All of us can imagine the situation: in the darkest night, in a fog, in a car where the headlights shine impotently on a wall of mist, we are confronted with a complete loss of orientation, knowing absolutely nothing of what is to the right, what to the left, what is in front and what is behind. We grope, trying to find a fixed point with some primitive inner compass.
This situation is similar to what I experienced in the lower area of Vítkovice, where I circled endlessly around the monumental gas-storage tanks in their chaos of piping, hoping to guess where there could be this fixed point, where could there be Ostrava, where could there be the city’s historic core?
I groped like a half-asleep guest waking up in the night in an unknown hotel room...
...From the mere sense of disorientation of which side to make an entrance into the rotating structure of the gas storage tank, there emerged an analysis of the internal relations of Vítkovice and the centre of Ostrava. An analysis that reveals how to make good use lf the land along the river Ostravice, and what sense there is in the relation of Vítkovice to Ostrava.