FOUNTAINS SWIRL CITY

Ondřej Císler: I wanted to create fountains in the truest sense of the word. Not just some water attraction or to devise a new form. I wanted to fill the original form in a new way. Another impulse was the realization of the monumentality of the scale established, the vastness of the square, and the size of one of the highest church towers in Central Europe. The nobility of this space was my main inspiration.

Working with scale was certainly crucial...
Absolutely. One feels unprotected in the square. Moreover, there was a recent tradition of military parades; the space felt somewhat like an apel platz… These principles were already recognized by architects Jan Soukup and Jiří Opl, who designed the reconstruction of the square's pavement. They based the pavement very generously, even drawing the fountains – I believe they were historicist – but with a sense of perspective, they said: we will create new potential and propose a competition. I think they arranged the placement very correctly. They connected to the original but lost medieval fountains. The composition of the central church and the four solitary elements in the corners – namely in the places where the most paths intersect, where the traffic is the busiest – is, in my opinion, very important. It was about complementing the scale of the space.

Verification of scale, model 1:1

Could you specify your reasoning?
I traced a certain principle which I informally called scale cadence. First are the benches and curbs, then a person, then what I did, followed by the column of plague, above it the houses, the cathedral, and finally its tower. It is a kind of harmonious series that I wanted to complement with a missing chord – the scale. It is primarily about the height of the gargoyles, and that is why I never feared their size.

From what you are saying, it is clear that the span between a person and the plague column was clearly defined. However, you still had to address the exact height of the fountains, as the mentioned interval offers countless variations differing by several meters... Let’s remind ourselves that you were forced to reduce the gargoyles by about half a meter.
One intuitively defines the space from prehistoric times. To master the world around oneself. To be able to move within it at all. People defined space, its axis, its center. And they clung to it in order to survive and not lose their sanity. To me, it was a basic necessity that we no longer realize today. That is why there were totems, menhirs, and that is why there is a column. One column shapes the space. The gargoyles function similarly.
I have always been sure that the gargoyles would not make the space oppressive, as many people feared, but on the contrary, that they would make the square more cozy. And that is why they may seem small – as you mentioned before filming. However, I believe they are not small.
Besides the scale, I was very interested in symbolism. At that time, I was reading Umberto Eco's essay On the Significance of Architecture: How Exposition Exhibits Itself, which I also translated and was published in Era. The text deals with how things signify themselves. A major theme of postmodernism: a church must look like a church and a museum like a museum. And I enjoyed making a little trickery. A large portion of people who are critical of the fountains today say: So what is this supposed to represent? They know they are called Camel, Greyhound, and Angel. But everyone knows that it is not a camel, but a certain abstract figure. It is not a narrative work. I was interested in the abstract sign and its effect. Just as the effect of the three signs simultaneously in the space of the city interests me. That is why it is important that the fountains can be seen from each other. It is not only about the mentioned height cadence; to me, they create a sort of power field among themselves. At least two can be seen from every spot. Three fountains form a single unit.
The signs are intentionally chosen abstractly because they can accept different contents and meanings. Which is already happening. They are already receiving various nicknames. It is amusing.

Statue of the Virgin Mary on top of the plague column

Are you also interested in abstract positioning in buildings?
I believe a building should have a figure. A building should signify itself as a being. I do not consider this to be something absolutely immutable; I do not want to claim that other methods are completely wrong. It is possible that one day I will create a building that is as if covered by a veil, which does not signify itself. But with the fountains, I wanted them to signify themselves. So that everyone remembers every shape, and when they see it after ten years, they associate it with the place. The intention is also connected with the city center and working with the iconicity of architecture – but with intent – not scenographic. I am not about shocking, about the Bilbao effect. When architecture is only made for effect, it carries a number of problematic positions. Architecture is a dance in space.

Let’s return one last time to scale. Does this mean that the reduction of the fountains, which arose from the demands of conservationists, does not bother you? Is the span between a person and the plague column really sufficiently determining?
The way the note in the chord sounds is not completely fixed. I do not pretend that I have found the correct tone in which the gargoyles are perfect. It is a bit like playing atonally – the melody slips away like a snake. The impetus for reducing it first came from the conservation side. Initially, the whole affair was quite unpleasant for me – I was summoned on the carpet to the National Heritage Institute. The project was not received very positively. During the meeting of the scientific council, the attendees seriously discussed that it would be ideal to return our square to its form from the 19th century and that the introduction of such a contemporary piece is a provocation. One of the few genuinely beneficial arguments was: work with proportions. I accepted this challenge; today the fountains are more elegant and lower. I am glad for that. They are concentrated.



FROM CAST IRON TO GOLD

Let’s move on to the function of the fountains in the structure of the city. Historically, such an object not only had an undeniable aesthetic and urbanistic role but also a purely utilitarian function – for the distribution of water. It is clear that this dimension has long been completely unnecessary; nevertheless, can you define any other possible benefit for the city besides the aesthetic impression?
My fountains stand on the cusp of architecture and sculpture. However, besides the aesthetic function, they certainly play a role in refreshing the originally parched space of the square with the falling water. The Chinese would surely talk about the contribution of energies that come to the square because of the gushing water. And I think that is true. The fountains also create a certain point of interest: people meet there, sit by them, look at them – some with greater, others with lesser joy. The functions are subtle, but important in the city center. The fountains stir the city.
They can also be added to the mentioned symbolism. It is a marking of space, its delineation and definition in a certain way. That was an important meaning that I think has been fulfilled.

In the jury's evaluation, a certain continuation of the Škoda factory tradition was also mentioned: the gargoyles, which are meant to loosely paraphrase castings...
It is an interpretation derived from my defense. If you study the history of Pilsen, you will come across beer – I don’t drink beer much – and then there’s Škodovka. If you start to explore the topic more deeply, you will find that it is definitely not something you can just pass over intellectually. Here, turbines were cast into the Niagara Falls before the war, and crankshafts for transoceanic liners, which were taller than my fountains today, were twenty meters long and weighed an unimaginable number of tons. With immense precision, they were able to process and handle them. Pilsen was exceptional for this precision in its time.
I had the feeling from the square that it has a fiery, metallic nature. Moreover, I am extremely interested in metals, and I wanted to work with them. At that time, I was reading a book by Mircea Eliade The Blacksmiths and Alchemists, which discusses how people originally related to metal. For example, the first iron they encountered was of meteoric origin. That is, even before they were able to smelt it from ore. And because they believed that the celestial spheres were made of various metals, they regarded fallen iron as shards of the heavens. When you look at meteoric iron, it is incredibly interesting. A glowing drop crystallizes in a special way during flight. When you cut it, it has an unusual structure because of that. In many places in the Levant, metallic votive objects of meteoric origin were worshipped. Sacrificial knives were also made from meteoric metal. All these themes deeply interested me and, in a way, naturally belonged to this project and to Pilsen.

How did these considerations specifically reflect in your material choice?
I initially considered cast iron, which turned out to be unrealistic because it is terribly heavy, lacks sufficient detailing, and is difficult to weld. Over time, during the design process, the metals seemed to clear up and improve in quality. And as the scale slightly decreased, the material shifted from cast iron to bronze and to the initially only imagined gilding... Which eventually became a key moment of the entire work, giving the fountains another dimension.



Where were the gargoyles actually cast? Did you build on Pilsen's craftsmanship?
They were cast everywhere. Not in Pilsen. Initially, we wanted to realize them nearby, but it was a martyrdom. We couldn’t quite happily select a supplier, which we later had to catch up on with great difficulty. And ultimately we had to change suppliers. The last fountain that was cast in Stará Huť near Dobříš is already superbly executed.

When we talk about materials, let’s also mention the black granite from which the vessels are made. Why did you choose stone imported all the way from China?
One of the confirmations of material choices was also the fact that we selected those that are at least colorfully present in the square. In addition to a number of other decorative elements, at the top of the plague column stands a gilded Marian statue, and the entire column is made of sandstone, although its surface is now completely black.
From the beginning, I wanted a dark, black stone. I initially considered prachatice diorite. But it turned out that today it is no longer possible to break out blocks from it because the quarry is closed. I also looked for other kinds. There were various twists with artificial stone, which we fortunately abandoned. And we gradually concluded that we needed a hard stone, such as granite. The nearest deposit of black granite is in Norway, but the stones there are too small. In Zimbabwe, the market is fully surrounded by Italians, and the situation in the country is also considerably unstable. Ultimately, it turned out that the only place where you can break out, process, and create monolithic vessels from such large blocks is indeed China. The correctness is confirmed by the material itself: it is perfect, beautiful, homogeneous, hard, and easy to process.

Quarry for black granite, China

Did the fact that the material is not local not raise a theme for you to consider?
I admit that I did not feel this – so to say – ecological sentiment or relationship to the landscape to which one should materialize as a person. When the Egyptians built the pyramid, they did not hesitate to transport stone in their scale and by their means from a disproportionately greater distance. Today, freight is transported by ship in a container, which is completely standard. I could not wear these shoes, which are possibly Italian, but the second pair I have at home is Chinese...
By the way, the new pavement in Pilsen's square is laid from Italian porphyry. There were also objections to this choice. The main argument, however, is the search for the most suitable stone. Historically, it is also completely common that since the Gothic or Renaissance periods, marbles have been imported from Italy to Bohemia. Buildings were demolished, precious stones and materials were stolen and transported elsewhere, where new buildings were erected from them. For example, the mausoleum of Galla Placidia in Ravenna, which has a ceiling from Istria and mosaics and cladding made from stone taken from Istanbul's Hagia Sophia. There are countless examples. We did not start this. (laughs)

If we return again to China, did you go to select the material personally?
The trip was an unforgettable experience. China is horrifying in some aspects and admirable in others. There were great doubts. I suspect it is a certain market strategy of Czech stonemasons, who are afraid of competition from cheap Chinese material and cheap labor. Reports spread about poor quality stone, about the inability to process it properly... Nevertheless, at the time when civilization here was in its infancy, stoneworking works that we admire today were being created in China. And the quality there was confirmed. Even the local stonemasons who mediated and supervised the work ultimately admitted that they themselves would not have managed the process so quickly and precisely.

In the Czech Republic, the finished elements were then just assembled...
…and nanotechnology was applied, a completely new technology that enhances surface quality. It is a very thin, multi-atomic layer of glass that repels water and all biological material. It is also oleophobic and provides UV protection. It was, in a way, a remarkable feat. Because scientific servers, I emphasize not the market, this technology appeared in the Czech Republic only in February of this year.

Is there a fountain in the Czech Republic or elsewhere – whether historical or modern – that you consider architecturally significant? I do not mean that you directly drew inspiration from it.
The Roman fountains are a phenomenon, about which musical compositions, poems, and much more are written. We will probably never achieve that. For example, the fountain at Piazza Navona. They represented, of course, a different position, more sculptural. And they also emerged in a completely different social climate. They cannot be compared. But I don’t really know much about contemporary fountains. It wasn’t that before the Pilsen competition I studied what others were doing and then followed that. However, there is one very interesting object in Chicago. Huge screens project the faces of the residents, and where their mouths are, a stream of water flows out. Quite an amusing concept.

Processed monolithic granite elements, China

You mentioned poems. Verses by Petr Borkovec were also written for the fountains in Pilsen. Due to the delayed intention, they have not yet been placed on the gargoyles; can you recall any of them?
Each fountain has its own poem. We tried to find specific moods in interaction with how people would walk to the fountains. I am fascinated by the text on the theme of fidelity and permanence, intended for Greyhound: I walk with my master, slowly, among the trees... For Camel, there are snippets of partners' seemingly empty dialogues. Variations of disputes that embody the tension in the relationship. What would you wish for? I don’t know, but if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. Why? Because I would jinx it, you clever...

I confess that I fail to see the connection between partner conflicts and Camel.
You cannot find a direct connection. It is that we identified the Camel as the fountain where people would presumably most often meet and which would be the most communal. Which, in my opinion, works like this, if I may judge after such a short time. Perhaps because it stands closest to the tram station.
Working with words in architecture is a major theme. I believe that no one has yet achieved it excellently in our country. In Brno, Skácel's verses are used on the fountain in Freedom Square, and Nouvel also tried a similar idea at the Angel. But the extraction of texts from a library and their application is not, in my opinion, the ideal solution.



Is it technologically feasible to add inscriptions to the gargoyles later?
Technologically, it is not a problem. It’s a matter of cost.
Gilding has an ephemeral nature. I had to defend it a lot. Even during the competition, I openly admitted that I expected that signatures and tags would be on the sculptures. In a way, it can also be perceived positively – as impressions that people bring their soul to the square. Although some are a little darker.

So we come to the question of permanence, or rather transience or change. To what extent does it trouble you in relation to the fountains?
Gilding naturally fades away gradually, ages. And due to mere abrasion, wind, dust, rain, it slowly wears off. Maintenance cannot be neglected too much. We would be happy if it could occur regularly, locally, perhaps even every quarter. The more the city takes care of the fountains, the cheaper the result will be.
The fountains will have their own life. We believe that at a time when people will finally be able to touch the surface, when the objects will not be such a novum for them, we will find an opportunity to add inscriptions as well. These could further shift and deepen the concept. The writing should be done with not too pure gold; it should not have such durability; on the contrary, it could be colored and perhaps eventually fade over time. I was immensely pleased with the idea that at a certain moment, text would emerge from the gold, which would gradually fade away over time...



FROM VERSES TO THEORY

In 1999, texts by Louis Kahn were published in Czech under the title Silence and Light, which you translated. Was Kahn your conscious choice or were you invited to work on it?
I am still friends with Martin Souček, the publisher from a very important publishing house Arbor Vitae. I knew from him that translations of Kahn's texts were being worked on. When I met him once near the City Library, he mentioned that the matter was not going well, that they had already dismissed the fourth translator. Out of sheer bravado, I then said, "Give me a piece, I will try." Mr. Kolíbal, who was the editor of the De Arte series, liked the text. However, the translation was incredibly demanding, it took me a long time, I rewrote it about four times. A standard translator without architectural training has no chance of understanding what Kahn is saying. Kahn himself is undoubtedly a profound and mystical person. However, in many translations of his texts, you can find passages that unjustly add missing mystical and vague meanings to completely ordinary situations.
Of course, I also discovered that I am not a translator myself. In the end, we sat at the computer together with Souček, Kolíbal, and Ladislav Nagy and edited the text once more.
So it was basically a coincidence.

Structure of gilding on one of the fountains (Greyhound)

When you translated Kahn, did you focus mainly on the language, or were his views close to you as well?
I confess that I didn’t know all the texts beforehand. However, I immediately knew what he was talking about; I only searched for words to translate his thoughts into Czech. It was some kind of peculiar, uninvited meeting. On the other hand, entering into his mental world was a bit dangerous for me.

Dangerous?
He was intellectually incredibly gifted. Moreover, immensely pure and good. I was fascinated by his struggle for the school, the search for roots and meaning. I am currently repeating what my most important teacher speaks about. Kahn created a compact world of thought that has its own duration. And it was a bit dangerous not to allow oneself to be overwhelmed and rewritten by it.

And do you remember any of his sentences?
I function on the principle of resonance. So sometimes something appears in glowing letters. But I definitely do not read important passages every week and tick off whether I fulfill them or not.

Do you have time today to read architectural theory?
I do not. I primarily listen to music, which is a tremendous reference for me. I often also compare music with architecture. I also chose the Philharmonic for my diploma and hope to write my doctorate on concert halls one day. I am trying to describe the topic so that it can be relied upon, for example, when the situation of a new Czech concert hall is finally addressed. Because there is a lack of a proper concert hall for symphonic music in the Czech Republic. In a country of compositional giants and a certain musical culture, we should have one.



If you mentioned that you compare architecture to music, can you illustrate this parallel in any specific way?
It is always about feeling; the perceptions have, to put it lightly, a somewhat synesthetic nature, and essentially it looks like certain musical images, fragments of musical structures connect with the structures and nature of some projects or buildings. This creates subconscious reference points and foundations for orientation in the field of architecture. Music does not touch the main sense of perception – visuality – but affects the less ostentatious sense, namely hearing, thereby providing some sort of unwanted subconscious meter that always surprises me with its precision. However, it is not so much about canonical style categorization; I will not say, for instance, that when I hear a specific piece by Bach, a particular baroque space comes to mind – I have never believed too much in that. My subconscious is as diverse and multifaceted as mushrooms or stones. If you wanted an example, I would like to create a space that is as sadly beautiful as when Nico sings My Funny Valentine.
I also recently became very interested in the visuality of film.

Could you be more specific?
Most recently, the visuality of Antichrist directed by Lars von Trier. Although I consider this film to be strangely evil in content. But visually, it is undoubtedly genius. I have a bit of a feeling that here, form is more than what the poet wanted to say, because something is tormenting him, and he has no choice but to resort to beauty. But I do not know if his film brings enlightenment. We are in a bad place...

Photo Karel Kocourek

And have you gained any lessons from your work on translations?
As for theory, I have taken away from my work for Arbor Vitae the realization that the most fundamental are the source texts of the artists themselves. Not interpretations of their thoughts. Kahn also mentioned that for example, Vincent Scully interpreted certain things differently than he meant.

So do you believe that architecture should not be interpreted?
Not at all, but I think it is a great art. And also, courage. I admire Rostislav Švácha, who ignites architects' hearts.

Has any current theory text caught your attention so much that you would be willing to return to translating because of it?
I do not think that such a text exists at this moment. It would probably have to be something exceptional. I try to read, but some current texts are too hard to digest, and others seem to me terribly superficial.
I still have the ambition to deal with theory in the future. I feel that it will take a long time. I confess, however, that I still somewhat miss someone, namely a theorist, with whom it would be possible to engage in a systematic dialogue. Someone I could rely on.

Thank you for the interview.
Kateřina Lopatová