The first time I visited this chateau in Moravia, back in the late 1990s, it had been an adventure to get there. The train broke down just as it was nearing the town. All the passengers had to disembark. It was too far to walk there. I happened to see a taxi, rare in those parts, driving by the main street, and I flagged it down. After a short ride, I came upon the large Baroque chateau, one of the biggest in the country. I was amazed at its beauty and elegance. When I visited the chateau for the second time during 2025, on a tour bus, the ride was thankfully sans adventure. Walking toward the main entrance, I was just as fascinated as I had been during my first visit so many decades earlier.
The stunning chateau began as a medieval fortress. The Meziříčtí family of Lomnice transformed the structure into a Renaissance castle during the early 17th century. This clan fought for the Protestants in the Czech Estates Uprising, and, when the Protestant nobles lost, the chateau was given to Gerhard of Questenberk. He died in 1646.
His grandson, Count Jan Adam of Questenberk, would be responsible for the major reconstruction in 1700, and his name would forever be connected to the glory days of the chateau’s existence. After extensive travel throughout Europe, Count Jan Adam decided to call Jaroměřice his home. He was fascinated by the Baroque style and was determined to make his chateau a Baroque gem. Reconstruction ended in 1737.
Dance Hall fresco
Jan Adam loved the arts, particularly music and theatre. The chateau became a bustling center for these passions. He created a theatre group in Jaroměřice, and musical concerts as well as operas were performed there, too. Children’s plays also made up the repertoire. Italian operas were the count’s favorites. Masterfully made Baroque theatre sets were utilized as well as elaborate costumes. A large theatre came into existence from 1731 to 1739. Music and theatre came alive in stellar performances on this stage.
Dance Hall
However, when Jan Adam died in 1752, his widow did not continue the music and theatre traditions of her late husband. The glory days were gone. With Jan Adam’s death, the Questenberk lineage also ended.
Several families controlled the chateau after Questenberk’s passing, but no major changes were made. The chateau today is a testament to Jan Adam’s dedication to architectural elegance as it is punctuated by charming and astounding spaces.
Ancestral Hall ceiling fresco
The rooms that impressed me the most were the Ancestral Hall, the Dance Hall, the small but intricate Chinese Salon and the last place on the tour, the amazing Salla Terrana with adjacent Roman baths.
The grotto
What I noticed first in the Ancestral Hall was the masterful wooden panels on the wall, Baroque in style. The colossal portraits filled me with awe. The Corinthian pilasters added to the elegance. However, the best part about this space was above me: the ceiling fresco focused on allegorical figures in a pictorial narration of the founding of the town. Olympian gods, including goddess of the hunt Diana and god of time Chronos, surrounded Prince Jaromír on his hunt. Passions of the count were depicted as allegories of theatre and music. Gods also represented the four seasons.
Dance Hall
The light and airy Dance Hall fascinated me with its fresco decor. The grotesque made appearances on the walls and ceilings in an early Rococo creation from the 1730s. The fresco took my breath away as I almost became dizzy with emotion.
Chinese Salon
It wasn’t possible to go into the Chinese Salon. I could only peer at it behind a rope. Still, I could tell that it was very elaborate and elegant. Various colored woods made up the flooring. The walls were richly decorated, and gold carvings gave it an opulent feeling. I also saw Oriental vases and a gold-and-red large frame of a mirror. The red and gold colors appealed to me.
Chinese Salon
The Sala Terrana was the last space on the tour. The green-and-white ceiling decoration, plants and busts made for a stunning and vibrant atmosphere. The walls included masterful illusory paintings of a plant-filled pergola. I found the light green color that dominated the space to be soothing and tranquil. I considered this to be a place where I could truly relax.
Grotto
The Roman baths also captured my interest. On the walls around the wooden pool was plaster inlaid with shells and lava. Medallions showed portraits of fictional Roman emperors. The decoration was captivating.
Grotto
There was more, much more. The Blue Salon, utilized as a picture gallery, included some Baroque landscapes, my favorites. Impressive Dutch, German and French painters from the 17th to 19th centuries were represented.
Grotto
The Ladies’ Salon was decorated with yellow furniture that reminded me of the yellow kitchen in the townhouse where I spent my childhood and part of my adulthood. I had many light-hearted as well as serious conversations with my mother in that kitchen while I grew up from a five-year old to an adult. My mother doesn’t live there anymore. I can never go back to that yellow kitchen.
Grotto
The Count’s Study featured allegories of countries represented in four large late Renaissance paintings. No less than three salons in Empire and Biedermeier styles represented Jan Adam’s love of music with collections of astounding musical instruments used during the Baroque era.
Dance Hall
The chateau gardens were just as splendid, even though on this day there were spattering of rain. Of course, the gardens were Baroque. A theatre made from nature was situated on an island with an English park, and there were French style gardens, too. Altogether, the gardens measured 10 hectares. Statues from the 1730s depicted ancient deities.
Roman baths
I was enthralled by everything, most of all by the Ancestral Hall, Chinese Salon, Dance Hall and Sala Terrana with Roman baths. I didn’t do much exploring in the gardens due to the temperamental weather.
Next on the itinerary was the Church of Saint Markéta, another gem that would bring me immense joy.
I visited this church, which became a national monument in 2002, for the very first time during 2025. The tour guide, who played for us the exquisite organ, narrated the history of the holy building. The first church on the premises was destroyed by a fire during 1631. The chateau, town hall and some houses also burned down during that catastrophe. There was only one object that survived the fire: a book about the church tower that was erected in 1562. This was not the only fire that would decimate the town during this era. The chateau’s owner Jan Adam of Questenberk, responsible for Jaroměřice’s golden era, promoted the reconstruction for the current church, built in 1737.
The church was in disrepair during the recent 2000s, but much reconstruction occurred from 2019 and lasted until 2022, taking three years to revive the structure that had been so dilapidated. A new sacristy was installed. Electrical and heating systems were redone.
I inspected the main altar. The painting showed fluttering angels surrounding Saint Markéta as they placed laurel wreaths on the holy figure’s head. The creation of light was a major theme in this artwork. I was overwhelmed by the ceiling fresco, which measured 450m2. Painted by Karel František Tepper in 1737, it showed off Saint Markéta in all her glory and celebrated the town of Jaroměřice.
I counted seven side altars and marveled at the paintings of the Evangelists and Roman gods on the upper walls of the church. The remains of Saint Vincent and Saint Rupert were in impressive reliquaries. The pulpit was astounding, too. An astounding altar of Saint Anna took my breath away, too. The church had two square towers, both more than 40 meters in height and each with two floors. I did not overlook the beauty of the exquisitely painted cupola, either. The baptismal font is new, from the most recent reconstruction.
I was dazzled by the church’s overwhelming beauty and was so thankful that I had had this chance to see it. I especially loved the stunning ceiling fresco and decoration on the upper walls. Another highlight was the tour guide playing the organ. The music permeated the church, and I had a great appreciation for the glory days of this church during Questenberk’s Jaroměřice. I was so impressed by the music that seemed to soar through the church and by the town that was seeping with historical importance.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer and proofreader in Prague.
This past year marked more day trips, some with friends and others with travel agencies. Of course, chateaus were high on my list, so I will start with those.
Bečov nad Teplou Castle and Chateau, Reliquary of Saint Maurus
At Bečov nad Teplou Castle and Chateau, the group admired the reliquary of Saint Maurus, one of the most precious objects in the country. The remarkable Romanesque artifact contained the remains of saints and hailed from 1225 to 1230. Its exterior featured 12 reliefs, 14 statuettes in silver, about 200 semi-precious and precious stones, gems and other masterful goldsmith works. During World War II it was hidden under the chapel floor. The reliquary was only discovered again in the 1980s. For a long time its location was a mindboggling mystery.
Stránov Chateau
Stránov Chateau
With my best friend I visited Stránov Chateau for the first time. The Neo-Renaissance wonder featured a Gothic tower and splendid arcades in a courtyard punctuated by a beautiful fountain. The Šimonek family had lived there during the First Republic, which was the chateau’s heyday, as well as in later years, until the Communists kicked them out during 1950. They were forced to leave with only several suitcases. While there wasn’t much original furniture, the descendants had commissioned interiors that resembled those from the First Republic’s days of democratic Czechoslovakia. Seeing the chateau for the first time was exciting, to say the least.
Krásný Dvůr Chateau
Krásný Dvůr Chateau, interior
The luxury of the 18th and 19th century nobility was evident at Krásný Dvůr Chateau, partially under reconstruction when we were there on this occasion. The exquisite furnishings from 18th and 19th century periods punctuated the visit. Unique historic portraits of dogs and horses caught my attention as the horses were rendered without tails, for instance. The Meissen porcelain, gilded clocks, ancient jewel chests, decorative wall painting and various intriguing canvases in the chateau gallery all exuded the grandeur of old times. Even the upholstery of the chairs was admirable. The Černín family had this chateau designed by well-known architect František Maxmilián Kaňka from 1720 to 1724. The Černín dynasty would hold onto the chateau until World War II.
Horšovský Týn Castle and Chateau, interior
Horšovský Týn Castle and Chateau, Gothic chapel, main altarpiece
Horšovský Týn Castle and Chateau offered numerous tours. This time I went with a travel agency on one tour; in the past I had been there with my best friend on both the castle and chateau main tours. Once again, I was most impressed with the early Gothic chapel, its stunning wall painting and magnificent altarpiece. The early Gothic arch welcoming visitors to the chapel was a splendid architectural specimen. I saw much intriguing furniture from the Renaissance. A cassette ceiling hailed from the 16th century, and a superb tapestry dated from that century as well. Paintings from the Venetian School and splendid wall painting decorated another space. The Dancing Hall featured Rococo painting and a unique piano. In the Small Dining Room, I was surprised to see Edison light bulbs from 1906. The library included 15,000 volumes.
Doudleby Chateau
Doudleby Chateau
Doudleby Chateau
My good friend and I traveled with a travel agency to Častolovice and Doudleby chateaus, places to which I yearned to return for some years. Doudleby Chateau had undergone main reconstruction. It was stunning with its early Baroque wall and ceiling frescoes. Some were mythological, others religious and yet others symbolic. The lunettes of emblems with French writing were spectacular, too. I saw a parrot’s nest, flowers in a circle and a boat with a partially submerged oar, for instance. Finished in 1590, the chateau’s exterior includes unique sgraffito, open arcades and Tuscan columns. I was very impressed.
Elegant exterior of Častolovice Chateau
Častolovice Chateau exterior
The fantastic park at Častolovice Chateau
Častolovice hailed from the 13th century and boasted an extensive English park, one of the most beautiful, in my opinion. Furnishings hailed from Renaissance, Baroque, Empire and Biedermeier periods. A Renaissance cassette ceiling dated back to 1600. In the vast Knights’ Hall, I admired paintings of 24 scenes from the Old Testament. The collection of portraits showing Czech rulers was extremely impressive, too. The Renaissance arcades and distinctive fountain plus aviaries outside were noteworthy as well. There was a small zoo, but I saw an irate turkey coming my way and decided not to pay admission. The park was punctuated by peacocks and other animals as well as ponds and fantastic flora, among other attributes.
Jaroměříce Chateau interior
Interior of Jaroměřice Chateau
Jaroměřice Chateau
With a travel agency I made a very memorable trip to Jaroměřice nad Rokytnou Chateau, the biggest Baroque chateau in the country. I hadn’t been there since the late 1990s. The Ancestors’ Hall amazed with a fabulous frescoed ceiling and masterfully carved wood paneling. The ceiling and wall painting in the Ballroom was just as exquisite. The Chinese Cabinet also made a great impression.
Church of Saint Markéta, Jaroměřice
Cupola of Church of Saint Markéta
Decoration on walls of Church of Saint Markéta
Yet that was not all there was to Jaroměřice. The town had much more to offer. Nearby was the Church of Saint Markéta, measuring 450 m2 with a splendid frescoed ceiling. Pictures of the Evangelists and Roman gods decorated the walls. The main altar, celebrating Saint Markéta and the creation of light, did not disappoint, either. Our guide even played for us the impressive historic organ.
Otakar Březina
Museum of Otakar Březina, art by František Bílek
Museum of Otakar Březina
The Museum of Otakar Březina was another highlight of Jaroměřice. Březina had been a poet who was in the running for the Nobel Prize eight times. In the apartment where Březina had lived from 1913 until his death in 1929, I saw not only editions of his many books and childhood photos but also fascinating works of art by his close friend František Bílek, whose villas I had visited in Prague and in south Bohemia. Březina had promoted democracy as he had developed steadfast friendships with Czech writer Karel Čapek and President of the First Republic Tomáš G. Masaryk.
Garden of Symbols, Museum of Otakar Březina
Garden at Museum of Otakar Březina
Garden outside Museum of Otakar Březina
The garden outside the home was unique and symbolic just like Březina’s poetry. Parts of the garden were dedicated to Karel Čapek, Bílek and the most influential owner of Jaroměřice Chateau, Jan Adam Questenberk. Many flowers, plants and small trees graced the well-kept garden. One section of this Garden of Symbols represented immortality because Březina had believed that death was not an end but rather a new beginning.
Museum of Otakar Březina
Garden of Museum of Otakar Březina
Yet there was more. We visited Březina’s grave, designed by Bílek, as well as an extensive garden center established in 1901. Karel Čapek had been a devoted customer during the 1920s and 1930s. I could imagine Čapek enthusiastically picking out plants as I perused all the interesting specimens and gazed at the cats who lounged around the center without disturbing the plants.
Museum of Otakar Březina, artwork by František Bílek
Museum of Otakar Březina, art by František Bílek
With a master’s degree in Czech literature, I was always enthusiastic to learn more about Czech writers, especially poets whose works I had never read. Březina’s writing was so complex and symbolic that I had always feared I would not understand it. Visiting writers’ museums was always a big thrill for me in any country but especially in the Czech Republic. It never failed to open up new worlds.
Radim Chateau, ceiling in main hall
Radim Chateau, dining room cabinet
Radim Chateau, historical globe
Another chateau that I visited for the first time was called Radim, not far from Prague. Built in 1610, it had served as a Renaissance countryside seat of nobles, and, while it did not contain many original furnishings, the owners had amassed a great deal of impressive artifacts from various periods, especially the Renaissance. Exquisite tapestries lined a hallway. I saw a Neo-Gothic throne and an altar in the same style, both masterfully carved. Renaissance furniture also was prominent. A decorated coffered ceiling from the early 17th century and wall painting filled me with awe. The decorative main hall certainly did not disappoint.
Radim Chateau art gallery, painting of Kampa Island
Painting in Radim Chateau art gallery
Radim Chateau art gallery ceiling
What enamored me the most about this chateau was not the first floor interior, though, but the amazing art collection the owner had put together. The owner proudly showed me his impressive collection. I saw a hallway lined with landscapes, paintings of Kampa Island and the Charles Bridge as well as the Berounka river and the Pilsen countryside region. Landscape after landscape from various parts of the country amazed me. I gazed with awe at works by Otakar Nejedlý, Vlastimil Toman, Otto Stein, Vojtěch Hyněk Popelka and many others.
Religious art in Radim Chateau gallery
Russian icon, Radim Chateau art gallery
Yet that was not all the art to be seen. In another space there was a fascinating collection of religious works, including a copy of a Titian painting and a Russian icon. Visiting Radim Chateau was a double thrill for me – I loved the furnishings and painted ceilings as well as the art gallery. The entire chateau exuded charm and splendor.
Březnice Chateau interior
Březnice Chateau ceiling
I went back to Březnice Chateau, which I had not visited for some years. The Renaissance chateau from the 16th century featured a former library with well-preserved ceiling and wall painting hailing from Renaissance days. The chateau showed off various styles – Renaissance, Baroque, Empire and Biedermeier. The Baroque chapel was stunning. The Renaissance dining room was full of historic grandeur. The armory was impressive, too.
Hluboká nad Vltavou Chateau exterior
One of my most favorites chateau was in Hluboká nad Vltavou, one of the most popular in the country, and I loved gazing at its masterful Neo-Gothic exterior. The wood-paneling with remarkable furnishings and the 57 tapestries from Brussels astounded. The library with 12,000 volumes and the armory were more than stunning. This chateau could never disappoint.
Domažlice Castle Museum, folk style wardrobe
Historical painting in Domažlice Castle Museum
I saw a castle museum in Domažlice, where I learned about the region. The other castle museum was in Kadaň, where there were displays of the history of the town and fortress-like edifice. In Domažlice the folk costumes of the area were prominently on display as were the beautiful ceramics notable for the region. Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV’s visit to Kadaň and the years the castle spent as a barracks as well as the dark Nazi period were elaborated upon during that tour.
Sculpture in Kadaň
Kadaň scenery
Yet there was more to Kadaň and Domažlice than merely their castles. We saw picturesque squares, churches, town halls, a monastery and much more in those towns. The path from the center of Kadaň to the castle was surrounded by lush flowers and plants as well as unique grotesque sandstone statues. The narrowest street in the country, Katova Street, is located in Kadaň. The monastery in Kadaň with its Gothic wall painting and other splendors was a real treat, too.
Town Hall in České Budějovice, main square
Sculpture in České Budějovice
Komerční Bank sculptural decoration
Another city sans chateau or castle that I visited was České Budějovice, one of the gems of south Bohemia for its unique and stunning architecture. Previously, I had only admired the vast main square of the city with its delightful Renaissance buildings and prominent town hall.
Former salt house in České Budějovice
Gothic wall painting in church in České Budějovice
Wall painting in church in České Budějovice
This time I saw the entire downtown area and soon learned that there was much more to the city than merely its picturesque square. The main church with Gothic (13th century) and Baroque wall painting as well as a Neo-Gothic main altar was incredible. The former salt house’s unique roof was one to remember. A large bank’s sculptural decoration was more than impressive. Other buildings were architectural gems, too. Some boasted religious paintings on the exteriors. Narrow and romantic Panská Street was another highlight of the city. The architecture throughout the city was truly breathtaking.
Firetruck museum in Constantine Spa
We also visited a small enclave called Constantine Spa. On the charming small square was a claustrophobic museum of fire trucks hailing from 1900 to 1912. Each had one ladder, and they had once been driven by horses. While it was raining during our time in the spa town, we did see some beautiful greenery as we walked to a café with delicious desserts.
Votice Monastery, town museum, painting of region
Vladimír Kaska painting in Votice Monastery
Fresco on wall and ceiling of Votice Monastery
In addition to the monastery in Kadaň, I toured two other monasteries – Votice and Teplá. Displays narrated Votice’s turbulent history during Nazism and Communism. I admired the town museum at Votice monastery. Paintings of the town in decades past caught my undivided attention. The 17th century frescoes on one wall and ceiling section at Votice were astounding. I also was amazed at the modern paintings of a local artist, Vladimír Kaska. His grotesque, playful, symbolic and colorful renditions delighted me. His works were so vibrant and dynamic. Discovering an artist whose works I did not know was one highlight of my trip there.
At Teplá Monastery
Teplá Monastery was founded in 1193, and King Václav I participated in the first mass. The Baroque church had been rebuilt in the 18th century by a prestigious architect – Kryštof Dientzenhofer. Poignant wooden statues by Ignác Platzer stood out in the church as did astounding Baroque frescoes. The church, 62.5 meters long, also featured a Rococo altar decorated with Baroque paintings.
Teplá Monastery
Still, the library that contained about 100,000 volumes in Latin, German and Czech was for me the highlight of Teplá. The two floors of masterfully carved bookcases featured an elaborate balustrade. The fabulous fresco on the ceiling represented monks and angels celebrating with religious figures, including the Evangelists. The ceiling painting was so beautiful that it almost made me dizzy with delight.
Chovojen church
Medieval wall painting in Chovojen church
I also toured a small church in Chovojen, surrounded by fields and offering a view of nearby Konopiště Chateau. The Romanesque elements of the small church were noteworthy. The rare medieval frescoes amazed me. I even saw a painting showing the medieval solar system with the Earth at the center. So many amazing artifacts located in a small church filled me with awe.
Outside altar at Holy Mountain
Holy Mountain entrance
Another religious site that I toured with my best friend was Holy Mountain, which included a church featuring a pure silver altar and nine open chapels with spectacular biblical wall and ceiling painting. The unique attraction was breathtaking. I had been there many times, but showing it to my best friend was a highlight for me.
Sculpture in garden of Janoušek studio villa
Inspired by Japanese playing cards, created by Vladimír Janoušek
I was excited to discover the studio of the Janoušek couple, 20th century artists whose workplace had been designed in the Brussels style of the 1950s and 1960s. They had used the architecturally unique studio from 1964 to 1986. In the garden stood several monumental sculptures, such as enormous figures in metal. During the tour I saw abstract sculpture from diverse periods of the artistic couple’s lives. Věra had made exquisite collages and tapestries as well as astounding sculptures of metal figures utilizing kitchen utensils and pans. Very colorful, these creations fascinated me. I had never seen anything like them.
Věra Janoušková sculpture made of kitchen utensils and pans
Věra Janoušková, tapestry
Vladimír’s work included a stunning large metal sculpture depicting the Fall of Icarus as well as a unique statue of Perseus. His combination of mythological themes and the abstract amazed me. I also was captivated by Vladimír’s creation of Japanese playing cards, so different from his monumental metal renditions. Various creations by both artists decorated shelves and showed how their styles had evolved. Panels on one wall showed photos of the two and their studio throughout the years and narrated the history of the couple’s accomplishments in a clear fashion. The studio was not without a charming library, either.
Sculpture in garden of Janoušek studio villa
I had never heard of the Janoušek artists before coming across an ad on the GoOut ticket site several months before my visit to the Smíchov house, mostly hidden from the street by garden greenery. Once again, I was excited to see an architectural wonder for the first time and learn about the couple’s unique abstract art.
Arnold Villa, reconstructed, in Brno
View from garden of Arnold Villa
Mahen Theatre in Brno
Another place I toured for the first time was the Arnold Villa in Brno, the capital of Moravia. Recently reconstructed, it hailed from 1862 and had been situated in the first colony of villas in Brno, very close to the famous Tugendhat Villa. While the original furnishings were long gone, the architect did a valiant job, including a film about the lives and times of the owners and a small collection of Jewish historical objects. Photos of the people who had lived there and in nearby villas gave the place a personal, intimate feel. While in Brno, I also toured the Mahen Theatre, the first electrified theatre in Europe. Its ceiling painting and exquisite chandelier astounded.
Kersko, sculptures of cats
My favorite restaurant, Hájenka Pivnice in Kersko
Ceramic cats made in Kersko shop I love
Of course, I visited Kersko with my best friend once again. It was one of our rituals. We ate at the rustic restaurant Hájenka, where a film based on one of Bohumil Hrabal’s books played in the background. The traditional Czech food was always delicious. We also bought coconut cookies – I hated coconut except for that in these cookies – at the local shop, which featured homemade ceramic cats inspired by legendary Czech writer Hrabal’s stray felines, revered and fed at his nearby cottage for so many decades. This wooded village brought me serenity in a poignant way that no place in Prague ever could. Hájenka was my favorite restaurant of all-time, and Kersko would always be a place close to my heart.
Interior at Přerov nad Labem architectural museum
Cottage in Přerov nad Labem museum
19th century schoolhouse in Přerov nad Labem museum
Přerov nad Labem, an open-air architectural museum, was another attraction to which I returned after many years. I admired the 18th and 19th century cottages and buildings with mannequins often dressed in the folk costumes of the eras. I loved folk style art – the furniture, ceramics and hand-painted glass as well as the clothing enamored me. It was hard to believe that so many people had lived in such small spaces. I also saw a one-room school where boys sat on one side, girls on the other. A shoemaker’s and a blacksmith’s were two other intriguing attractions.
Porcelain puppet theatre at Stránov Chateau
Medieval painting at church in České Budějovice
These travels took me to places I had treasured for years and to places I was visiting for the first time. I learned about Otakar Březina and the Janoušek artists. I marveled at the Neo-Gothic exterior and exquisite furnishings of Stránov Chateau for the first time. Votice Monastery was also new to me, and I learned much about its tragic history. I hadn’t been in Kadaň before 2025 and found the town charming with many sights. I finally saw the entire center area of České Budějovice and greatly appreciated its immense beauty. I thought I had known Brno well, but I was at the Arnold Villa and inside the Mahen Theatre for the first time in my life. The Church of Saint Markéta in Jaroměřice was for me another new attraction. There were so many firsts for me this past year. I was so grateful I had discovered Radim Chateau and Stránov. I also visited the Barberini Museum in Potsdam twice, which was a first for me, though I had been in Potsdam during 1992.
Hluboká nad Vltavou Chateau, exterior
18th century tiled stove in Březnice Chateau
Returning to so many places also brought me great comfort – Hluboká nad Vltavou, Krásný Dvůr, Březnice, Teplá, Jaroměřice Chateau, Holy Mountain, Chovojen, Kersko, Častolovice, Doudleby, Přerov nad Labem, Horšovský Týn, Kersko. While I only had time to go on day trips in 2025, I was astounded, as usual, by all the sights the Czech Republic has to offer as well as three one-day trips abroad, to museums in Potsdam and Vienna. After almost 30 years here, I was still discovering new places. Going on these trips made me realize that the world, though at times cruel and ruthless, is also full of wonder and delight.
Domažlice Castle Museum folk painting
Horšovský Týn Castle and Chateau chandelier
Garden center established in 1901, cat relaxing in basket near cash register
Prague’s Wallenstein Riding Stables hosted a comprehensive exhibition of Josef Mánes’ portraits, genre paintings, landscapes, drawings, prints, designs and illustrations of Slav history from the Czech Romanticism and Realism eras of the 19th century. Some 400 of his creations captured my undivided attention. He also created standards, insignia and uniforms for the Sokol physical education organization, some of which were also on display.
I knew the name well because Josef Mánes had been born into an artistic family: His father, Antonín, created landscapes while his brother and two sisters also became painters. Josef – I will refer to him by his first name so readers do not confuse him with his father or siblings – grew up in the Habsburg Empire when German was the official language of the Czech lands. He spoke only German as a youth. He didn’t learn Czech until he was grown up, even though he was one of the leading figures in the Czech National Revival that promoted the Czech language.
This prominent artist was inspired by his time in Munich, where he spent three years as a young man. For many years he resided in Moravia, including at the Čechy pod Košířem Chateau. In addition to making portraits, landscapes and Second Rococo style genre paintings, Josef developed a strong interest in folk costume, rendering portraits of Czechs in traditional dress. He created many works portraying villagers and everyday life in the Hana region of Moravia.
Inspired by Prague’s Old Town, Josef created portraits of its residents and even painted two genre paintings for Prague brothels. His work also decorated much more elegant structures, such as the Žofín concert hall in the center of Prague, for instance. When I first set foot in Prague, I fell in love with the Old Town. I could sense the history of the nation on its streets and in Josef Mánes’ paintings of that historical quarter.
His portraits are stunning because they are characterized by immense psychological depth and sensitivity. The viewer almost is looking into the sitter’s soul. Each portrait told an individual story of a unique life. Before this exhibition, I had considered him to be first and foremost a portrait painter, but I learned at the Wallenstein Riding Stables that he had been much more versatile in his accomplishments.
I was most enamored by his landscapes because I was fascinated by landscape painting in general, especially by Czech art in this field. I had seen many exciting Czech landscapes in galleries throughout the country as well as in chateaus. Josef’s work utilized subtle colors and masterful brushwork that portrayed both the Czech and Slovak countryside with elements of Romanticism and Realism. He was one of my favorite landscape painters, excelling at employing light and atmosphere in his renderings of the Hana region, the Czech Paradise region, the Krkonoše Mountains and the Šumava Mountains, for instance. I had traveled extensively throughout these parts of the country. Josef’s travels in the Austrian Alps also inspired the creations of some masterful landscapes. While I had never been there in person, I always wound up gawking at the sheer power, beauty and seemingly invincibility of the Austrian Alps. In several other works, he depicted nymphs, using the Šumava Mountains and Moravia’s Čechy pod Košířem as backdrops.
On Astronomical Clock
Astronomical Clock
Perhaps Josef’s greatest achievement was creating 12 medallions for Prague’s Astronomical Clock. I recalled how so many tourists crowded around the clock to watch its hourly show in the late morning and afternoon. I always came to admire the clock in the early morning to avoid the crowds and the possibility of getting pickpocketed. Painted in 1865, the original calendar dial was on display at this exhibition. The allegories of the months of the year dealt with agriculture themes. I often had admired the calendar in the Museum of the City of Prague, where it was usually on display.
Astronomical Clock
I looked closely at the calendar dial, which consisted of circular rings. Standing for the 12 months, figures dressed in folk costume glorified Slav identity. September was represented by the ruins of Troský Castle, which I had seen on my trips numerous times. The Czech village tradition of pig-slaughtering was the focus of December. I remember one irate acquaintance telling me that he did not support the European Union because its regulations did not allow citizens to slaughter their own pigs at home.
Bezděz Castle was in the background of March. I recalled the four-kilometer walk up to the castle ruins that had fascinated me, even though I was not usually so enthusiastic about ruins. A young farmer used a plough in the foreground of the March portrayal. Josef had also painted allegories of zodiac signs. I noticed dolphins and a plump cherub for Pisces. Capricorn was represented by a cherub leading a goat. Romanesque features were evident in Josef’s pictorial work for the dial.
Designed for Sokol physical education organization
Josef’s personal life had not been so rosy, however. After he got a servant pregnant, his parents made him marry her. Josef also was plagued by mental illness from 1866, when he began to lose much weight, to pronounce words badly and behave in a strange manner. It is possible that he suffered from syphilis affecting the brain or tuberculosis. He died in 1871 at the age of 51.
The exhibition also included explanations of how Josef’s work has been perceived throughout the centuries. After his death, he achieved fame because of his work for the Czech National Revival. As the 20th century approached, Josef became known as an artistic pioneer of new trends and advancements in his field. During Communism, though, his works took on an ideological meaning. It was not until after the downfall of Communism that people interested in art could once again express the masterful skill and individuality of his paintings as his works became appreciated in the cultural sphere.
While I had seen many works by Josef throughout the country, I was overwhelmed by viewing so many in one large exhibition hall. I had not truly understood the mastery of Josef’s art and realized that he had been so talented at many genres. For a long time, I had admired the works of his siblings and father, too. Now I knew that Josef was the most skilled in his family. I was fascinated by all aspects of this exhibition.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
I have been a fan of Alphonse Mucha’s Art Nouveau works ever since I came to Prague in the 1990s. While he is best known for his exhilarating posters of actress Sarah Bernhardt, Mucha was a very versatile artist – as is evidenced in this comprehensive exhibition of creations owned by his descendants. The first extensive showing of his works in 30 years is housed at Prague’s Waldstein Palace. The exhibition highlights not only the advertising posters but also his drawings, paintings, sculptures, photos and jewelry, for instance. The family displays some originals to the public for the first time.
Family portraits evoking Mucha’s childhood add an intimate feel to the exhibition. Born in Ivančice, Moravia, Mucha called home a building that also included the town jail. The Czech lands were under Austrian rule when Mucha grew up. They were part of the Habsburg Empire in which German was the official language. Yet, during that era, the Czech National Revival took place, when Czech nationalists promoted Czech culture and the Czech language.
At the end of 1894, Mucha became a star overnight when he designed a poster for Bernhardt’s production of Gismonda. The following year he created posters that decorated calendars, postcards and menus as well as theatre programs. His work would find enthusiastic audiences in Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Munich, London, New York and other cities during subsequent years.
I loved how, in his advertising posters, Mucha utilized folk features not only found in Czech art but also in Byzantine, Islamic, Japanese, Gothic, Judaic, Celtic and Rococo works. Much of this genre focuses on beautiful, young women with an optimistic and cheerful flair. They are wearing flowing robes in pastel colors. I loved the touches of floral and plant ornamentation plus arabesques and naturalistic elements, too.
The exhibition boasted family portraits and photos, such as those of his friends Paul Gaugin and Auguste Rodin. Gaugin even was Mucha’s housemate for a while. During the Paris Exposition Universalle of 1900, Mucha represented Austria-Hungary as the show focused on the accomplishments of the past century. I had not known that in 1899 Mucha had designed a jewelry collection that was featured at this major show. One of the jewelry pieces on display at the exhibition features a snake-shaped broach that Bernhardt wore during her portrayal as Medusa. I also was captivated by Mucha’s decorations for a German theatre in the USA. He would wind up making three trips to the United States, hailed by The New York Daily News as “the world’s greatest decorative artist.”
Works in the exhibition illustrated how mysticism had influenced him. His philosophy is also apparent in his creations. For example, he believed in beauty, truth and love to guide him on the spiritual path. For a monument he created a triptych called The Age of Reason, the Age of Wisdom and the Age of Love, fusing these three characteristics into one piece of art. Unfortunately, Mucha didn’t get the chance to finish it.
Perhaps what always captivates me the most about Mucha’s art is his emphasis on Slav identity. Indeed, his phenomenal Slav Epic paintings feature the heroic tales of the Slavs in 20 historical, symbolic canvases. Several reproductions of these works at the exhibition reinforced Mucha’s identity as a Czech and Slav patriot.
I saw panels devoted to Mucha’s decorations in the Municipal House, for which he designed numerous pieces – three wall panels, a ceiling painting depicting prominent Czech personalities, eight pendentives and furnishings. I remember seeing these for myself on tours of the Art Nouveau Municipal House, something I recommend to every Prague visitor. It is notable that, while Mucha’s works often were rooted in Slav identity in the past, he also looked to the future for a prosperous Czech nation.
I was enamored by the reproductions of his stained-glass window designs. The originals decorate the interior of Saint Vitus’ Cathedral at Prague Castle. In 1931 he portrayed Saint Wenceslas, the nation’s patron saint, as a child with his grandmother Saint Ludmila in a central panel along with other panels featuring the lives and work of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Seeing examples of his colorful and vibrant stained glass renditions close-up was for me one of the highlights of this exhibition.
Mucha’s life was cut short by the arrival of the Nazis in Prague, where they set up the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia during March of 1939. The 79-year-old Mucha, riddled with health problems, was targeted by the Gestapo. Mucha was a Freemason, Judeophile and a promoter of democratic Czechoslovakia. He was one of the first to be interrogated by the Nazis. Mucha was stricken with pneumonia due to the strain from grueling interrogations and died in Prague 10 days short of his 79th birthday on July 14th, 1939. He is now buried in Prague’s Vyšehrad Cemetery along with other prominent Czechs.
This exhibition takes museumgoers on a unique and unforgettable journey from his childhood roots in Moravia to his time as an outsider in Paris to his experiences in the democratic Czechoslovakia until his untimely death. It stresses his identity as a Moravian, as a Czech, as a Slav and as a European. It shows his accomplishments in the art scene by displaying an eclectic collection of his creations that profoundly punctuated the artistic world.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
From the moment I saw a picture of Neo-Renaissance Červená Lhota Chateau, I yearned to see it with my own eyes. Its cheerful red appearance cast a spell on me. Comprised of two stories, the pictured chateau dominated a rocky island surrounded by a pond. Červená Lhota looked as if it had jumped out of a fairy tale. How beautiful and romantic the reflection of the four-winged structure looked in the water! I read that a forest was situated nearby as was as a park with the Renaissance Chapel of the Holy Trinity.
There was only one problem: I had heard that the chateau was a 10-kilometer walk from the nearest public transportation, a train station. I was afraid I would get lost as I didn’t have a great sense of direction. I had no one to go with me and didn’t have access to a car. I wondered if I even could walk 10 kilometers. I loved playing sports, but 10 kilometers – was that even possible?
One afternoon I found myself at Prague’s main bus station, arriving home from a day trip. I decided to ask at a window if it was possible to travel to Červená Lhota by bus. I was in luck! It was! I got my bus ticket for the following Saturday. I would have to change buses at Jihlava, in Moravia. I hadn’t realized that the chateau was in Moravia, but I didn’t think any more about it.
I set off for Červená Lhota on a scorching summer day, enthusiastic, elated even, as I listened to the melodic singing of Slovak soft rock star Pavol Habera on my Walkman. I was sure nothing could destroy my ecstatic mood.
Two and a half hours later, I got off the bus at Jihlava and waited for another bus to take me – finally! – to Červená Lhota. Soon I would see that cheerful red façade that featured prominently on the craggy rocks! I would gaze at the sublime reflection of the chateau in the pond! It would be bliss! Before long, I walked to platform number 10, thinking that I could not have hoped for better weather and that nothing surely could go wrong.
Finally, the bus came, and on a sign behind the windshield I saw the words Červená Lhota. I was so close to my destination. It would not be long now.
The bus driver announced “Červená Lhota” when we came to a village. As I exited, I asked the driver, “How do I get to the chateau?”
The driver looked at me as if I was crazy.
“The chateau is near Jindřichův Hradec, in south Bohemia. This is another Červená Lhota.”
My face fell with disappointment.
The driver continued, “I’ll be stopping here again in an hour. Wait, and then you can go back with me to Jihlava.”
I thanked him, tempted to burst into tears. I sat on the bench at the bus stop, my mind reeling. How could I be so stupid? Hadn’t I read that the chateau was in south Bohemia? When I got my bus ticket, I had been so happy, so full of hope. Now I didn’t even know exactly where I was. Somewhere not too far from Jihlava in Moravia. I felt lost – in more ways than one. I didn’t like teaching with the agency full-time. I didn’t want to get up at five every morning and finish work at seven or nine at night. I wanted to do other things, to be able to sleep until seven am, at least several days a week. I didn’t like my housing situation. I felt like my life was just one disappointment after another, as if it was full of days spent in the wrong places. Is this all there was? Was this the only life I could live? I was in my early thirties. I wanted to make a change, but what? And how? I knew I didn’t want to move out of Prague. I felt that I was stuck at a crossroads.
No one else came to the bus stop during that hour. I was alone. It was quiet. I got myself together mentally, many thoughts going through my head. I had to persevere; I knew that. I had to move onward one small step at a time. During those 60 minutes of solitude, I decided that I wouldn’t let life get me down. The following Saturday I would take the train to Kardašovy Řečice, which was 10 kilometers from the right Červená Lhota. I was determined to see the chateau. I would walk the 10 kilometers alone. I could do it, I kept telling myself. When I saw the bus approaching, I breathed a sigh of relief.
From Jihlava I easily found a bus to Prague. When I got off in the capital city, I did not feel lost anymore. Instead, I was filled with purpose and determination.
The following Saturday I made it to Kardašovy Řečice in the morning. The weather was beautiful though very hot. I was so kanxious. What if I got lost in the middle of nowhere? Casting these thoughts aside, I started walking. Soon I came upon four adults in their twenties, two women and two men who had exited the same train.
“Is this the way to Červená Lhota?” I asked.
“Yeah. We’re going there, too. Come with us!”
We walked to Červená Lhota together, talking about their vacation in south Bohemia and their home in north Bohemia as well about Czech culture and literature. They recommended Zákupy Chateau near their hometown and Děčín Chateau, where I had been when it was still closed to the public in 1991. We talked about our respective travels, too. Our conversations were very pleasant, and I was glad to have met them. I had made four new friends.
I was tired when we arrived at the chateau. However, I totally forgot about my fatigue when I gazed upon that cheerful red façade and its reflection in the calm waters. The chateau was everything I imagined it to be. I almost pinched myself, not believing that the enchanting structure in front of me was real. I took photos on my disposable Kodak camera – I was saving to buy a digital one – while we waited for the tour. I also had a bite to eat in the chateau restaurant, sitting outside with a spectacular view of the red beauty.
The chateau rooms were small but intimate. However, the tour was crowded. Sometimes I had to almost push my way to the front of the large group so I could see because I was short. Still, I didn’t mind. I had reached my goal and met some nice people on the way. The furnishings and decorations were superb, in styles from Renaissance to Beidermeier. Each room had its own charm. I loved the intimate feel of the chateau. It really felt as if a family could live there rather than as a cold representative space.
We all left the chateau feeling elated and set off for the 10-kilometer walk to the train station. Could I trek another 10 kilometers? I needn’t have worried. A bus came and took us to the train station in a five-minute journey. As I stepped off this bus, I felt so different from the moment I had exited the bus in the village of Červená Lhota the previous weekend. This time I felt triumphant, victorious, full of energy despite my weary legs.
My four friends were catching a later train, so we parted at the station, promising to keep in touch. We said our goodbyes, and I started my journey back to Prague. I knew I had to come back here one day.
And, 18 years later, I would.
My second trip to the right Červená Lhota took place during August of 2021, when the situation with covid cases was not too horrible. A friend drove me there. I often visited castles and chateaus with her. She had visited the chateau decades ago but had never seen it surrounded by water. It was much easier than walking 10 kilometers, that was for sure, though I knew I could use the exercise. During the pandemic I had become lax about fitness.
The moment I saw the chateau I was flabbergasted because the pond had disappeared. My friend was so disappointed. The chateau still had me in a trance with its bewitching exterior, but the lack of water made it seem more steeped in reality than in a fairy-tale. Later, we would find out that the chateau would not have water around it for at least two more years. It was simply too expensive to maintain. A garden area was set up on one part of the dry land below the rocky terrain, but it still didn’t make up for the appearance of yesteryear.
It had been a long 18 years. I had stopped teaching full-time about 11 years ago, and I had moved twice. Now I was happy with my work as I was doing more writing and content with my accommodation. I was excited to be back. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed this chateau until I set my eyes on it again. It was scorching hot just like the first time I had visited. The guide told us that we had to wear masks. I was glad because when I was at Jemniště Chateau that rule had not been enforced. I was also pleased that only 20 people were allowed on the tour due to health concerns. I wouldn’t have to deal with a crowd like I had at Jemniště or Děčín chateaus, and there was less of a chance of catching covid during this visit.
I had refamiliarized myself with the chateau’s history before making the trip. The structure was first mentioned in writing during 1465 when it had been a Gothic fortress under the control of the sons of Ctibor of Zásmuk. During 1530 the knighted family of Káb from Rybňany became the owners. Jan Káb’s tombstone would be placed in the nearby chapel. Jan Káb’s two children had succumbed to the plague, so, after his death, his brothers took over. Then called Nová Lhota, the structure was transformed into Renaissance style from 1542 to 1555. A private chapel, now the Church of the Trinity, was built near the chateau in the 1550s. It would become known for its illusive fresco decoration that originated in the second half of the 16th century.
It got the name Červená Lhota (červená means red in Czech) during 1597, when it was painted the same color it is today. The chateau had changed owners again. Vilém Rút of Dírná had chosen this bright color for his residence. A legend claims that the devil had kidnapped a lady at the chateau, and she had been killed. After her murder, a spot of blood could be seen under a window of the then white façade. Another legend claimed that her blood had gushed over the chateau exterior, making it red, and the color could not be changed.
When the Catholics defeated the Protestants at White Mountain in November of 1620, the chateau was confiscated from the Rút family because they were Utraquists. It didn’t make a difference that they had not fought in the battle that would start the Thirty Years’ War.
During 1621 an Italian aristocrat named Antonio Bruccio took charge of Červená Lhota when the imperial army occupied it. After the war he made sure the chateau was not looted. The chapel was plundered, though, and Bruccio reconstructed it, so that the holy space could be reconsecrated in 1635. He founded a spa nearby, and it earned as much praise as the one in Karlovy Vary (Carlsbad), which has for centuries grabbed world-wide attention. Bruccio’s spa, alas, is no more. The stone bridge was built during his era, in 1622. He died in 1639, childless.
Vilém Slavata from Chlum and Košumberk purchased it after Bruccio passed, but he wouldn’t use the chateau as his main residence. I recalled that during the Third Defenestration of Prague, in 1618, he had been thrown out the window of the Castle. He didn’t die because he fell on a heap of dung. While looking after the chateau, he had some reconstruction completed. In 1641 the tower with distinguished portal was built. By 1678 the chateau sported a Baroque appearance. To this day the tower’s portal is decorated in Baroque style. Stuccowork seen in the chateau hails from this era.
Vilém Slavata from Epochaplus.cz
When the Slavata dynasty died out, the niece of the last of the Slavata clan was given possession of the chateau. Marie Theresa married into the Windischgratz family. Two owners in this clan accumulated a great debt due to their bad handling of finances. They wound up selling the chateau to barons, who started having construction work done. A fire damaged the chateau.
Two years after the fire, in 1776, Baron Ignác Stillfried bought the place. Karl Ditters von Dittersdorf, a composer and co-founder of the German opera, lived at the chateau from 1796 to 1799, when he died. Then the dukes of Schonburg-Hartenstein took control in 1835. They would own Červená Lhota for 110 years. During the second half of the 19th century, the chateau was given pseudo-Gothic features, inspired by Hluboká Chateau, one of my all-time favorites. From 1903 to 1913, the chateau got a Neo-Renaissance makeover, giving Červená Lhota the appearance it has today. The chapel was renovated at the beginning of the 20th century, too. In 1907 mass began to be held here again. (Services had been halted during the early 19th century.) After World War I, Johann, the then current owner who had been awarded Golden Fleece and Maltese Cross medals, lived there and added to the chateau’s splendor. When Johann died in 1937, he was buried in the chapel nearby.
Because the family was German, the chateau was handed over to the Czechoslovak state after the war. A children’s sanatorium was set up there in 1946, but its existence was short-lived. During 1949, Červená Lhota was open to the public. Some services, such as weddings, still take place in the former private chapel.
Soon it was time to tour the 16 rooms. So glad that we were in a small group, I was enamored of the interior, which once again felt like a home instead of mere representative spaces. The first floor showed off the life of the Schonburg-Hartenstein clan at the start of the 20th century. It was thrilling to see mostly original furnishings of various styles. Not many chateaus showed off authentic furnishings. At the beginning of our tour, we watched a flutist and pianist in period dress superbly play Renaissance music. The painted ceilings, elaborate clocks and stunning chandeliers all caught my undivided attention. Exquisite religious paintings and portraits, beautiful tiled stoves, furniture with intarsia, black-and-white graphics of various animals and fine porcelain also complemented the spaces. The intricate gilded headboard of a bed sported a hovering putti.
While we perused each room protected by our FFP2 masks, I recalled that Jan Káb’s two children had died of the plague, and I realized that, as the current coronavirus pandemic continued, I had learned how to live all over again. I had spent the first three weeks of the pandemic hiding in my apartment, tuned all day and night to CNN, only leaving to take out the trash. I had been that scared of catching the virus. I had kept my windows closed; my life closed off. Now I was doing things the best I could, being as cautious as I could, but still living rather than merely existing.
I thought back to those 60 minutes spent on that bench at the bus stop in another Červená Lhota, where I had mustered up the courage to face challenges and disappointments head-on, where I had become determined to make changes in my life, even if the changes meant sometimes taking small steps at a time. The tranquility of the hour that seemed to last for such a long time allowed me to get to grips with my present and helped guide me into the future.
Perhaps finding the village of Červená Lhota in Moravia had not been a mistake, but rather it had marked the beginning of a journey that had taken me here, for the second time, to this neo-Renaissance architectural wonder, visited during a pandemic that I had weathered the best I could, making changes along the way, directing my life story one day at a time as I came to new revelations about my journey and my destination. Perhaps it was only fitting that Červená Lhota would be the last chateau I would visit during the summer of 2021. After the tour, my friend and I promised to come back when the pond was restored. So, until then, I said my goodbyes to the place that has been close to my heart for several decades.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
A long-term temporary exhibition, the First Republic art exhibition in Prague’s Trade Fair Palace showcases mostly Czechoslovak paintings and sculpture from 1918 to 1938, when Czechoslovakia was a democratic state under the guidance of President Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk. Czechoslovakia was founded in 1918, and Masaryk, who had been living in exile, was welcomed back into the Czech lands with much celebration and fanfare. The Munich Agreement, signed in September of 1938, proved a dark and dismal event in Czechoslovakia’s history, as the country ceded its German-minority Sudetenland to Hitler’s Third Reich. On March 15, 1939, the Nazis would march into Prague, and Hitler would set up the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, starting a horrific chapter in Czech and Central European history.
Josef Čapek
Myslbek
The exhibition examines the flourishing of art in the various cultural centers of Czechoslovakia, first and foremost in Prague but also in Brno, the capital of Moravia. In Slovakia the cultural hubs were located in Bratislava and eastern Košice. Zarkarpattia was a section of Czechoslovakia from 1920 to 1938, and its city of Užhorod was the setting of some intriguing exhibitions. The exhibition not only features Czech art but also Czech-German production and Slovak artistic endeavors.
Antonín Slavíček, House in Kameničky, 1904
Adolf Hoffmeister, Bridge, 1922
Bohumil Kubišta, Quarry in Braník, 1910-11
Some of the Czech and Slovak artists whose works shine in the exhibition are Antonin Slavíček, Max Švabinský, Josef Čapek, Václav Špála, Jan Zrzavý, Jan Preisler, Ľudovít Fulla, Martin Benka, Bohumil Kubišta and Josef Šíma as well as Toyen and Jindřich Štyrský. The German and Austrian artists represented include August Bromse, Max Pechstein and Oskar Kokoschka, a favorite of mine.
Sculpture by Auguste Rodin, Paul Cezanne, House in Aix, 1885-87
French art from the 19th and 20th century is also on display as the Mánes Association in Prague held an important exhibition of French art at the Municipal House during 1923. The dynamic renditions of Monet, Matisse, Renoir, Van Gogh, Seurat, Gauguin, Rodin, Rousseau and others are in the limelight, too. The paintings of Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso explore Cubist tendencies.
Vincent Van Gogh, Green Wheat Field, 1889
Henri Rousseau, Self-Portrait – Me. Portrait – Landscape, 1890
Paul Cezanne
Georges Seurat, Harbor in Honfleur, 1886
I was particularly impressed by the works of a Czech artistic group called the Obstinates, established at the Municipal House. It included artists who spent World War I in Prague. I liked to eat chicken with potatoes at the Art Nouveau Municipal House, and I sometimes would imagine what it had been like for those artists to discuss their ideas and theories of art there. Three of my favorite Czech painters belonged to this group of avant-garde art that had traits of Cubism and Expressionism: Josef Čapek, Špála and Zrzavý. The Municipal House at that time was one of the most prominent exhibition spaces. It still houses art exhibitions and nowadays also includes a concert hall.
On right: Jan Zrzavý, Lady in the Loge, 1918
I also tried to imagine the avant-garde Devětsil group having its first exhibition during 1922 at the Union of Fine Arts in the Rudolfinum, now the main concert house for the Czech Philharmonic. I have attended many concerts there, even seeing my favorite violinist Joshua Bell on its stage twice. I wondered what it had been like to see the works of Karel Teige, Adolf Hoffmeister and Štyrský in that majestic building during 1922 and 1923.
Jindřich Štyrský, The Puppeteer, 1921
My favorite painting in the exhibition was called “Woman with a Cat” by František Zdeněk Eberl. I am a cat fanatic, and the woman in the painting is holding her cat on her shoulder so lovingly. You can sense that the cat is an important part of her family just as my Šarlota Garrigue Masaryková Burnsová is for me. (My cat is named after President Masaryk’s wife, the First Republic’s First Lady of Czechoslovakia.)
František Zdeněk Eberl, Woman with a Cat, around 1929
The exhibition also highlighted the importance of the Mánes Association of Fine Artists, which had been established by Prague students in 1887. It had many functions, organizing exhibitions and lectures as well as editing magazines, for instance.
Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, Village Square, 1920
Václav Špála
V
Vincenc Beneš, Behind the Mill in Písek, 1928
There were African art relics in the exhibition as well. I thought of Josef Čapek, who had been greatly influenced by African art. The exhibition informed museumgoers that Emil Filla’s paintings had been on display with African art at the Mánes in 1935. Filla had a strong interest in non-European art and was an avid supporter of the surrealist trends in Czechoslovakia.
Another significant exhibition space during that era was the Dr. Feigl Gallery. Hugo Feigl made quite a name for himself as a private gallery owner. The exhibitions he put together did not only display Czech art but also highlighted Czech-German, Jewish and artists from around the world. He did not only organize exhibitions at his own gallery. One art show that interested me was Feigl’s exhibition of German and Austrian artists who had come to Prague as refugees, fleeing Hitler as the dictator amassed more and more power. Oskar Kokoschka, one of my favorite painters, was a refugee who had made his home in Prague. I loved his view of the Charles Bridge and his view of Prague on display. They captured the magical spell of Prague using avant-garde techniques.
Oskar Kokoschka, Prague – View from Kramář’s Villa, 1934-35
Oskar Kokoschka, Prague – Charles Bridge, 1934
August Bromse, Descent from the Cross, before 1922
In 1937, Feigl even organized a daring exhibition of German Expressionist works from a German collection of which the Nazis were by no means fans. This exhibition encouraged people to protest against an exhibition in Munich, one that glorified the Nazi regime with its display of Nazi-approved art.
Václav Špála, By the River – Vltava near Červená, 1927, sculpture by Otto Gutfreund
I was also enthralled by the exhibitions that had taken place in Brno, Zlín and Bratislava. I had poignant memories of all three places. I had helped out at the first international theatre festival organized by the Theatre on a String in Brno many years ago. People in Brno had been so friendly, and my Czech really improved thanks to my time spent there. I had also visited some villas in Brno and knew the city’s sights well.
Max Švabinský, In the Land of Peace, 1922
Otto Gutfreund, Business, 1923
I had spent several days of one vacation in Zlín, where I had toured the fascinating Báťa shoe museum, which probably featured every kind of shoe imaginable. More than a decade ago, I had visited Bratislava once a month to help take care of my favorite Slovak writer’s grave. I had also visited the Slovak National Theatre, learning Slovak in part thanks to its performances. I loved the Slovak language and felt at peace hearing people around me speak it. I also felt this way when I heard Czech. I especially liked the works of Slovak painter Ľudovít Fulla. His use of bright colors, in his work “Balloons” for example, gave his paintings a dynamism and vitality that was unforgettable.
On right: Ľudovít Fulla, Balloons, 1930
Košice and Užhorod were featured as artistic centers, too. I had spent a lot of time in Košice during my travels to Slovakia as some of my ancestors had been from that region, and I had also used Košice as a starting point to visit other places in east Slovakia, such as Humenné and the Vihorlat. I had never been to Užhorod, which Czechoslovakia had begun to modernize during the early days of the country’s existence. I was surprised that architect Josef Gočár had designed some functionalist buildings there. I often walked by some of Gočár’s architectural achievements in the Baba quarter of functionalist individual family homes.
Anton Jaszusch, Landscape, 1920-24
Pablo Picasso, Still Life with a Goblet, 1922
The exhibition also informed me that between 1933 and 1938, about 10,000 refugees from Germany and Austria had officially made their way to Czechoslovakia while the number of unofficial refugees was about the same. Many significant artists came to Czechoslovakia to flee Hitler’s hold on Germany and Austria.
Caricature of Hitler, John Heartfield, Adolf the Superman: Swallows Gold and Spouts Junk, 1932
I was surprised to discover that as early as 1934 an exhibition of caricatures and humor protested Hitler’s ascent to power. It took place at the Mánes Association of Fine Artists. The caricatures were not limited to Hitler and even included some of the “good guys.” For instance, artists also poked fun at Masaryk. I was very moved by Josef Čapek’s versions of the painting “Fire,” showing a person unable to escape the dancing flames, artworks providing a stark warning about the danger of Hitler’s ideology and reign. The caricature of Hitler was chilling. Hitler’s head was perched atop a chest x-ray. His spine was made up of coins. His heart was shaped like a swastika.
A sculpture commenting on the Munich Agreement of 1938
Josef Čapek, Fire, 1938
The exhibition ended with those works commenting Hitler’s control of the region, specifically on the Munich Agreement of 1938. While those paintings and the sculpture profoundly affected me, I preferred to concentrate on the avant-garde creations that had been featured in an artistically flourishing democratic Czechoslovakia, when artists boldly experimented with their artistic visions, during an era that I had always wanted to visit if I could go back in time. I would have loved to experience the atmosphere of the country when democracy was fresh, the state new and full of promise. Little did anyone know at its inception that the First Republic would not last long and that such a chilling chapter would follow.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
I had heard that the Stiassni Villa in Brno had been open to the public since the end of 2014, but I did not have time to go there in 2015. When the Czech UNISMA travel agency offered a tour of the Stiassni and Löw-Beer villas in the Moravian capital, I immediately signed up. A prime example of modern functionalist architecture in the Czech lands, the Stiassni Villa had been under reconstruction from 2012 to 2014. During Communism renovations had taken place as well –during that time period furniture from various chateaus had been added to the interior. Still, the villa had original furniture, too.
I was entranced with the section of Brno where the architectural gem was located – in the villa-sprinkled Masaryk Quarter, a section that looked tranquil, so different from the hustle and bustle of the city center. It reminded me of the Hanspaulka section of Prague, where I enjoyed taking long walks along villa-flanked streets.
I am not a big fan of the functionalist style, but the exterior was intriguing. Its spartan appearance reminded me a bit of the exteriors of Prague’s Müller Villa and Rothmayer Villa. Shaped like the letter L, the Stiassni Villa was designed by architect Ernst Wiesner, who made quite a name for himself in Brno during the interwar years. His work was influenced by Austrian architect Adolf Loos, who designed the Müller Villa in Prague. Wiesner created the plans for other buildings in Brno as well, such as the Moravia Palace and crematorium. Wiesner fled to Great Britain in 1939, the year the Nazis took over. The villa was completed in 1929 for textile entrepreneur Alfred Stiassni and his family – his wife Hermine and his daughter Susanne. The structure features rectangular windows and a massive cassette cornice, for example.
The Stiassni’s tenure at the villa only lasted nine years. Because they were Jewish, the family fled Czechoslovakia in 1938, when they traveled to London and then continued to Brazil. Alfred Stiassni’s mother decided not to leave her homeland due to her age. She died at the Terezín concentration camp in central Bohemia during 1942, when she was 87 years old. The villa was taken over by the Nazis during World War II. During 1945, the Stiassnis obtained US citizenship. That same year Russian soldiers liberating the city would destroy furnishings in the villa. It was in good shape again when Czechoslovak President Edvard Beneš stayed there later that year, on his first visit to Brno after the war. He and his wife would reside in the villa again the following year during another trip to the Moravian capital.
Paintings of the owners of the villa, Alfred and Hermine Stiassni. The paintings are not part of the original furnishings.
From 1952 the villa was the property of the Regional National Committee and was used as accommodation for VIP guests, such as Fidel Castro. In 1961 Alfred Stiassni died in Beverly Hills, California. His wife passed away the following year. In 1964 leading Soviet Union politician Nikita Khrushchev spent time at the villa. From 1990 to 2005, the place served as a four-star hotel. Famous guests included Rudy Giuliani and Bill Gates. In 2005 Susanne, who had married an American, died in Beverly Hills.
Soon it was time for the tour to begin. In the Large Dining Room I admired the copy of a Baroque painting by 17th century Flemish Baroque painter Jacob Jordaens showing merry people drinking and laughing. I thought I could see the influences of Peter Paul Rubens and Jan Brueghel the Elder in the work. The onyx fireplace also caught my attention. My eyes were drawn to an elegant vase as well.
Another room featured watercolor paintings by Hermine and original chairs with grey upholstery. The pewter chandelier was also intriguing. An exquisite table had been originally in Bítov Castle, one of the largest and oldest castles in Moravia, a sight I had toured twice. I also admired a Baroque commode. The stucco decoration on the walls and ceiling was stunning. Then we visited some small rooms, and I especially liked the Empire space with side tables and a bed in that style. The bathroom was made of green marble. It had obtained its appearance during reconstruction in the 1980s. It is not known what the bathroom really looked like during the Stiassni’s tenure there.
The first floor was even more intriguing. Behind Alfred’s vast closet with moveable drawers was a space for more than 10 pairs of shoes. I recalled how the drawers in the dressing rooms of the Müller Villa were also moveable. In the bathroom the detail on the faucets was superb.
From Hermine’s bedroom it was possible to see the sloping English garden with hills and other greenery in the background. Other villas could also be seen in scenery that would have made a remarkable landscape painting. Mirrors covered Hermine’s closet in her dressing room. Her bathroom was green marble because the architects had no idea what it had looked like originally.
The daughter Susanne had the nicest rooms. Her playroom featured a dressing room, a bathroom and the terrace. I liked the yellow color of the rooms. It was my mother’s favorite color, and it brought back memories of my time spent with her in the yellow-painted kitchen of my parents’ house. So many discussions about so many topics, so many smiles, so many problems resolved. Susanne’s governess also had a small room.
The Small Dining Room, where the Stiassnis usually ate, was very modest with a small table set for three. The garden was another highlight of the villa. It was established in 1927 and included many foreign woody species. I noted its symmetrical design. Each section had been assigned a different use.
The Stiassnis were athletes. They took up swimming, skiing and skating, for example. There had been a swimming pool above the villa, and there still were tennis courts on the property.
I had enjoyed my tour of the villa, which contained some intriguing furnishings and was architecturally enthralling. I appreciated the functionalist design even though it was not my favorite style. I could imagine the villa in the early 1930s, when the family was settled there, not aware that their time in the villa would be cut short by the Nazis’ rise to power. From there we headed to the Löw-Beer Villa, which had a stunning Secession façade but only one piece of original furniture. Facing the famous Tugendhat Villa, the Löw-Beer Villa is now used as an exhibition space.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
Often overshadowed by nearby neo-Gothic Lednice, Valtice Chateau is one of the most underrated sights in Moravia. I had visited Valtice Chateau twice before and was bewitched by the Baroque gem both times. The first time I came here, an employee took me quickly through the rooms as she did not want to give a tour to only one person. The Baroque and Rococo interior includes some original 18th century furniture, which never failed to impress me.
Usually, I traveled to Lednice Chateau and Valtice Chateau by bus from Mikulov, where I had stayed in a hotel. To catch the bus back to Mikulov after visiting Valtice, I always had to hurry and had never had a chance to see the park. This time I was on a tour with the arsviva travel agency, whose tours I had taken to other sights in the Czech Republic and to towns in Germany. Seeing the garden and town were on the itinerary, too.
The facade of Valtice Chateau
I already knew the background information. Valtice originated in the 12the century or earlier as a castle. The Liechtenstein clan would greatly influence the development of Valtice. They bought it in 1387 and kept the chateau in the family until 1945, creating a legacy that survived for almost 600 years. During 1560 they chose Valtice as their main residence. The castle became a Renaissance chateau during the 17th century. During the Thirty Years’ War the Swedes damaged Valtice. Later it got a Baroque makeover. Much construction took place during the 18th century. For example, the stunning chateau chapel was completed in 1729. At the end of that century, the chateau theatre was built. The garden, established during the Baroque reconstruction underwent renovations at that time.
Representative rooms at the chateau have been opened to visitors since the first half of the 19th century. Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Josef I and his wife Princess Elizabeth, often called “Sisi,” came to the chateau as did Austrian Chancellor Klemens von Metternich. When the chateau became the property of the Czechoslovak Republic in 1920, there were no changes made.
But those golden days did not last forever. World War II came, and after the war the chateau was plundered. Considered to be traitors, Soviet prisoners-of-war were shot at Valtice. Then a section of the chateau became a forced labor camp for women while another part was used for drying hops. The grounds were in poor condition, too. Extensive reconstruction took place in the 1960s, and now Valtice is a Baroque beauty. The chateau even made the UNESCO World Cultural Heritage List during 1996, an honor that is well-deserved.
The mammoth statues of Hercules in front of the chateau gave me an imposing welcome. When I looked up at them, I felt that I played such a small role in the huge, scary world. This feeling was not negative; rather, it was humbling. The comprehensive tour lasted one hour. It covered the representative rooms, the emperor’s apartments and the chapel that had been lauded throughout Central Europe.
Our guide was a very scholarly and enthusiastic woman. She clearly liked her job. In the entranceway I saw Japanese porcelain from the 18th century as well as an impressive carriage. The Antechamber was a real treat – I loved the Oriental pink-and-green wallpaper decorated with pink flower buds. I loved the ceiling paintings throughout the chateau. They featured mythological characters. The Emperor’s Salon featured portraits of the Habsburg family – Maria Theresa and Joseph II were two of those making appearances. In another space I saw paintings of battle scenes from the Napoleonic Wars. In this particular room the Roman gods’ victory over the Titans was the pictorial theme.
The Dining Room
The Dining Room was the biggest space in the chateau. The pink-and-grey imitation marble on the walls looked so elegant and majestic. Above the doors I saw extraordinary reliefs of musical instruments. It reminded me of college, when music had played such an important role in my life. I adored my private piano lessons, even though I was not very talented. During college I was introduced to the magical world of classical music, which I still listen to today. I even went to the symphony in a nearby town once a month, momentarily escaping university life. I should make music a more significant part of my present, I chided myself. The Baroque 18th century chandelier and the Empire style side tables added to the splendor of the room. The view of the park was superb, too.
In another space I liked the floral and bird motifs on the royal blue upholstery on the chairs. The design was so lively, so energetic. I also noticed a Baroque landscape painting by a Dutch painter. I had been enamored by Dutch and Flemish landscape renditions ever since my first semester of college, when I took a course on Dutch and Flemish art. The chandelier, though, was what fascinated me most. It featured Triton and was decorated with antlers. Somehow the two looked out-of-place together. They did not complement each other. Yet that only made the chandelier more unique and more intriguing.
The unique chandelier and exquisite furnishings
The Red Salon or Smoking Room featured an exquisite large mirror. How I would love to look into that mirror every day! Olympic gods looked down on me from the ceiling. Paintings with biblical motifs also decorated the room. The two bureaus made with ivory were stunning, forged in the Florence style and dating from the 17th and 18th century. The jewel chest in the Ladies’ Salon showed off Chinese motifs, and the wings featured a Chinese landscape. The ceiling painting was outstanding; it showed the conquering of Troy. In a bedroom there was an elegant bed with canopy. The Madonna painting hanging behind it was a copy of a work by Raphael.
A captivating bed in Valtice Chateau
The Marble Salon boasted ornamentation from the 18th century. I loved the pink-and-grey imitation marble on the walls. It was so elegant, so sophisticated! I would love to have walls decorating in that fashion in my house. Floral still lifes dominated the walls, and the god Flora took precedence in the ceiling painting. On one wall in another room there was the shell of a huge tortoise between rifles. I had seen many hunting trophies on walls, but never that of a tortoise. The library featured over a 1,000 volumes, most in French but others also in German and Latin. There was even an old-fashioned elevator in the chateau.
Another exquisite bed in Valtice Chateau
It was a pity we could only see the chapel through a glass partition from one side of the upper level. I admired the richly decorated balcony of the chapel that dated from 1726. The intarsia on the benches below astounded me. Such exquisite detail! There were several paintings in the room from which we peered at the chapel. A 15th century oil painting of Jesus Christ with the Cross proved to be the oldest picture in the chateau. I loved the Baroque Picture Gallery with the paintings set so close together. It was overwhelming, though. There was so much to see on each wall. Hunting themes dominated the room. The ceiling painting carried the same theme – it featured Diana, goddess of the hunt. I loved the Holland Baroque furniture in the Study. It reminded me of the Holland Baroque furnishings I had seen at Český Šternberk Castle in central Bohemia. Other rooms featured ceiling paintings of the Allegory of Morning and the Allegory of Evening.
Valtice Chateau Park
In yet another space there was a unique bureau. A section of it opened to reveal a desk, but the bottom part was for storing laundry. It was dazzling, made of ivory with intarsia from various woods. There were also Dutch still lifes of fruit and vegetables and an elegant, light blue bed with a canopy. The ceiling painting focused on the allegory of spring. I wanted to pick some of the flowers out of the basket that was portrayed there. The Reception Room featured pink chairs and wallpaper, giving it a cheerful atmosphere. Baroque landscape paintings dotted one wall.
Valtice Chateau Park
Next we saw the Baroque park, built midway through the 18th century. Fascinating architectural objects had been situated there at one time. Perhaps it had been most famous for its gloriette. At the beginning of the 19th century, the park was expanded. There was even an amphitheatre with Baroque statuary built in the park during the early 20th century. Vases and benches had also been part of the park decor. Now those objects are gone, but the park remains intriguing with its many varieties of trees, bushes and flowers.
We also visited the small town of Valtice, focusing on the main square. The Church of the The Assumption of the Virgin Mary, situated on the southeast side of the main square, was the most impressive sight in my opinion. The Baroque masterpiece hailed from 1679. It had been built after the earlier church collapsed. The church proved to be a harmonious and tranquil continuation of Roman architecture with significant sculptural decoration. At one time a painting by Peter Paul Rubens adorned the main altar, but it was transferred to Vienna during the Prussian Wars because of the threat of invasion by the Turks. Now it hangs in the National Gallery in London. The church has one rectangular nave with side chapels and a wide main altar. The stucco decoration and sculptural ornamentation is impressive. I was also intrigued by the cupola.
The interior of the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary
The interior of the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary
The Baroque Plague Column hails from 1670, when the lands were experiencing a plague epidemic. It was not completed until the second half of the 18th century. The Virgin Mary crowns the column while five saints also make appearances, including Saint Sebastian and John of Nepomuk, who was drowned in the Vltava River on the order of Bohemian King Wenceslas.
The Plague Column in Valtice
I was overjoyed that I had had the opportunity to see all the rooms open to the public plus the garden and town. Thanks to our superb tour guide, I learned information that I would have never known if I had come there by myself. I just wished tourists would appreciate Valtice as much as they did Lednice. Valtice shouldn’t be in second place but tied for first.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
A bus took me directly from Frýdek Místek to Hukvaldy, where I embarked on the uphill, demanding 20-minute walk in the scorching heat. The moment I reached the entrance to the castle ruin in northern Moravia, I was beside myself.
The castle ruins
The views to the gentle, green Beskydy Mountains, which loomed in the distance, were magnificent. Supposedly, one could even sometimes see as far as the Jeseníky Mountains and Praděd Mountain in the Jeseník region. I saw picturesque, romantic villages in undulating valleys, the lush green of the mountains surrounding the dots that made up the small towns. I wondered if I could see the Polish or Slovak border.
The views from the castle ruins are breathtaking.
Another breathtaking view
Upon entering the castle ruins, I was in for an even bigger surprise. The castle ruins were just as romantic and picturesque as were the views from the wall at the entrance. The music of Leoš Janáček, a native of this village, kept racing through my head. All those compositions inspired by Moravian folk music, the unique melodies and specific, repeating motifs. Before I came to the castle, I had stopped at the local school, where Janácek was born, the ninth child out of 13, on July 3, 1854.
The castle ruins
The castle dates from the 13th century.
I skimmed over a brochure about the castle’s history. The monument dates from around 1285. Olomouc bishops gained ownership of the castle in the middle of the 14th century, then the castle changed hands several times before King Jiří of Poděbrady bought it during 1465 in order to return it to the bishops. From that point on, the Olomouc bishopric and later archbishopric were almost continually the owners of Hukvaldy until it became state property in 1948.
The ruins even have their own ghosts.
The castle became a ruin in the 18th century.
The once vibrant castle became a ruin in 1762, when a fire broke out after lightning struck the fortress. Yet the Chapel of Saint Ondřej remains almost untouched since its construction during the end of the 17th century. Decorated with statues of Jan Nepomuk and František Xavier, it is a real, though small, gem.
Hukvaldy even has its own ghost named Světlík, who was killed by a hejtman that wanted to marry his beautiful daughter. Světlík refused to let him do so. The castle had a famous prisoner, too. Philip Dambrovsky was accused of poisoning four Olomouc bishops.
A view through the ruin
Another view of the ruin
As I walked through the gates and courtyards, strolled around the bastions, peeked into the cellars and took note of the destroyed buildings that were once occupied by the burgrave, I felt energized from the power that was emitted by the stone walls and fragments, as if this place had a significant story to tell and was telling that story as I stepped through its magical gates.
Hukvaldy is, indeed, magical.
Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.
You can almost hear Janáček’s music coming from the ruins.
A statue of a fox commemorating Janáček’s opera, The Cunning Little Vixen.
The views of the mountains in the distance are sure to amaze.
Tracy's Travels 