INTRODUCTION to "Revelations/Zjeveni: Kresby/Drawings by Robert Horvitz" Published by Galerie Pecka for Exhibition Hall Manes (December 1999) by Bruce Sterling It's quite the pleasure and privilege to write a few words about the work of my friend, Robert Horvitz. The tools of his art are simple. It's a profound and passionate art, but there is no sentimentality, no preaching. It's all about the total engagement of ink, paper and pen. It is work that rewards patience, because it is so patiently done. You can sense Horvitz leaning into the paper, engaging every atom of his being in the effort. Every move is small, but cumulative -- but every move may be his last. A single moment's slip can destroy days of labor. The intricacy of Horvitz's drawings resembles computer graphics. But there is no easy, facile, push-button machine work here. Each mark on that page is an act of will. The artist is walking a tightrope. Anyone can walk a tightrope--if the rope is lying on the ground. Anyone can set ink to paper, if the results don't matter. But when Horvitz chooses to draw, he has strung his tightrope far above the earth. He has set himself at risk. He makes few drawings, because the stakes he sets himself are so high. Horvitz's drawings emerge from deep human passion: the death of a parent, romantic heartbreak, cosmological awe. The artist is mastering himself through his craft. His ultimate goal is to create his own private realm of ecstasy and freedom--a place where the passion, the constraints, and even the craft all melt away, a space of heightened awareness. The space where experience becomes art. There's an underlying logic to the work. You can sense him working from self-set rules, spinning out graphic algorithms. But it's not mere order: it's not a skyscraper made of toothpicks. The work also knows chaos. This art takes place where life is: at the rim of order and chaos. The possibility of breakdown and loss is always there. It's a game between virtuosity and wild inspiration--so it's no surprise that Horvitz draws creative power from jazz. Sometimes the drawing breaks from the melody and rhythm and surprises even itself. The reward is to find that place where skill can liberate the spirit. Where the artist achieves a level of performance that he could never plan, because he did not know it was possible. These drawings are rare works, because Robert Horvitz is a rare man. He's the sort of fellow who could plunge himself completely into many years of artistic dedication, but then transform himself into an everyday agent of the greatest political revolution of modern times (working for the Soros foundations to help rebuild post-communist societies). It's no accident that he ended up in the alchemical city of Prague. While he is very much an American artist, some element of his personality makes Horvitz sometimes seem more Czech to me than the Czechs themselves. He seemed to be aware on some higher level that the gray uniformity of the Communist past was breaking up into a very new picture, something lively, human, flawed and deeply unpredictable. As he well knew, this was happening to millions of people in many different countries, but as a living artwork, the Revolution was especially visible in Prague, the most musical of all East European capitals. A popular revolt had broken the old rules and was dancing to its own marvelous, local rhythms. Now that revolution is well behind us. Another candidate for World Order is on the public stage. Such is life, and such is history. It's very much a sign of health and promise that Robert Horvitz, former radio activist, has once again become a hard-working artist. Nowadays his work seems based in new emotions--fatherhood, equanimity, a sense of mature possibility, and a genuine love for his adopted city. I hope and believe that, through this exhibition, the lively and sympathetic people of Prague will understand and cherish what this man brings to them. Bruce Sterling Austin, Texas USA 1999