Viktor Prokop

Country: Czech Republic

Biography

Viktor Prokop is a Czech theatre-maker from České Budějovice, where he first found the stage as a gymnasium student and never quite left it. He studied directing and dramaturgy of alternative and puppet theatre at DAMU, trained at Divadlo DISK, and now works across ensembles including TMEL, Damúza, and Naivní divadlo Liberec. His productions—Pelech, O jako Otesánek, Bába a holub, and the forthcoming Větroplaši—treat the world as something slightly off-balance, approached through small, often wry gestures rather than grand statements. An exchange at KHiO in Oslo widened that curiosity, and he continues to move between theatre, intermedia, and visual practice at the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague. Onstage and off, he looks for new ways of relating to himself and to the room around him. He is also a member of the indie-folk band Šerosvit, carrying the same attention to tone from rehearsal into song. Whether directing, dramaturging, or appearing in the work, he stays close to live encounter: bodies, objects, and the quiet joke that opens a larger question. That mix of craft, play, and restlessness is what he brings to every collaboration.

The Nest

The Nest is a wordless puppet expedition into wild ground, where something rustles under the rocks and no one is sure who is hiding, hunting, or watching. Unusual creatures emerge from the shadows: some look for shelter, some compete, some try to outwit everyone else. Survival here depends on instinct, cooperation, and constant adaptation. When the safety of the nest suddenly vanishes, the stage becomes a living ecosystem in which every movement counts. Directed by Viktor Prokop for the Prague collective TMEL, the piece mixes puppetry, visual storytelling, and inventive stagecraft into an atmospheric adventure. Humour, mystery, and tension sit side by side as the performance traces fear, belonging, vulnerability, and coexistence. Inspired by the rhythms of the natural world, it never pretends that safety is guaranteed. Fifty minutes later you leave with the feeling that the wilderness—and the nest—are still in motion.