Lines straight and sharp as the needles that have engraved them. Lines that encircle and lines that whirl. Lines painfully crossed and cruelly crossing. Galactic lines, lines scattered and reminiscent of night-sky graining. Lines of the fields, lines of the paths, lines of the crossroads, and lines of the crosses. Clusters of lines, clusters so dense that they produce darkness, and when they begin thinning, light emerges out of the darkness. Emanuel Ranný draws light with black lines. With black lines, he draws white holes in the black cosmos. With black lines, he draws a sonnet of a July night in the Czech-Moravian Highlands.
...the end of the century and of the millennium sank in deep in this graphic artist's draughtsmanship and morphology: a question arises as to the qualities of the rich greys, the position of black, and whether and how and where light can seep through. I cannot but quote Josef Šíma at his late stage, saying that in the end he painted light only. The magnificent (I'm not afraid to use the word) cycle of Ranný's Raven Landscapes was not baptised by the American damned poet Edgar Allan Poe only, for it is also Skácel-like throughout: the many shades of darkness are almost overwhelming, and yet light of nearly cutting quality penetrates into almost all his prints...
© 2008 Emanuel Ranny, ArtForum / ICZ a.s.