Frank Horvat demonstrated from a very young age that he knew how to follow his instincts and set limits in the places where his critical spirit insisted he do so, to the point of abandoning poetry, one of his earliest passions, due to excessive demand on himself. A son of doctors, he was born in 1928 in Abbazia (which was then Italy and is now Croatia), but lived in various countries during his childhood and adolescence (Italy, Switzerland and France).
This circumstance made it possible for him to get to know various cultural contexts and learn a great variety of languages well. These highly enriching experiences, along with his innate sense of adventure and his intellectual family background, enabled that sharp and curious child to develop an advanced degree of visual sensibility over the course of his lifetime. During his childhood, on the suggestion of a friend, he bought his first camera, drawn to the idea that it would help him meet young women, and not because of any sort of creative impulse. After selling a stamp collection he acquired a second-hand Retinamat camera that would become one of his most prized possessions, like what a good football could be for many young boys.
Directly influenced by the world of literature and creative poetry (Heine, Goethe, Schiller, Rilke, Leopardi, Dante Alighieri), through his photographic, experiential and autobiographical testimonies, Horvat makes clear that what most interests him has little to do with pushing the shutter and selling reports, but precisely what cannot be expressed in words: visual poetry, which in his case was very influenced by a preference for simplicity. “Photography is the art of not pushing the shutter”, he said.
Capturing what has been ignored, letting yourself be carried along by an instinct with providential tones, watching carefully and immortalising those energies that speak of the soul—this is what seems to have always been his personal goal.
Sometimes chance guides our steps in totally unsuspecting ways. Often our best teachers are those who, in principle, hurt us the most as well. That is what happened to Horvat when, as a young man, he went to Paris to offer his pictures to the nascent Magnum agency: “Have you put your eyes in your stomach, my God?”, was the phrase of his future mentor Henri Cartier-Bresson, when this latter saw his work.
How many times, as he explains it, thanks to this embittered, unexpected and discouraging reception, did he feel obliged to move beyond it in the search for his most authentic photographic identity? How many times has he given thanks to that first maestro, with his finely-honed critical edge? Ever since that first impact, with some moments better than others, with joy and sadness, suffering and triumphs, he has always sought to be true to himself. Sometimes his work was submitted to the dictates of prestigious fashion magazines (Elle, Vogue, Glamour) rather than his own instincts, although at least he was aware of what was going on and, in any case, he had to move on as a question of survival.
Lyrics, songs and dreams are blended together in the retina of Frank Horvat to create compositions that carry us to his imaginary universe, set between reality and fiction. Thanks to them we can enjoy the details of the periods when he visited various European capitals and other sites elsewhere, as well as get a proper take on his creative personality, the friendly, quiet guy behind the camera, which is like an extension of his body.
Enamoured of the female figure, his work focuses in on women, while many women look back at his lens, with a few even looking him in the eye or into his soul. With these latter photographs, he explains, he has enjoyed his work as a photographer the most: with those subjects who have looked back at him with sincerity, without any of the clichés he was so quick to shun.
We encourage you to find out more about Frank Horvat through his autobiography, which can be read in the catalogue accompanying this exhibition, available at the museum reception.