The
‘Greening‘
of
the
Lennon
Wall
Prague’s
Shrine
to
Freedom
of
Expression Has
Been
Painted
Over—To
Make
a
Point
By
Šárka
Víšková—Staff
Writer
The
John
Lennon
Wall,
where
young
people
repeatedly
expressed
opinions
that
were
painted
over
by
Communist
authorities
during
the
Cold
War—is
not
just
a
silent
monument
of
past
days,
but
rather
an
interactive
symbol
that
continues
to
raise
questions
about
freedom
of
expression
and
about
what
the
wall
really
stands
for.
During
its
nine
years
of
existence
under
Communism,
authorities
painted
over
the
wall
several
times,
trying
to
suppress
its
messages,
but
new
ones
always
reappeared
soon
thereafter.
Since
1989’s
Velvet
Revolution,
the
wall
has
been
repainted
only
twice.
The
first
time
was
in
1989
by
the
owners,
the
Catholic
Sovereign
Order
of
the
Maltese
Knights
as
part
of
a
reconstruction
project
designed
to
preserve
the
deteriorating
wall.
The
second
occasion
was
only
last
Nov.
14,
when
a
student
art
group,
Rafani
(Dogs
that
Bite)
painted
it
dark
green
to
obscure
what
it
considered
“ugly”
and
inappropriate
graffiti
no
longer
in
the
spirit
of
the
original
wall.
The
history
of
the
Lennon
Wall
dates
to
1980,
shortly
after
John
Lennon‘s
murder
outside
his
apartment
in
New
York
City.
Like
those
from
around
the
world,
Prague’s
young
people
were
shaken
by
the
death
of
the
popular
singer,
whose
songs
called
for
peace,
love
and
international
understanding.
Not
long
after
his
death,
someone
wrote
“John
Winston
Lennon,“
along
with
the
dates
of
his
birth
and
death,
on
the
wall,
situated
across
from
the
French
Embassy
in
Mala
Strana.
Soon
the
site
was
seen
as
Lennon‘s
mock
grave,
and
others
messages
began
to
appear.
Czechoslovakian
authorities
did
not
like
the
idea
of
their
youth
seeming
to
worship
a
Western
rock
star,
and
immediately
painted
the
wall
over.
But
the
“grave“
and
messages
reappeared,
only
to
be
covered
again.
Over
the
next
nine
years,
the
back-and-forth
process
was
repeated.
At
first
the
wall
was
used
mostly
for
writing
messages
to
Lennon
or
relating
to
his
songs,
such
as
“We
miss
you
John“
and
“All
you
need
is
love.“
But
later
these
messages
were
replaced
by
more
political
ones,
directed
to
Czechoslovakian
authorities.
For
people,
the
wall
became
a
symbol
of
freedom
and
a
calm
protest
against
the
regime.
Each
year
on
the
anniversary
of
Lennon‘s
death,
Dec.
8,
people
gathered
at
the
:
“tombstone,“
lighting
candles
to
commemorate
the
former
Beatle.
Until
1989,
the
gathering
was
also
tied
in
with
the
Dec.
10
observance
of
the
International
Day
of
Human
Rights,
and
sometimes
the
events
ended
in
clashes
with
police.
Though
more
peaceful
now,
the
tradition
continues—it
still
is
not
unusual
to
find
lighted
candles
placed
along
the
wall
by
Lennon’s
admirers.
In
1990,
the
Sovereign
Order
of
Maltese
Knights
successfully
petitioned
the
state
to
get
back
its
former
property,
which
included
the
Lennon
Wall.
By
that
time,
the
wall
had
become
a
touristic
attraction,
says
Jaroslav
Patka,
a
property
manager
of
the
Order,
and
tourists
began
taking
parts
of
the
crumbling
wall
home
as
souvenirs.
In
1998,
the
wall
was
in
such
a
delapidated
condition
that
“it
was
threatening
to
fall
down,‘
Patka
said.
The
Maltese
Knights,
aware
of
the
symbolic
and
historical
value
of
the
wall,
consulted
the
city’s
John
Lennon
Peace
Club
and
the
Prague
Conservation
Society
and
decided
to
reconstruct
the
wall..
The reconstruction required removal and replacement of the plaster on which the original messages were painted.. The original messages and paintings were lost forever. After restoration, the wall was painted white and the public was invited to contribute messages and drawings as before, and the new graffiti appeared almost immediately.
But
last
November—about
two
years
later,
members
of
the
art
club
Rafani
painted
the
wall
green,
and
superimposed
the
word
Láska
[love]
in
large,
white,
dripping
letters,
painted
with
deliberate
carelessness.
They
chose
green,
they
said,
because
it
was
the
color
of
police
uniforms
during
Communism,
and
they
chose
to
paint
the
word
Láska
as
a
visual
expression
of
what
they
considered
the
“ugliness“
of
the
messages
that
had
appeared
on
the
reconstructed
wall.
The
club,
students
of
the
Academy
of
Applied
Arts
in
Prague,
expressed
its
own
message
on
the
wall,
not
by
words,
but
by
painting.
The
message
addressed
not
only
the
loss
of
the
original
messages,
but
the
banality
of
the
new
ones
and
the
loss
of
the
wall’s
symbolic
meaning.
‘The
new
messages
were
absurd
and
ugly,
the
original
ones
were
not,
and
that‘s
why
we
wanted
the
word
Láska
to
look
so
ugly,‘
said
Petr
R.
Motejzík,
a
member
of
the
art
group.
‘A
day
after
we
painted
it
green,
a
bunch
of
girls
painted
flowers
and
wrote
artificial
messages
on
it
again.“
That
proved,
he
added,
that
“they
did
not
get
our
message.‘
The
only
response
the
club
got,
says
Motejzík,
was
from
travel
agencies
that
complained
that
they
had
pictures
of
the
previous
wall
in
their
travel
books
and
would
now
have
to
replace
their
books.
Whatever the validity of the messages, present or past, one thing seems clear: The wall may have changed because circumstances changed, but it remains a symbol of free expression.
‘We [the Maltese Knights] do not care what people write on the wall and we do not care if they paint it green,“ said Patka. “When the police called me that the boys were painting the wall green, I took their addresses and let them finish their work.‘