I found the work of Miroslav Tichy by accident. I needed a rest from the computer screen and went to lie down on the communal sofa in my studio. The magazine lying open in front of me showed ghost like slurs of female forms, Black and White with the subjects completely unaware. The importance of a moment. I felt at home with these images; suggestive, more like a dream.
By the way, he was quite a genius; a dissenting voice from the confines of communism. Well educated, and able to step away from oppressive requirements of hard conformity. Instead he wore only a suit that he reapaired with thread or wire, and dressed as a vagabond; refusing to buy into state consistency or predictability. He spent a lot of time making very rudimentary cameras, to capture his ongoing ‘paintings with light’.