10 Questions with David Moješčík

Al-Tiba9 Art Magazine ISSUE12 | Featured Artist

MgA. David Moješčík is a Czech sculptor, nicknamed MojDa. He was born on July 25, 1974, in Frýdek - Místek (CR). After finishing primary school, he first trained as a stonemason (1988 - 1991) and worked briefly as a stonemason. In 1993 he was admitted to the Secondary School of Stone and Sculpture in Hořice v Podkrkonoší, where he graduated in 1996. In 1996 he was admitted to FaVU VUT in Brno, where he studied under prof. Akad. soch. Preclík. He continued his studies in 1998 - 1999 in Prague at AVU under prof. Akad. soch. Hendrych in the studio of figurative sculpture. In 1999 he returned to Brno, where he studied under prof. Akad. soch. M. Gabriel. He completed his studies in 2002 - a degree of Master of Arts (MgA.). In 2007 he went on a creative residency, "The Cill Rialaig Project" in Ballinskelligs, Ireland. He participated in a number of solo and group exhibitions. Among the group exhibitions, for example 2009 International Art Fair Brno - presentation of DSC Prague, Brno - Exhibition Centre; 2016 - 2017 Rustle of angel wings - Angels in European art, Olomouc Museum of Art; 2022 NordArt, Kunstwerk Carlshütte, Büdelsdorf, Germany.

www.mojda.com | @davidmojescik

ARTIST STATEMENT

David Moješčík MojDa (*1974) belongs to the middle generation of Czech sculptors. In his work, he deals with figurative sculpture. He uses all the advantages of sculpture in terms of material, allowing him to vary his sculptures in many positions, poses, and postures. He likes to model from clay, and sometimes he works with the computer, but everything goes towards working with the material by hand. Depending on the location of the sculpture, he works with spatial composition and broader relationships as well as with the material in its final form. Although he also explores and uses the latest technologies, he constantly tries to follow the classical lines of creation and give the sculptures the touch of the human hand. His work focuses primarily on the human body, particularly the female figure. He finds inspiration not only in the philosophy of yoga but also in Egyptian, ancient and European classical sculpture. He is fascinated by the art and symbolism of the 19th century. His fascination with closed, smooth, polished forms stems from these sources. For him, it is, first of all, just an expression. Of yoga, he is most influenced by the idea of non-violence and the focus on the human being. In addition to the aforementioned free figurative work, he is interested in so-called public art. He uses his own approach and handwriting in these subjects as well, but he often likes to work with hidden symbols or a greater or lesser degree of irony and exaggeration. Many of these works are only in the form of projects and visualizations, some of which he has managed to realize - either alone or in collaboration with other artists and architects.

INTERVIEW

First of all, introduce yourself to our public. Who are you, and how would you describe yourself as a person and an artist?

Hello, my name is David Moješčík; however, I have been nicknamed MojDa since my childhood. MojDa is the contraction of my first and last names. I come from the Czech Republic; I was born in Frýdek-Místek in northern Moravia, in an area called Moravian-Silesian Region. Sometimes this part of Czechia is also called Lašsko, this name is derived from its cultural and historical heritage, folklore, and traditions, and mainly it is related to specific language dialects. 
I am an artist, and my field of proficiency is sculpting, especially the human figure. In my work, I mostly focus on women, a little unusual girls, and yoga-inspired positions.

What is your artistic background? And when did you first realize you wanted to be an artist?

I do not come from an artistic family. However, my parents have always taught me tolerance and love for nature. My dad was a yoga instructor, and he practiced yoga with me every morning. Both of my parents were good at drawing, which may have shaped me a bit in my childhood. Sometime around the age of eight, I decided to be a painter. This also resulted in a funny incident because my father wanted to discourage me a little, and thus he told me that for the talent test I would have to paint my teacher whom I didn't like at all. That really was a terrible idea for me at that time. However, it did not discourage me, and I even started attending an art class. And that class was being taught by an excellent teacher. She guided us primarily in natural observation and taught us many art techniques. We even studied art history and, among other things, we visited exhibitions of interesting artists, who could not exhibit in big cities at that time (it was during the era of ongoing normalization in the mid-1980s in communist Czechoslovakia and many influential artists exhibited only to a limited audience in smaller towns and on the periphery).

You work primarily with figurative sculptures. How did you get interested in sculpting? And how did you develop your style? 

The human figure has always been the closest to me. Although in the beginning, I also worked with plain geometry. What is wonderful about sculpture is the process of creation, where you are internally convinced of your outcome and have the form in mind. However, at the same time, it still is not really clear what the piece is going to look like until it is really finished. In modeling, you basically work with a kind of latent image, which means you have nothing until you cast it. But even in the casting process, you can still work with it, change it, or convert it into another material – i.e., to cut out a new statue, for example, from stone, based on the cast. Maybe, I could use a metaphor with the expectation of having a baby and the actual birth of one, because the little human changes and grows in time, develops itself all the time, but still, you do not know what kind of person your child will actually be. On the one hand, you precisely define the shape of your statue (you have a clear idea), but the final form can still take a bit different shape. In the same way, a sculpture fascinates me with the endless possibilities of looking at it from all various angles, and I love walking around the sculpture, seeing and examining it from all sides and thereby understanding reality in a new, different way.
First, I started with stone. I was trained as a stonemason in Žulová, which is a small town in the west of Czech Silesia. After that, I worked as a stonemason for some time while studying graphic and industrial design in Ostrava. However, since I was not satisfied with the design, I decided to study sculpture at the famous stone sculpting school in Hořice, in the foothills of Krkonoše. The determining moment came already in Žulová, when I discovered a book with Michelangelo's drawings in the local library. That was the first time I ever really explored his work more, and I was so fascinated by the precision of the drawing that I decided I really wanted to do sculpture.
After high school, I studied in Brno for two years, at the BUT Faculty of Fine Arts under the guidance of prof. Vladimír Preclík M.F.A., and after that, I transferred to AVU in Prague, where I studied in the figurative sculpture and medal studio with prof. Jan Hendrych M.F.A. At that time of my life, a very important turning point occurred – a group of sculpture students from Brno visited the studio at AVU together with their academic supervisor, sculptor Michal Gabriel M.F.A. (who replaced Prof. Preclík as the head of the studio in Brno at that time). I asked Gabriel for a consultation, which was really defining for me, and was probably my first consultation at a very high, professional level. He asked me questions like why I was doing this and what I even wanted to do, and he wanted me to ask myself the same questions. In addition, I noticed his thoughts on a certain uncertainty, where a certain form of uncertainty leads the author to relentlessly search, verify and find balance. He was able to see things from my point of view and could understand my way of thinking, and because he realized that I had always been close to yoga and Eastern philosophy, he asked me why I wasn't doing yoga poses. I already had some ideas from yoga, but until then, I had not dared to deal with that topic in sculpture. I guess it literally dawned on me then, and I realized that I wanted to study under sculpture this person, and thus I decided to study in Brno again. After my further studies, I continued to work with Michal Gabriel, and I still occasionally cooperate with him on some of his projects and artworks. In Michal Gabriel's studio in Brno, I also met an excellent sculptor Michal Šmeral, with whom we started doing sculpture competitions together. And that literally "kicked us on" - on the one hand, those provided us with a living (we won competitions together several times or at least placed in the highest places), but above all, motivated us to develop a way of thinking about sculpture and especially about art in public space.

What are the themes behind your work? And what does your art aim to say to the viewers?

The most common subject is a female figure in the meditating position of a yogi. A popular theme is the apparent "levitation" achieved through the minimized three points of contact with the ground. I am fascinated by a kind of leap from the base – a slight free space under the statue. This is similar to an ajar door, or a gap between the door and the threshold. Similarly, I often focus on views and views of different (intimate) parts of the body. I am originally a stonemason, and stone sculptures were often the result of a compromise between the creator's virtuosity and the material's limitations. I like it when the viewer expects some simplification given by tradition and instead, upon closer inspection, finds something completely different – these are the unexpected views. I am fascinated by the closed and smooth form that I once found in the sculptures of ancient Egypt, and also in the precision of European classicism. In those artistic eras, there were often variants of crouched and intertwined positions that essentially rotated around an imaginary centre, or some kind of internal axis in immaterial space.
I'm happy when the artwork communicates in some way. Art as such is supposed to evoke emotions, and as a result of the intellect and creative process of the artist, it affects you through the emotions that the author put into his art piece. It is like a kind of transmuted or materialized activity or energy. The work fulfills its purpose at the moment, when it is able to convey all of it (the intended content) to the viewer. For better or for worse, as long as it doesn't harm anyone, of course.
As I already mentioned, the artwork should evoke emotions, and make people feel something. However, the opposite of that may bring a problem of complete indifference when the work leaves you absolutely cold. It is probably not entirely fair to make fun of the viewer, but on the other hand, provocation, trying to stir up the calm waters and make the viewer react somehow, can certainly be an interesting thing. I like including irony and displacement in some of my artworks, especially those for public spaces. Sometimes, I amplify it all with a series of symbols. For some, everything seems clear right away and they understand. For others, it works only in time, and for some, the moments still remain hidden. Some may not want to see them at all.

What is your creative process like? Could you walk us through the whole process, from conception to the final realization? 

First of all, there is always some thought, idea, and inspiration. There are moments when I immediately have to record such an inspiration somehow and transfer it at least into a drawing or some kind of study. Sometimes, when I work on an already started work or project, I get further impulses from this creative process, and that helps me and shifts me to other possibilities, variations, or completely new ideas, and often these are eventually much more complex concepts. Then I try to reduce these ideas again, simplify them, and free them from unimportant things. I used to sketch small compositions from wax, but now I often sit at the computer and try out possible composition variants and check whether I "enjoy" other views that I might not immediately notice on a small scale. Sometimes I also resort to 3D printing, which is often just an acceleration to create an auxiliary model. Sometimes, it happens that I "recycle" the sketches created in this way later and make them into completely new sculptures. When the idea still sticks with me, and I am internally convinced that I really, really enjoy it, I decide to model it on a larger scale. I work very classically in this respect – in clay, in a style that has been used for centuries. When modelling, in my own way, I strive for a classic, a kind of beauty ideal, a reflection of a study based on several models (sometimes there are even more than ten models for one sculpture). Subsequently, I make a cast from plastic–polyester resin and fiberglass. This allows me to further model the sculpture in the material, grind it, and sometimes even change something, cut it up, or bring it into a more precise shape. I work mainly with my hands all the time, and I want the work to be the result of my direct touch. In the end, I add some elements to the artwork, for example, eyes, and in the past, also hair in the form of a wig. Eyes are a certain scheme for me in my sculpture. Technically, it is an inlay of some other material, steel, stainless steel, glass, porcelain, and I am also trying other materials. As a result, it is the final element of revival.

Your sculptures are usually black and white and have almost no recognizable traits. Do you use this style to allow everyone to see themselves in your work? Or do you aim to represent someone in particular?

At first, I literally revelled in flesh color. However, I keep coming back to color from time to time, albeit in much more moderate shades. I first turned to black (and then white) in relation to the work Levitation I. I began to think more about the idea of depersonalized art. The statue itself essentially represents exhalation – it is a kind of personification of the mantra - SO-HAM (in a free translation from ancient Sanskrit "Who am I" – and it also means the answer to this question - "I am") – inhalation and exhalation (it is also a syllable that you can hear when you perceive inhalation and exhalation). You can also perceive the Levitation I reproduced as the personification of reconciliation. Choosing black seemed like the best choice at that time. White was then the automatic choice in opposition to black. For the large Levitation III, I chose the white color to emphasize the overall form (monumentality) and symbolically from current movements. It was a form of expression of a pure mind, a transition to another world. At the time I was creating and finishing this sculpture, my father was dying. A few years before that, I collaborated with my colleague Michal Šmeral on several projects where, in the spirit of depersonalization, we created a kind of concept of a portrait or monument of personalities that became famous for their great deeds and their specific form was not essential (Nikola Tesla as a small person who creates energy, or the forgotten heroic paratroopers Kubiš and Gabčík, who eliminated the architect of the genocide). At that time, I actually wanted the viewer to find the form himself, so that he could see the flow and lines of his thoughts and perhaps even himself there. So yes, it is also possible to look at it this way. The works create their own stories, and the viewer can become part of them. I have always been interested in (not only my) sculptures in the way the interaction of the viewer with the finished work. When displaying my sculptures, I am once again just an observer myself; I stop narrating the story because I have given this function to the sculpture. And the sculpture is, after all, a new construct of reality or a kind of statement about reality and truth, its essence.

You also work with traditional and experimental materials, like bronze or fiberglass. How do you choose the technique and materials to use? Do they impact the final result and message you want to communicate with each piece?

Polyester resin allowed me to work without the limitations of stone. As I already mentioned, I am originally a stonemason and stone sculptor. The resin allowed me to work with the work in its final form very freely. I can thus always change something, and the limitations of the material do not bind me. Plastic allows me to come up with concepts where stone would no longer work. On the other hand, I like to return to stone, it is a material of nature for me, and in retrospect, it has a great justification in the exterior. I also perceive it as a substance that can pleasantly complement the figure in the form of a pedestal. Several times I also used stone as a pedestal, which is an integral part. It becomes a "stone" surface with a reflection of hidden views or a bowl above which a figure slightly "floats". Plastic is a material that surrounds the mundanity of life, something completely ordinary, something that we touch and stroke many times a day, and this is how I often approach any material. I used to be fascinated by the polished bronzes of saints in temples, where for centuries, the faithful stroked and touched them and literally changed their shapes. Similarly, nowadays people caress the touch of the switch and the screen of plastic objects. Similarly, I spend hours, days, and weeks sanding the surfaces of sculptures by hand. It is also pleasant to discover that people reach for the statue and can explore it by touch even today.
Bronze castings are mainly related to the chosen location of the work, because if the work is to withstand weather conditions well and at the same time retain a similar character to which I created it, bronze is one of the most suitable forms. The material should always correspond with the work as such, but also with the space in which it is or will be located. When I can create a sculpture in a specific space, I always try to conceive everything as a whole and solve it comprehensively. However, in connection with the material of the work, I always remember the beautiful idea of the famous Czech photographer František Drtikol. It doesn't matter if you create art from gold, diamond, or poop. It matters what you do with that material, and it doesn't matter what technique you use. It depends on whether he puts his whole soul into his work. Drtikol's ideas, photographs, and paintings have been shaping me since childhood.

Do you think the shift to digital exhibitions and platforms has helped you promote your work, or do you still prefer in-person exhibitions? 

Sculptures are spatial works and are meant to be walked around, explored, and viewed from all sides and truly 'live' so to speak. With the passage of time, I even came to the conclusion that until one sees the sculptures with one's own eyes, one cannot really perceive them and therefore not really judge them. In addition, sculptures often somehow belong to some kind of space – either interior (not just a gallery) or exterior (public space, landscape). In contrast to drawing, graphics, painting, video, and music, this is a very specific spatial matter that you perceive not only in terms of shape, but also in relation to the place in which it is located. Even virtual reality is not completely convincing for the presentation, at least not yet. However, the past years of covid and quarantine have shown that even this form of presentation has its merits. It is certainly an opportunity to create an insight into the author's work. It also taught me to think more about the documentation and presentation of the work. It is, of course, about finding ways to bring the work closer to the viewer on the other side of the continent.

What are you working on right now? Anything exciting you would like to tell our readers?

A few years ago, after all those years of making only female figures, I started to think about the subject of male figures as well. In 2020 I created a statue of Ishvara, which is based on the philosophical concept of the supreme Lord of the world. Compositionally, I would call this sculpture an internally suspended movement. A year ago, I followed up with another figure, this time in a much more dynamic and expressive spiral that turns away from the viewer and the creator, and perhaps from himself. I still don't have this statue finished. Partly because of the work on a large realization – a variant on the statue Virtue of Virtues called Humility. I completed a life-size study over the summer and am now continuing on a large, larger-than-life version. In addition, I now have several other compositions developed in sketches, which I would like to realize over time. For some time now, I have been thinking about changing that "reviving element" - i.e. the form and processing of the eyes, but not only that. I'm starting to play (again) with other materials and techniques. It's also because I don't want to get stuck in a stereotype. I like to experiment and new things. The beautiful thing about sculpture is that you can constantly discover something new - new views, shapes, their forms, and new processes. I also simplify more and constantly try to get rid of everything unnecessary and irrelevant.

Lastly, what is one piece of advice you would give to an emerging artist?

Go out into nature and observe it. Learn to see its beauty. Visit galleries, notice sculptures, buildings in public spaces and landscapes. And actually draw. Draw everything that is around you, and if you do not know what to start with, then start with yourself, draw yourself and get to know yourself.