The age of water stairs, iron and steel did not pass without a trace in Liptov either: between 1969 and 1975, a huge dam system was used to create a reservoir near Liptószentmiklós (Liptovský Mikuláš), officially for flood protection. The artificial lake, named Liptovská Mara after the flooded settlement of the same name, the medieval county seat (Hungarian Liptószentmária), is now a picturesque sight and will certainly bring much joy to those wishing to relax.
The water hides the ruins of twelve villages, medieval churches, noble mansions, and castles. In addition to the monuments, numerous structures of folk architecture, farmhouses, mills, and cemeteries have disappeared, ancient village communities, the most important landmarks of life for the people living here, have become nothing.
On the shore of the reservoir stands the torso of the ancient Liptószentmária church, a symbol of the controversial decision: the main parts of the building were demolished and rebuilt in the Pribilina (Pribylina) open-air museum. The same happened to the medieval Párisháza (Parížovce) castle, one of the most significant secular monuments of Liptó, and the unique wooden mansion of the Lehoczky family from Palugya. A movement to save the Evangelical wooden church, also in Palugya (Veľká Paludza), was launched – quite unusually – during the partisan years, and finally its reconstruction was permitted in a secluded corner of the distant Szentkereszt as an outstanding masterpiece of “folk architecture”.
There are few works of art and memoirs that commemorate the valley’s former culture, one of which is the memoirs of the former Lutheran pastor and later museum director Josef Kasanický, and the photographic legacy of Honor Mattyasovszky, a Bratislava lawyer from Liptószentmiklós.
Honor Mattyasovszky was not a trained photographer, we wouldn’t even call him a skilled amateur, but in his free time, with stubborn will and maniacal determination, he captured everything about the valley, be it a donkey’s pasture or a church, a day laborer collecting hay or a lonely crossroads.
He returned to his old locations again and again, his negatives revealing to us frame by frame the phases of his relentless march, we can almost hear his breathing, see his figure as he marches with stubborn determination in the August heat or the freezing Liptov winter.
We see dramatic images: a church tower crumbling to dust, collapsed house walls, abandoned farms, a landscape almost devastated by war – made uninhabitable not by weapons, but by political decision-making.
The black-and-white photos reveal a barren, hopeless world, the shots are often out of focus and poorly exposed. In a peculiar way, the photographer’s clumsiness and lack of knowledge enhance the drama of his images. His manic dedication and photographic ignorance together create a strange artistic achievement.
This is the birth of art… It resembles anonymous art, the creations of folk songs and singers.
Mattyasovszky Honor himself believed that he had created value and offered his collection to the monument protection offices and archives of the time. However, he had one condition: he wanted to place it all together.
The experts at the time, seeing the huge amount of photographic legacy, ultimately rejected his request and were only open to accepting a selection.
Honor Mattyasovszky was offended by the rejection and was convinced throughout his life that his photos had been secretly copied. After his death, his widow finally sent his legacy to the State Archives of Zsolna (Žilina), where it is now stored professionally and in a dignified manner at its headquarters in Biccse (Bytča). The Iratmentő Alapítvány recorded a significant part of the recordings, so Honor Mattyasovszky’s oeuvre can also be made available to Hungarian researchers.
P. Zs.