Although Alfons Mucha is usually associated with Art Nouveau, one of his greatest projects is the “Slav Epic”, which is far removed from that style. It includes a painting from 1924 depicting the Battle of Grunwald, or rather the scene after the battle. At its centre is King Władysław Jagiełło: a figure in armour, observing the battlefield. Behind him stand the survivors, while in the distance an army with raised standards can be seen. In the foreground, the battlefield is strewn with the bodies of both men and horses; scattered banners and fragments of clothing contrast with the scene’s sombre atmosphere. Beneath a mound lies the fallen Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Ulrich von Jungingen, a cross upon his chest. Together, these elements create a powerful image that may be interpreted as a meditation on the transience of life, the heroism and the consequences of war, and the price paid by the Slavs and their enemies. The dominant composition is horizontal, and the colour palette is subdued, with browns, greys and broken white predominating, lending the scene a muted, almost melancholic mood. The light appears diffused, suggesting that the moment is set at dusk.

There is a pronounced variation of planes in the composition, from the figures in the foreground to the more abstract and less detailed silhouettes in the background. The choice of this episode may seem somewhat puzzling in the context of the entire series. Here, Mucha presents the epic character of the armed conflict as the resistance of the Slavs against the Germanic invasion. The ahistorical nature of the depiction is clear. The complex reality of the battle – in which Poles, as well as Czechs, fought on the Teutonic Knights’ side, including the Teutonic fief Mikołaj of Ryńsk and Piast Duke Konrad VII of Oleśnica – was probably unknown to the Czech artist, as historiographers tended not to emphasise it. The joint victory of the Crown and Lithuanian armies appears to have eluded Mucha’s Slavic interpretation, whose primary emphasis lay on the presence of a contingent of mercenaries from Bohemia and Moravia. These were led by the Moravian knight Jan Sokol of Lamberk, with Jan Žižka of Trocnov probably also taking part. In the painting, they are depicted on the left, adjacent to a warrior in armour with a broad helmet. Immediately behind the warrior stands Jan Sokol of Lamberk, and to his left Jan Žižka of Trocnov. On the right, Orthodox monks are shown in prayer, possibly alluding to the Smolensk banners present at the battle.

One might also consider another reading, in which harmonious cooperation between the Slavs and their neighbours would ensure the defence of Slavdom; yet there is nothing in the painting, or in the cycle as a whole, to support this interpretation. Mucha instead drew on a simplified vision of the Battle of Grunwald as a victory for Polish arms, emphasising the role of the Czechs, which may explain his choice of subject. Jan Matejko’s painting of the same title may likewise have been of some significance. In the light of current research, it is difficult to determine unequivocally the extent of the Kraków master’s influence on Mucha. This is less a question of stylistic impact than of the conception of art as a supra-national epic and of the role of the artist within it. Hypothetically speaking, it seems that in 1924 Matejko’s painting – or, more precisely, its symbolic importance for Polish identity – may have served as a point of reference for Mucha’s choice of theme.

To those only superficially acquainted with the artist’s oeuvre, the character of this canvas may come as a surprise; yet it should be regarded as part of a larger cycle and considered within the broader context of the Czech artist’s work and ideas. “Le style Mucha” is a narrative told in flowing lines and golden glimmers, promising an eternal tomorrow: above all, an ephemeral vision of femininity, beauty, youth and vitality. This imagined, paradisiacal world appears as an escape from the everyday, where mystical nymphs and dryads merge with ornament and line, with a world not as it is but as it is dreamt: idyllic and unreal.

Its creator, Alfons Maria Mucha, was born in 1860 in Ivančice. His early career was fraught with difficulties: the Prague Academy rejected him, and the theatre in which he worked as a decorator was destroyed by fire. Yet there were also fortuitous turns, such as his encounter with Count Karl Khuen-Belassi. Through the Count’s patronage, he not only secured commissions but began to achieve recognition. Khuen-Belassi even financed a scholarship for the young artist, enabling him to study in Munich. Mucha did not remain in Munich for long; he was drawn to Paris. There, however, he had to start almost from scratch. He lost his scholarship, lived from occasional commissions, and was rejected by the Paris Academy. Once again, talent and chance intervened: he was commissioned to design a poster for the play Gismonda. The year was 1894, and Art Nouveau was only just emerging. The artist created a poster that was an apotheosis of the actress: opulent and hieratic, recalling Byzantine art yet thoroughly modern, with abundant ornament, pastel tones and flowing lines. The design delighted the actress as well as the public. It was a breath of fresh air, a bold vision of a new art and new aesthetic sensibilities. Mucha began to trace his lines ever more confidently, creating his Art Nouveau idyll in which harmony between nature, culture and humanity prevailed. Soft pastel hues, combined with dramatic and at times almost mystical lighting, gave his female figures an ethereal quality, while preserving their sensuality and strength. His popularity grew rapidly, and his style became emblematic of the belle époque. For some, Mucha’s style also became almost synonymous with modern femininity: independence and strength. It offered an escape from restrictive social and cultural norms, presenting an alternative, if utopian, image of female autonomy. For others, this vision was too ephemeral, too shaped by the male heterosexual gaze: one-dimensional and passive, subject to the power of the gaze.

During this period, Mucha was not only painting but also designing almost everything: book covers, furniture and clothing. He was awarded the Legion of Honour for his work and, at the 1900 Paris World Exhibition, received a bronze medal for his sculpture “Nature”. He was at the height of his popularity. Later, during the war, the era of his art – and of the world it celebrated – seemed to have passed. Yet the artist retained something of its spirit to the end: shortly before his death, and against all odds, he painted “The Age of Reason”, “The Age of Wisdom” and “The Age of Love”, although the series remained unfinished. Having already returned to Bohemia, Mucha was interrogated following the German invasion of Prague. His health deteriorated, and he died in the summer of 1939. In defiance of the occupiers, the people of Prague paid their last respects to the artist. His work, however, was not appreciated either during the war or under the communist regime. Art Nouveau had long since fallen out of favour and, in the West, it had often been regarded critically even after the First World War. It was not until 1968 that an ad hoc exhibition in London proved an overwhelming success, sparking a renewed interest in Art Nouveau.

Although now strongly associated with the style, Mucha himself regarded this connection with detachment, maintaining that his inspiration lay primarily in Czech culture. Even before 1900, he experienced a creative crisis. He sought to return to painting and to create works of national significance. This idea began to take more concrete form in 1899, when Mucha worked on the design of the Bosnia and Herzegovina pavilion, commissioned by the Austro-Hungarian government for the 1900 Paris Exhibition. During his travels in the Balkans, the concept of not merely a Czech but a Slavic revival, sustained by a shared identity and intertwined history, developed into a grand artistic vision. Perhaps he saw himself as the bard-painter of the pan-Slavic idea. This vision evolved into the monumental concept of the Slav Epic: a cycle of twenty large canvases narrating the myths and history of the Slavic peoples, produced between 1910 and 1928. Eleven of the paintings were completed as early as 1919. It was an ambitious undertaking for which Mucha sought funding in America, and found it. Charles R. Crane, who shared Mucha’s fascination with Slavic culture, was captivated by the idea and decided to finance the project. Mucha began work while still in America, and after returning to Europe undertook a study tour of Slavic culture, visiting Poland among other countries. Drawing on the materials, photographs and sketches he had assembled, he set to work at Zbiroh Castle, where rooms had been specially adapted for his vast canvases. The project lasted eighteen years, during which Mucha devoted himself to it with extraordinary passion and determination. In the “Slav Epic”, he departed from the Art Nouveau idiom, combining realistic depictions of human figures with rich symbolism and allegorical motifs. In the spirit of symbolism and historicism, he sought to convey the spiritual, cultural and historical dimensions of Slavic identity. His ambition to inspire unity and cooperation among the Slavs through a shared historical narrative and common values is evident throughout the cycle.

Both the concept and the monumental scale of the work proved challenging for some critics, who came to regard it as an expression of the artist’s megalomania. In their view, he had abandoned his role as a herald of modernity and reverted to a nineteenth-century sensibility. Nevertheless, the first exhibition, held in 1919 at the Klementinum in Prague, was well received by the public and by part of the critical establishment. By autumn 1928, the cycle was complete. It was displayed again in the museum’s great hall during the celebrations marking the tenth anniversary of Czechoslovak independence. On that occasion, Mucha donated the series to Prague on the condition that a separate pavilion be constructed to house it. A lack of funds meant that the pavilion was never realised, and the works were moved to the nearby castle in Moravský Krumlov, where they went on display in April 1950. They were later moved again, this time to the town hall, formerly a monastery. The building was entirely unsuitable, not only for exhibition but even for storage. Although various proposals were made to relocate the paintings, it was many years before any were carried out. Eventually, it was decided to return the works to the castle, part of which had been handed back by the army, where suitable rooms could be prepared. In 1963, the first nine canvases were installed there. By 1968, after further rooms had been made ready, the entire cycle was placed on display. Conservation work on the canvases was also undertaken in the 1960s. However, contrary to the artist’s original stipulation, the location of the exhibition led to a legal dispute between his heirs and the foundation responsible for his legacy on the one hand, and the Prague municipality, which owns the works, on the other. The dispute centred on their improper display. In 2023, an agreement was finally reached. For the time being, the “Slav Epic” remains at the castle in Moravský Krumlov, but once the necessary adaptation works have been completed, it is to be exhibited from 2026 in the newly created Savarin complex in central Prague. This multi-functional development, incorporating cultural, commercial, leisure and dining spaces, is being built around the Sylva-Taroucca Palace – also known as the Piccolomini or Savarin Palace – which has been adapted for this purpose.