Vienna Waits For You #4: Feeding the Jugendstil Obsession

The Black Room and attached persons were to arrive this night, so I decided to hit all the Kathleen’s-obsession-specific sites during the day, so nobody had to listen to me whining about how hard it was to fit in a visit to Majolikahaus between SBL sessions during the week. In this spirit, then, I made a beeline for Otto Wagner’s masterpiece, the aforementioned Majolikahaus, as soon as I was adequately breakfasted.

I managed to go the wrong way first, and hopped out one station down the wrong track, but used the opportunity to admire the lively Art Nouveau U-Bahn station.

Which was actually a waste of time, as the correct one turned out to be identical. I didn’t have far to go, as Majolikahaus was actually visible from the station platform, then I took a lot of photos.

You can see how Wagner was influenced by some of the trademarks of Glasgow’s own Charles Rennie Mackintosh in his designs. The point of this house, though apparently richly decorated, was simplicity in contrast to the rich mouldings of many Viennese buildings, including the Art Nouveau buildings. CRM and Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh (whose figures, by the way, I love and who also had a profound influence on Klimt) were due to move to Vienna in 1914 – where their work would no doubt have been better appreciated – but were prevented by the onset of war. I’m such a geek.

Then I got back on the U-Bahn. Again, I managed to go the wrong way, but soon fixed it. I changed at Schwedenplatz to tram N, as planned (really hoping I was going in the right direction), and made it safely to the extraordinary, revelatory, gorgeous Hundertwasserhaus. A riot of colour. Just look at this:

Hundertwasser was commissioned to liven up state housing, and he probably fulfilled his mandate. Hundertwasser’s floors are uneven, mimicking a forest floor, as he said, “the straight line is godless.” My kind of guy. He also believed that humanity should minimise its negative impact, so he reclaimed as many surfaces as possible for nature, referring to trees as the other “tenants”. Each corridor may be decorated with murals, doodles or anything else the residents feel like, as he was of the opinion that the tenants should have the right to control their living space. The building is crowned by an enormous gold onion dome, signifying that “God is in every home.”

To prevent the growing numbers of tourists ringing doorbells in an attempt to get into the building, he built Kalke Village opposite, an arcade which contains similar décor and uneven flooring – a wee bit disconcerting when combined with staircases – and – get this – the Toilet of Modern Art. I kid you not:

I didn’t pay the Euro to get into the actual toilet area, and sort of wish I had, now. But you get the idea.

Back upstairs, I bought a Christmas ornament – good German practice, also – and a teeny bust of Mozart for Mariam. As an afterthought, I returned to buy one of Strauss for myself. Very sophisticated, I think.

Next stop – Karlsplatz. Again. This time, however, I took the chance to admire Otto Wagner’s original U-Bahn pavilions from close range before disappearing into the Wien Museum.

I quickly toured the history of Vienna from Roman times to the building of the current Stephansdom. I wanted to make it to the small but fine fin-de-siécle collection on the top floor. Klimt!

I did dutifully pop my head into the mediaeval to Renaissance exhibitions, usually not my favourite era, and got distracted by the enviable shininess of the armour. Once drawn in, I actually found that I enjoyed the exhibitions and got lost in the various panorama of Vienna painted at different stages and with different intentions – one, for example, intended to make known abroad Vienna’s impenetrable fortifications (slightly overstated). Then there was a fascinating series of works devoted to the Turkish siege.

Upstairs, I skipped the Biedermeiers initially (too straight-laced), and went straight for the “Vienna in the fin-de-siécle” gallery. Klimt! I spent so much time in there that I practically bought the entire gallery in postcard form! I usually only buy postcards of my very very favourite paintings or those I spend a lot of time with. Great Klimts, especially “Liebe”, my favourite Klimt painting. I spent the most time looking at three portraits of men embodying this period in Vienna: Richard Gerstl’s portrait of the composer (and sometime artist) Arnold Schönberg, Richard Gerstl’s self-portrait, and Schönberg’s portrait of Alban Berg. Particularly interesting was Gerstl’s portrait of Schönberg, which I gazed at, noting the soft but intelligent expression and deciding that it had to have been painted with a real warmth and respect for the subject. On reading up a bit about Richard Gerstl later, I found out that Gerstl’s mistress, Mathilde, was Schönberg’s wife, and Gerstl’s eventual suicide was prompted by her return to her husband. Fascinating.

I tore myself away to locate the WC. I had just got in when the outer door opened, a clanking squeaky noise began, and then was followed by singing. Scary, tuneless, yet creepily joyful singing. It sounded like there was a cleaner in the house. A cleaner who was ready to kill! I made my escape while she was in the gents.

I checked out the café in the atrium. I didn’t know if I was meant to sit down or not, but the man at the bar leaned forward expectantly, so I thought I should come up with something intelligent to say. It’s hard enough in English.
“Um… für Mittagessen?” I squeaked. (Um… lunch?)
He raised an eyebrow and responded in English. “If you like…”
Things went about this well from then on. I began to suspect it wasn’t just me, when the waiter began to jump out from the kitchen area to holler, “Grüß Gott!” at unsuspecting visitors as they emerged from a nearby lift. Many jumped. I realised, in a moment of great epiphany, that it didn’t really matter if one man in Austria thought I was a bit odd – in the grand scheme of things, at least.

Nevertheless, I fled the café as soon as I had paid, and decided to visit the ground floor WC on my way out, planning as I was to go to the cinema next. I had no sooner turned the lock than the outer door banged open and the tiled bathroom reverberated to the sound of creepy singing…

Read on: Vienna Waits For You #5: Mishaps and Meetings