When I first started this page, I promised to share not only my views and observations, but to bring in conversations with people whose work I find intriguing and inspiring. Today, I am pleased to fulfil that promise by chatting with a Czech, artist, illustrator, graphic designer and photographer, Eva Chupikova.

Welcome to lovesartwilltravel, Eva. I have been admiring your work and am so glad to have you here.

Let’s start at the beginning. You got your start as an illustrator. What drew you to this field?

First, thank you for the invitation to your blog and the chat. I am thrilled to be here.

I have been illustrating children’s books for about ten years now. Some say the beginnings are tough. I think I was very fortunate and met some wonderful people. First and foremost, it was Daniela Krolupperová, a writer and a translator. She invited me to illustrate her book “Insidious Shrubs” (Zákeřné keře). Her publishing house, Portál Publishing Group, supported our collaboration, even though I was still new to the industry. The book won several awards and opened up additional opportunities and projects. Today, I have about 30 books under my belt, illustrating the works of Czech and Slovak authors, and 7 books of my own.

Among the many books and characters you’ve brought to life, do you have a favorite? One that’s captured your heart?

Oh, with this many books and characters, it’s hard to choose just one. I have to love each and every one of them, or else I wouldn’t be sending them out into the world. If I have to choose just one, a book that still holds a special spot in my heart, it would be “Swan House” (Labutí dům, published by Mladá fronta in 2021) written by none other than Daniela Krolupperová. It takes us back to the 1920s and tells a story of a teenage girl Rézi. The brilliant writing perfectly captures the atmosphere of the period and takes you on Rezi’s journey, following her adventures and focusing on the commitment of this humble redhead to pursuing her dreams. Perhaps it was this unique time in history, the auhenticity of the environment and the facts that I had to learn first that fuelled my creativity so much that the book absorbed me for a full fourteen months. And it was a lovely, lovely work…

Your illustrations are soft, one could even say intimate and gentle. Yet, they are brimming with detail. How does one go from such precision-driven work to minimalist photography that is so typical for your behind-the-lens work?

My illustrations and my photography are two completely different disciplines. You’re right, as an illustrator, I feel compelled to capture all relevant details. On top of that, I always have to respect the writing—it’s so important. And because mine are children’s books, I want to make sure that the children can see as much as possible in my pictures. When I was a little girl, I loved books and I couldn’t peel myself away from the fantastically detailed drawings and paintings of my favorites: Zdeněk Burian, Jiří Trnka or Albín Brunovský.

In contrast, my photography represents me, and me alone. Put simply, I don’t have to consider the assignment or even the ultimate viewer. In this sense, I feel completely free and unencumbered. Even more—because I don’t rely on photography to pay the bills, I don’t feel pressured by timelines or any other requirements. And that’s something rare and precious.

I think 2020, the “COVID year”, was when everything changed for me. Looking back, I see it as a period of darkness, for me personally, and for all of us. Complete social isolation, silence everywhere, darkness, anxiety, closed borders. Until then, I always thought that to find that amazing landscape shot, I had to travel out of the country. Preferably somewhere in the Lofoten Islands or Iceland. But all these restrictions and glum thoughts somehow opened up a wholly new horizon for me. I would stroll to a nearby lake, perhaps a 20-minute walk from my home. This lake, the one that I had passed a thousand times before and that I had always considered completely unremarkable, even banal, suddenly looked entirely transformed. I still recall the deep silence, the white mist hovering above the water, the barely discernible silhouetted trees on the other side. Fallen branches reflected in still waters, tree trunks on a silent beach, the sun, stripped of its warmth, hiding behind gray clouds, muddy boots and frozen hands… It was as if I had somehow been transported a thousand miles away from home. I was suddenly overcome with a feeling that the lake was toying with me. Perhaps even mocking me a little bit, questioning how blind I had been to miss all the enchantment, the magic that had always been there, just around the corner from my house.

It was there and then, that I took the pictures that have proved to be incredibly important to me. They may not be the best, but they were crucial for my work. I suddenly understood the photographer I would become. What I wanted to shoot, how to shoot it, how to capture emotions in photographs. What to show, and what was unnecessary and didn’t need to be in the picture. I still recall that dialog within. And I will forever be grateful for that “unremarkable” lake…

Your minimalist photographs are beautiful and often capture winter landscapes. (When I first saw them, I was reminded of the work of Michael Kenna). Is it because winter provides better conditions for minimalist photography? Or, is it simply because you happen to like winter?

Oh, the association with Michael Kenna’s work is almost too flattering. His work is such a high bar! I would never… That said, winter and snow-covered landscapes create almost unlimited opportunities. Snow is a pristine canvas, a possibility, a promise. From a purely technical perspective, I see it as negative space that gives your eye a jumping-off point and lets you focus on shapes and composition of the image. Snow purifies, reduces.

We all know that negative space is essential in minimalist photography. I used to feel this intuitively. Now I know what it's called. But that's not important. In my photos, I see negative space as potential, an offer or invitation for self-projection. When you look into space, you see nothing, so you can listen to yourself.

In addition to landscapes, your portfolio sometimes gives us a glimpse of a gentle, even a little mystical, portrait. What role do people play in your photography? When do you “invite” them into your work?

The portrait genre completely eludes me so far. This is a completely different chapter and I haven't even opened the first page yet. Photos that look like portraits in my gallery are actually remote-triggered "selfies". When the landscape doesn't invite me out and yet I still feel like taking pictures, I have no choice but to take a picture of myself. And since this is a self-portrait and therefore I cannot harm anyone else, I let myself experiment a little. I combine a photo and an illustration or a photo and another photo. I would say that these images are more on the periphery of my interests, so I was quite surprised by the wonderful reception that these pictures get at photo contests.

Do you have that one special photo that fills you with pride?

Swans in a field, black and white photograph — “Swans” by Eva Chupikova

Very interesting question. Let me think about what I'm most proud of. Is it the strongest response I got to a picture? Or, is it the most physically challenging situation in which a photo was created that I managed to handle? Or, is it the strongest feeling I get when connecting with the landscape?

It’s hard to say. In general, I'm probably at my proudest when I uncover something beautiful in an unexpected place. Somewhere where I wouldn’t normally go in search of a photograph, where I wouldn't be looking for a view or a perspective. As I think about it now, I can recall one picture that I snapped on the side of the road near Náklo and Olomouc. It was “easy”—slow down a little, quickly cross the road and avoid getting hit by the traffic going in the opposite direction and take a quick photo of a flock of swans resting in a freshly plowed field. The composition that those “girls” performed for me there is unbelievable. The photo later won an Honorable Mention in the Minimalist Photography Awards in 2021.

You’ve been taking photographs for years now. What’s your ambition, what goal have you set for yourself? What do you hope people will associate with your name in the future?

Oh no, no, no, I've only been shooting with a certain concept for the past two years. I am just at the beginning. It is true, this year was extremely fruitful and one could even say successful. Every award is a sweet bonus and I appreciate it very much. However, I haven’t set any specific goals. Instead, I hope that this wonderful journey, this adventure, remains without boundaries, even though I know that everything will eventually succumb to the inevitable erosion of time. Everything has a beginning and an end. But when it comes to that, isn't photography itself a kind of foolish attempt to immortalize or freeze a fleeting moment that will never return? And that is the beauty…

In closing, I try to learn a little bit more about the people I interview. Are you open to answering a few rapid-fire questions for me?

Morning coffee or tea? Coffee, 100 per cent. Strong coffee. At least half a litre!

Mountains or sea? Both. Preferably both at the same time.

Dog or cat? Dog

The book currently on my nightstand… Several books, actually. I am reading a few books about zen gardens, Wabi-sabi and Japan.

My source of inspiration… is Instagram. I follow a few fantastic photographers. We follow one another and support each other’s work.

A weekend well spent… is a weekend spent with a camera in my hand, of course!

My next trip… is going to Slovakia and then I am traveling to Japan.

I hope you have enjoyed Eva’s work as much as I have. Her visual poetry, be it in her illustrations or in her black-and-white photographs, is captivating. You can find her at www.evachupikova.cz or you can follow her on instagram at @eva_chupikova.

All images by Eva Chupikova and printed with her permission.