So why the hell?
When I look at paintings by Jan Knap, strange thoughts come into my mind. For example, that I spend a lot of time on things that are quite insignificant while what is truly important keeps slipping through my fingers. Also, I suddenly realize that all too often I behave like an egotist, lie out of convenience, and that I am weak in many respects. I shouldn’t leave out that I’m impetuous and have a quick temper. These are not things that are pleasant for me to think about, and such thoughts bring me no joy. These are not states that I’m used to experiencing in front of a painting. This awareness reliably upsets me. I don’t go looking for it, but that’s simply how it is. It happens to me unwittingly, and I can’t do anything about it.
It’s strange, because if Knap’s paintings epitomize anything, then it is an idyll. More precisely, a small intimate world. Moreover, one doesn’t have to take them very seriously. However, they work in their own way — more specifically, through their openness and vulnerability, with all criticism aside. Certainly, with a bit of malice one could call them old-fashioned, pleasant and naive. But aren’t those just other ways of speaking about old-masterliness, beauty and sincerity? To anyone who looks at his paintings, it’s obvious that Jan Knap knows what he is doing and does it well. It’s clear that when he works he does not watch the clock and is exceptionally precise, that he has something to say. The fact that he always uses the same phrasing only means that we should be able to remember his painted words. There is no doubt that the purity and harmony emanating from his paintings is enchanting and, moreover, that in our heart of hearts we long for such things. So where is the truth? Is it that the ordinariness of what he paints is so unbelievable that it can’t possibly be true?
After all, what does he paint? Nothing outlandish. Clear blue skies, a couple of fluffy clouds, lush grass, a herd of sheep, an inviting house, children helping adults in the garden, preparing a musical performance for them, or getting things ready for a shared meal with them. All quite ordinary things, even if, seemingly unawares, little angel wings flutter on their shirts and a halo sometimes flickers above a child’s head. They are nonevents in today’s restless and blasé times, when shock tactics and extremity are required to even briefly attract attention or impress. Instead, there is only receptive attention to the quiet surroundings or quiet focuses on exactly what a person is doing.
So what is so attractive about the paintings of this internationally renowned artist? Echoes of a timeless story that has given paintings their meaning since time immemorial? The tension that arises when an awareness of religion penetrates the tranquillity of the homespun and charming scenes? The absurd fact that sometimes the most progressive act can be to swing back towards tradition? … Yes, and also looking at them I often think about my parents and how even though right now there seems to be plenty of time for everything, one day it will be too late.
Well, despite all that, or precisely because of it, they are actually quite ordinary paintings. So why the hell am I making confessions here instead of writing text about the exhibition? …
Radek Wohlmuth