Chris helped me get oriented in Prague on Sunday so I could get around more easily during the week while he was at work. We returned the rental car and had breakfast at the empty Cafe Paris, an Art Nouveau wonder tucked into a grand old hotel.
It would have been a tempting place to light up a Cuban cigar--in Prague, you can smoke almost ANYWHERE!
We hopped on a tram to cross the Vlata River and spent the remainder of the morning at the National Gallery, Trade and Fair Palace, a Communist relic. The nondescript exterior concealed some lovely galleries.
We both wanted to see the Oscar Kokoschka exhibit.
Anti-fascist to the core, Kokoschka left Vienna to live in Prague where he painted some gorgeous views of the city from different perspectives. But the art I liked best was mostly political, including this frightening image of Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels.
Much of his work was allegorical and reflected Czech history, including this portrait of Thomas Masaryk with some Bohemian king hovering in the background.
Here he depicts the annexation of Czechoslovakia by Germany.
Kokoschka also designed the sets for a Czech production of the Frank Wedekind play that served as the basis for the musical Spring Awakening.
The exhibit even included risque footage from a 1929 silent film based on the play.
Selfies used to be a lot more labor intensive. Oskar was no fool. He knew that asymmetrical eyebrows are de rigeur for men.
Chris highly recommended "The Slav Epic," a series of murals depicting Czech myth and history by Alfons Mucha. He's the Art Nouveau artist who painted many iconic images of Sarah Bernhardt.
I bought the separate ticket required for entry into a gallery the size of an airplane hanger. This will give you an idea of the scale of the murals. There are 20 of them.
Entirely clueless about the subject matter, I nevertheless happily spent the next hour shooting close-ups of the colorful and sometimes shadowy details.
Tell me this guy's not holding a selfie stick.
These images remind me of the1971 poster for the original Broadway production of Stephen Sondheim's "Follies." If it had been about chorus boys instead of chorines.
From the museum, Chris led me through a riverfront park crowded with Czech families. Income disparity among Czechs is lower than in most European countries, a welcome remnant of its Communist past.
We approached Prazsky Hrad from behind. Easier just to call it the Castle, like the eerie Kafka novel I had to read at Columbia. Construction began in the 9th century. It's the largest coherent castle in existence according to the Guinness Book of World Records.
Summer dances were held in this nearby pavilion.
Unblemished architectural detail contributes greatly to the city's charm. Allied bombing campaigns during World War II mostly spared Prague.
High atop a hill, the Castle is visible throughout the city mostly because its grounds incorporate St. Vitus Cathedral.
A barrier wall surrounds it. We crossed a bridge to enter.
Stoicism must be a professional requirement for palace guards everywhere.
Tourists mobbed the front gate to watch the changing of the guard.
More gorgeous buildings face the cobblestone square in front of the Castle.
He refused to cross the Charles Bridge ("too many tourists") so we caught the tram back to Havlicovy sady, the impeccably maintained park where he lives and works in this villa, constructed in 1871.
Imagine working in an environment like this. It suits him, by the way.
We dined with one of his colleagues who sussed out a local restaurant with great food and terrible service. Nothing like a little beet risotto and roasted vegetables to top off a perfect day.
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