Tábor 1880–1920, calendar for year 2015

Before the trees embraced Tábor in their arms

In the days when the only thing overgrown in Holeček Park was the hirsute face of writer Holeček staring out from his monument, it was that which was being photographed! To find a nice shot of Tábor was not that difficult, unless one possessed quite a heavy photographic camera and could not handle the difficult technique of capturing images so ef- fortlessly as Ignác Šechtl and, later, as his son Josef Jindřich. Up until the early twentieth century they put up their camera almost everywhere around Tábor and the town showed itself to them in all its – let’s not be afraid of the word – nudity.

Indeed, we mentioned the Josef Holeček Me- morial – enthusiasts unveiled it in 1926 and gave him some small trees for company. And the gazebo, a short walk away, was easy to see. The images in this calendar, however, come from an earlier period, from those “wooden” photographic times when Ignác Šechtl was walking through the countryside lugging a bulky camera around with him.

Trees were not yet growing on the foothills below the walls and outlying houses, or if so they were scarce. Why? A town fortress should not be lost among a thicket of trees, otherwise raiders would have cover to hide in or could simply burn the sur- rounding vegetation and bake the defenders in their own juice.

The images that Museum of Photography Šechtl & Voseček has chosen for this calendar represent views of Tábor just before the town forgot in its ap- pearance its former role as a fortress. Suburban houses had not yet been built in its outskirts, not to mention housing estates.

Perhaps one might think it would be interest- ing to see how the views look today from the same points from which these photographs were taken. Marie Michaela Šechtlová, granddaughter of Ignác Šechtl, wanted to try, but soon found that it was not worth it. Mainly trees would appear on pic- tures and here and there above their crowns tops of buildings might just reach. In some places, it would be even hard for the trees just to get to the place where Ignác Šechtl had put his camera. She realized that for a long while painters had not been painting vedute of Tábor – landscapes adorned by the profile of the town seen from the side. Or they would only do so in winter when the trees have no leaves and at least some of the charms of the his- toric town might be seen in the distance through the bare branches.

Nothing against trees, we love them. Their mas- sive grandeur inspires in us a feeling of security and many people draw strength by embracing their trunks. Only now photographers have to take their pictures of the town from higher places, preferably from the air. This was not necessary in the days of Ignác Šechtl.

Therefore enjoy his views of Tábor just before beautification societies and tourist associations began to promote the planting of greenery, or people started to do so like the warden of the local prison, who allegedly ordered prisoners to plant trees in Holeček Park just so as to give them something to do. And they, as you can see from the lush green gardens of today, had a knack for this kind of work.

In our humble opinion, this was certainly not a bad thing for the town. Only it looks different to how it appeared in the late nineteenth century and there is nothing we can do about that. Moreover there is nothing we would even want to do about it, because any attempt to cut down trees causes understandable resentment. And so take pleas- ure in marvelling at these images of Tábor when it still had a “bare chin”. (In Czech “bare chin” is the name for a very young man, similar to the English “young pup”.) The most comfortable place for view- ing such images is probably in the pleasant shade of a tree.

Tábor 1880–1920, callender for year 2015 January February

March April May

June July August

September October November

December