Italians and Spanish and cake

Though you can't tell it from this blog, most days on this trip I eat healthier and less than when I'm at home.  Sometimes, though, a great restaurant or a street vendor makes a bit of bad eating simply irresistible.  So it was today, on the way to the Kunsthistorische Museum to see its collection of Italian and Spanish works, when the wurst stand beckoned me with its promise of the wurst box.

Click on any image to see a larger version.

We're talking wurst with cheese, on top of French fries, covered in more-or-less ketchup, in a Chinese take-out box.

No, I didn't even come close to finishing it.

Back at the museum, but this time in its Italian wing, another man was painting a reproduction. 

Sorry for the hazy shot; it's hard to get good pictures surreptitiously.  I don't know why, but seeing a person doing that makes me happy.

I know very little about Francesco Furini, but after seeing his work today, I want to know more.  This piece was particularly lovely.

Similarly, the Spanish painter Antonio de Pereda was new to me but really engaged me with this symbol-laden piece.

The collection was reasonably varied, with far more Italian works than Spanish.  Had I never visited the museums in Florence or Venice, this would have struck me as an amazing set of paintings.  It is amazing, but obviously not up to the sets of Italian paintings in those cities.

Diego Velazquez had few works on display, but those available were beautiful.  I particularly liked this one, which was one of the last two pieces he completed before his death. 

Again, never let anyone tell you your best work is behind you. 

The photo I took cannot capture the beauty of this Bronzino, and the glare is terrible, but the picture is still, I think, worth sharing.

By the way, don't get spoiled by all these pictures; the great bandwidth at this hotel is what makes it reasonable for me to share them.  When the bandwidth quality declines, so, too, will the picture count. 

The greatest revelations for me today came from the work of Giuseppe Arcimboldo, a sixteenth-century painter I am amazed and embarrassed I had not encountered before.  This guy's best work, his "portraits" of seasons and elements, was whacked in absolutely wonderful ways. 

Here's his Summer.

Yes, he makes heads of an amazing variety of things.  I particularly loved Water. 

To return to a more traditional master, the collection had a nice sampling of paintings by Raphael, such as this Madonna.

Yes, I really broke the no-photography rule today.  People were doing it everywhere, the guards didn't seem to care, and I wasn't using a flash, so I went a bit crazy.

Also on display were quite a few works by Tintoretto.  Most featured his usual dark backgrounds, but I absolutely fell for this completely atypical, lighter piece. 

The collection also included a few paintings by Veronese and Titian, whose works I always enjoy seeing.

In another part of the giant complex that was once the home of the Habsburgs sits a much smaller museum that showcases part of the royal treasury and regalia.  After hours of paintings, seeing some fully dimensional objects was just the right ticket. 

I particularly liked this "unicorn horn," which of course is from a narwhal (and labeled as both; I do not ever mean to imply that these folks don't know what they're doing, because they do).

Most of the items were the sort of splendid, jewel-encrusted pieces you'd expect, but some, including the reliquaries, were more unusual.  I particularly liked this box, which they dated to 1660 and attributed to Daniel Neuberger. 

Yeah, I'd like to party with Dan.

Here's a coronation mantle.

Not impressive, you say?  It's from 1131. 

Sure, this crown is on the rough side.

Of course, it's from 1030.

Want a fancy binding for your Bible?

They knew how to do it in 1500. 

On the I-said-this-was-a-rough-food-day front, I had to make sure that while I was in Vienna I went to the Hotel Sacher and had an original sacher torte (well, one of the two legally approved originals). 

As I'd feared, it was merely okay, even a bit dry.  When it comes to quick dessert stops, I'll take a tiny cup of Florentine gelato every day--and it has way fewer calories. 

The art today, though, more than made up for the cake. 

Durer, Vermeer, Rubens, Bruegel, Brueghel, Rembrandt, Van Dyck, oh my!

The Kunsthistorische Museum was closed yesterday, so my second trip to it had to wait until today.  The picture gallery splits the northern painters from the Italians, so for variety today it was northern time.

The entrance is certainly grand and wants you to know that the Habsburg collection rivals anything anywhere. 

Click on an image to see a larger version.

In this gallery as in all the others I've visited, a few painters emerge as far better than the others.  Today's first stand-out was Rubens, whose work is both lovely and more varied than I had realized (which is not saying much, given how weak my knowledge of art is).  Deeper into the galleries, a lot of works by Durer, some by Vermeer, a few Rembrandts, many Van Dycks, and a great deal of both Pieter (the elder) Bruegel's and Jan (the elder) Brueghel's paintings were enough to fill my mind and heart.  I didn't take many pictures--once again, the museum does not allow it--but I did capture this famous Brueghel still life.

I can't explain exactly why, but in person it is simply exquisite.

As is Vermeer's The Art of Painting, an amazing piece of work in its time--and today.

Only two Bosch pieces were on display, but both were memorable, and I'm very glad I got to see them..

One of the great joys of a museum is encountering a piece by someone you do not know and finding yourself in love with it.  I know next to nothing about Hugo van der Goes, but I adore this picture.

Though quite famous and a piece with which I was at least cursorily familiar, in person Pieter (the elder) Bruegel's Tower of Babel blew me away. 

Sorry for the haziness; it's my fault, not Bruegel's. 

An oddity I loved was that the museum had allowed this painter to set up her canvas as she worked on her reproduction of Pieter (the elder) Bruegel's The Peasant Dance. 

Brain full and the museum closing, it was time for a walk to the English cinema where I saw Oblivion.  I enjoyed it well enough, though it's not a great film. 

Along the way, a store window featured this strange latex fetish bunny.  WTF?

On the walk back to the hotel, in a window display across the street and down a bit from the rabbit, this creature perched.

Store windows are different here.

A palace and Spring

Empress Elisabeth of Austria, or "Sisi," was one of the more interesting nobles of the last couple of centuries.  Smart, strong-willed, beautiful, and more than a little whacked, she married at 15 into the huge responsibility of Empress and then fought with that role the rest of her life.  An anarchist killed her with a letter opener. 

Her quarters and those of her husband, Franz Joseph I, are open for viewing (at a fee, of course; nothing once imperial is now free).  I had known little about Sisi, and though I know only somewhat more now, I find her a fascinating character.  Franz Joseph was also quite the character, and touring their quarters today and reading about them, I was glad to have been able to learn a bit more. 

Though not ostentatious by, say, de' Medici standards, this imperial palace was quite impressive, if more clearly designed for function than the ones in Florence or Venice.  The place banned photography, and the guards were more alert than in most, so I took very few pictures.  This chandelier definitely demonstrated the beauty of Austrian crystal.

Click on any image to see a larger version.

The adjoining silver museum, which contains a goodly sampling (though by no means anywhere near all) of the silverware and dishes for the palace was interesting both for the excesses it demonstrated and for the logistics challenges that palace life posed the staff. 

Did I mention excess?

Due to the fact that Franz Joseph frequently preferred to dine alone but also to eat at the same time as his marshalls, cooks often had to finish heating his meals in stairwells using pans and trays they had for just that purpose. 

On another part of the huge grounds that were once part of the imperial turf sits a lovely little park, the Burrgarten.  Spring, which has been slow to arrive everywhere I've been, finally made an appearance today in the form of this tree, which I shot from the ground while leaning against a nearby wall and dozing in the late afternoon sun.

Many locals had the same idea.

I am a huge fan of odd food stands, so it's only natural that this one would catch my eye. 

Tomorrow, more art!

The Habsburgs and the art of collecting

Vienna does a very good job of being both a modern center of global commerce and a city full of historical wonders.  Walk across a busy street, glance to the side, and wonder often greets you.

Click on any image to see a larger version.

On this vacation, I rarely try to go directly anywhere.  I'm in no hurry, I don't have to be anywhere, and I like what I encounter when I wander a bit.  Today was no exception:  a very indirect course led to the happy circumstance of encountering this grand old church.

St. Charles' Church, or Karlskirche, is an early 1700s-era baroque cathedral that features both an ornate interior and two amazing columns literally wrapped in carved stories. 

Though under renovation, the interior is still lovely and well worth a visit. 

The fresco in the dome, while not up to the best of what I've seen this trip, is still beautiful and an incredible piece of work. 

Amazingly,  Johann Michael Rottmayr, the man who did it, began the project at age 70 and finished it five years later.  Don't let anyone tell you ever that your best work is behind you.  It doesn't have to be. 

A lift takes you to a platform from which you have a great view of the interior.  From the platform, 11 sets of 11 steps each (isn't 11 just a great number?  I quite like it) take you up into the top of the dome.  The views of the city from there are great, but what you see on the inside is a sad reminder that people everywhere can't resist marking historical objects. 

Now, I'm a fan of graffiti, but really, folks, couldn't we give the tower of a nearly three-centuries-old church a break?

The church adjoins a park that was full of folks doing what people do everywhere in parks:  having fun, hanging out, playing with friends and kids.  I love this multi-kid teeter-totter.

On the way to a museum, I couldn't help but notice this rat-dog of a purse in a window.  Amazing.

Speaking of amazing, said museum was the Kunsthistorisches Museum, which houses much of the kunstkammer, or collection, of the Habsburgs.  The notion behind building a kunstkammer was to gather objects that covered all of your interests, which should of course be all of creation, and in doing so to demonstrate both how amazingly knowledgeable you were and how very, very rich you were.  Given how much money the Habsburgs had and how much of the world (particularly but not exclusively the European world) they at times ruled, the fraction of their kunstkammer that I could see in several hours today was very impressive indeed. 

I particularly enjoyed the automata, but I have no pictures for you; the museum did not permit photography, and the staff was on the job. 

I did manage to take a quick snap of this amazing, multi-leaved altar decoration, a huge construction that in a way was a giant comic book. 

I also grabbed a quick pic of the famous Cellini salt cellar, but it was so out of focus that you'll do better to look at the image here.  It's the only piece Cellini did in gold, and at the instruction of a cardinal, he did it for the king of France.  (The cardinal said the model was so good that Cellini should do it only for that king, and Cellini, being no fool, got the introduction and the commission.  The king then gave it to the Habsburgs.) 

Okay, I did get another picture in the museum.

So the clockmaker is working away, wondering how to top his creation, and he thinks, "Sure, I'll put on Christ, but everyone does that.  Hmmm.  I know!  I'll stick a skull in a jar."  I love those moments. 

The Habsburgs may have had some of the worst underbites in history, but they sure knew how to collect. 

St. Stefan's, oddities, back to embarrassing basics

Quite some time ago, a bit over two decades back, in fact, I used to wake up almost every day the same way:  instantly alert, ready to go, my body almost trembling with energy and the need to expend it.  Today, for the first time in all those years, I had a small hint of that energy when I finally got out of bed after noon.  I hope to recapture it all before I go home. 

Most of the remaining daylight today went to wandering Vienna without a plan.  The city certainly affords many lovely urban views. 

Click on any image to see a larger version.

Lunch was at a random restaurant down a side street, a place that turned out to specialize in potatoes (mains) and apples (desserts).  This odd little eatery was full of people speaking German, which is a good sign, and featured in two different places the large and strange Ms. and Mr. Potato.

My lunch was also odd:  potatoes with "green cheese and herbs."  The "green cheese" seemed to be a variant of cottage cheese. 

Though it was reasonably tasty, it was also huge, so I did not come anywhere close to eating all of it. 

Down the nearest main street from the restaurant, yarn bombers had struck.

A little farther along, and part of St. Stephan's came into view. 

Directly across from this majestic gothic cathedral stood this modern building, making clear the dual nature of Vienna as both picture city and global city of commerce.

Did I mention gothic?

Not just on the outside, of course.

Five euros buys you a ride on a small lift to the top of the main cathedral (not the tallest tower).  From there, the colored tiles of the roof are clearer--and definitely large.

The view of the side of the cathedral is if anything better from above than from below.

For no good reason, I rather like large bells, and this one, in the tower you get to visit, was quite nifty. 

The views over the city also did not suck.

Outside, the weather had turned a bit brisk, so the working horses were under their blankets and, yes, ear warmers.

Gelato is everywhere!

No, I did not have any; the potato still owned my stomach. 

I would absolutely have gone into the Die Fledermaus Discotheque, had it only been open.

Did I mention lovely churches appearing down streets?

Or a fountain materializing at an intersection?

The sky was lovely today, but somehow very different from the Florentine and Venetian skies I saw. 

Frequent readers of this blog will know that I love movies.  I've watched a few on pay-per-view while here just to scratch that itch, but I decided to indulge myself this weekend with one or two English-language films.  Given how much wonderful art I've been seeing, I felt it only appropriate that I choose something representative of the great art of America, so I found myself in a Viennese theater watching this soon-to-be-classic. 

In 3D, no less!

Yeah, I'm not proud, but I went there.  I also had a grand time with the silliness of it all. 

Exiting the cinema, what should I find to its left but...another lovely old church. 

Of course.  A fitting counterpart indeed.

Tomorrow, I have no clue what I'll do--which is how I wake up almost every day on this trip.  I quite like that.