Prelude I 1959

Jiri Balcar created this print, Prelude I, sometime in the mid-twentieth century. It's all about blacks, whites, and grays, a tight palette, almost a visual haiku. I imagine Balcar deeply involved in the process of creation: inking, wiping, pressing, each step a conversation with the plate. It's like he’s building a puzzle, where each piece carries its own weight. There's a tactile quality to the image, which makes me wonder about Balcar’s physical engagement with the materials, the resistance of the plate, the viscosity of the ink. That arrow, for example, cutting through the darkness, seems like a deliberate act, a decision made in real time. Balcar’s work, like that of many artists, is an ongoing experiment, a quest for new forms of expression. Each work adds a new verse to the song of art, inspiring us to see, feel, and think differently about the world around us. His approach invites us to embrace uncertainty, to find beauty in the unexpected, and to value the unique perspectives that art can offer.