Originally written for the current exhibition of the Horus Archives\u2014on view at 2B Gal\u00e9ria in Budapest until 20 June 2025\u2014the following essay, reflecting on the decalog by founder S\u00e1ndor Kardos, is now shared with English readers for the first time accompanied by a selection of vernacular photographs from the archive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me<\/strong>
Young man! The more you want to know, the further back you must go.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ancient Greek literature. My first exam at the Faculty of Humanities. Terror and excitement. I went to my father's friend, Mr. T\u00f3tisz, at the antiquarian bookstore on Lenin Boulevard, and asked where to find this era. I started browsing. The sentence was spoken behind me. In the Bible, several prophets hear the command from behind their backs, Ezekiel, for example. According to the Kabbalah, nothingness can represent the Lord, and evoking nothingness can be achieved by concentrating on what we see behind our heads. I turned around\u2014the one who spoke had just stepped out of the door. Grey hair sticking out from under a crumpled hat, a genuinely shabby grey trench coat, worn-down heels. The way messengers look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image<\/strong>
Lick and enjoy!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
A red-haired, freckled child is always perfect for this kind of job. We had to shoot an ice cream commercial. At the time, pre-made ice creams on stick were just breaking into our country. The factory wasn\u2019t yet able to produce them, but the ad campaign had to be ready, so they commissioned a well-known visual artist to create a realistic wooden replica of the ice cream. However, the sensitive, freckled child found no joy in licking a piece of wood. His tongue was full of splinters, his mouth curled into a sob, while the director was still yelling at him: \u201cLick and enjoy!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain<\/strong>
Comrade K\u00e1d\u00e1r blew me a kiss<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
From the diary of my friend\u2019s mother: \u201cMay Day parade. The square was covered in flags, balloons\u2014the atmosphere of the workers\u2019 movement. And as we marched in that great crowd, I clearly saw in the square that General Secretary K\u00e1d\u00e1r blew me a kiss. When we had to spell out \u201cLong Live the Party\u201d (\u00c9ljen a p\u00e1rt!<\/em>) in the square, I was the dot above the letter j, even though I had a torn tendon at the time. I was proud that I could still run to my place\u2014where the dot, that is, I, belonged. The rules of Hungarian spelling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy<\/strong>
They put the corpse out on the street.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father\u2019s friends played chess every weekend for two days straight. None of them were actual chess players\u2014more like poets, writers, photographers, and completely ordinary people. Still, I had to be quiet, while they could talk utter nonsense for two days in a kind of trance. Once, a Kossuth Prize-winning writer repeated for forty-eight hours straight: \u201cThey put the corpse out on the street.\u201d In my head, I always corrected him: not on the street, in the courtyard. Two days is a long time. Meanwhile, he would sometimes win, sometimes lose. Everyone had some kind of phrase they kept repeating. And I had to shut up, because I was disturbing them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My parents forced me to read one of the famous writer\u2019s books. To become cultured, to polish my mind, they said. Between two chess games, they brought me before the great man. He suddenly asked me a test question: \u201cWhat\u2019s the name of the protagonist?\u201d I thought he\u2019d be curious about the story\u2019s brilliant twists\u2014whether I understood them. Under the terrible weight of the moment, something dreadful popped out of my head: Gacsaj Pesta! <\/em>I can\u2019t even imagine where my brain dug that up from. I knew it was nonsense\u2014but had no idea how much<\/em>. The great man slowly lifted his gaze from me and looked painfully into the distance: \u201cYou are uneducated, my son,\u201d he said, and walked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In my humiliation, I spent decades spreading the rumor that I knew him as a kid and that he didn\u2019t even write that novel\u2014he stole it from someone. Once, another great writer set me straight. He had no sense of humor, of course, but said: \u201cThat book is good because, you see, he hated everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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5. Honour thy father and thy mother<\/strong>
Why won\u2019t you eat the broth?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father yells at me, puts me in the corner, I wet myself. Next to me stands a huge felt pilot boot. No one in the family was ever a pilot, I don\u2019t know where it came from, but it stood there for many years. My father had a quick temper, but he\u2019d forget things just as quickly. Once they had a big argument, and we didn\u2019t go to the park together. My mother still took me\u2014she sat with me by the fountain and, as she often did, read novels aloud to me. I loved the circus wagons traveling the world, Jules Verne\u2019s Two Years' Vacation<\/em>, when they ride a giant tortoise, and Victor Hugo\u2019s The Man Who Laughs. I felt completely calm inside when I saw a familiar figure in the distance. So he\u2019d softened, came after us\u2014he even brought the Kodak Retina camera.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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6. Thou shalt not kill<\/strong>
What would you say if we shot you dead right now, together with your child? <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
This question was asked by the commander of a Arrow Cross unit to my mother, who was breastfeeding me in the ghetto at the time. The question came after they had surrounded us and cocked their rifles. My mother\u2019s bare breast in my mouth. Perhaps I even felt it tense up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Over my long life, I\u2019ve often thought about what one could possibly answer to that. If I were in that situation! There are many things I admire my mother for, but for this, most of all. She found the right answer: \u201cBrother B\u00e9la! You are a much better man than to do something like that.\u201d They lowered their weapons and left. Brother and better man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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7. Thou shalt not commit adultery<\/strong>
Otherwise, he was a charming man!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of my mother\u2019s stories\u2014she was a globe-trotting dancer. When new girls arrived at the nightclub in Alexandria, the owner\u2014who was famously well-endowed\u2014would pull the tip of it up over his belt, then extend a hand and introduce himself. Seeing my look of genuine shock, my mother quickly added: Otherwise, he was a charming man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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8. Thou shalt not steal<\/strong>
Mr. Kardos, the boy stole firewood<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
After the war, my father tried to make a living trading firewood. He rented a lumberyard by the Vizafog\u00f3 railway station. There was a small office beside it, and outside, a vast heap of chopped logs stood like a mountain. I was a small child then\u2014it seemed to me as tall as Gell\u00e9rt Hill. I spent my days playing on the stumps, scaling summits, scanning the horizon from a deserted island for a ship that might come and rescue me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The policeman would come. A different one each day. The commander must have rotated the officers so that all would learn the lay of the district. He was a striking figure\u2014handsome in his finely pressed grey uniform, his helmet crowned with a raised aluminum ridge so he couldn\u2019t be struck down so easily. To be taken prisoner by him was almost a delight. I knew I\u2019d be released soon enough. He\u2019d take me by the ear and lead me into the office. \u201cMr. Kardos, the boy stole firewood.\u201d The matter was quickly resolved\u2014my father handed over a bit of money and thanked him for keeping watch over the lumber. Perhaps the policemen passed the story on to each other\u2014because it happened every single day. The words, the gesture,\u2014exactly the same. There was something strangely beautiful in being captured and released\u2014as if the offence itself had been quietly erased, made null. Like in my dreams, when we, the kuruc rebels, were already losing, the labanc troops had us surrounded, no way out\u2014 I flung my sword and cried: Time out!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
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9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour<\/strong>
That\u2019s a tenner<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Late at night. \u201cListen, in a case like this, the law accepts two police officers as witnesses. You crossed the solid line, we\u2019re two of us, so that\u2019s a tenner. Identification.\u201d \u201cAnd I\u2019m Lieutenant Colonel Kunkov\u00e1cs\u2014so since you\u2019re<\/em> two, that makes it twenty. And we never met.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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10. You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbour<\/strong>
We committed an unlawful act within our own jurisdiction<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stood behind the closed door, axe in hand, and rehearsed the movement\u2014how I would crush the policeman\u2019s skull the moment he stepped through the opening door. We had just come through three and a half years of legal torture. We had exhausted every legal avenue\u2014and lost at every turn. In the apartment where I had been born\u2014back when it was part of the ghetto\u2014I had, in good faith, become a man without rights. It had once been the landlord\u2019s apartment\u2014windows on two streets, a balcony, spacious and bright. By the time all the elderly Jewish ladies and gentlemen had passed away, the flat was deemed too large for our legal entitlement. Even though I had a newborn child.Someone took a liking to that apartment. I don\u2019t know who it was. But the police eviction date had already been set. It must have shown on my face. My teacher at the Film Academy, J\u00e1nos Hersk\u00f3, asked me what was wrong. At a November 7th reception, he approached Comrade Sarl\u00f3s, the head of the Budapest Council, and said: \u201cHere\u2019s a young, talented cinematographer\u2014don\u2019t screw him over like that!\u201d Then the letter arrived. We hereby acknowledge that we, the District VII Council, committed an unlawful act within our own jurisdiction. <\/em>Somewhere, someone must have been very upset. But you promised! And they didn\u2019t say: Imagine this poor bastard, born in the ghetto, and now we\u2019re evicting him. Comrade Sarl\u00f3s decided otherwise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
The Horus Archives, Kossuth Prize recipient cinematographer S\u00e1ndor Kardos\u2019s collection of vernacular photography, is the largest private collection in Hungary in terms of size, comprising close to one million images.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
To know more about the archive visit their website: horusarchives.com<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by S\u00e1ndor Kardos Originally written for the current exhibition of the Horus Archives\u2014on view at 2B Gal\u00e9ria in Budapest until 20 June 2025\u2014the following essay, reflecting on the decalog by founder S\u00e1ndor Kardos, is now shared with English readers for the first time accompanied by a selection of vernacular photographs from the archive. 1. Thou […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3216,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[16],"tags":[21,20,22],"class_list":["post-3177","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-photo-essay","tag-archives","tag-found-imagery","tag-the-hungarian-scene"],"yoast_head":"\n
Ten engraved sentences - Eidolon Journal<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/everydayphotography.org\/journal\/ten-engraved-sentences\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Ten engraved sentences - Eidolon Journal\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"by S\u00e1ndor Kardos Originally written for the current exhibition of the Horus Archives\u2014on view at 2B Gal\u00e9ria in Budapest until 20 June 2025\u2014the following essay, reflecting on the decalog by founder S\u00e1ndor Kardos, is now shared with English readers for the first time accompanied by a selection of vernacular photographs from the archive. 1. Thou […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/everydayphotography.org\/journal\/ten-engraved-sentences\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Eidolon Journal\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2025-06-02T11:09:54+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2025-06-10T19:57:52+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/everydayphotography.org\/journal\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/Nekivand_jpg-2-scaled.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"2560\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1784\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Roza Tekla Szilagyi\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Roza Tekla Szilagyi\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"10 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Roza Tekla Szilagyi\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/e8b94099dbc343e8a22a87d524216f26\"},\"headline\":\"Ten engraved sentences\",\"datePublished\":\"2025-06-02T11:09:54+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2025-06-10T19:57:52+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences\"},\"wordCount\":1798,\"commentCount\":0,\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2025\\\/06\\\/Nekivand_jpg-2-scaled.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"archives\",\"found imagery\",\"the Hungarian scene\"],\"articleSection\":[\"Photo-essay\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/everydayphotography.org\\\/journal\\\/ten-engraved-sentences\",\"name\":\"Ten engraved sentences - 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