“The authorities there mostly hate me. The feeling is quite reciprocal,” he says.
Antiauthoritarianism is a persistent refrain throughout his oeuvre. His sculpture is circumspect toward the powerful. Historically, the media has been used to glorify leaders and the state. From Michelangelo’s “David” to the Monument to Soviet Tank Crews, statues legitimize and make authority visible.
Vandalizing statues has existed for millennia as a choice method for criticizing governments and showing the overthrow of the old guard. Ancient Egyptians even believed that taking the nose from a statue made the corresponding spirit unable to breathe, and that chipping off the ears made it deaf to prayers.
Cerný similarly uses sculpture to question the viewer’s sense of what is sacrosanct. He is outspoken in interviews with his displeasure over the resurgence of fascism around the globe, and his struggle with that has been a consistent refrain of his artwork.
“Unfortunately,” he says, “I’m not a rock star. And if I was, I would probably write protest songs. So instead I’m using my medium. For me, each work has a message. So, generally speaking, in some cases I have probably included quite hardcore political statements in the art. And I probably will continue that.”
Humor and the surrealistic play major roles in bringing about a catharsis that humanizes the message. “I think the humor—or, maybe, sarcasm—amplifies the message. Hopefully.”
“Brownnosers” encapsulates this approach. His 2003, seventeen-foot-tall sculpture is a permanent installation in the back garden at Futura, a free contemporary art space in Prague. After a trip through underground tunnels, visitors find themselves at a large white wall.
Two torsos extend from the wall and are supported by colossal legs. A ladder is positioned between each set of legs and leads up to a hole in the center of the statue’s posterior. Visitors are meant to stick their head in the hole to watch video of two politicians grossly feeding each other whilst Queen’s “We are the Champions” plays.
UNFORTUNATELY, I’m not a rock star. And if I was, I would probably write protest songs. So instead I’m using my medium. For me, each work has a message.”
This sense of play and penchant for the interactive is pervasive throughout his work. “Piss,” from 2004, is another example. Located outside the Kafka Museum, “Piss” features two nude bronze figures standing in a pool of water shaped like the borders of the Czech Republic. The nudes face each other and hold their respective members that shoot out streams of water into the pool and write out quotes from politicians. (The figures themselves are motorized to realistically imitate urination.)
Viewers can get in on the fun, if they like, by texting a number posted nearby. The figures will spell out the missive and automatically return to their political civic duties. Whatever the content, new pieces by Cerný rarely fail to garner controversy, igniting as much support and acclaim as they do calls for removal.
The incipient ideas for these pieces, and the process to realize them, are as idiosyncratic as the artist himself.
Cerný says, “The process for each sculpture absolutely varies, even from one piece to the next. It’s like, sometimes you might wake up after perfect sex and you have that idea in your mind with a flash. And then, sometimes you’re trying to solve a problem for weeks. For me, the best inspiration is usually a looming deadline.”
New projects and expanding his art practice have enveloped much of his time recently. A project is awaiting installation in Qatar while a large work is in process for Los Angeles. His new architecture venture, Black’n Arch, has two or three “crazy building projects” in store for Prague.
“Most of the building projects are confidential at this point,” he says, “but there’s quite a lot going on. But I’m definitely oscillating between the architecture and the sculpture and other stuff. Honestly, I might be bored if I couldn’t keep coming back to sculpture.”
One project waits in the distant future that Cerný hopes will one day come calling: a public sculpture in New York City. He remembers his years of living in Manhattan fondly. Despite his heartfelt connection to the boroughs, that quintessential metropolis has failed to proffer a request for his work in its public sphere.
“I’m still waiting for an offer from my beloved NYC,” Cerný says. “I think it’d have to be large—a big, kinetic piece about Big Apple energy!”*
