{"id":188299,"date":"2026-05-31T10:54:18","date_gmt":"2026-05-31T08:54:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/loudavymkrokem.cz\/?p=188299"},"modified":"2026-06-06T14:38:57","modified_gmt":"2026-06-06T12:38:57","slug":"prague-architecture-modern-guide","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/loudavymkrokem.cz\/en\/prague-architecture-modern-guide\/","title":{"rendered":"Dancing House and Modern Prague: Architecture of the 20th and 21st Century"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

When I was given the assignment to photograph contrasts in Prague’s streets during my photojournalism course at Charles University, I already knew that Prague architecture<\/strong> hides far more than just gleaming office towers \u2014 so my first steps didn’t lead to the Old Town Square.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a heavy DSLR around my neck, I stood at Jir\u00e1skovo n\u00e1m\u011bst\u00ed, watching the morning sun bounce off glass panels and waiting for tram number 17 to pass the building that split Prague into two irreconcilable camps in the nineties. The Dancing House<\/a><\/strong> was, for me, the perfect symbol that this city isn’t some frozen open-air museum full of Baroque cherubs and Gothic spires, but a living organism that breathes, grows, and occasionally provokes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thanks to years spent at a grammar school in Mal\u00e1 Strana, I knew Prague through the lens of history textbooks. Teachers dragged us around palaces and churches, so I developed a relationship with Renaissance sgraffito while still in my teens. But a real fascination with the city only came when I started discovering its contemporary face. Modern architecture carries a completely different charge in Prague than in Berlin or Rotterdam. Here, every new building must fight a quiet battle with the thousand-year-old history surrounding it. The deconstructivist Dancing House<\/a><\/strong>, the glass-clad brutalist Nov\u00e1 Sc\u00e9na<\/strong>, and the unexpectedly serene cubist villas below Vy\u0161ehrad are all shining examples of this tension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My husband Luk\u00e1\u0161 and I return to Prague every year, and our routes keep evolving. While we used to spend Friday evenings in half-empty Hole\u0161ovice galleries debating contemporary art, these days we navigate the city with our two-year-old Jon\u00e1\u0161 in a pushchair. I’ve discovered that the generous open spaces around brutalist department stores<\/strong> and the accessible riverside embankments are far more family-friendly than the narrow cobbled lanes of Mal\u00e1 Strana. We spend a lot of time along Ra\u0161\u00ednovo n\u00e1b\u0159e\u017e\u00ed in particular \u2014 Jon\u00e1\u0161 watches the boats while we enjoy coffee from the beautifully renovated vaults in the embankment wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So come along \u2014 from the Dancing House<\/a> through brutalist department stores to cubist villas where I tried to convince Jon\u00e1\u0161 that a hexagonal railing is totally an attraction. Together we’ll explore raw brutalism, revitalised public spaces, and art<\/strong> that makes the Czech capital so much more than a backdrop for period dramas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Dancing
Dancing House<\/a> on Ra\u0161\u00ednovo n\u00e1b\u0159e\u017e\u00ed<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\n
\n

Table of Contents<\/p>\nToggle<\/span><\/path><\/svg><\/svg><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n