Interview with Miroslav Cipár

➤ When exactly was the logo for Bratislava City Gallery created and what has this institution in common with City Gallery?

City Gallery was the predecessor of Bratislava City Gallery. One of its exhibition halls was situated on the ground floor of Primate’s Palace where we used to go to see the shows. I remember seeing there the show of Milan Paštéka in 1964 but also the show of the Club of Graphic Designers which was our association. I did the first logo for the City Gallery established in 1961. Back then, the logos were done in quite a simplistic even primitive fashion. I don’t know why it was me who was offered this job, but maybe I was the only one courageous enough to do such a thing. And then, ten years later, when the City Gallery changed its name to Bratislava City Gallery in 1971, a new logo was needed.

➤ How exactly did they offer you this job; who approached you?

It was nothing spectacular – I was commissioned to do the logo for BCG by the director of the gallery Milan Jankovský and his deputy Fedor Kriška. But, unfortunately, I do not remember the exact date.

➤ What did the work of a graphic designer look like back then?

It took a lot of time; I used to make a lot of sketches using both pencil and pen. The work of a graphic designer took place on sketch paper. The final product was done in black ink.

➤ Were there also the variations of the logo created? Meaning the colour scheme, ductus of lines, rules of placement within the format, etc. … or not?

All the uses of the logo were part and parcel of the design – including the colour scheme. The graphic manual determined precisely the conditions of use, the minimal size, protection zone, suggested colours, appropriate fonts, type of paper, business cards and so on. It was elaborated and thought through to the tiniest details.

➤ The gallery uses the logo to the present day.

Yes, it saw the first director Medvecký as well as his successors Jankovský and Jančár and also the new director Mrs Trnovská.

➤ Listing the names we shouldn’t forget Fedor Kriška who managed the gallery between 1993 and 1996.

When you say Kriška, for me, it is a personification of the gallery. Whatever the situation, whatever the director, he always did his job while improving the gallery. Fedor belonged to the Clementis family, he was the nephew of Vladimír Clementis and that’s why his political background wasn’t good; he was kicked out of school in his last year. He couldn’t finish his art-historical studies; a bitter fate for him. He started his job in the gallery probably in 1963 and he stayed there for almost forty years. He was an immensely interesting person; he read a lot, mostly fiction, he knew his books, he had good taste. All of that, his awareness and erudition showed in his texts; they weren’t the typical art-historian kind which is usually incomprehensible, dull, boring and annoying – as if he resisted the cold art-historical habits of expression. His texts showed liveliness and literary beauty – you would read them in one sitting. One could feel the years of reading fiction behind them which was eventually appreciated also by art historians, his colleagues.

➤ How come he was “allowed” to work in the gallery despite his family background?

Everyone knew he was the punished one, with the unfavourable dossier. The one, who cannot… That’s how it used to be; it was quite common back then to maintain that there are people who are written off, who lost the access; it was a curse for life. Some people suffered a lot and couldn’t bear it and it changed them. Many stories like that. Take the story of Dominik Tatarka. But it didn’t change Kriška. Although, the story of Fedor Kriška wasn’t unique – there were others “shelved” like that, for example, Marenčin or Dušan Ruppelt. They couldn’t be in the top positions, they weren’t members of the party or they had unfavourable dossiers. When he died in 2011, I said, standing above his coffin, that “Us, being outsiders, is a very precious capital for the future.” For me, Fedor Kriška equals Bratislava City Gallery.

➤ You met Fedor quite young. You were 30 years old…

Yes, even before he started his job in the gallery. We belonged to the same generation; we frequented the same clubs, taverns. There were so few of us we just had to meet at some point. For example, there were only twelve of us together boarding VŠVU, meaning all the study fields. Twelve people! That means sculptors, restorers too, everyone. And that’s not many people to meet, you know.

➤ Is the story that the logo of BCG wasn’t accepted before the 14th version was presented true?

Fedor Kriška liked to tell the story of my never-ending redoing of the logo for BCG. It was only the 13th or 14th version they accepted as the final one. Unfortunately, I didn’t archive all those versions but knowing myself I believe I destroyed and binned all of them. They were probably worthless.

➤ Was there still any will in you to do the 14th version when they refused you for the 13th time? Didn’t you want to tell them No, thank you, ask someone else?

All that repeated coming with a new version stemmed from my dissatisfaction rather than the client’s opinion. Since it was me who wasn’t satisfied I kept coming up with new versions. It used to happen to me also with other commissions; even after the design got accepted and implemented sometimes I kept coming up with a new version of the logo… All in all, as an author, I am very dissatisfied with myself.

XXXXX I am happy to be a part of the gallery’s story. The period of history when it was established and tried to make its name wasn’t very favourable to the activities around new art and new, young generation. It took some time before the dominance of the National Gallery gave way because by that time it already had its tradition because it was founded right after the war. CG and later BCG entered an already occupied space. On the other hand, for me, as a young, up-and-coming author, it was a favourable time.

➤ There is a great appreciation of the BCG logo in the book by Vladislav Rostoka. He writes that is one of the most beautiful logos ever created for a gallery. And he means it internationally. What do you say to that? How do you see it after such a long time; the logo is quite old now…

An encouraging judgment from an expert who knows what he is talking about is always pleasant. I believe he doesn’t mean it as exaggerated personal flattery. With many of my older works, I still feel a lot of satisfaction. It is a joy to see, for example, that my logo for Slovak National Gallery withstood certain endeavours to change or redesign and it still serves in its original version. I cannot judge whether those logos are the most beautiful, I am not interested in some prize or top chart position. When the logo for BCG was being created, there were many other important logos created – meaning for the national cultural institutions. For example, Čestmír Pechar created a logo for Slovak National Theatre. In contrast to my logos for BCG or SNG where there are no descriptive symbols, no graphic element suggesting it is a cultural or national, municipal institution, there is a linden-tree branch as a symbol of Czechoslovakia. Seen from this perspective, it may be the reason why my graphically clean and narrative-free work looks so timeless and why it survived to the present day. It doesn’t need to be changed; it still works well with other elements that present and make the gallery (architecture and design).

➤ You have also said that the logo was created in a favourable period of history. That piqued my interest. Why do you think it was a favourable period and how would you define it?

I look at it from a wider perspective. It begins for me with the end of the war; then there is slowing down in 1948, that was a break that brought a political tightening of screws, anxiety determined by Communist, party pressure. In 1953, some of the key “big shots” die and that loosens up a bit the tension, as if the things started to open up a bit again. Man ascends Mount Everest, the British queen is crowned, basic institutions such as NATO are founded, and intensive international cooperation begins. In our country, there was also monetary and school reform. All of which determines the mood of society. In 1956, national uprisings begin in neighbouring states of Poland and Hungary. And only a short bit is left and we find ourselves in the 1960s that see the establishment of a great many cultural institutions. Festivals, conferences, exhibitions, etc. At about that time when all of that was happening, we were studying at the university. And it wasn’t happening only out there but also inside our young heads. We were spending evenings in the library of VŠVU and copying contacts from magazines, retracing things that we found fascinating. We started doubting the truths we were taught in school, the basic facts bestowed upon us by academic authorities. And the whole “favourable period” ended in 1968. Too short was this breathing in for the things to be finished, finalised, but it was enough for the transformation of the mind. The people inspired by this period of history were the first who let themselves be heard after 1989.

➤ Well, they knew what’s going on. You knew what was going on.

Because we knew wherein lies the rub.

📷 Photos of Miroslav Cipár: Juraj Špaček, Štefan Cipár