Mentioning the name of the art nouveau, or, rather, timeless architect and designer Josef Hoffmann is obviously unnecessary except for the fact that his origins are almost unknown. Although his family house in Brtnice in Moravia functions as a museum, the exhibit is nothing to be proud of. There are several small originals on loan from Vienna (modern porcelain, glass, textile tapestries, and furniture) and bad black and white photocopies of his unique buildings, which for the most part existed or even still exist in the Czech Republic. But none of this would suggest the work of an internationally recognized designer. The same could be said for the exhibition marking the 150th anniversary of Hoffman’s birth, which took place at the Private Art High School in Jihlava. No more than a few poor photographs and a meager sample of models saw the light of day there. Now, we don’t want to stir up any Czech spirits, but rather ask the question: why haven’t we claimed Hoffman for ourselves? In Vienna, his designs are sold in limited-edition series—and they’re quite chic among the snobs. Brussels plays home to his most compact building—the Stoclet Palace—designed down to the most minute details; however, being privately owned, the building remains closed to the public. In the Czech Republic, few of his buildings have been well preserved: his country house in Kouty nad Desnou burned down; almost none of the original elements of his house in Bruntál (itself now a hospital) still remain, as is the case with his spa in Velké Losiny. His house in Vrbno pod Pradědem has been well maintained, as has the hotel Poldihutě in Kladno, which now houses the reconstructed Hotel Hoffman. However, it’s improbable that Hoffman’s museum, let alone his buildings, could function as real tourist attractions. At the very least, a Czech company could produce replicas of his designs, even if it were only to satisfy the snob market.
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