Vladimír Zboroň

* 1960

  • Well, but you don't need to read it, we lived it. Somehow I was, we actually started there, we actually started to realize it, to do it the way we did, the way we did it, we literally lived it all. That's how it was, it was probably actually, it was so lived, even lived the manifesto, actually the making of theater and living in theater, for theater, with theater. I don't know how it was, for me it was like that, I was actually there for almost twenty-four hours in that theater, because I don't know. That's how I worked then, everything. I played, I rehearsed, I did technique, not technique, I did the scene myself, then I rearranged the point of view for the performance. I was like, then I had so much energy and strength that I ruled it all, and it was very nice, very much, I don't know how, so comprehensive, such a full time, I don't know if something like that was in my life later. So, I'm thanking God for inviting me to such a dance with these people, and when I think about it sometimes, I wonder how it's possible that we've met, people who've never seen each other before, well. Me, Inge Urbaničová, Jožo Chmel, Laco Kerata, Miloš Karásek, Blaho Uhlár, Erika Lásková, Zuza Piussi, Lucia Piussi. Actually, people who, I do not know, like such wind and how sometimes sweeps the leaves from the whole, into one, into one place, as if something rejected us in one space, swept , pulled in. That is, I say that, I do not understand how we were, what it was, for the force that we met, just us, just like we are, even without acting schools. Well. In point of fact, no one had an acting school. Well, not acting school. After all, Laco was actually directing, Lucia had, Lucia didn't even have, I don't know if she finished the dramaturgy or what. Me, Inge, Ľubo Burgr, Zuza Piussi, but nobody, nobody actually had acting, like acting, not.

  • So you started meetings with members of the secret church or secret churches? You know what they, they. There was such a secret, underground church where there are people like maybe. Čarný. Čarnogurský, maybe Korec. Čarný. Who? Čarný, so he is the artist. Juro? Juraj? His father. His father, well. Juraj's. You know what, you see. No, I was meeting with. They were, because those you say were probably the more conservative ones, the gentlemen. So, well, bishop, I think,also. What was his name? The archbishop, then Korec, and it was, it was such a strong underground church accepted by the Vatican, and the Vatican probably knew about it and the church was supported by the Vatican. But we used to be, I used to be, they weren't even that, that church. There were more thinkers who had access to literature. We were already transcribing the literature, they wore it, they knew how to get everything from the west, and in fact they, they, they told us about it already, well. This Mr. Sklenka, then Mr. Lec, we had meetting in apartments. But most of the time, they weren't like those. The people I met were not the believers. They were just people who were physicists, some mathematicians. There was even Palo Demeš. We also met at Mr. Demeš's in the evenings, in the nights. I don't know where they talked like that, they debated. There was always a topic or something came up and it was discussed there. And it wasn't like a secret church, but it was dangerous to meet like that, but it wasn't, she was, we didn't talk to each other or they didn't say that. That was such a dissent. Yes, well, exactly. They did not only deal with theology, they actually devoted themselves to thinking, thinking, thinking about everything, about time, about what would be, what would be needed here, what would need to be done, and done, and so on. Well, especially with himself, but that it would be possible to change even then, the company, well. I don't know, I really didn't expect that it would come pretty quickly. I knew there would be some change in my life, but that one, the expulsion from school was so much, not for me, but rather for my family. I wasn't even worried about myself, but rather about my family, because living with the rumor that their son was fired from the theological faculty, the faculty, at that time, in the surrounding where they stayed, it wasn't easy, well.

  • So when you were born, in the sixties, and you already mentioned that your childhood looked like you were in school and straight from school on a roll. It was completely that ordinary or what your days looked like, maybe some of those positive memories of childhood and growing up with other siblings. Well, yes, and you know what, but positively, well, but when I look at this today, it was, it was. At that time, I didn't like it anyway. As a child, doesn't like it when his parents chased him into something that he had to go to every day. In the summer I grazed cows every morning and evening and I wanted to play football with my friends. We had with friends, by the river there were such woods, such small log cabins, where we actually met, where we actually met, where we tasted the first cigarettes, well. We smoked. And all this was such that we had to run away. I used to play football, but almost, I don't know how many of those matches I finished because my mother or father was already shouting at me that Vlado come home, Stano, that is, with my brother or when we were three. Everybody come home because it is necessary to make wood to cut down, it is necessary to go to take out the manure, clean the animal's stables, then graze, then dig the potatoes. Well, actually, but in addition to that, we found the time, we ran away from those parents with those friends, and that was, that was, that was what I don't see today. As we were such not gangs in that sense, but such good friends and mates that we are, we were still together as such. The lower end, so the village was divided in such a way that the lower end, we were all those peers, we met somewhere, we talked, and tried to smoke. And then we went to those robots and we went together too. We went to the cows, because the flower beds were so next to each other, so we grazed. I know I remember that at that time we were there, nature was there, those streams were so full of crayfish. It is such a specialty today, and we did not even know what to do with crayfish, because it was such that every, every day we went to graze, we caught three, four, five pieces of crayfish.

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„I don‘t understand how we were, what a force it was, that we met, just us, just like we are, even without acting schools.“

Contemporary photograph of the histrionic man, Vlado Zboroň.
Contemporary photograph of the histrionic man, Vlado Zboroň.
zdroj: Sandra Polovková

Vladimír Zboroň was born on November 5, 1960 in Námestovo, into a working-class family with peasant roots. He lived with his parents and five siblings throughout his childhood in the village Oravská Polhora. Father Vladimír worked as a driver and mother Jolana was a cook. Very often, Vladimír‘s parents did not have it easy, so they mostly carried mainly about place for sleeping and about food. The memorial did not leave his homeland for almost his entire childhood and did not get into the city until he entered high school. As a child, he enjoyed visiting log cabins, local lakes and loved football. However, he did not have much time, because as the eldest son, he had to help around the yard, graze cows, bring out manure or clean the barns. These memories were not the most beautiful, later he was reluctant to work around the house. Vladimír chose as a high school, a grammar school in Námestovo. It meant leaving of the home village and discovering new possibilities. He became a spark-child, a pioneer and a bundle-man. For the first time, he began to perceive political events. In high school, he learned about hatred of Russians or the regime at that time. After completing two years of compulsory military service in Sabinov, he decided to return home because he did not know what to do with his life. Under the influence of conversations with local chaplains, in 1984 he went to study at the Faculty of Theology in Bratislava. He participated in secret meetings of dissent, in the company of educated people, such as Sklenka, Lec or Demeš. In 1987, due to inappropriate behavior, he was expelled from school. Due to fear, he could not return home, so he remained to live in Bratislava. After a demanding search because of his past, he managed to get a job in Zares. He worked as a storekeeper. During the revolutionary years, he lived quietly. In 1988 he decided to attend an evening school of acting in the House of Culture, in Dúbravka. After the revolution, in May 1991, he received an offer from Jožo Chmela to become a part of the Stoka Theater, which was founded by Blaho Uhlár and Miloš Karásek in the same year. His first performance was Impas, in which Vlado took part for the first time in Klarisky, where at the same time the memorial met Blaho Uhlár in person. The actors brought their own stories into their speeches, and often they played naked and barefoot. At the same time, he also worked in Západoslovenské vodárne, which means that he was not dependent on earnings from the theater, which was still not stable. After the conflict between Uhlár and Karásek, he decided to stay with Blaho, with whom, however, he did not get along at best when he left the theater. The intense time spent in the theater was one of the most beautiful for him and he is grateful that fate arranged a meeting of talented people. He has collaborated with people such as Jožo Chmel, Blaho Uhlár, Erika Lásková, Laco Kerata, Imro Maťo, Miloš Karásek, Zuza Piussi, Lucia Piussi and Inge Hrubaničová.