'Zagreb's Literary Ghosts' (issue 28, September 2009)

Statue of Antun Gustav Matos by Ivan Kozaric, in Gornji Grad ('Upper Town'), Zagreb (Nikon D300, AF-S Nikkor 70-200mm f/2.8G ED-IF VR)

From hidden europe, issue 28, September 2009

Seated on a worn and silvery metal bench, on a quiet tree-lined terrace in Zagreb’s Gornji grad (Upper Town), a lone figure gazes out over the red-tiled roofs and Secessionist facades of the city below. He sits, evidently lost in thought, his arms flung languidly across the back of the bench. The man is seemingly quite untroubled by the traces of graffiti on his chest and legs. Sometimes a passer-by joins him on his bench, perhaps leaning against him or slinging an arm loosely around his silvery neck, and on such occasions it is not always entirely clear who is keeping whom company.

The figure is Antun Gustav Matos (1873- 1914), poet, critic, journalist and essayist, writer of short stories as well as travelogues and one of the most celebrated figures in Croatian literature. He is to be found on his regular bench throughout the year, lightly dusted with snow on a cold winter’s morning, silhouetted against the warm golden light of a summer evening. The statue is arguably one of the most beloved in a city rich in outdoor sculpture. It is not just by chance that we find him here, though his final resting place is in the great cemetery at Mirogoj. Matos was especially fond of this spot on Strossmayerovo setaliste (Strossmayer’s Walk), writing in 1909 that 'there is a bench, from where Zagreb is most beautiful in its autumnal days'.

The statue is the work of Croatian sculptor Ivan Kozaric, an artist particularly noted for his remarkable ‘Prizemljeno Sunce’ (‘Grounded Sun’) which sits like a giant bowling ball among the numerous cafes in Bogoviceva. Kozaric’s monument to Matos dates from 1972 — so it has had plenty of time to acquire its pleasingly worn, smooth appearance. It is just one of the many sculptural works which grace Zagreb’s public spaces — from street corners to squares, gardens and fountains. Often standing at street level rather than raised on a plinth, they seem — despite their silence — to interact with the everyday life of the city, as if they are somehow still very much part of Zagreb today. “Walk up to Gric at night,” wrote Matos, “and, as if from a mysterious phonograph, you will receive the message of the city, soil, people; you will experience the spirits of Gric: kings and bans, traitors and martyrs, sinners and saints.” They are at once one of the most familiar and one of the most endearing features of the Croatian capital.

What is remarkable about these statues is the high proportion of literary figures and intellectuals. Most European capitals celebrate their rulers, soldiers and kings. Zagreb takes a different tack. Aside from the prominent equestrian statues of King Tomislav in front of the city’s main railway station, and Ban Jelacic on the eponymous main square, the majority of sculpture and statue subjects are drawn from the ranks of Croatian writers and intellectuals from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. As Celia Hawkesworth notes in her book Zagreb: A Cultural and Literary History: “There is a section of the city where the streets are named after some of the rulers of the Croatian lands... But other than Tomislav, none is depicted in a statue, while poets, novelists, thinkers and scholars abound.”

So, in Varsavska, a pedestrian street leading onto the bustling Cvjetni trg (Flower Square), stands the towering, oversized figure of Tin Ujevic (1891–1955), poet, essayist and translator. He wears the rather floppy, broad-brimmed hat that was his trademark, and a long, heavy overcoat. His physical size, together with his slightly dishevelled appearance, convey both the enormous presence of his character and his famously bohemian lifestyle — he was expelled from Belgrade in 1925 for his “vagrancy, indolence and bohemian disorderliness.” The statue, dating from 1991, is the work of Miro Vuco.

Towards the bottom of Tuskanac, we find the polished black and decidedly rotund form of Miroslav Krleza (1893–1981). The sculpture is near his former home on Krlezin Gvozd, now happily turned into a memorial museum to Krleza. The writer wears a rather whimsical expression, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, as if somewhat surprised to find himself here. Krleza is considered by many to be the greatest Croatian writer of the twentieth century, celebrated for his original and complex use of language and fervent re- action against Austro- Hungarian subjugation of Croatian language and culture. A number of Krleza’s works have been translated into English, among them Na rubu pameti (‘On the Edge of Reason’) and Banket u Blitvi (‘The Banquet in Blitva’). Perhaps his most famous character is the peasant Petrica Kerempuh, the narrator in one of his epic poems — a statue of whom (by Vanja Radaus, 1956) is hidden away behind the stalls of Dolac, Zagreb’s central
market.

At the corner of Stara Vlaska, August Senoa (1838–1881) leans nonchalantly against a pillar, his gaze turned downwards. The location is appropriate: Senoa, whose life and work is intimately linked to Zagreb, was born in this very street. As well as forming the subject and setting of his novels and poetry, he served his native Zagreb as clerk, local magistrate and (from 1871) senator — a position he still held at the time of the great earthquake in 1880. The statue is the work of Marija Ujevic-Galetovic (1987). Inscribed on the pillar next to Senoa are lines from his poem Zagrebu:

Povrh starog Grica brda
Kao junak liep i mlad.
Smjele glave, c?ela tvrda.
Slavni stoji Zagreb-grad.

Above the old Gric hill
Like a hero handsome and young.
Bold headed, strong browed.
Stands famous Zagreb town.

Reading these lines, the gaze inevitably wanders past Senoa’s profile, to the green roof and neo-Gothic spires of the cathedral, and the city beyond.

In a small park above Zelengaj, the tall, solitary figure of Vladimir Nazor (1876–1949) paces among scattered trees. There is a nearby bandstand, and the setting is a favourite venue for locals walking their dogs. Poet, writer, translator and politician, Nazor was born on the island of Brac, the folk legends of which informed one of his best- known works, Pastir Loda (‘Loda the Shepherd’). During the Second World War Nazor joined the Partisans, and was later appointed first president of the Croatian parliament in Tito’s Yugoslavia. Appropriately enough, he wears a Partisan hat and cloak. The statue was removed briefly during the Tudman era (along with a few other references to the Partisans), but was later reinstalled.

And to one side of Tkalciceva, not far from the cafés which spill into the street, is the figure of Marija Juric Zagorka (1873–1957), popular novelist and prominent journalist, striding along with umbrella in hand. Zagorka attended school in Zagreb, before being married off to an older man by her parents and sent to live in Hungary — a union from which she managed to escape after three years, when she returned to Zagreb and began making her mark as a journalist. One of her best-loved works is Gricka vjestica (‘The Witch of Gric’), a cycle of novels about witch-hunts in Zagreb. Her statue is the work of Stjepan Gracan (1991).

There are many, many others — the poet and Franciscan monk Andrija Kacic Miosic, by Ivan Rendic, in Mesnicka; the Renaissance writer Marko Marulic, outside the wonderful old National and University Library (now the Croatian State Archives); the soldier-poet Petar Preradovic on Cvjetni trg — to name just a few.

Yet if there is a spiritual heart to Zagreb’s sculpture, it is to be found tucked away in a narrow lane in Gornji grad. This is the former home and studio of Ivan Mestrovic, at 8 Mletacka ulica, now the Mestrovic Atelier. Mestrovic (1883–1962) is the towering figure in the history of Croatian sculpture, and arguably of twentieth-century Croatian art in general. Born into a poor family in Slavonia, he spent his childhood in the Dalmatian village of Otavice, before becoming an apprentice to a stonemason in Split. He later studied in Vienna, and travelled to Paris and Rome among other cities. He bought three plots on Mletacka ulica in the early 1920s — somewhere he could “collect and store [his] works... and have a place to stay when coming home from time to time.” In 1947 he moved to the United States, and a few years later donated the houses in Zagreb and Split, together with a large body of his work, to the Croatian state.

The Atelier is an outstanding museum in a city with no shortage of museums and galleries. It is beautifully kept — all dark, carved wood and creaking floorboards, and airy rooms flooded with natural light. Entering through the large, heavy wooden door (the work of Drago Ibler), the visitor arrives in an open courtyard surrounded by arcades in stone from the island of Brac — distinctly atypical of Zagreb — and filled with sculptures. On the far side of this lies what was once Mestrovic’s studio — now transformed into a spacious gallery — and a small garden, also filled with the artist’s work. To the left of the courtyard is the former residential area, in which much of the original furniture is preserved (the massive wooden table and chairs are particularly impressive), and where numerous other works are displayed in the various rooms.

Mestrovic’s work is also to be found scattered through the streets of Zagreb and beyond — from his ‘Well of Life’ in front of the Croatian National Theatre, to his ‘Bishop Strossmayer’, on Strossmayerov trg, and his ‘History of the Croats’ — a powerful female figure sitting cross-legged in front of the Faculty of Law building of the University of Zagreb. Lying across her knees is a great slab of stone inscribed in Glagolitic script. Perhaps his most familiar work to visitors to Croatia is the enormous, wizard-like Grgur Ninski, who stands behind Diocletian’s Palace in Split — his big toe polished smooth by a million passing hands.

Further afield we find Mestrovic’s work on both sides of the Atlantic — from the Njegos mausoleum, on top of Mount Lovcen in Montenegro (a spot described by J.A. Cuddon in his wonderfully anecdotal Companion Guide to Jugoslavia as “probably the loneliest and windiest grave in the world”), to his ‘Archers of Domagoj’ in London (once to be found on the library stairs of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, now in the Tate), and the enormous Chicago Indians (‘The Bowman’ and ‘The Spearman’) in the United States.

A modest ‘sculpture alley’ has been developed in recent years on the bank of the river Sava. Its position outside the historic centre (a deliberate choice to try and draw people further south to the river) places it beyond the orbit of daily city life, unlike those figures which interact so casually with the lives of Zagreb’s inhabitants.

Matos wrote that “towns with no poets are not towns at all.” Despite having travelled widely in Europe, he always maintained a deep affection for Zagreb. Walking among the streets and parks of the city today, in the company of the ghosts of its literary past, it is hard not to feel that Matos would have approved.

You can find out more about the Mestrovic Atelier at www.mdc.hr/mestrovic. The Atelier is open daily except Mondays.


Text and photographs copyright Rudolf Abraham 2009

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