Aleš Lamr

* 1943  †︎ 2024

  • “It was always a source of happiness for me to trick them somehow. Like during those interrogations in Bartolomějská street. At that time we made our living by offering our drawings, prints or water colour paintings at an antiquarian bookshop, and people would buy those to our surprise. So after I had been summoned for an interrogation I got myself prepared. I asked my friend, a psychiatrist, for some booster, so he would give me some Guajacuran to enhance my self esteem. So I would enter this place, this tiled building in Bartolomějská street, which was just a horrible place with all those iron bars in the windows and all those dogs barking. That was just ugly. And as I would sit down with them to be interrogated, I had this folder with me with my drawings. And of course there was this good State Security man and there was a bad one as well. And right in the beginning they would ask me about this folder I brought. So I told them that I brought my drawings. They wanted to see them. They kept going through the folder and they would ask questions like, 'What's this, this Tramtaria Airdrop?' And I asked them: 'You don't know where Tramtaria is? That's just something every child would tell you!' So all of a sudden I was riding high. I realised that it was good to distract them by something they wouldn't expect or want to know. And as there was this another drawing called 'The flight of the pižďuchs' they again were keen to know what it meant. And of course I couldn't just tell them that they were the creatures being depicted.”

  • “That was quite an interesting thing. As in the morning I would hear some noise. And I would wonder what was going on. So I went downstairs, to a reception in this house I had been living in, and they just told me that the Russians invaded us. I was shocked and I learned that there was a battle going on at the radio broadcast station. So I decided that I would go there. And on my way there I realised that I had no ID on me. So if they would shoot me, by chance, there would be no way to identify me. Such a strange idea it was, even I couldn't understand that. So I went to get my ID and I rushed all the way to the radio station. There I would be watching and shouting and waving with those little fists of mine. But it was just ugly. I was telling myself that if I wanted to get shot all I had to do was just to stay there, but in the end I would rather back off.”

  • “At one point, me and this friend of mine, we started to show our stuff at the Charles Bridge, so we could have some fun at least. At that time first people selling their art in the street started to show up. So we would show some things we did, we would even sell some of them, and by chance, there was just Jiří Padrta passing by, who was the editor of 'Výtvarná práce', an art journal, accompanied by Jan Ságl, a photographer. And they would ask us why we would show our stuff at that place, as they thought we should be there with all those people who were just making kitch. We told them we were doing this for fun, that there wasn't much more to it. But Padrta told me that I should join the Czechoslovak Union of Artists and invited me to come to visit him. So I showed up at the 'Výtvarná práce' editorial office, I filled a form and in two weeks there was this committee hearing taking place. And in that committee there was Michálek, my friend, Padrta, Lamač and some other painters. They took me in as an aspirant, so I could work freelance, and that was important. Under normal conditions I couldn't qualify for something like this, as just a secondary art school graduate. So I was quite happy that I managed to do this just before the 1968 invasion.”

  • “So I got to Prague, which was just great. I started absorbing the air in the city. There was 'Zbabělci' by Škvorecký, there were all those actors around me, singers and musicians – and I still meet them – like Jiří Stivín or all those people from the symphony orchestra. I grew up in a quite creative environment and politics was being discussed more and more often. We would read 'Literární noviny', 'Pramen', 'Světová Literatura', there were all those films and plays – so you would just let it all sink in, to get to most of it all. So thanks to the fact I was in Prague, right at the spring from which all those things were coming out, I had this tremendous opportunity to get the most of it all.”

  • “The first elections, that was the main thing. As we wanted so much that some decent, intelligent people would take control of the state. And as I was drinking with Václav Havel on one occasion, I told him that they didn't deal with the communists properly. They had to be much more strict and thorough. But there was Čalfa, who had helped Václav Havel make his first steps in politics, who had been hindering this process.”

  • “My friend wanted to celebrate her birthday at our cottage, as I was born on the same day as she was. And she would invite some friends and it turned out that those friends were Václav and Olga Havlová and several friends of theirs. So it was quite a surprise, but in the end it was just alright. Václav Havel was happy that they managed to outrun the Public Security, but they didn't outrun anyone, as there was a snitch in our party. After this quite wild party was over and they had all left, I told myself I was fed up with this kind of life, and me and my wife, we went in front of the house in the evening and we started to pray, so he would give us a sign that it was the right thing to become religious.”

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    Praha, 06.05.2021

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I could either sign the Charter or start believing in God

Several years after the 1989 revolution Aleš Lamr thrived as there was quite a demand for his paintings, prints and statues
Several years after the 1989 revolution Aleš Lamr thrived as there was quite a demand for his paintings, prints and statues
zdroj: G. Fárová

Aleš Lamr was born on 12 June 1943 in Litovel, Moravia, to a family with strong pottery-making tradition. Growing up in an inspiring environment, he had been drawing and painting himself already as an elementary school student. After 1948, his father‘s workshop had been confiscated by communist authorities and the witness grew up with a stigma of being a son of a former entrepreneur. Due to this he started training as a miner but his passion for art remained undiminished. Even as a miner he found a way to develop his talent. He managed to escape a blue-collar profession by attending the Secondary school of Art and Industrial Design in Brno, studying stage design. He kept developing his unique style, that even today makes him one of the most interesting personas of the so-called grotesque painting. There was also his strong admiration for his grandfather, František Lamr, an adventurer, who had been traveling South America for several years. In the 1960s, Aleš Lamr had already moved to Prague, where he had been employed in the Military Arts Ensemble (AUS) for two years. Later, he had been working in the Barrandov film studios as an assistant director. After August 1968, he had been contemplating leaving the country. In the end, he decided to stay in Czechoslovakia. However, thanks to his sister, who married a Swedish citizen, he could travel to Western Europe. Later, he merged his life with Prague‘s Lesser Part, participating in the 1981‘s legendary art show ‚Courtyards of the Lesser Part‘ (‚Malostranské dvorky‘). He had been under State Security surveillance for quite some time. He knew Václav Havel personally. He didn‘t sign the Charter 77 manifesto, yet he started believing in God. After the Velvet Revolution, he could at least pursue his artistic career freely and has been participating in art shows both home and abroad. Aleš Lamr passed away on February, the 16th, 2024.