Saturday 22 October 2011

On the racial segregation of windows

'But should the three window types of the three houses belong to one house, it is seen as a violation of the racial segregation of windows. Why? Each individual window has its own right to life.' - Friedensreich Regentag Dunkelbunt Hundertwasser
I have admired Hundertwasser for a while, ever since seeing the incredible incinerator at Spittelau in Vienna, but until last week I had not visited his other two architectural masterpieces here. The museum of his life and work and the series of flats called the Hundertwasserhaus are a stunning example of this artist's style and ideas, utterly different from their surroundings, but designed not to visually impress (although they certainly do) but to serve the needs of their inhabitants (both human and tree).

The above quote is a good indication of Vienna-born Hundertwasser's incredible talent for manifestos and declarations. Although these incorporate a good deal of the revolutionary and belligerent language one often finds in published and signed artistic outbursts, Friedrich Hundertwasser manages, by virtue of his obvious desire to make the modern world habitable for humans again, to come across as relevant and compassionate, rather than as awkward for the sake of it. Although he is deadly serious, there is a good natured and poetic hint in his writing, which I think is conveyed well by this short excerpt from an piece he wrote about stamps and stamp collecting (himself having designed a large number for various countries and organisations):

''A stamp must experience its destiny. A true stamp must feel the tongue of its sender when its glue is licked. It must experience the dark inside of the letterbox. The stamp must bear the postmark, it must feel the Postman's hand - a stamp that has not been sent on a letter is not a stamp as it has never lived. It is a precious piece of art that reaches everybody as a present from afar. The stamp must bear witness to culture, beauty and human creativity. The most viable mark of national identity becomes the most effective way to convey the message of harmony"

The artworks inside the Hundertwasser museum are brightly coloured and often naive seeming, with no sense of perspective or particular attention to accurate details, but the sheer energy of the compositions is really something else. However in many ways, I don't love Hundertwasser because he made really cool pictures (although he did). I love him because he dedicated himself to pointing out the unnatural eccentricities of modern life and the necessity of living closer to nature in the future for our physical and mental wellbeing, and because he made practical suggestions as to how we might go about it.

Consider: Hundertwasser promoted the idea of Baummieter, 'tree tenants', who would inhabit their own flats, outfitted for the needs of the tenant with waterproofing, open windows and deep soil. Every street would have trees projecting out into it at every level, and every building would have a roof of soil and vegetation. In summer these trees provide shade, shelter from rain showers, and a trap for the unhealthy ultrafine particles which continually plague the lungs of every city dweller. In the dark of winter, the leaves fall away and so we are left with a view of the sky. Throughout the year water can be channeled into the dwellings of the trees to be filtered before reaching the drains of the city. If any of this seems familiar it is because in today's densely populated and climate change threatened world, where over 50% of the world population lives in a city, the idea of a vertical garden and city agriculture is at the forefront of many forward thinking planners' minds.

Hundertwasser also believed that the straight line was a thing of the devil, and that flat floors were made to accommodate machines, not humans. For this reason the museum of his work famously boasts a serious of undulating floors to ensure that you have to use your full complement senses to get around. 'It is good to walk on uneven floors and regain our human balance'. This too might seem familiar, following studies examining the effect of hard, flat flooring on the development of our joints and muscles*.

Hundertwasser travelled often, including several long voyages in his boat 'Regentag' or 'rainy day', so called because of his love for the rich colours of a wet day. This boat took him as far as New Zealand, where he fell in love with the abundance of greenery and nature on show in the country, even designing a possible alternative flag for it. In his later years he spent 6 months of the year in a small house there, and is now buried there according to his wishes, straight in the ground, under a tree. I think it is this fact which gets at why I think Hundertwasser was so interesting. Yes he was a fabulously wealthy artist given to rather naive sounding proclamations, but what sets him apart is the amount of effort he went to to put his ideas into practice, from building blocks of flats with tree tenants to researching and implementing composting toilets.

Hundertwasser believed that the design and decoration of a house should begin AFTER the first tenants move in, because how can you design a house for somebody, they need to have free reign to change it as they wish. That is something that never struck me as strange about the way we treat design and buildings, and something I am grateful that Hundertwasser and his buildings brought to my attention!

You can all use the internet, I encourage you to check him out! Here are my own photos from my visit and some wandering I did afterwards (summary: Vienna continues to be very pretty).

Der Tom

*this is one of those things I'm sure I have read in a New Scientist somewhere, but it is listing dangerously into unjustified 'everybody knows' territory. I did some googling to look for literature or articles, but getting the right combination of words proved near-impossible. If anyone has any concrete evidence (for OR against) my wild claim, please let me know!

Tuesday 11 October 2011

Wienerwald

This post is basically only here to point you towards the pictures I took on my hike through the Wienerwald about 10 days or so back. Looking back at the photos now is odd, because in the intervening time the average temperature has dropped over 10 degrees and it is now grey and occasionally rainy for whole days at a time. The benefits of this are that when I went on a walk to mostly the same places as are in this album on Sunday, it was a completely different experience, with copious edible and non-edible fungi and the surprise discovery of FIRE SALAMANDERS on three separate occasions...

Other things wot I have done: carried on being officially a PhD student. It's still pretty great. More importantly, I have consumed a lot more beer than normal, because Ed's advent in town meant that we needed to rekindle his memories of Austrian breweries. I guess the reason I don't normally go to them so often is that I am safe in the knowledge that they will always be there when I want them. This is a pretty reassuring fact.

On Saturday I FINALLY had the opportunity to watch a performance by the Manuel Legris- headed Vienna Staatsoper Ballet, featuring everyone's favourite ballet dancer and friend, Ash! The performance was a series of 4 pieces, half originally choreographed by one George Ballanchine, the other by Jerome Robbins. Of course these names meant nothing to me at the beginning of the performance, but now I am very much impressed. I find super traditional, greek god and fairy based ballet to be a little hard to swallow, it is hard to be emotionally affected and drawn in to dancing when you are distracted by how the plot seems to be solely designed to entertain princes and princesses with lots of money and free time. Needless to say this had nothing to do with that type of ballet, even the more traditional style pieces gave you space to interpret the dance yourself and, frankly, just sit there open mouthed at how impressive it all was.

My favourite piece was the ballet 'Glass Pieces', set to music by Philip Glass (such as this piece of genius). Describing what actually happened in the ballet seems pretty pointless, but it made me think of computers and cities and communist utopias and martial arts and it also made me really addicted to listening to Philip Glass. All results which are not necessarily expected when one sets out to watch a ballet!

The best thing about the whole evening (apart from finally seeing a longstanding friend and fomer Mitbewohner do the thing he has trained to do since he was 11) was that whatever happened on stage, I was always just as excited to see what the heck would happen next! Surprises are great, especially when they are good.

Bis bald, der Tom.

Thursday 6 October 2011

Lange Nacht der Museen

One thing I had been looking forward to ever since I knew for sure I was going to be in Vienna in October was getting another crack at the long night of the museums. For €13 you get entry to as many museums as you wish to enter between the hours of 6pm and 1am. You are unlikely to run out, over 100 museums take part in Vienna alone and 660+ in all of Austria.

There are many approaches to be taken with such an opportunity. Some hold that you should go to the most ludicrous museums possible, safe in the knowledge that if the snow globe museum isn't very good then you didn't lose out. Others use it as an excuse to try and rack up the most money saved, visiting the big Vienna museums for the price of entry to one. Whichever strategy one chooses, a prospective 7 hours of museum viewing does require a strategy. If you think about it, that's about as many hours on your feet as a pretty reasonable day hike, and you wouldn't just wander off into the hills without a plan, would you? Oh alright you probably would, but this is MUSEUMS we're talking about.

This year I went for a slightly more focussed approach than my first year, as I have already been to a number of the bigger museums several times, and I have had the luxury of time to work out what I have missed out on. I started by going to the museum literally 2 minues walk from my flat, because it felt rude not to. It is the Austrian Museum of 'Volkskunde' which literally translates as folklore but really it is a museum of austrian ethnology sort of thing. Ie they study what people were like in the past and how attitudes change, from what they wrote and what they made, ate off, read, played, etc. It was a cool spin on a normal museum, as I don't tend to think about what objects in museums are telling me about how popular attitudes and prejudices changed. One forgets that people from the past were just as susceptible to misinformation and misplaced countryside nostalgia as anyone is today...

THEN I went to the Austrian National Bank (10 minutes from my house) for a brief but entertaining visit where I saw a €100,000 coin and lifted a 12.5kg / €500,000 gold bar. Cool! I made an aborted attempt to check out a telescope which was too overcrowded, and then by way of a classic tram that was out for the night, made my way back towards the heart of Museum-Vienna. I have always wanted to go into the Secession building, a beautiful piece of Jugendstil architecture, but I've never felt that the size was worth the price, especially seeing how likely it was to contain incomprehensible conceptual art. Well, it did, but it also contains the greatest piece by Gustav Klimt I've ever seen. The beethoven frieze wasn't even ever supposed to be anything but a decoration for an exhibition, but the figures in it are beautiful, the (to me) normally strange gold-and-pattern colour scheme of Klimt works really well here, and all the mythological creatures/demons/temptations etc are brilliantly done. I'd probably pay full price just to go stare at it again!

Continuing the theme of hellish creatures, I met up with Ash and I directed him to the picture gallery of the academy of visual arts to see the epic Heironymus Bosch masterpiece, the Last Judgement Triptych. I do not use epic unadvisedly. It is three panels, one of eden, one of earth ending in fire, and one of hell. The backgrounds of fiery black mountains stretch infinitely into the distance, in the skies above heaven the angels are duelling, and everywhere genuinely horrific, twisted but faintly comic creatures or ex-humans are crawling out of, through or around things as people are trapped in spiked cages or simply swallowed up by the ground. Basically, if I were a 15th century peasant and I saw it, I would go to church every day for the rest of my life. AMAZING.

So many hours in museum mode can be tiring, so we dropped in to the Heldenplatz and bought huge Krapfen. Which have a silly name if you're english but actually they are Austria's version of filled doughnuts. And instead of those ones you get in Tesco which are over-sugary doughy rubbish, these were light, sweet, satisfying apricot jam filled pieces of genius. So good I sort of didn't regret not buying a langos...

Finally we headed over to the Leopoldsmuseum to take in their huge exhibition of Egon Schiele paintings (After I forced a 15 minute detour to see the ever wonderful meteorite room in the natural history museum..). Egon Schiele was a genius expressionist painter, but his paintings and drawings of humans distorted into gangly, ungainly caricatures of the traditional artist's nude are not what one would call relaxing. The amount of awkwardness he can portray in his truly unique style, with pose as much as colour and his jittery but somhow still purposeful lines is admirable from an art point of view, but you aren't ever going to put him on your wall. There was also a nice selection of other german expressionists too though, so it wasn't all tortured nude people.

And with that my feet nearly fell of and I limped home, having thoroughly though only temporarily sated my culture-lust.

Tune in sometime soon for a brief account of how the next day I decided to rest my feet by going for a hike in the Wienerwald!

Der Tom.

PS some photos in the usual place.