As I made my way from the grassy parking lot to the chateau, I wondered why I had only heard of Stránov that year, in 2025. After all, Stránov had been open to the public since 2004, even though reconstruction was in progress back then. The chateau looked impressive and romantic with a Neo-Renaissance appearance thanks to a 19th century transformation.
I walked into the café/box office to buy my ticket. The room was quaint with dark paneling. Then I walked into the courtyard dotted with white tables and chairs, and I gazed at the elegant Neo-Renaissance arcades. A distinctive sandstone fountain also caught my attention. From the courtyard I could see a narrow garden area below. People were seated at the white chairs and small tables in the garden. The plant species and flowers were colorful and enthralling.
The guide explained that a Gothic castle had been built on the site in the 15th century, replacing a fortress. Indeed, a Gothic tower still was a dominant feature of the chateau. It was even possible to climb it and take in the views. At the end of the 16th century, the castle got a Renaissance makeover and became a chateau for residential living. During the 18th century, more reconstruction was carried out – this time the chateau turned into a Baroque gem. The garden was also created during this period. The following century Stránov was made into the Neo-Renaissance structure that it is today.
However, the most important time in the chateau’s history began in 1917, when Josef Šimonek, a senator and entrepreneur with the Škoda auto manufacturer, purchased it. He had been so successful and well-respected in the business world that a noble title had been bestowed upon him.
During the First Republic, when Czechoslovakia was a democratic country under the guidance of President Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk, Šimonek, his wife Božena and their two sons, Jaromír and Jiří, made the chateau their home. Black-and-white photographs of the family dotted the rooms as did a group photograph of a joyous acting ensemble that had shot a film there long ago. I saw artifacts from the sons’ childhood – a sled made in 1929 and well-worn miniature toy cars. A children’s theater stage with figures of a skeleton, king and queen caught my attention. The decoration on it was exquisitely hand-painted. The father even created a small zoo for the children.
Although Šimonek retired from Škoda Auto in 1918, he remained a senator in Parliament until he died in 1934. His son František resided there with his family until the Communists forced them to flee in 1950. František’s mother, Božena, left with her husband’s urn in a basket, never to return. She found shelter in a parish house without running water. She lived there until her death in 1976. I saw the suitcases members of the family had carried when they had to leave their home.
Once nationalized, the chateau became an orphanage. The Šimonek family didn’t get the chateau back until 2003. Before the arrival of the Communists in 1950, there had been 750 pieces of furnishings and objects. Returned to the family in the early 2000s were only 35 of those. Stránov was open it to the public during 2004 even though reconstruction was taking place.
Photo of acting ensemble that shot a film at the chateau many decades ago
Another relative also named Jaromír Šimonek, born in 1945, had called the nearby chateau Lobeč home for five years before being forced out with his family by the Communists in 1950. Growing up, he had his hopes set on studying about machines in Mladá Boleslav, a nearby town. However, the Communists did not permit him to study for his desired profession. He did, though, wind up learning how to repair agricultural machines and took a serious interest in mechanics. Later, he followed in his family’s footsteps and went to work at Škoda Auto. Eventually, he became the mayor of Lobeč. He died in 2021.
The interior of the chateau harkened back to the First Republic. The current owner had furnishings made to look like they had been created during that era, my favorite period of Czechoslovak history. There were a few original furnishings that had been preserved for use in the orphanage.
The interior was cozy with an atmosphere that made me want to open a good book and relax there. In one room with wine red-upholstered chairs and a table with a tea service, I could imagine having a cup of Earl Grey on a wintry evening while discussing the Čapeks’ latest play. I could imagine people seated in armchairs or at tables there, talking animatedly about what was new with Masaryk’s politics, Karel Čapek’s books and Josef Čapek’s artwork. While some of the paintings on the wall were for sale, others harkened back to past eras. The dining room chairs looked elegant with the family coat-of-arms decorating the backs. A beautiful piano also was on display.
In the large space used for weddings, I saw red upholstered chairs with tables complementing the red and gold striped curtains that gave the place an elegant look. I wanted to fall into the quaint wine red leather couch. I noticed the beautiful Bohemian crystal chandelier. On the wall a painting caught my eye. The tranquil landscape featured a calm river with homes dotting the embankment.
The chateau included a toy museum with old objects donated by a private collector. I saw early 20th century dolls of girls in folk costumes and once much loved teddy bears of various sizes. Children’s baby carriages and dolls of various sizes graced the exhibition room. A rocking horse was also on display. I loved the miniature furniture, such as a cabinet filled with plates and tea cups. I also peered in one hallway at original folk costumes, exquisitely made.
I came away from the tour with a warm feeling for my favorite period in Czechoslovak history. I imagined raucous boys playing with miniature cars in the rooms as their father told them to keep the noise down while he read Lidové noviny. The furnishings had brought the chateau to life, giving it a distinct family atmosphere.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Original armchairs made for Josef Šimonek during the First Republic
I have visited many open-air architectural museums, dotted with historical, rural buildings and structures, throughout my time in the Czech Republic as well as during my many trips to Slovakia. They serve an important ethnographical purpose. Přerov nad Labem’s skanzen, as they are referred to in Czech – was the first of its kind founded in Bohemia as the complex was set up in 1967. It is composed of buildings from the Central Labe Valley area. The structures were constructed in the 18th or 19th century and together make up a sort of village that has long since disappeared.
I saw many quaint and idyllic-looking log-built cottages as well as granaries, winch-operated wells, a small garden, a gateway with stucco, Baroque decoration and a sun motif, a gamekeeper’s lodge, an outdoor beekeeping display and more. A fruit drying kiln and belfry also made appearances. A dovecote had five floors and a hexagonal shape. I peered at a shoemaker’s, a seamstress’ and a basket weaver’s workshops.
The World War I Memorial plaque touched me emotionally as I perused the names of locals who had perished in The Great War. The other building that made a distinct impression on me was the old school classroom, with boys seated on one side and girls on the other. What I liked best about the buildings in which mannequins were dressed in 18th or 19th century clothing was the colorfully painted folk art closets, beds, cupboards, chests, the backs of chairs and other furnishings. Pictures painted on glass in a rural cottage also captivated me. I was dazzled by the folk costumes with delicate embroidery on display. In one cottage I peered at hand-painted prayer books and admired a gable with Baroque features. I also noticed that the folk art sculptural rendition of Saint John Nepomuk hailed from 1746.
I saw how the kitchens were set up for baking bread. Some had large open fireplaces with big chimneys. Tiled stoves were located in some kitchens. Spices were important for the cuisine, too. There was a collection of historical washboards and washing machines as well as irons, which, I found out, were first used in the Czech countryside only 100 years ago. A collection of various stoves stood out in one space. Many wheels and farming tools were present, too.
The history of the Old Czech Cottage, which dates from the 18th century, is intriguing. During Czechoslovakia’s First Republic, which lasted from 1918 to 1938, Bedřich Smetana’s opera The Bartered Bride was performed in front of the building that contains much folk art furnishings. When the Nazis were in control, evacuees were housed there after all the historical furnishings had been taken out. This is probably my favorite structure because folk art plays such an important role in the displays.
Skanzens always make me better appreciate the technological advancements of the modern world. In 18th and 19th century village life was so much more unbelievably difficult. I admire the idyllic cottages constructed with logs and old equipment utilized in the 18th and 19th century. The folk art displays have always been my favorite aspect of open-air architectural museums. Seeing kinds of villages that no longer exist except as museums is a real treat. I always am enthralled by the architecture specific to that area and by the architecture in general.
A Nativity scene, popular at Christmas time
While I love visiting chateaus and castles, I always appreciated skanzens. Open-air architectural ethnographical museums of long gone rural life provide an important purpose in the history of the country and serve as valuable historical landmarks.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
During the summer and fall of 2024, the West Bohemian Gallery in Pilsen showed off the riveting exhibition “Through the Eyes of Franz Kafka: Between Picture and Language.” It focused on the ways in which the visual world around Kafka had been influential in the language Kafka chose for his writings. There was a direct connection between the visual world and the literary world in Prague, Kafka would have seen the works on display in his everyday Prague life that boasted of a multilingual society immersed in the languages of Czech, German and Hebrew. Kafka resided in Prague his entire life – from July 3, 1883 to June 3, 1924, when he died at the age of 40 from tuberculosis. He spoke German as well as Czech and wrote in German. His parents spoke German mingled with Yiddish.
At the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, posters were displayed all over the city. Designed in the Art Nouveau style, they showed off art exhibitions, cabaret shows, literary events, advertisements and much more. Japanese art played a role in the decoration of these posters. Later, the artistic focus was Cubist features. German-Czech spiritualism also was influenced by the time period. Silent films, both European and American, were popular in Prague. Going to the cabaret, ballet and theatre were pastimes of Praguers.
Exhibition Wordwede in Kinská Garden, Prague, 1903.
Modern French Art exhibition, Kinská Garden, Prague, 1902.
I would like to highlight several of the artists represented in the show, including the posters of Jan Preisler, a Czech painter and university professor. For a while his works promoted the Art Nouveau style, which is evident in this poster for an art exhibition. He also decorated Art Nouveau buildings in Prague. For example, the Hotel Central in Prague features his ornamentation. The triptych Spring was made for the Peterka building in the capital city. Preisler made a name for himself as a Secession artist, even though he would take on a different style later in his career.
Girl in Flowers, 1922, by Anton Bruder
Many of his works could be designated as Neo-Romantic, punctuated with allegorical Symbolism. His art often showed a fondness for fairy tales or moods characterized by depression and sadness. Preisler attempted to reveal the depth of one’s soul. Early in his career he became friends with Czech landscape painter Antonín Hudeček. Preisler was also influenced by the art of Edvard Munch as he helped plan the 1905 exhibition of Munch’s depictions in Prague. Preisler also had developed friendships with painters Bohumil Kubišta and Vincenc Beneš. He was very inspired by the poetry of Otakar Březina, a Czech artist who wrote in a complex, symbolist style and was nominated for the Nobel Prize eight times. Vitezslav Nezval and Josef Suk were other poets who made an impression on him. Perhaps his best known painting is the triptych “Spring,” from the turn of the century. It depicted the complex feelings of someone entering the 20th century. Man experienced a nostalgia for the past, but, at the same time, was looking forward to adventures awaiting him in the new century. A person’s connection to nature was another theme promoted in this triptych.
Sculpture by František Bílek
Jan Žižka, by František Bílek, 1912
Sculpture that permeated the exhibition included that of Art Nouveau symbolist František Bílek, whose Secession homes in Prague and Chýnov I had visited. Miniature versions of several of his sculptures were on display. He utilized mostly religious themes with a sense of mysticism. While Bílek was best known as a sculptor, he also designed furniture and created graphic art, drawings and illustrations. An architect as well, he designed cemeteries and made gravestones, for instance. His woodcarving skills were astounding, too. A year later, in 2025, I would see Bílek’s amazing works in the former flat of Czech poet Otakar Březina, incorporated into a museum for the symbolist poet in Jaroměřice of the Vysočany region. To be sure, Bílek’s creations caught the attention of society during the Art Nouveau age.
The Interior, by Bohumil Kubišta, 1908
One of my favorite Czech painters of this period, Bohumil Kubišta played a role in the exhibition. One of the first to paint in a modern Czech style, Kubišta created a new path for artists as he helped establish the significant Osma group of painters who were oriented toward Munch’s style. In Kubišta’s paintings, bright color played a large role as did mysticism and symbolism. At times he took up religious themes. Kubišta often concentrated on the spiritual as the symbolism of life and death featured in many of his works. He emphasized the spiritual meaning of the countryside, too. The styles that made an impact on his work included Fauvism, Futurism and Surrealism. Self-portraits and still lives were common in his repertoire, too.
Landscape, by Georges Kars, 1910
I knew the name Czech-French painter Georges Kars from a Prague exhibition of Czech artists in Paris between the wars. While initially taken with Impressionism, Cubism and Fauvism, he found his own path with dynamic and vibrant compositions. He made a lot of women’s portraits, self-portraits, nudes and half-nudes in his figural works. Sometimes he rendered still lifes and landscapes. Kars utilized the neoclassicist style for his portraits, nudes and still lifes. His paintings were world-renowned, displayed throughout Europe, the USA and Japan.
During World War I he served for the Austro-Hungarian army and even was captured by the Russians. He survived the experience and continued painting after the war.
A Walk in a Park in Florence, by Bohumil Kubišta, 1907
Of Jewish origin, Kars escaped France during 1942 and settled in Switzerland. However, he was so traumatized by the persecution of the Jews that he took his own life, jumping to his death from the fifth floor of the Geneva Hotel. During 1949 he was buried with his family in Prague’s New Jewish Cemetery.
Brindisi, by Otakar Kubín, 1906
Another artist who was well-known while residing in Paris between the wars, Otakar Kubín, who also went by the name Othon Coubin, worked as a painter, sculptor and graphic artist, mostly living in France. Holding citizenship from France and Czechoslovakia, he made a name for himself rendering landscapes, mostly of Provence but also of Moravia. I loved his landscapes of Provence in the exhibition of Czech artists between the wars. These paintings were perhaps the highlight of his career.
While living in France during World War I, Kubín and his wife were interred in a camp imprisoning foreigners in Bordeaux. However, they were not held for long. In the 1920s, he held exhibitions in Paris with Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse. Kubin was impressed with the Expressionism of Vincent Van Gogh. His depictions with figural motifs often were influenced by the death of his wife and son. His works were also seen in Japan, Switzerland and the USA. Some of his praiseworthy portrayals include a portrait of Kubišta, House in the Countryside, Cemetery Chapel in Boskovice, Imaginary Likeness of Edgar Alan Poe, Moravian Landscape and Auvergne Landscape.
The Metamorphosis, by Otto Coester, 1920
One of Kafka’s small black-and-white drawings as a young child was on display, and art promoting his various books also had a prominent place in the exhibition. Artistic renditions of The Metamorphosis were represented, for instance. German art and literature at this time also played prominent roles in society. An antisemitic attitude was seeping into some of the publications. The exhibition did not only concentrate on works in Prague but also art that had immersed itself into European society as well, providing a European context for these powerful renditions.
The Metamorphosis, by Wilhelm Wessel, 1924.
This exhibition took up my favorite Czech era of art – the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century. The Art Nouveau and symbolic nature of the works greatly impressed me as did emphasis on color in many paintings. I loved the expressionistic qualities of Munch’s artistic creations. Several paintings were by Japanese artists, and I saw a direct connection between the Czech Art Nouveau and the Japanese style. I could see the influence of Cubism in some paintings with many geometrical traits. I loved the Art Nouveau posters advertising exhibitions. The multifaceted visual experience of a person living in Prague during that era reminded me of the mixture of languages that had permeated culture and society.
The exhibition was thrilling as I thought back to that age and the various cultures people were experiencing. I felt that time period come alive through the artistic creations. Some of my favorite artists were represented, such as Bílek and Kubišta.
A Wave at Kanagawy, by Hokusai Kacušika, 1831
I also was enamored by the building in which the West Bohemian Gallery was housed. It had been used as a market place during the Middle Ages and boasted of a unique architectural style. I longed to learn even more about the end of the 19th and early 20th century as I left the exhibition and made my way to my favorite restaurant in Pilsen, U Salzmannů.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
It is very easy to get to Pilsen from Prague – only a one-hour bus journey, courtesy of the Student Agency bus company. From the bus station I took a tram three stops to Republic Square. The synagogue was within walking distance. I was curious about the second largest synagogue in the world and the third largest in the world with a capacity of 2,500 people.
I was very impressed by the façade and two towers. Under the gabled roof of the structure of capping brick and stone blocks is a large Star of David. The two towers flanking the middle portion of the building have imperial domes and a belfry as well as a crown and the Star of David. The onion-shaped domes reminded me of some of the churches I had seen in Saint Petersburg, Russia.
I gaped as I perused the spellbinding features. Built in 1892, the synagogue combines an Oriental interior with elements of Neo-Renaissance, found mostly in the corridors. The carved rostrum of the three-aisled ground floor has a simple, yet dignified design. Two stairways lead up to the platform with the rostrum. One of the things I admired most was the vaulted ceiling decoration of blue with gold painting with plant motifs. The use of gold for decoration throughout the synagogue was very pleasing to the eye. The staircase had a metal, golden balustrade. The vestibule included beautiful stucco decoration with gold as well. I also noticed the stucco décor with motifs such as David’s Star on the balustrade. I saw the organ, dating from 1890. I remembered reading that there had been a big choir here until World War II.
What entranced me the most, though, was not the exquisite vaulted ceiling, but the three stained glass windows above the cornice in the western side of the synagogue. Dating from 1893, the three windows show a design of circles and oblong shapes, geometric figures in bright colors. They seemed to glisten in the dim lighting. I walked to the upper gallery, where I could have touched them if I had wanted to. Instead, I just stood there, fascinated at their beauty.
I sat down in the balcony, where women had sat for generations because they were not allowed to sit with the men, and I pondered over the history of Jews in Pilsen. It all began in the 13th century when Jews first came to this city, and King Přemysl Otakar II allowed them religious freedom. At the start of the 15th century, most Jews bartered in spices, pepper and ginger, and two synagogues existed here during that time period. Yet during the reign of King Vladislav II, in 1504, Jews were expelled from Pilsen, and they didn’t return until 1584. Other hardships occurred.
Then things got better. Jews obtained more freedom during 1848-49, when the ghetto that had been created due to the reforms of Holy Roman Emperor and ruler of the Habsburg Empire Joseph II was destroyed. (Emperor Joseph II had been a devout Catholic and an enthusiast for Germanization.) Jews no longer had to pay special taxes. Then, finally in 1867, a constitution was passed, stating political and religious equality, allowing Jews to move house as they pleased and to own property. They were even offered state citizenship. It is no wonder, then, that many Jews headed for this city in the 1860s. The Jewish community of Pilsen thrived during the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, and Jews ran significant businesses in the city.
After World War II, the synagogue was returned to the Jewish community, but the last regular service took place in 1973 as the building became more and more dilapidated. Finally, it was closed down. Reconstruction occurred from 1995-97, and it reopened to the public on February 11, 1998. A service was held here once again, after 26 years, on September 20, 1998, celebrating the Jewish New Year. The first wedding in 61 years was held at this synagogue on June 6, 1999. There was extensive renovation during the 21st century, too.
Before heading back to Prague, I took advantage of the beautiful, sunny weather and sat outside at a café on the main square. I also visited an art exhibition called Through the eyes of Franz Kafka, focusing on art in the Czech lands during the time period Kafka was in Prague. There I gazed at Kafka’s drawings, paintings by Czech artist Bohumil Kubišta and sculpture by Czech master František Bílek. I also saw some Japanese art that was popular during that era. I ate lunch in U Salzmannů, the oldest pub in the city and my favorite restaurant in Pilsen. The Czech food at that establishment is top-notch. I also stayed at the restaurant’s pension upstairs for several nights many years ago, during a theatre festival. I was very pleased with the accommodation. Since I only rarely drink alcohol, though, I did not try the legendary Pilsner Urquell beer brewed in this city.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
My favorite restaurant in Pilsen – U Salzmannů
From Pilsen art gallery exhibition Through the Eyes of Franz Kafka
From Pilsen art gallery exhibition Through the Eyes of Franz Kafka
From Pilsen art gallery exhibition Through the Eyes of Franz Kafka
The six buildings designed by Josef Havlíček in Kladno, photo from Vysehradskej.cz
In Kladno, not far from Prague, I visited the Museum of the High-Rises, located in one of the tall buildings designed by Czech functionalist architect Josef Havlíček during the 1950s. The tour consisted of the minimalist lobby and mailboxes, a small museum room, an atomic shelter, roof terraces and a flat that was considered to be luxurious during the 1950s, housing for high-ranking Communist families.
House sign by Marta Jirásková-Havlíčková
In the Rozdělov neighborhood, the high-rise’s exterior was decorated with two ceramic house signs, one of a cat and the other of a dog, showing circular blue backgrounds with the animals in white. I learned that they had been created by Havlíček’s wife, a sculptor named Marta Jirásková Havlíčková, who originally had made 12 of them for the six buildings in the complex. Other ceramic house sings had featured a hawk, an owl, a rooster, a turkey, sheep and a ram. In the small museum space I saw more of Jirásková-Havlíčková’s work, including a statue of a dignified-looking white cat. She certainly had been talented. Models of some of Havlíček’s designs were also in the space.
I also noticed that the façade consisted of ceramic materials. The use of intriguing materials was a reason that this one-time complex had caught international attention. The French especially were interested in the structures, as Havlíček had been inspired by the architecture of neoclassicist French guru August Perret, who was known for utilizing reinforced concrete in fascinating ways without eliminating the harmony of the design. Perhaps Perret is most renowned for the rebuilding of the port town Le Havre after World War II. His reconstruction helped make Le Havre into a World Heritage Site. Another of his most prominent designs involved the first Art Deco edifice in Paris, the Theatre des Champs-Élysées.
You can see the various house signs behind the sculpture of the cat.
Who was Josef Havlíček? That question was answered in the small museum under the ground floor. Havlíček lived from 1899 to 1961, when he died from exhaustion. As a prominent architect, he was a member of Devětsil, Artěl and SVÚ Mánes, the most influential artistic groups of the time. His mentor at school during the Czechoslovak First Republic of the 1920s was Czech architect Josef Gočár, who designed many important Cubist works in Prague, Hradec Králové and other places. Gočár took Havlíček under his wing and employed him in his studio until 1928.
Josef Havlíček, photo from Muzeum věžáků Kladno webpages.
While Havlíček was given the title of director of the architectural Stavoproject in 1948, he left two years later due to frustration with totalitarian politics. For a while his plans were not realized due to his political stance, but later he used Stalinist social realism architecture that pleased the authorities, even though his style combined creativity while fulfilling the ideology of the times.
Havlíček’s building constructed in Žižkov
Some of his other accomplishments included a building in Prague’s Žižkov, built from 1932 to 1934 with the help of Karel Honzík and dubbed “the first Prague skyscraper.” He also designed the residential development Labská Kotlina in Hradec Králové from 1946 to 1959 and residential buildings in Ostrava. He presented designs for a United Nations building in New York City and a town hall in Toronto, though they were not carried out.
Some models of Havlíček’s creations were on display in the museum.
In the museum space that presented a large timeline and much information about the life and career of Josef Havlíček, we stood around a detailed model of the Rozdělov high-rises in Kladno as they had been planned. In 1946 Havlíček had intended for the project to appear differently – with six buildings of 10 floors each in a Y pattern, flaunting a functionalist style. Due to the political changes in the country during and after 1948, these designs never came to fruition.
From the roof terrace looking down on another of Havlíček’s designs
During the late forties and fifties Kladno was in dire need of more housing. The city had become much more industrialized after the Communist coup of 1948. For example, Kladno was the prominent home of the Poldi steelworks. Construction of new buildings was necessary to accommodate the new workers who were toiling in the black coal industry.
View from the roof terrace
In 1951 Havlíček redid his conception of the suburb, pressured to conform to social realist architectural regulations. He received permission that year. He came up with something that was accepted by the authorities but was also modern and authentic. From 1952 to 1958, Havlíček worked on the design along with Karel Filsák and Karel Bubeníček. Construction began on the project with the first and second buildings. Tenants moved into the first building at the end of 1956 and into the sixth building at the end of the following year.
You can see some of the suburb’s high-rises from the roof terrace.
The six buildings that formed the letter T were inaugurated as the Victorious February suburb to commemorate the February Communist coup of 1948. The building we were in had 13 floors, not including the ground floor and upper ground floor. Each floor consisted of six apartments, two much bigger than the others. The more luxurious flats of that era had balconies.
Another view from the roof terrace
The project was planned to be much more elaborate than the 48-meter high residential buildings. Havlíček and his colleagues envisioned the suburb to flourish with cultural and shopping centers. It was slated to become a major hub for cultural activities, such as theatre, and to have much needed impressive stores. While the shopping center plans were carried out, the theatre was never built. Financial problems and other barriers did not allow the designs to be fully developed. From the model it was possible to see how Havlíček had proposed that the suburb become a leading place for activities as well as original housing made from inventive materials.
We went down to the second basement floor, the atomic shelter. I saw many gas masks and rows of hard, wooden benches in several spaces. It would certainly be depressing and frightening to be trapped down there for any reason let alone a nuclear war. Many buildings were constructed with atomic shelters during the 1950s in Czechoslovakia.
Then we visited the roof with impressive terrace, which was a prominent component of the project in its day. Even though now ugly high-rises surrounded the building, during a clear day it was possible to see the historic Říp Hill and the mountains of central Bohemia, even some of the mountains at the German border.
The living room of the flat
Then we went into a 55 meters squared flat preserved with 1950s furnishings and equipment, looking as it had during its construction as a luxury home for high-ranking Communist families. The living room had a couch and table on which were a cake and mugs. I noticed one cup was adorned with a red Communist star and the other sported a Communist symbol. On the table there was also an open pack of cigarettes and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. A lace tablecloth covered part of the table. A large radio and a black-and-white TV with three buttons under the screen also stood out in the room. Social realist-styled statuettes decorated cabinets.The bedroom was dominated by a big double bed. On each nightstand was a framed photo. A large mirror adorned the wall above the bed.
The bedroom
The kitchen included a gas stove, a counter and pantry with shelves for storing food as well as cabinets. Although it looked small to me, at that time this type of kitchen had been luxurious, only available to the most prominent families. The flat featured a big balcony, too, something that not many apartments in the building had.
Now the museum, which opened in 2020, is a cultural monument to an innovative style designed during Stalinist times. This was Havlíček’s last big project to be carried out as he died of exhaustion in 1961, exasperated by his discomfort with the country’s Communist ideology of which he had been a critic. It had taken a toll on his physical and mental state.
The kitchen
This is the first Czech museum showing off suburban Czech architecture. The museum was something totally different than the kind I usually visited. I had never been to a museum focusing on a suburb of a city. I had thought of the suburbs of Kladno as eyesores with socialist high-rises that scarred the landscape. This one was different. During the period of its construction, the architecture had forged a new path in suburban appearances. It was a pity that only two of the buildings survive today and that fate had intervened and prevented the project from being completed.
The gas stove in the kitchen
I took all the necessities such as the stove and kitchen space for granted. I thought the flat seemed relatively small. At one time, though, a flat this size had been a luxury. I could see the accomplishments in modern architecture as I viewed all the spaces through a 1950s lens. I could better appreciate the modernity of the present by immersing myself into the past.
The simple chandelier in the living room
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Peering at the paintings in the third floor art gallery and the furnishings on the first floor representative rooms, I came quickly to the conclusion that Radim Chateau was a hidden gem among sights near Prague. While there were not numerous spaces to visit, the ones viewed on tours of the representative rooms were outstanding in their content and beauty. Everywhere I looked in the gallery and on the representative floor, I saw magnificent artwork. Even the 19th century tapestries and Romantized furnishings in the hallways told intriguing stories of centuries gone by.
I was stunned by the masterful artistry of Radim Chateau during my first visit in 2025. This Renaissance chateau in central Bohemia was built next to a fortress that was first mentioned in writing during the early 14th century. The fortress had various owners. Then Karel Záruba from Hustířan had the chateau constructed in the early 17th century. The two-floor structure was ready for use by nobles in 1610. However, Karel passed two years later, and the property became the possession of his son Jan, who took the side of the defeated Protestants during the Thirty Years’ War. Because the Catholics triumphed, the chateau was confiscated, and Jan had to flee the country. However, when Adam the Younger of Wallenstein took over the chateau and property, he returned it to Jan Záruba. Soon it was purchased by the legendary Šternberk clan. At that time, Radim became an administrative seat where clerks rather than nobles occupied the chateau.
Several owners came and went after 1634. Then, in 1685, the well-known Gallas family took over Radim and held onto it until the 18th century. I thought back to the Clam-Gallas Palace in Prague, where the ceiling frescoes and ballroom with crystal chandeliers are superb. Getting back to Radim history: The next owner was a notable pioneer in the Czech publishing industry, the knighted František Jan Brahier. He printed breaking news in German. When Brahier died in 1721, he did not leave any heirs.
That is when the Kinský family came into the picture. A family that had had so much influence on horse breeding and horseracing, the Kinskýs sold the chateau to Prince Alois Josef Lichtenstein in 1783. This was an important purchase because the chateau stayed in this family for 143 years. During the Lichtenstein reign, the chateau once again served administrative purposes for a significant period of time.
A momentous occasion could have taken place in 1791, if fate had not gotten in the way. The Czech king Leopold II was returning to Vienna from his coronation in Prague and wanted to see Radim Chateau and take in some hunting there. However, plans had to be changed as Leopold II had to hurry back to Vienna without a hunting break. In the early 19th century, there was much reconstruction.
The Lichtenstein’s parted ways with Radim in 1927, when Dr. Jaroslav Bukovský took charge. Many changes took place as he used the chateau for representative purposes. Electricity was added to the chateau, and what was once a French park came to flourish in English style.
During the Nazi Occupation, the German army used the premises, although the owner’s wife, Mrs. Bukovská, was still allowed to have a small apartment there. After May of 1945, the Russian military took control of the chateau. The Communists held it from 1950, when Mrs. Bukovská was still permitted to reside on the premises in a tiny abode. Most of the chateau was changed into offices, and a few apartments were installed. District offices remained in the chateau until the 1990s. Then in restitution the Bukovský family got the chateau back. After selling the chateau in 2005 to Antonín Dotlačil, much reconstruction took place.
The chateau was sold again, this time to the present owner, Bohuslav Opatrý, who is a music and art lover, having restored many of the paintings in his third floor collection. The park and garden underwent reconstruction as did part of the chateau. It was not until this century that Radim Chateau was open to the public.
While most of the furnishings are not original due to the Nazi occupation of the chateau and the dereliction that occurred during socialist times, it does boast original 19th century flooring in the main hall. To be sure, the Communists destroyed most of the chateau interior. Yet, decades later, Radim would be resurrected by painstaking efforts that made it into the gem it is today. The painted ceilings in the bedroom, main hall and gallery have been preserved to a great extent. The painted decoration on several ceilings, such as a lobster and a horse, hails from 1607 to 1610.
In the bedroom that we entered first, I was intriguing by the Baroque bed with exquisite carving. In the dining room, I was speechless at the sight of low Renaissance chairs around a Renaissance table. In other rooms, I saw many Gothic chairs, often Romanticized into 19th century style. A Mannerist cabinet with exquisite woodwork of figures and columns was a delight in one space. I spotted a portrait of Rudolf II among the pictures of rulers that decorated a high wall in the bedroom. I also saw in one space a 18th century globe decorated with allegorical figures of zodiac signs instead of continents. The ceiling decoration of a green-and-white pattern in the bedroom also awed me. So delicate and so much attention to detail.
In the administrative office of the Lichtensteins, I saw pictures of Austro-Hungarian generals. In the study, portraits of past owners as well as the current owner hung on the walls. I recognized Adam the Younger Wallenstein as well as Adam Kinský. There was even a portrait of Octavian Kinský, who was never the owner of this chateau but had made a name for himself with that clan, specifically in horse breeding and horseracing. Work related to his successes could be seen in Karlova Koruna Chateau, which I had visited several times. A more modern likeness of the current owner also decorated one wall. In an isolated space, I peered at a Neo-Gothic altar with medieval elements. Tapestries from the 19th century were present throughout the chateau’s first floor and hallways.
The main hall, often used for weddings, was one highlight of the tour. The painted ceiling featured various objects and animals in bright colors. A 19th century Petrov Grand piano also adorned the space. Paintings from various periods added to the décor.
Close-ups of the Mannerist cabinet
On a tour of the cellar places it was possible to see a Black Kitchen that was still functional as well as an armory and some bedrooms once used by princesses. This was another intriguing tour.
Portrait of Austrian general
However, the biggest highlight for this art lover was the gallery on the third floor. Nineteenth and early 20th century landscapes dotted the hallway. I saw images of the slowly flowing Berounka River, the snow-covered Alps, charming cottages tucked into woodlands, the tranquil landscape in the Pilsen region, sights of Prague, portrayals of sheep, folk dancing figures and haymakers doing laborious work in the fields, mystical forests and other scenes. I was enamored by each painting as landscapes from this time period were my favorite. While most of the paintings were authored by lesser known artists who deserved much praise, one work was painted by the well-known Otakar Nejedlý.
Landscape with Berounka River, not by Nejedlý
This renowned Czech painter lived from 1883 to 1957. He was a pupil of the master landscape artist Antonín Slavíček. His travels to India greatly influenced his works. During World War I, he was mobilized to France where he painted places the Czech legionnaires had fought. After the war, he became an esteemed professor in Prague. He adored the south Bohemian countryside and was inspired by Romanticism, Impressionism and Expressionism.
Painting of sheep by Popelka
Vojtěch Hyněk Popelka created the renditions of moving sheep, and it was no surprise that he specialized in painting animals. He brought to life landscapes and animals in his works during the early 20th century.
Painter Otto Stein, who also was an accomplished graphic artist, lived from 1877 to 1958. Several of his works were displayed in this gallery. After studying in Prague and settling in Munich, he took part in Munich New Secession exhibitions in the early 20th century. During the war, he painted material used to promote the Austro-Hungarian Army. After the war, he became part of the Berlin Secession, having to move to that city. In 1922 his renditions were on display in Prague’s Rudolfinum. He gained acclaim in Germany and the USA.
In 1942 tragedy struck, and he and his family were deported to the Terezín concentration camp. He toiled in the technical department there and bided his free time with drawing. Miraculously, he and his entire family were spared, and, after the war, he moved to Prague. Then he went to live in the north Bohemian countryside, where he did a great deal of painting. He died there in 1958.
The German painter Adrian Ludwig Richter also had works on display in this gallery. He lived from 1803 to 1884 and also succeeded as a illustrator. His paintings featured the Romanticist style, inspired by Caspar David Friedrich. He was especially enamored with the countryside of north Bohemia and the ruins of Střekov Castle in that region. Richter also made 3,000 creations out of wood.
Vlastimil Toman (1930 – 2015) was a painter, graphic artist, illustrator, poet and photographer as well as professor. Several of his landscapes were represented in the gallery. He worked mainly in Třebíč, painting the Vyšocany and Moravian countryside. In the 1960s, he explored the styles of cubism, fauvism, expressionism and lyrical realism. In total, he had 24 solo exhibitions in Třebíč plus 50 collective exhibitions around the country.
Prague Castle in the distance
Čertovka on Kampa Island, Prague
My favorites were the renditions of Prague. One painting featured Prague Castle in the horizon, another showed the Charles Bridge. Yet another displayed the Judith Bridge, which preceded the Charles Bridge. One portrayed Čertovka on Kampa Island.
But there was more. A rather large space featured religious art. I saw numerous madonnas, scenes from the Bible and pictures of saints here as well as Gothic furniture. There was a range of styles, and works hailed from various eras, though none were modern. My head was swimming with this immersion into religious art.
From the third floor, it was easy to read the motto of Saint Benedict on the balustrade. “Tempora matuntur et nos matumar cum illus,” it read. It meant that times change, and we change with them. Other black-painted letters read “Ora et labora,” which translates from the Latin into “Pray and work.” The ceiling on the third floor was richly decorated with depictions of objects and animals.
Not only had I peered at masterfully carved furnishings and other notable objects in the representative rooms but I had also viewed numerous paintings in my preferred landscape genre. The religious art was very impressive, too. While the chateau’s representative spaces are not large, it is worth seeing for those interested in Czech history and sights with artifacts from various eras. Art enthusiasts are sure to love the third floor displays.
On that day there was a wedding, and the café offered various cakes and pastries outside as well as sausages that were cooked over a fire. Delicious bread was available, too.
I went to lunch at U Marka restaurant in Pecky, a small town nearby. The rustic interior was suitable for the delicious Czech food, which cost so much less than that in Prague. I had had a great day.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
I visited Grabštejn Castle for the third time in 2024. Situated in north Bohemia near the Polish border, Grabštejn has come a long way since my first two visits some 20 years ago, when only a few rooms were open to the public because major reconstruction was taking place. Back then, I had seen Grabštejn Castle as a place with much potential, but I wondered if I would ever see the upper and lower castle with more than several spaces open to the public.
The first thing I noticed was that there was no scaffolding near the entrance to the castle perched on a rocky hill, where it dominated the scenic landscape. I read that there were two tour routes available and many rooms on display.
I recalled the history of Grabštejn, which was originally a 13th century Gothic castle, first mentioned in writing during 1286. It was transformed into a Renaissance chateau during the 16th century and still has many Renaissance features. During that Renaissance transformation, the Chapel of Saint Barbara was constructed. It became an architectural gem due to its superb vaulting as well as exquisite wall and ceiling painting. The chapel was consecrated to Saint Barbara, the patron saint of miners, because miners worked on the Grabštejn property. The chapel’s décor included a masterfully crafted statue of that saint.
Things fell apart during the Thirty Year’s War, when the Swedes conquered the castle. After Grabštejn was sold to Jan Václav Gallas in 1704, reconstruction work was carried out. Then the castle was used as an administrative seat instead of a residence. In 1781 a fire destroyed the castle, but Filip Josef Gallas restored Grabštejn’s impressive appearance. The chateau was again used for administrative work.
Elephant foot used as trash can
When Kristián Kryštof Clam-Gallas became owner, he rebuilt the administrative building as a Classicist chateau. His family used Grabštejn as a summer seat. In 1843, lightning hit the castle, causing a large fire. The damage was repaired, though.
Marie Clam-Gallas set up a small family museum in the castle after World War I, and during 1934, Grabštejn was open to the public while the family also used the premises. However, the castle was nationalized in 1945, after World War II. The Clam-Gallas family that had contributed so much to the development of the castle was forced to leave in a cattle wagon.
During 1953, the Czechoslovak army took over the castle, which was already in poor condition. The army stayed there until after the Velvet Revolution, exiting for good in 1990. Vandalized, the castle was in ruins. Major repairs took place until 2010, and reconstruction even continues today. The public has been allowed to visit since 1993. It was possible to preserve a section of the Renaissance sgraffito that decorates Grabštejn’s western façade. The original statue of Saint Barbara was restored. The installation of the interior lighting ended in 2023 while the cobblestones in the main courtyard were repaired during 2024.
Clerk’s office at the castle
The tours show rooms from the 16th to 19th century as well as the spaces dedicated to the Clam-Gallas museum. I saw the administrative offices of the 18th century as well as rooms made for nobility. The clerks’ offices displayed quills, large historical maps, portraits and shelves with document-filled cubby holes. It was intriguing to see rooms used for administrative purposes at a castle. I learned about the clerks’ work during that time period. Usually, I only saw rooms decorated for nobility.
The highlight of the tour was the Renaissance Chapel of Saint Barbara. I admired the superb vaulting and the wall and ceiling paintings, one of which showed a 13th apostle with no attributes. Whom the image represented was unclear. I noticed a poignant Last Judgment scene on the ceiling as well as an exquisite rendition of the Last Supper. The statue of Saint Barbara was breathtaking in its original form. The Renaissance altar painting showed Jesus squirming on Mary’s lap. I noted the splendid blue drapery of the Virgin Mary and the lush green landscape in the background. The wooden pulpit was truly unique.
In the castle rooms devoted to the nobility, I saw old photographs of the Clam-Gallas family. The photos reminded me that Grabštejn had once been a busy family home, full of vitality. I saw many paintings of nobles on horseback as well as landscapes. A gigantic wall painting was stunning. It showed lush chateau-like gardens with a monumental fountain as nobles strolled by. I noticed that the fountain in the painting dazzled with a gilded statue of Poseidon.
I also admired black-and-white graphic art. A tapestry depicted idyllic scenery. The masterfully carved, wine red canopied bed was striking. I loved the trash can made out of an elephant’s foot and the elegant, gilded grandfather clock.
It was intriguing to see part of a castle as an 18th century work space for clerks and another section as home for a noble family. The various styles of furnishings from the 16th century to the 19th century made Grabštejn’s interiors refreshingly eclectic. The chapel was an architectural and artistic gem in Renaissance style. The detailed painting, the vaulting, the impressive altarpiece and the well-preserved statue of Saint Barbara were only some of the astounding features of this breathtaking space. The decoration throughout was stunning.
I was so surprised that Grabštejn Castle had gone through a major transformation since my first two visits. The exterior was just as imposing, and the interiors were captivating. I also spent some time on the castle grounds, staring at breathtaking views into Poland and Germany.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Whenever I come across a Cubist sculpture by Otto Gutfreund in a Czech gallery or museum, I take some time to appreciate the personal feelings that come to mind as I study the masterful figures. While I was perusing the impressive collection of Gutfreund’s works in Prague’s Kampa Museum, I was reminded that this was not the only style he employed in his career. As I studied the creations by Gutfreund there, I mused over the legendary sculpture’s career and the tragedy that befell him.
Lovers (Embracing Figures), 1913-14, bronze
Born in Dvůr Králové nad Labem in Bohemia during 1889, Gutfreund studied drawing and porcelain painting in Prague before turning to sculpture. In Paris his mentor was Antoine Bourdelle. Gutfreund was greatly influenced by the works of Auguste Rodin, whom he knew personally. While in Paris, he also became fascinated with Gothic art and nature. His travels then took him to England, Belgium and the Netherlands. He became immersed in the Cubist style after 1910 as he simplified natural forms into geometric shapes and showed objects and figures from multiple perspectives.
Cellist (Cello Player), 1912-13, bronze.
He made a name for himself as a Cubist guru with his first sculpture in this style, “Anxiety,” of 1911-12. Gutfreund joined the Group of Creative Artists around this time. This emotional and expressive work is my favorite as it stresses the sheer angst and fear that can be debilitating and personally destructive. It reminds me of the anxiety shown in works by Egon Schiele and the German Expressionists of the 1920s. I also see similarities to the emotion-immersed sculptures of František Bílek, a Czech Art Nouveau and Symbolist artist.
Cubist bust, 1913-14, bronze
Some of Gutfreund’s most renowned early Cubist works include his renditions of Don Quixote and Hamlet. Then, becoming more and more inspired by Picasso, he moved to Paris, where he met that artist as well as Apollinaire, to name a few.
World War I brought many changes to Gutfreund’s life. He became a soldier for the Foreign Legion in France and took part in the Battle of the Somme. He wound up in prison during 1916 and wasn’t released until three years later.
Viki, 1912-13, bronze
Two months after being freed, he moved back to Prague and was lauded as a sculptor of the social civilism style, which emphasized the everyday and was very realistic, nothing like the expressive Cubist movement in which he had participated before the war.
In the early 1920s, he received some big commissions. At this time, he created the monument to 19th century writer Božena Němcová in Ratibořice. The sculptural grouping showed off characters in Němcová’s stellar novel, The Grandmother, a 19th century Czech classic.
Industry, Study (sculpture on the right), 1923.
From 1922 to 1923, Gutfreund decorated the Legiobanka Building in Prague with a relief called “The Legions’ Return,” cooperating with renowned Czech architect Josef Gočár. In 1924 he designed a life-size statue of the first president of Czechoslovakia, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk in Hradec Králové. I greatly admired likenesses of the first Czechoslovak president. Gutfreund held art shows, adding to his résumé of artistic mastery. During 1926 he became a professor of sculpture at Prague’s College of Decorative Arts, and Americans had the chance to admire his works in a New York City exhibition.
Fighters (A Fight, Wrestlers), 1924, bronze.
Unfortunately, his life was short-lived. On June 2, 1927, he drowned in the Vltava River in Prague. He accomplished so much in such a short time. If he had lived, there is no telling how much he could have influenced the Czechoslovak and world art scene. Gutfreund is buried in Prague.
At the Museum Kampa visitors can see a collection of both his Cubist and realistic sculptures as Otto Gutfreund lives on through his incredible art. It is worth traveling to Ratibořice to see the stunning chateau and park dedicated to Němcová and 19th century country life as well as the impressive statuary grouping by Gutfreund. Admirers of sculpture and architecture are sure to be amazed by Prague’s Legiobanka Building in the center of the city.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Statuary grouping from Němcová’s book The Grandmother, by Otto Gutfreund, in Ratibořice
The first time I visited Jezeří Chateau was around the year 2000, about four years after it had opened to the public. While the chateau dominating the mountainous landscape appeared impressive from afar, up close it had looked derelict, as if it was about to collapse. The tour had covered only several rooms because much of the structure was under reconstruction. I left Jezeří feeling sad that a chateau with such promise had been derelict for so long. I wondered if the state would ever be able to make the chateau presentable again as so much rebuilding was necessary.
Now, 24 years later, I went back to the chateau situated in the Ore Mountains near the German border. About 10 rooms were open to the public, and they were impressive. I especially loved the paintings of Carl Robert Croll and the room where former Minister of Foreign Affairs and son of the first Czechoslovak President, Jan Masaryk, had stayed overnight. Spaces that had once succumbed to a sad plight now impressed, many harkening back to the golden days of the chateau.
The main facade of the chateau
But it is necessary to start at the beginning and get to know Jezeří’s history and suffering throughout years of dilapidation before touching upon the current appearance. To appreciate Jezeří fully, one has to be aware of the chateau’s journey, a long and winding one that overcame many obstacles.
Atlantis statue on main portal of the chateau
Jezeří Chateau dominates the landscape as a Baroque structure in the Ore (Krušné) Mountains of north Bohemia. It had been transformed from a Gothic castle called De Lacu (from the lake) to a Renaissance chateau by the Hochhauser family and finally to its Baroque appearance today. It was first mentioned in writing as a Gothic castle in the 1360s. The Thirty Years’ War brought much damage and destruction.
Statue of a dog above the main courtyard of the chateau
Then, in 1623, Vilém the Younger Popel Lobkowicz bought it, and the Lobkowicz name would punctuate the chateau’s history for centuries. Under Ferdinand Vilém Lobkowicz, from 1647 to 1708, extensive reconstruction took place. The property included 500 hectares. A hall replete with grandeur showed off oval vaulting, stucco decoration and large columns while a new richly decorated dining room sported a beautiful ceiling. Rooms were adorned with frescoes. The garden showed off fountains and cascades. A zoo was on the premises. However, all good things came to an end when a fire that could not be extinguished ravaged the building during 1713.
During 1722 the chateau passed into the hands of the Roudnice branch of the family. Jezeří would come to life again when reconstruction occurred during the 18th and 19th centuries. Jezeří flourished, filled with frescoes and paintings by masterful artists. The English style garden included an artificial grotto and lavish statues. The H-shaped chateau became a center for musical and theatrical events during the Baroque and Classicist eras as famous guests visited its renowned theatre.
View of oratory of chateau chapel
Owner Maxmilián had opera singers visit from ensembles in Vienna and Dresden. Beethoven was friends with Prince František Maxmilián. The first private performance of Beethoven’s third “Eroica” Symphony, which the composer had dedicated to František Maxmilián, took place here. It also was the site of the first private performance (1797) of Haydn’s Creation. My favorite symphony by Beethoven, his sixth (the Pastoral), was also dedicated to Prince Lobkowicz.
Sculpted heads with facial expressions adorn the Theatre Hall.
Another sculptural decoration in the Theatre Hall
At the time, vast Jezeří was buzzing with excitement in its 114 rooms and numerous smaller spaces. The English gardens and park were Baroque in style and showed off statues of mythological figures, greenhouses, pavilions, an artificial waterfall, terraces with magnificent views and an arboretum.
Painting of chateau interior by Carl Robert Croll
In the early 19th century, the prominent painter Carl Robert Croll created canvases for the Lobkowiczes, and his renditions of the chateau’s exterior and interior are magnificent. His “Winter Garden” from 1841 portrayed a light and airy room with many plants and windows, white walls and blue-upholstered furniture. The painting “The Big Salon,” created that same year, showed children dancing and men immersed in a game of billiards. Croll’s work “Smaller Salon at Jezeří” focuses on women and girls chatting and ordering tea or coffee. Croll painted the exterior of the chateau at night, presenting it as mystical and magical.
A painting of the chateau landscape by Carl Robert Croll
During the existence of The First Republic of Czechoslovakia, Jezeří was under the guidance of JUDr. Maxmilián Ervín Lobkowicz (1888 – 1968). Maxmilián served as a Czechoslovak diplomat and during World War II held the post of Czechoslovak Ambassador to Great Britain as he played a major role in the anti-fascist movement with the government-in-exile in London.
After he went into exile in 1938, Nazi soldiers took control of the chateau, and during 1943, a prison camp for Poles, Russians, French and out-of-favor German soldiers was situated on the property. Among the prominent figures incarcerated there was Pierre de Gaulle, brother of former French President Charles de Gaulle.
Jan Masaryk, Minister of Foreign Affairs and democrat
Maxmilián Lobkowicz returned after the war, and his good friend Jan Masaryk, then Czechoslovak Minister of Foreign Affairs, visited Maxmilián there on several occasions. However, Jan Masaryk would be shoved out a bathroom window by Communist officials at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Prague and fall to his death. The totalitarian regime categorized it as a suicide.
Times would change for the worst as Maxmilián and his family had to go into exile during 1948, carrying with them only a few belongings. The Communist coup had taken place, forcing the lifelong democrat Maxmilián to flee once again. At this time, the chateau was deteriorating.
Jan Masaryk, son of the first president of democratic Czechoslovakia
Jezeří certainly did not get a pretty makeover during the following decades. On the contrary, in 1950 the Czechoslovak army took over Jezeří, and the interior was destroyed. Then, five years later, the Ministry of the Interior used the building. Several other institutions were situated there in subsequent years, and times were definitely not rosy. The place was often vandalized until 1960. Jezeří Chateau became a cultural monument in 1963, though its condition did not improve. At the end of the 1960s and in the 1970s, extensive mining took place on the grounds. During the 1970s and 1980s, there was talk of tearing Jezeří down because the structure was not deemed safe due to the mining activities.
The chateau had been surrounded by intensive coal mining for centuries. Mines with dams and ditches punctuated the Ore Mountains. The mining history harkens back to the 16th century, and though it was halted for a while after the Thirty Years’ War of the 17th century, mining activities returned with a vengeance during the 19th century due to the discovery of cobalt blue and uranium in the mountains. During the first and second world war, much mining took place in the Ore Mountains. Then, after the Soviets took control of Czechoslovakia, the Ore Mountains were used as a source of uranium ore, but it was all kept hush-hush. The beautiful forests were destroyed under Communist rule. Jezeří didn’t even appear on maps anymore.
After the Velvet Revolution of 1989 that triggered the end of Communist rule, the Lobkowiczes got the chateau back in restitution. In 1991, the state declared the chateau a protected cultural monument. However, the chateau was in such bad condition that the Lobkowiczes were not able to do the necessary repairs because it would be so costly. In 1996 Martin Lobkowicz gave the chateau to the state. Repairs began, but it would be a long journey before the chateau appeared in a decent state.
The artwork in the chateau is superb.
During 1996, one room in the chateau was open to the public. When I visited in 2000, more rooms were accessible, but there was a lot of reconstruction taking place. Back then, I felt a sense of profound sadness because the necessary reconstruction would take years to accomplish. Yet hope and determination won out. The chateau continued to be painstakingly restored, and finally part of the first floor and a section of the second floor were on display for visitors. It was made a national cultural monument in 2022.
The chateau Theatre Hall
The stunning balustrade of the Theatre Hall
Now visitors can admire the renovated, lavish Theatre Hall with its original fireplace and stucco decoration. Heads of figures with various theatrical expressions decorate the walls. The cupola is impressive as is the balustrade above. Concerts are held here, reviving Jezeří’s musical tradition.
The Winter Garden today
The Winter Garden was renovated to look like it did in Carl Robert Croll’s paintings, and it is a tranquil, comfy place full of greenery. I would love to have tea in that soothing space.
Paintings throughout the chateau are intriguing with Carl Robert Croll’s works showing a stunning chateau interior and exterior at the beginning of the 19th century. Many other artworks are impressive, too. Three pianos are on display. The vaulting and stucco ornamentation in rooms is intriguing to say the least.
Jan Masaryk’s room at the chateau
Jan Masaryk’s room at the chateau
My favorite room is the one dedicated to Jan Masaryk. Seeing his room at the chateau made me imagine his visits with the Lobkowiczes during the chateau’s better days. The portraits of Jan Masaryk across from the room brought to mind Masaryk’s fierce fight for democracy and his tragic fate. I remember, during a tour of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, being shown the bathroom window from which he was shoved to the hard ground outside.
Bust of Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk, first president and Czechoslovakia and father of Jan Masaryk
Twentieth century coffee and tea set in Jan Masaryk’s room at the chateau
I see Jezeří Chateau as a symbol of hope, of the determination that can painstakingly change a monument considered for demolition into an edifice with an intriguing interior that impresses visitors. There is still much reconstruction going on, but Jezeří continues to develop – slowly but surely. I was glad I had been able to witness so many positive developments.
Handpainted toilet in the chateau
Tracy Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Czech legendary writer Bohumil Hrabal. Photo by Karel Kestner. Bought by me in Lesní atélier Kuba, Kersko some years ago.
For me Kersko is a sort of catharsis, easing my anxiety about daily life’s concerns and bringing me a sense of tranquilly. I feel at home here, even though I have no personal connection to this area not far from Prague. I can breathe in the clean air and be at peace with the world and myself. I would love to own a house in Kersko, a forested village dotted with traditional cottages and huge homes built by millionaires.
The Kersko restaurant Hájenka
Every now and then I made the trip to the village restaurant Hájenka, a traditional pub-like establishment with delicious Czech food. On the television in the pub, customers can watch scenes from late legendary Czech author Bohumil Hrabal’s film Snowdrop Festival. Some of the exteriors were shot at Hájenka while the interiors of the pub seen on the film were actually shot at a studio. Directed by the world-renowned Jiří Menzel and based on Hrabal’s 1978 novel, the stellar film remains a Czech classic with many unforgettable scenes.
One of many ceramic cat figures at Lesní atélier Kuba, Kersko.
I also always stop at the souvenir and craft shop Lesní atélier Kuba, where beautiful handmade ceramic cats are sold along with other superb figures. The shop has been open since 1992. While a cat theme plays a major role in the inventory, there is much more to see. I always buy some of their delicious cookies. They sell much more than beautiful ceramics: t-shirts, postcards, books, candles and many other things. During my visit in May of 2024, the downstairs area was home to a fascinating temporary exhibition of witty drawings focusing on Hrabal’s life.
Drawing by Radek Steska showing Hrabal and his cats at The Golden Tiger pub in Prague, exhibited in Kersko at Lesní atélier Kuba.
Indeed, Kersko is intricately tied to the life and career of Hrabal, my favorite Czech writer and the name of my first cat. I penned my master’s thesis on his books, focusing on their historical context. From 1965 until his death in 1997, Hrabal often resided in a quaint, two-floor cottage in the village, fed the semi-feral cats, took walks, rode his bike and frequented the pubs, including Hájenka.
Bohumil Hrabal signing autographs in Spain during the mid-1990s. Photo property of Tracy Burns.
Born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire during 1914, Hrabal was renowned for his grotesque, absurd and irreverent humor and witty anecdotes. While he is mostly known as an author of fiction, he excelled at poetry early in his career. What I like best about his writing is his creation of the pábitel, a word connoting a dreamer living on the outskirts of society. Although the pábitel has experienced tragedy, he learns how to be content with life and how to find beauty in even the most horrid conditions. The pábitel often tells meandering, absurd anecdotes that make the reader both laugh and cry.
Bohumil Hrabal and Czech writer Arnošt Lustig in Golden Tiger pub, Prague during the 1990s. Photo property of Tracy Burns.
Hrabal held many jobs throughout his writing career. He worked as a train dispatcher in Kostomlaty, where he was almost killed by Nazi soldiers. Hrabal later was employed as an insurance broker and traveling salesman. After the Communist coup of 1948, he took a position at the Poldi steelworks in Kladno, but in 1952 a crane fell on him. Then Hrabal became a paper baler. He would later make a living as a stagehand in a theatre.
Bohumil Hrabal in photo taken by Karel Kestner, bought by me at Lesni atélier Kuba some years ago.
The year 1956 was very significant for Hrabal as he married Eliška Plevová, a German-Czech kitchen worker in Prague’s luxurious Hotel Paris. In 1965 they bought a cottage in Kersko. During the more liberal 1960s, Hrabal was able to spend more time writing, and he was even able to travel abroad. His 1968 film Closely Watched Trains, directed by Menzel, won an Oscar, based on the novel Hrabal had scribed three years previously.
Bohumil Hrabal in photo by Karel Kestner. Property of Tracy Burns and bought at Lesní atélier Kuba some years ago.
After the Warsaw Pact tanks crushed the Prague Spring of liberal reforms in 1968, Hrabal was banned as an author, and his works only appeared in illegal publications. During 1970 his book Buds (Poupata) was burned by the Communists. These were tumultuous years. Hrabal relented to intense pressure and signed the anti-Charter denouncing the Charter 77 document that called for human rights in Czechoslovakia, and he became an “official” author again. Yet his career was still not without its problems.
Bohumil Hrabal writing in photo by Karel Kestner. Photo property of Tracy Burns and bought at Lesní atélier Kuba some years ago.
During the 1980s, he wrote a famous trilogy that was part autobiography and part fiction, depicting times from the late fifties and the turbulent 1970s, for instance. In 1987 his wife died of cancer. He continued writing and traveled to the USA and Moscow at the end of the 1980s. In 1988 his legendary, long-time apartment on Na Hrázi Street in Prague’s eighth district was demolished to make way for the Metro station Palmovka.
Bohumil Hrabal with then Czech Republic President Václav Havel and then US President Bill Clinton at The Golden Tiger pub, January, 1994. Photo property of Tracy Burns
In the 1990s, Hrabal could be seen drinking beer at the Golden Tiger (U zlatého tygra) pub in Old Town and traveling to Kersko to feed his many semi-feral cats. He won the Jaroslav Seifert prize during 1993 and accepted foreign literary awards as well as honorary degrees. He gave lectures and readings abroad. In January of 1994, the acclaimed author met then US President Bill Clinton and Ambassador to the United Nations Madeleine Albright at the Golden Tiger pub.
Drawing of Bohumil Hrabal by Radek Steska, exhibited at Lesní atélier Kuba in 2024
I first met Hrabal at the Golden Tiger pub in 1994, a few months after the author’s meeting with President Clinton and Ambassador Albright. He always ordered me fried chicken or pork steak because that is what President Clinton had eaten there. (I happened to like that food, too.)
Sometimes, he was in a cheerful mood and other times, he was angry and depressed. He could no longer take walks, something he had loved doing. Hrabal had to take a taxi to the pub. He often complained that his entire body hurt.
Cat sculptures in Kersko
At the end of 1996, Hrabal was hospitalized with neuralgia. He was about to be released when he jumped or fell from the fifth floor window on February 3, 1997. He is buried in the cemetery in Hradištko, near Kersko. The irregular gravestone is especially noteworthy for the sculpted arm and hand seemingly emerging out of the stone monument. The top square section of the gravestone has a circle in the middle. Many wooden and ceramic cat figures as well as beer bottles decorate the grave site. I like the gravestone. It is innovative and unique just as Hrabal had been.
Bohumil Hrabal’s grave in Hradištko
Kersko has an intriguing history. Hradištko was first mentioned in writing during the 11th century and at that time included a fortress called Keřsko. In 1376 Eliška from Lichtenburk acquired the territory. She was the grandmother of George of Poděbrady, who would become a Czech king. The fortress area expanded into a village between 1354 and 1357, but it was destroyed during the Hussite wars of the 15th century. A pond was later created on the site of the former fortress. At the beginning of the 20th century, archeological digs in the village unearthed Gothic weapons and other historical objects. Some trees in Kersko are over 200 years old. The oldest oak in Kersko is 193 meters high. The area includes three small ponds and a mineral spring as well as walking trails.
Some feral cats in front of Hájenka restaurant some years ago
Fast-forward to 1934, when private citizens were first allowed to buy property in Kersko. A café dominated by an octagonal tower was built the following year. Later, it would become the restaurant Hájenka. The village aspired to become a forest spa town. Plans were made to build a hotel, two swimming pools and a sports complex. Then World War II took place, and plans were stalled. The Communist coup of 1948 put a halt to the entire project. In the 1950s, small cottages cropped up in the picturesque lanes.
Odkaz, book about the Mašín brothers by Barbara Masin, published by Mladá fronta, 2005.
While Kersko is most famous for being the location of Hrabal’s cottage, it also made a name for itself in the history books long before Hrabal bought a home there, during September of 1951. The Mašín Brothers, an anti-Communist resistance group of young men who fought against the Communists from 1951 to 1953, made some stops in the Kersko forest. Members included Ctirad Mašín, his brother Josef, Milan Paumer, Zbyněk Janata and Václav Švéda. Their objective was to fight their way to freedom, and the two Mašín brothers and Milan Paumer were successful at doing just that in 1953 when they dramatically escaped to American territory in West Berlin. The armed group carried out violent attacks to get money for their cause. To be sure, the Mašín Brothers’ group is very controversial. Some consider them to be heroes who fought against the Communists while others claim they were murderers because they killed innocent people.
Čtyří české osudy, book about Mašín Brothers, by Zdena Mašínová and Rudolf Martin. Published by Ergo, 2018.
Back to their ties with Kersko: In the Kersko forest, Ctirad Mašín and Milan Paumer tied up a taxi driver and stole the cab in order to rob a police station in Chlumec nad Cidlenou. Two weeks later, three Mašín members came to Kersko in an ambulance they had stolen. They tied up the ambulance works in the forest. Then they robbed a police station in Čélakovice, using the stolen ambulance as transportation.
Guide book Odbojová skupina bratří Mašínů, about the Mašín brothers, by Jiří Padevět, published by Academia, 2018.
I had read and written about the Mašín Brothers’ group and was very interested in the anti-Communist resistance movement of the 1950s, so I found these facts to be very intriguing. I also was intrigued with the public’s perception of this armed group because some called them heroes, others cruel killers.
Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage in Kersko, photo from 2024.
Back to Hrabal. In May of 2024, I visited his cottage, which had recently opened to the public. Hrabal’s neighbor had inherited the cottage, and after a while the neighbor’s son sold it to the Central Bohemian Region, which did some reconstruction and made it look like it had during the 1980s. Some of the furnishings were original, some not.
Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage from the back. Photo taken in 2024.
The small, white, two-story structure had an exterior staircase leading to the enclosed balcony surrounded by windows with views of the big garden. Hrabal spent 18 days one July writing the novel I Served The King of England, seated in that garden. He loved to write on his typewriter in the garden.
Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage from one side. Photo taken in 2024.
We entered the tiny ground floor of the house, which was dominated by bunk beds and a table with three chairs. It served as a bedroom and dining room. Hrabal and his wife slept there when it was cold because the heater was in the space. He sometimes wrote in this room. In 1995 Hrabal wrote his last published piece here. I noticed that the date on the Svobodné slovy newspaper on the table was November 29, 1989, not even two weeks after the Velvet Revolution that brought the end of Communist rule. The hats and boxing gloves on a stand made of antlers were authentic. A small TV from the 1980s stood in a corner above the table. A collage by Karel Marysko was one intriguing artwork in the small space. The kitchen was tiny with a wooden stove and hot plate, for instance.
In the beautiful garden of Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage. Photo taken in 2024.
Upstairs there were only two spaces, much larger. Two single beds, decorated old chests and a closet were placed on a red carpet. I noticed the thick brushstrokes in the portrait of Hrabal by Josef Jíra, who was not only a painter but also a graphic artist and illustrator. He also frequented the Golden Tiger pub. The anxiety of people in the modern world often played a role in Jíra’s works. In the painting Hrabal looked sad and serious. Another painting, a collage, showed him in profile with logos of various beers, such as Pilsner Urquell, Primus and Prior. Another collage featured scenes and objects from the novel Cutting It Short, showing a brewery, an old record player and a couple dancing, among other pictures. I also saw portraits of Hrabal’s beautiful wife and parents.
Drawing of Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage with the semi-feral cats he feed, picture exhibited at Lesní atélier Kuba, 2024.
There were other paintings that caught my undivided attention. One showed a bright blue sea with two people looming above the water in a hot air balloon while a man and woman stood on the coast. The bright blue hue gave me a feeling of tranquillity. The drawing “A Loud Monologue” by Jiří Anderle included faces of Hrabal from early childhood to old age. My favorite picture showed Hrabal, sporting a scarf and hat, with cats seated on chairs in a forest. I knew that Hrabal considered his cats to be his children, which is one reason I named my first cat after him.
The street art memorializing Bohumil Hrabal’s home on the former site of Na Hrázi Street, Libeň, Prague, after his home there had been demolished to make way for the Palmovka Metro station.
The enclosed balcony was fabulous because it was so light and airy with views of the garden. I saw two typewriters and a large table with beer glasses and loose pages with handwritten corrections on it. Hrabal wrote here if the weather was bad. He penned Cutting It Short and The Snowdrop Festival here as well as many other works. I didn’t want to leave the balcony because it had such a calming effect on me.
Bohumil Hrabal’s cottage. Photo taken in 2024.
While Hrabal’s cottage was small, it had character. I could see him on the balcony writing while drinking glasses of beer or seated at the table downstairs playing cards or watching the small TV. I could feel his presence during the tour and realized how his writing was tied intricately to Kersko, a tranquil place where I feel at home and at peace.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
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