TRUTH-LIKELY PEOPLE

When people say that a photograph has captured time, it always embarrasses me. A photograph is only a small fragment of time, made accessible in a single moment. To assume that it can be anything more seems presumptuous. And yet, when I look at Ivan Kováč’s photographs, I am overwhelmed by uncertainty during sustained observation. Is it really true? Words fail when trying to describe what is actually happening here. This story has its own physics. Vision alone is not enough to understand it. One must enter an inner world governed by the senses and imagination and recognise that photography is not a technical process, but a mental one. What matters far more than what is in the image is what takes place in one’s mind – much like listening to music. Most of us use our eyes, but learning how to see is far more difficult. Seeing is an art that brings joy only after many strenuous attempts. There is much that escapes our everyday gaze, dulled by habit. Ivan Kováč belongs to the generation of photographers tasked with accompanying society through the period before the changes brought about by the fall of communism. But beware: he is no naïve admirer of the past, blindly carried away by its nostalgic charm. His work reflects the mastery of a sensitive documentary photographer – one who knows that good photography is not born of speed, but of waiting. He also understands that doubt is the photographer’s greatest ally: doubt about whether one is on the right path, and whether what one is working on will endure. He knows that beyond the heart and the eye, the mind must also be engaged. That the future of a country does not emerge primarily from ancient myths, but from the immediacy of yesterday – and that this understanding must shape the way a photographic series is approached. Ivan has achieved all of this. The result is a carefully constructed exhibition ensemble that carries multiple meanings. It radiates humor without parody—a perspective reserved for those who can afford distance. He demonstrates that good photography is a form of secrecy, a state of expectation that encourages us to move forward. He shows that even within the grey world of socialism, it was possible to depict a life not measured by performance, but by moments worth preserving. He also confirms the rule that while colour is the attribute of light and celebration, there was little to celebrate before the revolution. The photographs are compellingly black and white, and I feel an urge to touch each of them. Finally, one more important thing – something that resonates deeply with the spirit of the time. There is an old saying about the called and the chosen. One can sense passion in these photographs – a passion that elevates, something possessed by only a few. Through it, Ivan himself becomes part of the story and leaves behind a trace that belongs to the future. Because in the end, what matters is not what reality looked like, nor what camera was used, but what the photographer managed to say through the image. Do you see it?   Alan Hyža