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Studio Ypsilon's spontaneous and irreverent stagecraft was an antidote to the staid sanctioned theater of the communist era when it was founded in 1963. The theater troupe's longevity, however, comes from the way it taps into the rich vein of subversive take-no-prisoners Czech humor.

Ypsilon has always been associated with some of the most esteemed Czech actors and actresses. Marek Eben, host of Star Dance, was a former member and is now an occasional guest. Television and film star Martin Dejdar still acts with the troupe. But the heart, mind and mouthpiece of Studio Ypsilon is founder Jan Schmid. Over the almost 50 years of Studio Ypsilon's existence, Schmid has been the troupe's writer, director, actor and set designer, not to mention artist. Schmid has been making the group's theatrical posters from the beginning, creating an artistic legacy that is now on display at Museum Kampa.

Improvisation is central to Schmid's approach to art. In the exhibition catalog, Schmid writes that the founding of Studio Ypsilon was a "predictable accident," a statement he elaborated upon in conversation with The Prague Post.

"Above all, chance is my theme. It preoccupies me. In the 20th century, chance played a particularly large role in all the arts, and not only the arts but, indeed, thought and the whole organization most of all," he said.

The creation of Ypsilon certainly reflects the element of chance. The political atmosphere of the 1960s was relatively liberal, allowing creative individuals to establish what Schmid calls a great artistic statement. Ypsilon was just one of a number of creative movements taking place in that decade that included, most famously, Czech New Wave cinema. Improvisation is at the heart of Ypsilon's productions as well as Schmid's posters, which were first created under a regime Schmid says "feared improvisation."

"Improvisation is actually freedom. You have a general idea, but the execution is done in such a way that you are surprised at what your hand actually creates. You direct the chance. Maybe when you do it again, you come up with something you wouldn't think up only through thought. Improvisation is there, but it has an unadulterated character, like children's drawings. It has the same elementary perspective," he said.

While the approach, styles and materials Schmid uses in his posters have changed, his scratchy, expressive handwriting has remained constant.

"This is my handwriting; it is here. What has to be developing is the content, the change in the mentality of society and what is being referred to on the poster and how it is being referred to, this must change; otherwise, it would be frozen. But the handwriting, which is distinctive, should not really change," he said.

Irritating aesthetics

Despite the improvisational approach Schmid takes to his posters, it is clear he has a deep appreciation for the medium. His poster for Předposlední případ Leona Cliftona (The Penultimate Case of Leon Clifton), a detective story, is one fine example. The poster shows a headless woman, upside down, with a thick sear of red paint representing blood. It is certainly brutal, but Schmid said the poster signifies more than violence.

"This poster was all done as a painting. I used a spatula and brushes. The whole surface was treated roughly. Blood is flowing. And so the poster looks like that. It lacks any aesthetics. It irritates a lot," he said.

Schmid's posters are simultaneously advertisements for specific theater productions and visual metaphors for abstract concepts. According to Schmid, the poster for Předposlední případ Leona Cliftona also depicts the infinite return, a concept from Friedrich Nietzsche that Milan Kundera alludes to in The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

"People are limited by things which keep coming back, maybe in a different form. It will never be totally new. What will be totally new will be the final end. This play was a little bit about this, as well. That's why the poster looks this way: brutal, in a painterly fashion, headless," Schmid said.

Even Schmid's seemingly innocent posters for children's theater had a tendency to stir up reactions from the public. The poster for Ošlivé Kačátko (The Ugly Duckling), a puppet play, was questioned by the authorities, who believed the image of two duck feet poking out from under a hat was too abstract and that "abstraction had nothing to do with people," Schmid said.

"But because the political situation was becoming freer, I had to do a test with little children in nursery schools to see if they were able to read [the poster]. This is not abstract, but a healthy abstraction, which means a dispassionate perspective, which means that I can read a symbol. This is actually human, and a child can actually read this more easily than an adult, who has lost this [ability]," he added.

Schmid's intention, while grounded in chance, has always been to toy with tradition and expectation. For nearly 50 years, he has done just that.

Ryan Scott can be reached at
features@praguepost.com