Fotograf Page #7

for the love engine, right?

Definitely, no argument, yes.

- If we're open now...

- We're not open. I'm open. You're not.

- Ok, you are being open.

- We'll try.

I heard you've also

had relationships with men.

Yeah! I once had such a beautiful period.

Taking the communion "Under both kinds."

I recall Vaclav Cerny... a young actor.

It was a wonderful time, heavenly.

Jan, listen to this.

Popular actor, father of 3 children

living happily in a harmonious

marriage for 30 years,

- is suing a famous photographer.

- Don't read it.

It's important. And seeks 7 millions

all of which he's donating to charity.

I got carried away.

I shouldn't have said it! I regret it.

I knew it would be a trouble.

His lawyer Mr. Jasny never loses a case.

If proved that the plaintiff

has sustained such harm

as to threaten to dissolve

his marriage, he may succeed.

There is a risk they could

place lien on your property.

Impossible to prevent this.

Because of that crap I'll have such

problems? Is there no way to oppose it?

I also didn't say that much, did I?

Besides, it's all true.

That fag.

Transfering to the kids, it's like to

throw the money in the river.

With me, it'd be like in a safe.

An impregnable one, I hope.

If anyone found out,

they'd think I got mad, trusting you.

And if you rob me,

I'll wring your beautiful swan's neck.

There... There's Anezka.

Hello.

Hi Anezka. I'd like to transfer

my accounts into this lady's name.

Fine, may I have your ID's?

Of course.

- Please.

- Thank you.

- We're transferring all accounts?

- All accounts.

I'll keep the signatory powers.

If the lady permits.

And here's the payment receipt of

the property transfer tax.

So much money for the transfer?

I would be better to give it to a charity.

You give enough to charity.

Come see where I'm putting it.

I trust you.

You'll have the promissory note

here in the safe. See that?

So I'm putting it here.

- You hide the key well somewhere.

- I trust you. You're the only one I trust.

If you wanted to rob me,

you'd have done it long ago.

You've had quite a lot of chances,

yet you saved me some money.

Come to me.

You know, I'm...

- But I'm pretty much a coward.

- You?

Oh yeah. I was always afraid.

My whole life I've been afraid.

I was afraid that someone's

going to beat me up, that I would fail.

That I earned cash under-the-table,

that someone would blow the whistle,

and that they'd forbid me to work.

I was afraid of the KGB.

Don't f*** with me!

We want you to feed us

information about these people.

We know they're prepping

your exhibition in America.

We'll let you go there, to the U.S.A.

You'll be able to legally sell your work.

You'll be accepted into the artist guild

and don't have to go back to the factory.

We need your service in return.

What about it?

I can't. I simply can't.

- I can't do it.

- Sign it and your life will change!

I just can't sign it.

I'd rather hang myself!

- Sign it!

- I can't sign this.

- If you don't, I'll make your life hell!

- I guess I'll hang myself!

Some people they wanted me to

inform on I later found on the police list

among the informants. None of them

ever apologized nor blushed out of shame.

Again they're carrying me there,

that old way

Where I tread,

with vest all puke-stained

In my grave, give me 2 kegs of beer

And instead of a priest,

a whore who sings clear.

Dear ones, I'll tell you

a story from recent times:

when my nasty tongue got me

in the pickle I'm now in

I decided to live culturally.

I enter a gallery.

They are open, they are

probably reconstructing the building.

Everywhere,

modern plastic pipes, wiring, sand,

some beams, a toilet bowl!

And then I see the catalog.

And I drop to my knees:

this is the exhibit!

A Post-Conceptual installation! Damn!

I'm looking through the catalog

to understand.

I am, after all,

a European, not a jackass!

And I read:
"The continuance of

artistic creation evokes the complex set

of a-priori norms

of imaginative self-reflection

while the institutional congeniality of

this post-modern point-of-view

and vision..."

My hair bristled,

my hair bristled and I read on,

"...like introspection

are of the smallest quintessence

in purely post-conceptual ethics."

I hope that my humble booklet

will be intelligible to all.

I want to introduce to you...

- What's with you?

- ...the rising star.

My top model and photographer,

who has so many of her images

in the epilogue of this book. Liba!

Liba, join us!

- Join us! Don't be shy.

- Hello.

I'd like to ask you to

introduce their book to the world.

We wish only the best and that it be

more successful than the previous book.

Best of luck.

- May it do well.

- May it be liked.

I'd like to also... May I say something?

I'm obviously not a schooled photographer.

When a person has

capacity for communication,

when he knows what he wants to talk about,

I think it's easy for them to do it.

Boring. Disgrace. Scandal.

- Sorry but don't do it!

- What?

You can't afford to let someone forge

your photographs and still support them.

It devalues your work! Understand?

If you'd help someone talented, that'd

be great but you're supporting copying.

You're throwing the original

and the imitation into one bag.

Sorry, but I have to leave,

running to work.

We'll call, write, okay? Bye-bye.

- Jan, excuse me. May I interrupt you?

- Yes.

You accused me of forgetting to

pay the penalty at the tax office.

You never had any penalty.

- Are you serious?

- You fired me without any emotions.

- You were unfair and cruel!

- But you liked it. No?

Jan... I beg you pardon?

Hello. I'm Seidlova.

I'm from Mlada Fronta Magazine.

Your assistant has been promising me

we'll arrange an interview, and nothing.

Time's running out for it.

I've blocked 6 whole pages.

You've got to hold your horses. Watch out!

Call an ambulance! Klarka?

- Jan, come here!

- Klarka...

Klarka!

- Klarka! What happened?

- She fell down the stairs.

Excuse me.

That's Jan's cousin Klarka.

She's not his cousin! She's his daughter!

Sorry, you must be confused.

That's not Jan's daughter.

Confused? No way! I knew her mother. And

the little girl Klarka since her birth.

She has a bad concussion.

- How'd they give you that information?

- They told me. And what?

Why'd they tell you?

Because you're her father?

What is this bullshit?

I'm not her father.

I've heard these rumors.

And you believe them?

- And?

- What "And"? What "And"?

What is this interrogation? Jana would

have told me that she is my daughter.

- So take a paternity test.

- You see how pushy you're?

I've had it with you. Get outta here!

Get outta here! Now!

Yuck! Get out of here!

You're a beautiful.

You've nothing to be ashamed of.

Like this we'll do it.

I'll take this brooch away.

So we don't get pricked.

A little like this, the strap aside

as well, and your hand down.

Don't be afraid.

Breathe. Try breathing deeply.

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