Life, with the garden
Location: Vienna, Austria • • • Visit: July 2013
When I was a kid, I remember us having a painting of a woman being kissed, all dressed in gold and flowers, on our wall. I loved that painting, it was so mysterious. It must have been misplaced during a move or something, because it disappeared before my teens, way before I was old enough to know who painted it. For me, it still has that childhood magic over it.
It was Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss, of course. And it is part of the Vienna art museum Belvedere’s permanent collection (by them advertised as “the most famous kiss in the world”). For the sake of the very young art enthusiast in me, I therefore took the u-bahn out to the Belvedere palace to see The Kiss in real life.
The Belvedere museum is located in an 18th century palace, the summer residence of Prince Eugen. The two palaces are surrounded by an open, geometrically do-not-touch-kind-of-garden. Personally, I prefer when they’re more lush and wild, but there is still something intriguing with the straight lines and extreme extent to which nature has been subdued in a place like this.
In the museum, The Kiss had the place of honor, occupying an entire wall in the innermost room. The room was dark, the wall black, and it was lighted in a way to make the gold in the painting glow. It is a huge painting, with so many details. And it is square, with gold-green empty space on both sides of the couple – space that is usually cut off in posters to fit the A-format. But seeing it like this, in the darkness, lighted up, in that massive wooden frame, it became obvious that the empty space around the couple is an essential part of creating the atmosphere in the painting. The fact that they’re standing on an edge. It makes the painting even more evocative.
As for the rest of the museum, it was fine. Nothing more.
I have a fuzzy memory of reading that every nail in this tree in the Botanic Garden of the University of Vienna was nailed there by different writers, as good luck or inspiration. But I can’t find my notes from that day. So, I might just have made it up. It’s cool, though: the porcupine tree. The botanic garden is right next door to the Belvedere Garden and its hordes of tourists. However, few seemed to find their way through the inconspicuous gate in the fence between the gardens. In the quiet and shade of the botanic garden, the plants and trees had been allowed to grow freely. Almost too freely. The garden felt like a place that had been left to take care of itself. Barely visible in the lushness of the overgrown flowerbeds, lively shrubs and trees, people were sitting on benches, eating lunch and talking. It didn’t impress me, the garden. Still, it was nice to walk around there, in the shade from the big trees, such a huge contrast from the completely open, boastful discipline of the Belvedere.
To end my sweaty day in Vienna, I took the u-bahn northwest to the Donauinsel. It is an artificial island that was created in the middle of the Donau, to prevent flooding in the river. During normal flows, the part of the river that is between the Donauinsel and the northern riverbank is sealed off so that it becomes an artificial lake. Then, when there are high flows in the river (for example during spring when the snow is melting in the Alps), they remove the seals and the water suddenly has double the amount of space to flow through. That’s why, during the high flows earlier that summer, many central European cities were flooded, but Vienna was not.
Donauinsel, the artificial island, has been made into a narrow and very very long park, where people walk around, skate, bike, lie in hammocks, play music and swim. And it is so very green. It was exactly what I needed, after my long day in the city bustle.
By the time I arrived at the Donauinsel, the sun was already on its way down and the air was considerably cooler than it had been in the middle of the day. I felt that taking a swim in the Donau might make me too cold, so I didn’t. But my feet were sore and letting the small waves wash over them with that icy water felt lovely. Another time, on a hot day like this, I could have spent an entire day on the Donauinsel, reading and then cooling down in the river.
When the sun was almost down, the mosquitoes attacked with full force, though – so I decided to take the u-bahn back to my couchsurfing host Karin. Waiting for the train, I watched the sun setting in a pink impressionist sky behind the mountain tops, breathing.
It’s odd, though, with big cities that aren’t by the ocean. I can’t get perspective. Despite the mountains and the river. Somehow, I feel trapped.
Katja Malmborg 