Praha, Czech Republic

De Stijl Life

"Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."

This coming from a man who did his best to maintain a permanent state of unbearable unhappiness for his entire life. Kafka is a peculiar, albeit understandable, product of this odd place. Everything here is so rich, so intensely layered in detail and texture and atmosphere. I can photograph absolutely every thing I see here - the rain-glistened cobblestone streets, the snaking passageways that don't really lead anywhere, the crumbling detail of absolutely every wall in the entire city. Do locals look at their home in this way? Do I look at mine like this?



Prague reminds me of Disneyland with all the characters kicked out and a decade of foregone maintenance to vitiate the vibe. There are a million scrambling tourists, half of them in line for something that doesn't appear to be anything. There's a quasi-manufactured magical air about the place, and you can see the spire of a castle in any direction you choose. The streets don't make logistical sense, but they somehow get you to where you're supposed to be. Presumably, M.C. Escher was on the urban planning commission. You know, back in the day.



Between the history-oriented Kafka Museum and the appropriately-architectured Cubist Museum, Prague has lent some inspirational insights into that wonderful category of "Things Matthew Likes".

Cubism is likely my favorite defined art style. (And I assume that to be obvious... is this the kind of thing that people know about one another?) I love the distillation of the world into basic representations, and the fact that you can shift, juxtapose, intermix those elements while maintaining recognition and meaning within them. It reminds me that there are an infinite number of perspectives on the world, and that they are all beautiful and valid in their own way. Finding a way to understand an unfamiliar vantage feels like a step towards harmony. Or like fitting a worn jigsaw piece into a puzzle by accident - you were sure it went somewhere else, but it just wasn't working, and then it falls into place and it just makes sense.



Taking an abstract Cubist approach to photography is kind of weird. I tend to ignore my subjects. That is, I don't care what something actually is or even what it means. Shapes, textures, patterns, geometry within the natural world form their own strange beauty, and that's one of my very favorite things, period.



There's also the fun of "painting with light" versus "capturing a scene" - photography, as all art, does not have to be about the world as it is. Rather, it's the world filtered through the artist's vision - and why not let that vision of reality surpass depictions of the individual object altogether?

Or something like that. I dunno, I like what I like.



Folded inside my coat pocket is a ticket for a sleeper train departing in about four hours - not because I have to, but because I haven't done that yet. I've taken a final stroll through the sunscattered city of Prague, and ended up in a tiny dark Indian restaurant that caught my eye a few days ago. It's completely empty, as it's been every other time I've passed by, but I've ordered anyhow. Maybe it's an undiscovered gem. Mmm, pakoras. I read the opening lines of my new book:

"A friend of mine has a habit of going to the zoo whenever there’s a typhoon."



Turns out this is definitely not an undiscovered gem. Yummy anyhow. It's fun to see how other nations do with foreign foods. The best Chinese food I've ever had came from The Netherlands. Until I visit China, I suppose.



It is 6pm on a Friday and everything I can see is sparkling.