Jaromír Typlt

Czech poet, performer, essayist, and art historian. Jaromír Typlt was born in 1973 in Nová Paka, a small town near the Czech border. He studied philosophy and Czech literature at Charles University, and in 1997 defended his doctoral dissertation on Czech surrealist poetry. Jaromír worked in a therapeutic community for people with mental health struggles, and from 2000 to 2010 he served as a curator for a small photography and contemporary art gallery. The poet currently resides in Prague.

Typlt first appeared on the Czech literary scene in 1990. His poetry was heavily influenced by a surrealist perception of the imagination (Lost Inferno, 1994), while in his prose, he brought to life the unique atmosphere of his native region (Moving Thresholds and Temples, 1991; Opposite to Overthrowing, 1996). In 1994, he was awarded the Jiří Orten Prize. Since 2000, Typlt has moved beyond traditional literature to expand the boundaries of his creative work, turning to live performances and collaborating in the fields of music and fine arts. In his performances, Jaromír incorporates sound design and photography. Since 2009, he has frequently collaborated with composer Michal Rataj to create joint, improvised audio-texts. Their combined works were brought together in the project Scratchings (a CD recording under this title was released in 2014). In the visual arts, Typlt collaborates with the artist Jan Měřička, a partnership that remains of fundamental importance to his creative evolution. This collaboration has resulted in several books, including Brainteasers (2002). Together with photographer Viktor Kopasz, Typlt created the experimental photo project Captivity (2001) and a short film—a three-dimensional poem titled Vineyard (2012). In the autumn of 2016, the author published a new collection of poems titled For a Long Time.

This Chatter

Beneath the floor of barely audible rumbling and murmuring I lie, beneath barely audible, yet relentless voices… they penetrate me, agitate me from within, rub against me and very, very gently cause an airy ache. As if something has knotted up between the ceiling and the floor, tangled here and there, inseparable now, especially that most distinct, at times slightly hushed, tremor. It is the crash of speech… Perhaps, on the floor below, women are gossiping…

Translated from Czech by Iryna Lobzhanidze