Mgr. Rudolf Jung
Born in Prague where he still lives.
He practices figurative, portrait, landscape and aerial photography, and also documents furtive changes in Prague. He is a member of the Association of Professional Photographers and Association M.
IVF /Institute of Creative Photography/ 1980–1983
FAMU – Department of Photography 1985–1994
29 solo exhibitions and approximately 40 group exhibitions
„STROMOVKA between evening and night“
On the eve of an important anniversary.
The Stromovka project has been coming into being for the last ten years. It consists of a mixture of work done on classical black and white material and new digital technology. This exhibition represents a selection of both and attempts to capture the area of Stromovka after people leave the park late in the evenings and for a short time Stromovka is returned to its own.
One can walk among the trees for real or just in imagination. Both walks are good. One can either sit on a park bench in one’s imagination or for real, and experience its coolness, wetness and the surrounding mist; the dark silhouettes of trees, the sound of children crying in the distance, lovers embracing nearby. Or simply experience the endless, silent solitude… I tried both… It has its charm and it depends, as always, on how our mind deals with it. Naturally, Jung’s photographs contain the first kind.
But… who knows, really?
I playfully crossed the bridge in the photographs, touched the bark of old trees and from close up I saw the dark silhouette of the massive trunk of an old lamp, maybe the last remaining in the park. I walked quietly on the surface of a pond on the edge of day and night and got frightened by the rustling sound emanating from the crown of the old willow, which probably remembers much immodesty committed in the shadow of its branches. I walked to the end of that artificially created world where cast iron fence creates a sharp border behind which everyday, ordinary life takes place. The trees look curiously over the fence but they can’t leave their designated space. Behind the border there is a street, railway station, one end of the connecting footbridge, tram terminus, steamboat harbour and many tennis courts from where regular sounds of rackets can be heard if, of course, the tennis season is on and it’s not too cold and not four thirty in the morning when nothing happens, except imagination, which works non-stop.
And it is with imagination that we need to approach Rudolf Jung’s dark, black and white photographs. They will take us around the recesses of the Royal Deer Park, founded in 1268 by Premysl Otakar II and often touched up by monarchs and important personalities in the course of the centuries, until it arrived at its present appearance.
The photographs are intimate records of nonentical space that has the power to transport us to the true landscape of tranquility and on the stage set of green trees whip up our imagination to the most bizzarre of actions.
It is up to you to chose between the flight of golden birds with flaming wings over your heads or an ordinary walk.
And, by the way, did you know that the trees in this park embrace each other at night?