“We had no doubts that things were going to get better. We could hardly imagine a better scenario. We were simply delighted to see that the system was thawing, softening, that life would once again be worth living. So, we were all for it. Perhaps similarly to most of our freedom-loving nation, who were happy to see those four principal men in the leadership. We believed it would be alright. I have to admit, though, that even after 1969 it took us – or at least me – a while to understand that we should reassess our view of these leaders. Old habits die hard, though – quite recently, when the National Museum commemorated the year 1968 with an exhibition and even had a tank parked outside of the building, aiming at it, I realised that even the new interpretation is a recycled version of the old one. They were still ‘heroes’. Someone called Kriegl was barely mentioned. That should have been reassessed ages ago! The bronze plaque dedicated to Dubček should never have been revealed on the new building of the Museum. That should have long been passé. My opinion today is therefore quite different from then. Very strict, I daresay. Since the comrades had the courage to introduce changes, they should have known what they were getting themselves into, born responsibility for it, and not signed anything in Moscow. That was betrayal. And I hold Kriegl in great esteem.”
“Thanks to Jiří Fajt and another colleague from my department, Vladimír Brych, on November 22, we managed to hang a banner down the balcony in front of the pantheon, carrying the words ‘The National Museum stands with the Czech people’. Once the director had found out, we were in real trouble. And as the word got round who had hung it there, the director of the historical building of the Museum called me to his office and ordered me to remove it immediately. This was serious. Seeing as the only passage from the pantheon to the balcony was locked with one key, which was with my two colleagues, we made a deal and I let them escape through the lobby out of the building. This exit was by then closely observed. Comrade Abrhámová from the special department was watching it, but in the chaos, I managed to get the men with the key out. They told me later they had gone to the pub and racked their brains what to do. At that point no one knew what would happen. It could have ended in a disaster. By that point, I wouldn’t budge. I said I didn’t know where the fellers were, and I didn’t have the key. The banner remained where it was, and every day it was more and more obvious that it would stay there for good, as things were moving on fast.”
“My then supervisor Zoroslava Drobná commissioned me to find a passable bust of Zdeněk Nejedlý for the pantheon, as it was missing and the Party demanded it. I had no other choice but to fulfil the task, although I was aware that it was the same Nejedlý who had badly damaged the pantheon by having many great people removed from it. After some effort I found a good piece of sculpture by Jan Lauda. So, it was partly my fault that Nejedlý’s bust was on display, although it is no longer there.”
“The Lapidarium had been in serious disrepair for many years. There was water leakage, the works of art made of stone, and even plaster of Paris were stood in the water and nobody knew what to do about it. They called it “the statue graveyard”. And I was put in charge of its salvaging. I had no one to help me. The doctor was saying: ‘Luboš, if you want to save the Lapidarium, you’ll have to be like a dog which grabs the trouser leg and won’t let go.’ And that’s what I tried to do for twenty years. Often, it was exercise in futility. For instance, only a few days into my new position, we got evicted from the halls of Julius Fučík’s Park of Culture and Relaxation. It was a brief note announcing the eviction, asking us to vacate the premises and hand over the key in the head office. It was written in this automated language of bureaucrats, completely disregarding the fact that the Lapidarium contains for example original sculpture groups from the Charles Bridge, six metres tall and attached to the wall by supportive girders…”
“I didn’t get to Prague until autumn 1968 because for a long time the school wasn’t running. No one knew what to expect. The lecturers often made excuses, or they got summoned, and never returned. Occupation strikes took place, so we would sleep at the faculty, but those are all well-known facts. It took a while before some normality was achieved. And then the tragedy with Jan Palach happened. Our class was in the Orlické Mountains at a skiing camp, so that’s where the news reached us. Whoever could, attended the funeral. It was very emotional. At the same time, soon it was noticeable how some colleagues from our department started bending. When we first met them, they were full of resistance against the occupational armies, and six months later we found out they had already joined the Socialist Youth Union (SSM). Thus people changed and revealed their true characters.”
“Another rarity was a bullet which shot through a glassed-in picture. It wasn’t a painting, more like a tableau, from 1921, with French text and František Kysela’s illustrations. It presented the participants of the International Moral Education Congress in Geneva with Czech people’s history. One paragraph is dedicated to the Hussite Movement, one to the White Mountain battle and the so-called Dark Age, and one to the enlightenment and Czech people’s liberation. And guess what, the bullet broke the glass and pierced through the word ‘libération’, that is liberation. As if even this word needed to be destroyed. It’s almost hard to believe. I didn’t have this tableau restored. On the contrary, we documented it, left the broken glass in place and covered it with another pane of glass, to stop it from falling into pieces. So, it’s not just a relic of the congress in Geneva, it also testifies to the invasion of August 21, 1968.”
Lubomír Sršeň was born on December 12, 1949, in Vejprty, where his parents had met after the war. In 1952, the family moved to Habrová, the father’s hometown, which is currently an integral part of Rychnov nad Kněžnou. His father Lubomír Sršeň senior had trained as a shop assistant and worked as a window dresser and his mother Marta was a labourer in textile industry. During his studies at the grammar school in Rychnov nad Kněžnou, Lubomír worked as a guide at Rychnov castle and here his interest in art history was sparked. After his graduation in 1968, he was accepted to the Faculty of Arts of Charles University, departments of art history and history. He was at home in Rychnov nad Kněžnou at the time of the Warsaw Pact invasion. He and his father distributed posters and leaflets on a motorbike around the Orlické Mountains. In autumn 1968, as a university student in Prague, he participated on the strikes against the invasion, and he watched people’s characters form and change as normalisation progressed. In 1973, he defended his master thesis entitled “The Altarpieces of the Main Altar of the Church of Our Lady of the Snows” and that same year, he won the competition for the position of a historian within the old Czech history department of the National Museum. For the next twenty years he gave his all to salvaging the Lapidarium of the National Museum, the biggest national collection of stone sculpture and elements of architecture ranging from 11th to 19th centuries, housed in eight halls of the Výstaviště pavilion. The Lapidarium was re-opened in 1993 and two years later it was awarded the Swedish “Museum of the Year” award. At the time of the Velvet Revolution, Sršeň was facing repercussions for some of his actions in support of the upheaval, e.g. hanging a banner down the National Museum building. In 1986, he became the director of the old Czech history department; since 1998, he has been working here as a researcher, but he is also the curator for some of the art collections of the National Museum, for instance the portrait collection. Between 1998 and 2012, he was editor-in-chief of the National Museum Journal. He specializes in 16th to 19th century art. Since the 1990s, he has primarily focused on portraits. His wife Milena has a degree form musicology, and she is a history of architecture researcher. Milena and Lubomír have three children. In the interview, the narrator describes the history of the National Museum, its changes, the historic moments he witnessed at there, and trivia from his research subject.
Lubomír's group of friends, the so-called Aristocracy (Lord Franta Pokorný, Count Jarda Šimek, Baron Miloš Říha, Duke Lubomír Sršeň, Knight Karel Kovařík, Rychnov n. K., June 1964.
Lubomír's group of friends, the so-called Aristocracy (Lord Franta Pokorný, Count Jarda Šimek, Baron Miloš Říha, Duke Lubomír Sršeň, Knight Karel Kovařík, Rychnov n. K., June 1964.
The front of the National Museum after gunfire by Soviet soldiers, August 21, 1968.
The front of the National Museum after gunfire by Soviet soldiers, August 21, 1968.
photo: Václav Egner, restaurátor z Národního muzea
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A Soviet bomb shell which after the ammunition explosion by the Czech Radio building hit the National Museum's roof.
A Soviet bomb shell which after the ammunition explosion by the Czech Radio building hit the National Museum's roof.
photo: Václav Egner, restaurátor z Národního muzea
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Sandstone decoration on the National Museum facade damaged by a Soviet shell, photographed by the restorer Karel Hanuš before the rennovation between 1971-1972.
Sandstone decoration on the National Museum facade damaged by a Soviet shell, photographed by the restorer Karel Hanuš before the rennovation between 1971-1972.
Sandstone decoration on the National Museum facade damaged by a Soviet shell in 1968, photographed by Karel Hanuš before the rennovation between 1971-1972.
Sandstone decoration on the National Museum facade damaged by a Soviet shell in 1968, photographed by Karel Hanuš before the rennovation between 1971-1972.
The tableau in the National Museum's repository, which was on August 21, 1968, pierced by a Soviet machine-gun bullet directly through the word "libération" (liberation).
The tableau in the National Museum's repository, which was on August 21, 1968, pierced by a Soviet machine-gun bullet directly through the word "libération" (liberation).
The grand opening of the new exhibition of the National Museum's Lapidarium on April 15, 1993. The authors are accompanyning the city mayor Milan Kondra.
The grand opening of the new exhibition of the National Museum's Lapidarium on April 15, 1993. The authors are accompanyning the city mayor Milan Kondra.
Jiří Fajt and Lubomír Sršeň received the European Museum of the Year Award from the hands of the Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs, photo from June 10, 1995.
Jiří Fajt and Lubomír Sršeň received the European Museum of the Year Award from the hands of the Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs, photo from June 10, 1995.
Václav Havel at a reception at the National Museum's Lapidarium after the concert of Plácido Domingo on April 24, 1994. Lubomír Sršeň and the National Museum director Milan Stloukal right.
Václav Havel at a reception at the National Museum's Lapidarium after the concert of Plácido Domingo on April 24, 1994. Lubomír Sršeň and the National Museum director Milan Stloukal right.
Lubomír attanded international conferences on baroque sculpture in Poland in 1978, 1981, and 1985. Miloš Stehlík and O. J. Blažíček in Kłodzko on September 29, 1978.
Lubomír attanded international conferences on baroque sculpture in Poland in 1978, 1981, and 1985. Miloš Stehlík and O. J. Blažíček in Kłodzko on September 29, 1978.
The banner "The National Museum stands with the Czech people" was hung by Jiří Fajt and Vladimír Brych of the Museum on November 22, 1989. Photo from December 10, 1989.
The banner "The National Museum stands with the Czech people" was hung by Jiří Fajt and Vladimír Brych of the Museum on November 22, 1989. Photo from December 10, 1989.
