Little Belle's Mama

When my husband and I visited Prague, we expected to see stunning castles, medieval bridges, and charming cobblestone streets. What we didn’t expect was to stumble upon something so unusual that it left us both fascinated and slightly unsettled. There, outside the Kampa Museum, we encountered three enormous bronze babies crawling on all fours. At first glance, they looked like oversized infants, but then we noticed their faces—or rather, the lack of them. Instead of normal facial features, their heads had strange, vertical slits resembling barcode scanners. It was both eerie and captivating.

We stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of these sculptures. Were they meant to be playful? Symbolic? A critique of something deeper? I felt drawn to them, and as I walked around, inspecting them from different angles, I couldn’t help but marvel at the boldness of the design. These weren’t just any sculptures; they carried a presence, almost as if they were alive in some strange, surreal way.

Later, I learned that these peculiar babies were the work of Czech artist David Černý, a name that seems to be synonymous with controversial and thought-provoking art in Prague. These crawling babies, known as Miminka, were originally created as part of an installation on the Žižkov Television Tower. Up there, several of them seem to be climbing the tower’s sleek structure, an image that’s both humorous and dystopian. The ones we saw at Kampa Park are part of a permanent exhibit, allowing people to interact with them up close.

As I ran my fingers over the cold, smooth surface of one of the babies, I wondered what Černý wanted us to feel. The barcode-like slits where the faces should be made me think about identity, technology, and dehumanization. Were these babies meant to represent a future where individuality is erased? Or was it simply an absurd twist on childhood, forcing us to reconsider how we see innocence and growth? My husband, ever the pragmatist, shrugged and said, “Maybe he just wanted to creep people out.”

But Prague is a city that embraces the weird and the wonderful. Its art, its history, and its architecture all weave together to create an atmosphere where the unexpected feels right at home. Walking through the city, you can find Černý’s fingerprints everywhere. From the upside-down statue of a man riding a dead horse to the eerie, disembodied heads on street corners, his work is unmissable. Each piece challenges the norm, urging passersby to stop, stare, and think.

As we left the park and continued exploring, I found myself glancing back at the babies. Even from a distance, they commanded attention. There’s something about them that lingers in the mind long after you’ve walked away. Maybe it’s their size, their faceless expressions, or the simple fact that they shouldn’t belong in a peaceful park—but somehow, they do.

Prague is full of surprises, and the Miminka are just one of its many odd yet mesmerizing attractions. They remind visitors that art doesn’t always have to be beautiful or comforting. Sometimes, the most memorable pieces are the ones that make us uneasy, that push us to ask questions without clear answers. And that’s exactly what these crawling giants do.