Minulý týden jsem se v prostorách pražské Kunsthalle zúčastnil dobročinné aukce pořádané na podporu nadace Spolu s odvahou. Mám velkou radost, že se mi v aukci podařilo vydražit dvě skvělá díla – sérii čtyř kreseb od Jiřího Příhody z roku 2011 Diogenův sud a fotografii od Markéty Othové 1933, Karlín Studios z roku 2015. Umění má obrovskou sílu nejen inspirovat, ale také pomáhat tam, kde je to potřeba. Považuji za samozřejmost a součást odpovědnosti každého z nás, abychom neziskové projekty a organizace s takto smysluplným posláním aktivně podporovali.

When it is said that works from the collection are loaned for an exhibition, most people imagine the final moment – paintings hanging on the walls of the gallery under the beams of spotlights. The journey to that moment is, however, a more complex process full of precise work that remains hidden from the public eye.

When people ask me how I started collecting art, they usually expect a grand story. The truth is much simpler—and perhaps that’s exactly why it matters.

There was no big vision at the beginning, no ambition to become a collector. It started with a house renovation. We were finishing our home, and the architect suggested that the space would benefit from having a piece of art. Up until that point, my relationship with visual art had been fairly neutral. I wasn’t a collector, nor an expert. I was simply someone furnishing a house.

When people talk about collecting art, they usually focus on the successes—the discoveries, the great acquisitions, the moments when intuition works perfectly. But if I’m being honest, collecting is just as much about mistakes. And some of them are expensive.

Not necessarily in terms of money.

The most expensive mistakes are the ones that teach you something about yourself.