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Kresby

I remember the moment when, as a student at Prague’s Academy of Fine Arts, I greedily jumped at the chance to buy a few reams of handmade paper from the paper mill at Velké Losiny. As though I guessed that they would open a new path for me. I wanted to try the paper the same day, but I only had a few tubes of oil on my desk and no brush. I squeezed the paint from the tubes directly onto my finger–tips and got to work on the first group of drawings, which from that time I refer to as ‘diary entries.’ They compliment my canvases but have an independent life of their own. They aren’t sketches for paintings, but rather soundings of the subconscious, ciphers that map and reveal my deepest private self. V.H.