Category Archives: Austria

Ballet Shoes, Cowboy Boots and The Sound of Music

Last September in Salzburg, Austria, I took a break from the crowded streets of the city famous for being the birthplace of Mozart and for the movie The Sound of Music.  (Today, the inner core of the city during the day seems like a very expensive and very crowded shopping mall). I visited the Museum of Modern Art.  It’s located on top of Monchsberg, the steep mountain that towers over the city.  So the views are panoramic.

SalzView

I was a little disappointed with the permanent collection in the museum, because the captions were all in German–I know a little of the language, but not enough to decipher modern art.  Also, I might as well admit it’s not my favorite kind of art. But there was a special exhibit that made the elevator ride up the mountain more than worthwhile:  a series of videos about the great dancer and choreographer Merce Cunningham, and his longtime partner, composer John Cage.  The videos were all in English!  I spent quite a lot of time with earphones, glued to TV monitors, watching and listening to archival footage of the work of two men who profoundly influenced modern dance, and modern art in general.

Merce, Public

I had never before had a chance to see Merce Cunningham perform. He was active as a dancer, choreographer and teacher for over 70 years, until his death at age 90 in 2009. I had never understood the principles of his work, either.  Besides his longtime collaboration with John Cage, Merce Cunningham collaborated with other musicians, plus visual artists like Robert Rauschenberg.  The most radical innovation pioneered by Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Cage was that the music and the movements for a ballet should be created independently of each other, then put together in the same time and space–at either the dress rehearsal or the first performance.  The concept sounds counter-intuitive, but it works.  The effect of the many dances I watched in Salzburg was challenging but fascinating, even hypnotic. Instead of trying to figure out the plot of a sentimental story, the viewer is caught up in the infinite possibilities of human movement and human-made sound.

When Mr. Cunningham died in 2009, among the many tributes was an article in The New York Times by Alastair Macaulay.  The article is at http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/c/merce_cunningham/index.html. From the article, there are links to slideshows which give some idea of the energy and range of this towering artist.

Actually, watching these ballets gave me a new appreciation for modern, abstract and avant-garde art in general.  The dances were the movement and musical equivalents of non-representational art.  Clearly I need to expand my horizons.

Imagine my surprise when, at the top of a mountain in Austria, the Perry Mansfield Performing Arts School and Camp was mentioned as an important place in the artistic development of Merce Cunningham and John Cage.  The camp in Steamboat Springs, Colorado welcomed artists from the avant-garde from its very beginning in 1913.

During an open house celebrating the 100th anniversary of the founding of Perry Mansfield this past summer, I was able to see for myself that the arts are alive and well in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Ballet

Join me next time for more discoveries in the art and history of Europe–and the influences that extend to the farthest corners of our world.

Moonwalk with Ludwig

"King Ludwig II of Bavaria," Ferdinand Piloty, 1865, Public Domain

“King Ludwig II of Bavaria,” Ferdinand Piloty, 1865, Public Domain

Ludwig II of Bavaria identified with Louis XIV, the Sun King of France. (In German, Ludwig is the same name as Louis).  The trouble was, the French King Louis XIV actually was an absolute monarch who expanded and presided over quite a large and powerful empire.

Louis XIV by Rigaud, Public Domain

Louis XIV by Rigaud, Public Domain

Louis XIV was also a warrior. He actually led his own forces in the battlefield.  Ludwig? Not so much. And he had little interest in the day-to-day work of government. Ludwig was a monarch of the kingdom of Bavaria, which was much smaller and less powerful than France.  Through no real fault of Ludwig’s, Bavaria was more or less eaten up by Germany, under Kaiser Wilhelm I of Prussia, during his reign.  But while Bavarian independence lasted, Ludwig was a much-loved monarch of a proud independent kingdom.

LudwigBed1

He visited Versailles early in his reign.  When he came home, he decided to build a dream home–or maybe two or three or four dream homes.  Linderhof Palace, where he actually spent a lot of time, was designed as a mini-Versailles-for-one.  It is in French Rococo style and has any number of references to the Sun King, including this ceiling medallion in the main entry.

SunMedallion

But Ludwig called himself the Moon King.  He often stayed up all night and slept all day.  He was fond of moonlit sleighrides. Pulled by four white horses, he rode in solitary splendor, enjoying the spectacular Bavarian landscape of mountains, foothills and farms.

During these forays into the countryside, he would often stop and visit with the locals, who adored him.  His life was lonely, but by all accounts at least some of his servants and a few of his peers became loyal and trusted friends.  The movie Ludwig, directed by Luchino Visconti, touchingly describes some of these friendships, which lasted to the untimely end of Ludwig’s life.

Michael Jackson in Vienna, Austria, 1988, Zoran Veselinovic, Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike

Michael Jackson in Vienna, Austria, 1988, Zoran Veselinovic, Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike

If I had to make a modern comparison, I would compare Ludwig IV to Michael Jackson.  I would not want to offend fans of either man by carrying the comparison too far.  But both of them were romantic, idealistic, talented, misunderstood, and wildly famous but still lonely. Both of them died far too early in mysterious circumstances.  And both died accompanied only by their physicians.  Sometimes the past can help us understand the present.

Join me next time for more explorations in the art and history of Europe!

Nurturing Genius

One of my most unforgettable sights in a museum was a young child crouched on the floor of the Musee Picasso in Paris.  As her mother waited nearby, the little girl moved from one Picasso painting to another, intently drawing in a notebook. She was oblivious to anything around her, and people respectfully stood back to let her work.  What she was doing WAS work, not play.  Was she a budding genius, or just a kid going through a stage, as kids will?  Hard to tell, but I applaud her mom for patiently spending the day letting this child pursue her passion.

ChildPicasso

In his essay on Gianlorenzo Bernini, Simon Schama describes what happened when Bernini’s father, a sculptor himself, took the boy to visit the Pope:

Brought before the Borghese Pope Paul V, the eight-year-old did a shrewdly ingratiating lightning sketch of Saint Paul “with free bold strokes” that moved the astonished Pope to hope that he was looking at the next Michelangelo. To nurture his talent, Paul V appointed Cardinal Maffeo Barberini to watch over the young Bernini and shape his education.

Years of what all sculptors had to do – study and draw from classical models – followed. Even boy wonders had to learn the rules.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2006/sep/16/art

Art education is not just for boy wonders.  It’s for all of us. Imagine being a child lucky enough to take art classes at the Louvre!  It happens every day, there and at other centers of art.

LouvreArtClass

And every day, in every great museum, aspiring artists old and young set up their easels in front of masterpieces, in order to learn from the masters. This artist is copying The Peasant Wedding, painted in 1567 by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.  It’s in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

BreugelStudent

We all have just a little touch of genius inside us. Maybe I’d better get out my own easel and paints today!

The Musee Picasso, located in a 17th century mansion in the Marais district, is under renovation.  Its long-anticipated reopening is in summer of 2013.

Join me next time for more adventures exploring the art and history of Europe.

Snow and Strudel

One of the great pleasures of Austria is strudel, both sweet and savory.  A very popular restaurant in Old Town Innsbruck is ALL, strudel, all the time:  the Strudel-Cafe Kroll.  It is not always easy to find vegetarian meals in Austria, so we jumped at the chance to have spinach and cheese strudel for lunch in a charming small cafe.

Of course the classic apple strudel is served everywhere in Austria, with a choice of either warm vanilla sauce or or a small mountain of whipped cream–or both.  The truly decadent can always add a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

What about snow? The holiday season in Vienna starts toward the end of November, when the Christmas markets open, sparkling lights go up all over the city, and beautiful music fills the churches and concert halls.  In the past, we’ve been lucky enough to wake up to a city frosted with snow.

This year? We shall see.  We may not be lucky enough to have snow, but for sure there will be strudel.

Winter as a Child

Travel is not just about being there.  Travel is about memory and anticipation.  As I pack my one small suitcase for Vienna in November, I am full of memories of past trips and high hopes for this one.

Lady Caroline Scott as Winter; image from Commons Wikimedia Lady Caroline Scott as Winter; image from Commons Wikimedia

Last year, the Vienna Kunsthistorisches Museum had a special exhibit:  “Winter Tales.”  Paintings, sculpture and artifacts from all over the world were gathered in a glorious celebration of winter.  My very favorite piece was this portrait of a child with a fur-and-velvet muff and a scruffy little dog impatient for her to play:  “Lady Caroline Scott as Winter,” by Sir Joshua Reynolds.  Winter is so often personified as Death, or as a creaky old man.  Here, though, winter is a child full of hope and wonder.  She gazes out at us from the barren winter grounds of her British home, her face as fresh as the day she was painted in 1776 at the age of two or three.

This is not a glamorous society portrait.  It is only about 57 x 45 inches (just the right size to place over my fireplace, if I could afford such a thing!)  I can imagine the artist Sir Joshua Reynolds, age 51 at the time, encountering Lady Caroline in the bare winter grounds of her home.  Anyone would be captivated by her rosy-cheeked face and direct gaze.  I can see Sir Joshua dashing off a sketch and finishing the portrait back in his studio.  It would have made a nice break from painting his more demanding adult subjects, who proudly posed with the emblems of their wealth and power:  swords, globes, weighty books, jewels and fine silks.

The British Peerage tells us that Lady Caroline was the daughter of the 3rd Duke of Buccleuch. She married the 6th Marquess of Queensberry (slightly lower in rank than a Duke, but who’s keeping score?) She had 6 surviving children and lived to the age of 80.  So she was an exact contemporary of Jane Austen, although Jane died at age 41.  I’d like to think Lady Caroline read Jane’s books.

Lady Caroline was a privileged child.  As she grew up, no doubt she learned that many children were cold and dirty and hungry.  Her rank would come with some responsibilities to take care of the less fortunate.  She lived through the American Revolution, the Terror in France, and the Napoleonic Wars.  And we all know that even for the most privileged, life holds heartbreak and disappointment.  But on this wintry day, all that is in the future.  In this perfect moment, Lady Carolin stands on her sturdy little legs, happy to be walking about in the wide world.

Vienna is an enchanting city in any season, but my favorite time there is winter.  The Christmas season begins in late November, an ideal time for crowd-free travel.  I do not have a fur muff or a scruffy little dog, but I am setting off for Vienna with all the anticipation of a child at Christmas.