impressed by the artistic undertaking that they also wrote poems about it. What a spiritual joy it was you will understand by reading the text of the Romanian poet Peter Sragher in the next paragraphs and also of the British poet Andy Willoughby in the same issue of our review (see here: https://www.fitralit.ro/31-01-2025-andy-willoughby-the-kafka-exhibition/ ) Moreover, a very thorough and intelligent text (see here: https://www.fitralit.ro/31-01-2025-alica-zahorska-kafkas-labyrinth-a-visual-art-exhibition/) by the author of the visual art exhibition – Alica Záhorská from Slovakia. (Fitralit)
***
I came upon the writings of Franz Kafka as a teenager when my father got a beautiful thick book in German with stories by Franz Kafka. I remember taking it to the Black Sea during the summer holidays. I was so taken up with reading it on the beach that I forgot about sunbathing and taking a dip in the enticing salty waters. Much to the surprise of my father and the entire family. It seemed that I forgot about the silence and relaxation I should have plunged into. Because Kafka cannot leave you relaxed even if the sea is very calm and serene.
Metamorphosis followed me in my dreams where different metamorphoses took place that, at times, left me perspiring with fear. Would it ever be possible to turn into a bug or something else? I still had at that time the mind of a child, probably. But the sheer talent which Kafka displayed in the story made me believe, for a while.
That summer transformed me, in a sense. And made me meditate about the absurdity of life I hadn’t experienced up to then in my protected bubble called family. Because I am emphatic, I felt deeply the sorrow, the inability to act, even the desperate feeling of abandonment in the writings of Kafka. Had he not died because of his disease, it’s possible that some years later, Kafka may have died by suicide. As Van Gogh, decades before, another genius that was not understood by his peers.
His life was impossible to live and survive.
Here you can watch the video of the exhibition that was shot by the visual artist, Alica Záhorská. https://www.facebook.com/1552312117/videos/1621547981809469/
I met Alica Záhorská at ”The International Poetry Festival Ars Poetica” in Bratislava mid November 2024. She was preparing an exhibition about Kafka. As Alica was very mysterious in her details about her artistic undertaking, I found out later that the exhibition was not a very far away project, but that the exhibition was to open in a week or so after the end of the poetical meeting in the Slovak capital.
My interest in Kafka increased further after I found out that in his youth he made very interesting drawings that were reduced to the essence. He felt that the visual arts were, after the turn of the XXth century, on the verge of a great change: that is to say he had a feeling in his guts. Even the novelties brought about by impressionism and pointillism – fighting against the photographical realism of the old painters – weren’t enough to match the urge for change of painters and drawers. Something else was on the rise. A need to reduce everything to the essence or, as it would also happen, to express the complex and often intricate inner universe of the artist instead of the sheer reality.
I visited in 2018 The Kafka Museum in Prague, but I must confess that after half an hour I left it defeated by a deep sorrow. Let us say that the cashier asked – looking at my white beard – if I am a retired citizen that could get a discounted ticket, but I couldn’t bear the burdensome and bleak atmosphere inside. I felt as being in a prison cell that had no exit. So, I wasn’t able to see the entire museum. I bought, though, a book that was dedicated to the drawings of Kafka. And I was amazed. Months later, carried away by my initial amazement, I wrote down a short essay about Kafka’s drawings. (the essay – written almost six year ago – is in Romanian and entitled: Franz Kafka, Ochiul descifrând esența / The Eye Deciphering the Essence – one can read at the following link: https://www.fitralit.ro/31-03-2019-franz-kafka-ochiul-descifrand-esenta/).
I and Alica started discussing the exhibition in detail, and passionately, on Messenger, she started sharing photos from the exhibition and I shared some drawings by Kafka she didn’t know about. We discovered our deep interest in the oeuvre of Kafka also in his writings as in his drawings. Both of us discovered his writings in our adolescence and he had a great impact upon both of us.
After seeing several photos and finding out details about the exhibition, I invited Alica to prepare an article for our review, because, even if I didn’t see the exhibition myself in the small Slovakian town Levice, I was intrigued by what I found out and thought that it was a really valuable artistic act.
And I was right.
I was impressed by the guided visits of pupils from the gymnasiums in Levice and the impact the exhibition had upon them. An exhibition that was able to interact more profoundly than most other exhibitions.
One may ask oneself why this exhibition wasn’t shown in the capital of Slovakia or Czechia? But I soon realized that the Jewish School from Levice – that has become a cultural and educational centre –, was the perfect setting for the exhibition. Not only does it have a connection to Kafka’s identity, but the building offers at the same time all the intricacies in Kafka’s thinking and work that were ideal for Alica’s artistic undertaking: stairs steeply descending into the underground, enhancing the mystery and absurdity, small rooms that already give you the sense of claustrophobia and different floors and dimensions of space to spread the story so intellectually and emotionally compelling, constructed by the Slovak visual artist.
And more, the exhibition inspired me to imagine in a poetical way Kafka talking to his beloved Felice and declaring, incredibly boldly – not a typical behaviour in Kafka – his love to her. I can say, in a way, that I felt together with the pupils, when Alica guided them, she guided me also through the life, adventures and feelings of Kafka.
Here is one of the poems I wrote inspired by this exhibition I never saw in person:
k for kafka
to alicia & franz
I don’t know
how long it has taken you
to paint the letter
K
did your hand
tremble on the brush
did your hand
hurt
as kafka’s tormented
soul
did your eyes dream about
rectitude
when you covered in
black
the huge letter K
vast as life itself
did you feel
as if kafka was bound for
the trial
again and again
and be punished
once more
one hundred years
later
did you think about his absurd
existence
that tore him apart
how he avoided
everybody
but his lust for
coffee
and felice
burn them
he turned enraged against his
written pages strung with
a lace
they aren’t worth a penny
burn them to ashes
he cried out with his eyes
closed
in suffrance
I don’t want to see them
any longer
have no mercy
‘cause they cut through
my heart
each word was a stream
of blood
each sentence
a punishment
burn them to ashes
burn them down
just burn them
max
my beloved friend
destroy them as
they destroyed
my soul
(as a song, now)
burn
burn
them
burn
burn
them
burn
burn
them
and K lost his voice
and K lost his sight
and K closed his eyes
silence
otopeni, tunari, 5th & 6th of dec 24
After writing the poems, Alica was so considerate as to attach the three poems I dedicated her and Kafka on one of the doors in the exhibition that … opened. So, I felt that I had – from afar – also a small part in the whole artistic undertaking.
