Showing posts with label Hundertwasser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hundertwasser. Show all posts

Monday 25 September 2023

1993 Germany, Austria, Venice

1.9.93 London Victoria

On the train.  That same small fear in the pit of the stomach – I remember sitting on the train at Ewell East, about to set off for a month of Interrail.  Now it’s only two weeks.  And how things have changed since 1979 – the first of three years I did it (March to April, as I recall – but pity I never kept a travel diary then…)  Interesting the young people with their backpacks – these images of spotty youths – as I was, and smelly too – one shirt a week, I fear.  Now I am overloaded with stuff – socks, pants and god knows what.

France visible today… A rather undignified scrabble at Dover: on to the bus then to the boat.  It’s a pity that the Channel Tunnel is such an obviously dangerous way of going – it ought to be much simpler… Very smooth crossing – very few people on board – great, hope it continues.

Belgium.  Ages since I’ve been here.  One of those betwixt and between places – that only really exist theoretically.  But as someone said recently, asking for great Belgians is almost the wrong question: it’s more about the Flemish…  Outside, pure Cuyp: cows grazing in the twilight, rich tones of the sunset – pinks, purples, violets, mauves, oranges etc.  Strange to be pushing into Europe.  Real travel.

2.9.93 Stuttgart

Lots of lights in Germany – you get the impression everyone is working… Trains just the same – pull-down seats for sleeping – and I nearly buggered up the sliding door (as I did in one memorably long and cold journey).  Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof – frighteningly clean and efficient: 5am and everything waking up.  No litter anywhere.  Interesting collection of the usual ne’er do wells at this hour – me included.  If only Italian style could be married to German efficiency.

The train journey was a little more wearying than I recall it – old age.  Lots of PC mags to buy.  Even as I sit here, more people arrive: almost like time-lapse photography.  Since the bloody information office ain’t open until 9.30am, I have dumped my bags – too heavy – and gone for a walk.

Today cold, but crisp.  Sun out in main square, grass being cut.  Behind, by the very vertical church, the first of two flower markets.  The second reminds me of Verona – a kind of clean, updated Verona.  For some reason there are four brass players on top of the church tower, playing… 8.45am.

Well, having weighed up the pros and cons of sleeping a second night on the train, I have taken a room (without WC etc.) in Hotel Mack – 80DM – reasonable, I suppose.  I do feel better after the shower...Now in ‘Fresko’ outside Mr Stirling’s rather wonderful Neue Staatsgalerie – the use of the different marbles is simply joyous – you really feel the Platonic essence of its rockness… Parenthetically, I see that Mr S. is designing a music academy to go next door – certainly a lot of dosh here… and yet walking around this morning I couldn’t help feeling this was some shopping precinct (Milton Keynes?) writ large.  I’d say American except that there’s little evident poverty here.  In fact, in general the place stinks of money.

Very quiet generally, I’m pleased to say – hope it continues.  Lovely – and huge – park here – miles of it.  Splendid fountains.  Interesting exhibition of Hungarian photographers in a pavilion there.  That strange toggle between having somewhere to stay and not.  And yet at least I have the option to move on…

Food required.  Inside the Staatsgalerie – nice Burne-Jones’ Perseus cycle – especially the killing of the dragon – lovely bum of Andromeda.  Room 16 cool David Friedrich landscapes – 20 years ago I first saw them (?).  12: moody Böcklin.  14: fine Rembrandt self-portrait – old, thick impasto…. Not so defeated as in others.  Also very early Rembrandt – Saint Paul in prison – funny little piggy eyes.  As ever, the old German stuff does nothing for me.  Room 29: frightening Chagall in blood scarlet.  Modern collection not bad – but the setting is better. 

Back to Bahnhof – booking seats for tomorrow and changing old DM for new. To the City Gallery, using my Press card, bless its cotton socks.  To the Keith Haring, which the first time I’ve seem them in the flesh – or rather in colour, since it is the dayglo colours that strike.  What’s instantly impressive is that he evolved an iconography – the featureless babies, the cross, the space ships – and a style that is instantly recognisable, striking but not trivial.  Few can do this.  You can also see that the lines are very self assured – no fudging.  The second room even more impactful than the first – explosions of colour, striking images.  The white cross series – lovely texture – and the images are made for it.  Only the more Grosz-type “realistic” drawings do I find forced: the others are magisterial

To the Stiftkirche, inside this time.  Wonderful carvings of princes - they really leap out of the wall. (A yummy Quarktasche eaten).  As well as the extraordinary ties and coloured shirts they wear, the men are also distinguished by their little Schubert glasses.  The women, on the other hand, tend to adopt the Dame Edna approach…  And now...busking Siberians – complete with bass balalaika – not  bad either.  Also, I’ve seen people reading Russian newspapers…

3.9.93  Linz

Stuttgart station.  Typical: the plan shows almost exactly where my wagon should be.  So bloody organised.  Good brekkers this morning – pretty good value overall.  It is raining – will it always rain in Vienna…?  Very impressive the old ICE – makes British Rail look pretty sick.  Very flash, toilets five star.  Raining, but so green and wooded outside.  I find it hard to like Germans, but you have to admire them…

After the Siberians yesterday, I saw a group with a cimbalom.  Hungarian I thought: nope, Czech the name looked.  But it could have been Slovak – the world in flux.  Berge (Oberbayern) – rather fine rolling countryside here...worth returning to.  Amazing feature in Der Spiegel on an autistic man, through a PC has written a book.  He explains – partially – his situation: too much input, overload of stimulation.  As a child (5) he taught himself to read – leafing through books with a photographic memory…

Linz is as I expected: neat, tidy, prosperous – complete with busking Albanian/Rumanian? - and wet.  I’m in Hofmann Backerei, 27 Landstrasse, eating quark (again) and coffee.  Hotel very cheap – 310 Schillings (about £18) including Frühstück.  Goethestrasse, near station.  Very plain.

Too late to see anything, but I’m only really here for the river – and as part of my European update.  Again I noticed amazing variety of East European newspapers.  To the Alte Dom, awash in gilt and rococo curlicues.  But nice, very light and refreshing, partly because white is everywhere.  Outside, the main square feels positively Mozartian (remember K.425?).  In the Hauptplatz, a crazed carillon plays weird harmonics; two men play chess on a ten-foot square board… A tram passes.

I stand in the middle of the Nibelungen Bridge; under me a serious piece of water: the Danube, already as broad as the Thames, but barely begun on its journey… (hi, Claudio).  The earth/bridge moves...huge grey clouds father.  I’m off.

In a local café – having bought Oberösterreichische Nachrichten – largely because it used the honour system – you take it, putting money in.  Says something about the place.  Which I like – it’s very “carina” – bit too nice.  On the bridge again, looking back.

4.9.93 Vienna

Linz station.  Hotel had that youth hostel smell.  Opposite, a train from Skopje (? - which is…?).  Interesting magazine – News – glossy, but so parochial.  You get the impression that everyone knows everyone – and they probably do. 

Vienna.  The station a madhouse, as is outside – I discover later that today is the opening of an important section of the U-bahn.  A woman stamps about 50 tickets – for a competition, I guess.  Hotel “West End” – not over-clean, but I like the attitude of the man on the desk – and it costs just £21 including breakfast.  First place I go – Kunsthistorisches – to the café on the mezzanine.  Rather grand. 

Room VII – amazing series by Bellotto of Wien.  Interesting pic of Gluck: you get the impression he was a bit of a git.  V – unusual Caravaggio – an orgy of hands… Madonna of the Rosary. Nice Bronzino.  I almost walk past the Cellini salt wotsit… Unusual Dosso Dossi: Jupiter painting (sic) butterflies while Mercury shushes… A roomful of Giorgione – the Three Philosophers best…  Stunning painting by Vincenzo Catena (who he?).  TitianGypsy Madonna – lovely delicacy.

It has to be said that there is no room quite like X: full of Breughels.  I don’t know if its true or not, but the room feels exactly as it was 15 years ago…  Paul’s conversion - such a tiny figure amidst the tumult.  And the sea so far away.  Early Spring – what atmosphere – you can almost feel the chill in the air.  The wrecked ship, the icy mountains, the warm tones of the town.  And those distant, distant horizons: what happens there?  Winter: did he see this – or just invent it? The details – like the broken inn sign.  Tower of Babel – amazing sense that Breughel knew what the middle of the tower looked like…  and the way a mountain has been pressed into service – an obviously sensible way to build such a tower.  Even Portakabins – well, equivalents…

Strange man, Arcimboldo: the Four Seasons - Summer, Winter, Fire, Water – all faces… Too many bloody Rubens: but Das Pelzchen, the erotic pic of Frau Helene Rubens is stunning.  The Rembrandts: there is no doubt, he is king – the three self portraits here, blige…  And to end today – cultural overload – the Vermeer Allegory of Painting (hi, P. Greenaway…).

A long, long and delightful aimless walk round the centre (OK, so I was looking for an Apothek – shaving cream, if you must know).  Vienna could well be one of the most successful pedestrianised cities I have ever seen.  Thousands of people milling around, lots of cafes – but none of the artificiality you often find.

In St Stephen’s now – and here too many people – but many seem Viennese.  Sun came out as I walked from Kunsthistorisches Museum to Kärntner Strasse (to buy a ticket for Nozze tomorrow – around £20 – not bad for opera, in Schönbrunn...an allowable luxury.  Even the opera seemed vaguely reasonable: I get the feeling that the Schilling has depreciated greatly against the pound since I was last here.  Or perhaps my terms of reference have changed. 

Amazing number of tall women here: what do they put in the food?
Kärntner reminds me of the main drag in Istanbul – though rather different.  (A man is locking the gates around me: a primitive desire to flee takes hold.)  This sums it up really: eating a Viennese pizza (large but tasteless – cheap at 25 Schillings) listening to the usual Peruvian (?) pan pipes.  Back in Kärntner.

5.9.93

Down in the hotel’s little dining room.  Three serving – Russian? Czech? - East European, anyway.  Coffee surprisingly good.  My room has an outer, padded door: I can sport the oak.  In the U-bahn.  New weather forecasting method: by consensus – I look at what everyone else is wearing.  It is raining (slightly).  

In the Karlskirche.  Wow.  Amazing exterior – quite unlike any other I’ve seen – and glorious interior – huge swirls of marble – even the pews are inlaid.  Mahler and Alma married here.  This has just become one of my favourite churches – it reminds me of San Biagio outside Montepulciano. Beautiful ellipse – and only this morning, I was thinking about a schoolmate’s insight into the moment of inertia of an ellipse about a point on its edge… Happy days.

Wandering looking for a café.  To Josefplatz. Strange day: sun/rain/wind.  Not bad for walking, though I’m getting tired.  Sundays in particular are lonely in these places, when the world seems at home – and you are not.  As ever, being here, I think of Bolivia, Patagonia…

Ethnological Museum.  Good stuff on Americas – including a fabulous Aztec feather headdress – imagine what their civilisation at its height must have looked like… [A stupid git has just photographed it – with flash... "e un fatto scientifico che la luce danneggia I quadri" as someone once said…]  Back in the Kunsthistorisches Museum – bucketing down outside (thank god I went back for brolly.) 

Exhausting – the Völkerkunde Museum – but American stuff good – the sense of loss, the hundreds (thousands) of tribes whose individual wisdom has been lost.  Also an amazing map of south-east Asia showing the linguistic interpenetration.  Nation?  What nation? - and when to go there?  In the Egyptian section – and they have one of the bulls from the Serapeum – enormous.  Wonderful.  I’m really glad I wrote Egyptian Romance; I must read it one day.  Treasure of Nagyszentmiklós, 10 kilos of gold – beautifully worked, eighth century.

Looking at the Rembrandts again: when did self-portraits become common?  Bit cheeky, really, painting yourself…  With the Breughels (Mr and Mrs).  A man wearing two pairs of glasses at once.  Japs the most evident tourists here – the only ones with dosh (and a rising Yen).  Breughel’s winters seem real winters – not the namby-pamby stuff we know.

To the Upper Belvedere – whose entrance and view over the garden I remember vividly.  And the bloody rain (but at least by tram the journey was a doddle).  Wonderful Schiele – that I last saw in Zurich, I believe.  Also the Klimts good, especially Oberösterreichisches Bauernhaus where the wood cabin seems to grow into the landscape.  Schiele shows how evolving your style is crucial.  He had it; others don’t.  Giovanni Segantini did – weird, but his.  The Bad Mothers– very odd, a hellish (=cold) vision of naughty nuns, rows of them into the snowy landscape.  Klimt: Portrait of Sonja Knips – where her pink dress is a waterfall, a flower, a motion.

To the centre, and into a real café (= smoking, full of “young” people): Café Hawelka, Dorotheeergasse.  Free papers to read (some rather old), general aim of “total relax” as the Italians say.  Seat booked to Budapest (almost too early).  Nearby, a man reads a Rumanian newspaper...

Outside Schönbrunn – conkers. Autumn is here.  In the theatre – rather fine – very intimate – probably very much the kind of space Mozart would have known– and probably also the level of playing/singing (we shall see).  Lots of gilt and plush – but hard seats.  Number of Japs here too – including one bloke who got press tickets.  Humph (at least I’ve got into everything free with my press card so far – helps pay for it….). As the orchestra “warms up” I get the impression once more that there is a special warming up music written purely to impress the audience… The entrance to the right of the house, beautiful at night.

Figaro and Susanna – Japs
Cherubino – Agniezka Gertner (very good)
Conte – Kurt Schober (not bad)

For some reason the pierced cupola with the cracked plaster underneath reminds of of Istanbul, the Turkish baths… Lovely acoustic – especially for the winds – bassoons lovingly outlined.  Small string band helps.  Conducting solid – conductor plays cembalo.  Big cuts in recitatives.  Makes Wagner seem so bombastic.  Mozart is just pure lines.  The details, the bassoons.  Set quite lavish, and orchestra much better than expected – only the poor horns broke a couple of times.  The Figaro had a good voice, but lisped…

Wien is pretty clean – not as clean as Stuttgart – no dog poohs – compare Italy.  Also in various places Zettel literature – free bits to tear off and keep.  

6.9.93

The Danube.  Still a very serious piece of water.  But I can’t quite mesh this view (near the U-bahn Donauinsel) with my memories – I seem to recall clambering over railway lines (?) to get to it.  The map shows some, but the landscape looks very different.  Perhaps the flats in front of me are all new – they look less than 15 years.  Fine hills to the north – the map again shows that Vienna is really rather small, and soon passes to countryside.

To the Prater (hi, Arthur).  Interesting watching the Ferris wheel – held up by wires, I note.  The Hauptallee of the Prater – reminds me of a road we saw in Ouarzazate, long and tree lined (?), leading into the desert.

To KunstHausWien – wonderful exterior – uneven floor: “The uneven floor becomes a symphony, a melody for the feet...it is good to walk on uneven floors and regain our human balance.”  Leibovitz show interesting – though the early works indicate that she’s not that great a photographer – shrewdly by choosing famous subjects and then work with/against their grain, she is guaranteed an audience.  Nice one of Laurie A.: NMR brain scan…

Hundertwasser – clearly a loony, but an amiable one (redesigning the Australian and New Zealand flags…).  His ideas are sound, but the result very 60s and flower power.  Yuk.  Reading his biography, which is utterly extraordinary, it sounds like a parody – perhaps of what I wish my life to be.  And yet his art is so wishy-washy, so feel-good…  On the first floor, a tree grows out of the windows, as in Gormenghast.  In the café – which is rather expensive, so I’ve opted for the Tagesmenu – who knows…?  Visited Hundertwasserhaus – amazing – and a real nightmare.  Literally: the kind of thing you’d imagine in a feverish state.  Old Hundertwasser’s style is very reminiscent of Schiele and Klee – small, brightly coloured elements.  But his images are just pretty: compared to Schiele, he has nothing to say – for all his good intentions.

Drorygasse – of course, in my day, it was much tougher… found the old belfry youth hostel – but now there’s the U-bahn.  There were two lines 14 years ago.  In Kardinal-Nagl Platz – full of immigrants – Turks (Kurds?), very ethnic.  Streets as drab as I remember them.  But amazing how little I recall of them – just odd images: no travel diary, the fool…

Prunksaal – very impressive.  Strange that the steps leading up to the library remind me of another – Trinity College Dublin – though this is much more bombastic, but not more moving.  Particularly impressive the double-decker design, and the two pairs of great marble chairs – reminds me of Karlskirche.  Among the otherwise ho-hum manuscripts, amazing crossword – the cross in the centre of a running text that spells the same OROTERAMUSARAM – clever.  Hrabanus Maurus.

On the way out, copy of Mozart’s dedication: “Patience and  Tranquillity of mind contribute more to cure our distempers as the whole are of Medicine” IN ENGLISH.  Why?  Wherefrom?  (Masonic text?) (30.3.1787).  Spooky, too, to see that Ludwig’s handwriting was almost identical to this book’s scrawl…

In another coffee house – OK, but smoky again.  Topfenstrudel – cheesecake to you and me – nice.  Very civilised – foreign newspapers and books and mags to hand.  Walking, walking (Ephesos Museum closed…).  The Graben shows well what Regent Street could be without the traffic [a young man passes with his new toy: an HP calculator; is this a very male thing, gadgets.  A lot of quite attractive women here – often in the Anne-Sophie Mutter variety, with a tendency to girlish puppy fat.  A couple walking down the Graben, the steps completely synchronised, even down to the mid-air rhythm and angle.  Says it all really.

Been here for an hour or so, watching the world go by.  Opposite, an oldish bloke strumming a guitar and singing – but not busking.  Sky almost clear blue, air cold but lovely.  And so along to Trześniewski's – which I couldn’t find before, simply because it was closed.  Polish, obviously – great chopped herring, sardines, gherkins, egg, ham on small bread slices – 8 Schillings each, about 50p.  Now drinking slightly odd red wine.  This is obviously an institution (also in Dorotheergasse).  Wien really is very civilised.  I really like it here (= Trześniewski) and here (= Wien).

7.9.93

Ah well, Venice and Peter Greenaway call.  The Sezession building: yuk.  Lovely day though, cool air, bright sun.  22.22pm to Venice.  Tonight. Going to be a lazy day… Coffee at the Kunsthistorisches Museum – closed, but café open. Read newspapers.  Then sat by Karlskirche.  Then to Stephansplatz – pass Trześniewski – thinking it’s closed, but it ain’t...so here I am, eating this ambrosial stuff.

To Stephansplatz – very strange experience: because of reflected light from Haas Haus, there is sun from two directions – very disconcerting.  Schönbrunn, by the Gloriette – which reminds a lot of the Veronese Feast in the House of Levi, in the Accademia, Venice (hi).  Very peaceful here, despite the tourists.  I don’t remember this steep ramp up and the monument. Schönbrunn is a very good example of what is wrong with many palaces: it’s like a modern block of flats, lacking human scale.  Moreover, you know that most of the room are unnecessary, and merely there for scale.  

As I watch the world go by, I think of the millions of patterns there must be – and have been.  Now sitting nearby the theatre, a eating a rather nice cherry cake (the latter exactly as I imagined it – always a nice sensation).  Ich glaube dass I this cake in East Berlin eaten have – so zu sagen.

Amazing cloud formation: huge waves – not small ripples, but great strokes in high, thin clouds…

8.9.93 Venice

Strange now to be hurtling towards Venice.  Had compartment to myself – slept well, apart from the stream of passport/customs officers.  Going to Venice for the Peter Greenaway exhibition; seems a suitably apt expression of my current madcap life.  Wien Südbahnhof was rather nice – computer controlled lockers – as well as the orange and blue ones and a garderobe – Rosenkavalier restaurant etc. all very well organised.

Just arrived at Pordenone.  About to cross the bridge out to Venice: I remember the first time…  In Vivaldi’s church – the first time.  Palazzo Grassi closed – a bloody technical fault…  Very unspecial here – except for the grille – for the girls?  Vivaldi died near Karlskirche… lived in Riva del Carbon.

In Museo Fortuny – Peter Greenaway up to his usual tricks – water around everywhere – but otherwise Fortuny as it was… Intervals – Peter Greenaway film of 1969 – filmed in Venice – music is Vivaldi.  Drawings – Hangman’s Cricket.  Walk through H type stuff.  Drawing by numbers – “the relentless clicking away…”  Prospero’s books – the preparations make mine look thin – huge collections of background stuff – reference to Tulse Luper (Tulse Luper’s Suitcases – a future film).  The pages – scribbled on, painted over, with collage – remind me of Tom Phillips.  All this Dog/God stuff is very undergraduate.  

Pity the one film I haven’t seen is not working in the first room. A Walk through Prospero’s Library – very strange: uses Glass’s music at the end.  I have to say, that the female nude at the end – stunning.  “Wreck his revenge…”? I think not.  Two wonderful books about Peter Greenaway £40 and £50… I resist.  After all, I probably prefer not to know too much about his thinking – which is pretty weird.  Better to enjoy what I do.  I buy a poster instead (£5.)

23.9.93 Italy

On the train again.  North from Verona, soon amidst stunning mountain scenery and river.  Must come back.  Gray rainy day.  Have just passed Peri (and a church high among the hills).  My (German?) colleague in this compartment (couldn’t reserve anything else) is also writing – perhaps that his colleague is writing, and wondering – as I am – what he is writing.  Autostrada alongside us.  Thickly wooded hills – above Garda I would guess.

24.9.93 
Köln

Ages since I’ve taken a couchette.  I love the paraphernalia, the ordering.  One worrying thing: the guard took my tickets and passport yesterday – gave them back this morning.  Logical, but I felt very naked without the passport.  Slightly broken sleep, but pleasantly so: half awaking to hear “Gleis 1” – or some other  Bahnhof voice.  Awoken fully at 7.30 by the guard.  Outside, the Rhine.  A large but rather dull river – too tame and tamed.  Danube much more impressive.  Outside, black and white houses, stone-faced churches. Very German.  I’ve rather neglected this country – something I’ll have to remedy in the future.

In the Dom – which is certainly big...but it does not take the breath away as so many others do.  It is just big.  Even from the outside it looks rather like a small church blown up.  Spent most of today in the Ludwig Museum.  Good modern stuff – though, boy, are these 20th century Germans depressing. Other stuff more ho-hum.  Sondersusstellung – German photos – dreadful.  You can really see the pernicious effects of there being too much money for art. - 99% is disposable.

Arrived here to find a bloody Messe: obvious, really, but I’d not taken it into account.  Luckily the Tourist Office is very efficient, and found a room for m, DM115, near the station (“6 Domgasse).  Tiny but clean, central, reasonably cheap.  

Raining again.  Ate prepared rolls for dinner – I rather like this exiguous existence – for a while.  To the Westdeutscher Rundfunk concert hall, for a choral concert – and why not.  Programme nothing special.  Hall rather fine: light wood, silver glistening organ.  Quite large.  Choir rather heavy in 17th and 18th century music, better in the later stuff.  Petrassi “Nonsense Poems” rather fine – real use of different choral sonorities.

25.9.93

Raining. Hard.  Feet soaked, arm too.  But slept well, good Frühstück.  Found good bookshop in Neumarkt Platz.  The Dom full now – well, it’s dry.  Visited St Aposteln – ho-hum, clearly re-bult – and St Gereon – much better.  Very surprising form.  The Decagon reminded me of one of the most moving churches I’ve seen, in Mont St Michel – that sense that a thousand years ago, somebody worshipped here.

To the splendidly-named Römisch-Germanisches Museum, but stunning, and the mosaic not bad.  Still bucketing.  The guide book says there are a million piece to the mosaic: an interesting way to grasp the concept.  Upstairs, a strange room full of clay lamps – including a wall full of obscene ones.  In the basement, I read that the mosaic is now where it was discovered/built.  A good 20 feet from the current ground level.

Unbelievably, Köln shuts at 2pm on a Saturday – 95% of the shops.  To the Käthe Kollewitz Museum – if only because it’s open.  Unusual form – and rather relentless images.  Her women look like monkeys, and bring out well the sense of vulnerability in the world.  Also of women’s relationship to their children.  A Sonderausstellung even more depressing.  What are these artists thinking of?


Thursday 25 June 2020

1996 Vienna, Venice

Vienna 7.8.96

Donau Exhibition in the Schottenstift.  First room – very Peter Greenaway – a screen showing a bucket of water – in a bucket.  Pictures of the Ionian Sea.  Cliffs of Moher.  All slightly similar.  Beautiful space, showing the vaults of the church.  

Downstairs to the main exhibition: the sound of..."The Blue Danube".  Undine – set on the Donau – written by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué. "Danu" = river.  A picture of Wien 1845 – surrounded by fields.  A panorama showing the Danube before it was brutally straightened.  Amazing map of 1696, with the Venetian Empire embracing the Adriatic coast.

1994 DDSG – "Donaudampfschiffahrtsgesellschaft" - was closed down: originally it went al the way to the Levant.  Hebbel: "Österreich ist eine kleine Welt, in der die große ihre Probe hält."  "Melusina" – Grillparzer and Ludwig van Beethoven working together? A glass harmonica sounds eerily in the distance.  Interesting that after World War I, Austria was defined by what was left after creating all the other lands.  "Le reste, c'est Autriche".  In the slide show, with fine aerial photos of the bending river (and the isolated oxbows).

A moment of reflection.  My train arrived in Wien an hour late, so I have only about nine hours here, for which I'm paying about £120. But if I stayed the night, I'd just be another tourist (whereas in fact I'm a complete nutter).  Frighteningly long train from Rome to which our single carriage from Milan was added.  Slept reasonably well, although the air was in short supply at times.  Cappuccino and brioche on the train (good job I didn't wait).  In a way, I just wanted to show that it is possible to pop up to Wien for the day.  I also hope to hop out at Venice (at 4 in the morning) for one of those magic strolls at dawn.

Interesting collage of Austrian National anthems, including a strange Bundeshymne, marked "WAM".  On the other side, "Kompositionen und Klänge" – my kind of place this, deep in the heart of Vienna, with a collage of music, time to just think, to be… (Brahms' 4 on now…). Well, useful for me, but probably a little unsatisfactory for your average visitor.  Best bits the slide shows, confusing layout of the space, too – as I said to the PR lady – who thrust a catalogue on me, convinced that I was about to write all this up.  I don't think I was dishonest – I just showed my Press Card…

Anyway, in the slightly cool air (nice for walking), along to the old Trześniewski – which, I'm sorry to say, has added some glitz – albeit minimal – in the form of boring incitements to try out its various delights.  Which are still good.  Then along to the nearby music shop, looking for Mozart's "Così, così", which seems not to exist (should be in the Viennese version of Don Giovanni).  Must be from a parallel universe (the owner checked in the Köchel Verzeichnis – could only find "Così: due paroline" from "L'Oca del Cairo", and so refused to believe it existed.

Then down Kärntner Straße - rather tawdry with all its tourists.  I return to the bookshop that I went in a couple of years ago – and regretted not buying the Rilke volume (Suhrkamp?).  They didn't have it this time.  Went into EMI Austria next door: rubbish at outrageous prices.  As I left, a pigeon got me from on high.  I now have some fine stains on my "clean" t-shirt.

Sitting in the café of the Kunsthalle, where I came before.  Aiming to wander out to the Karlskirche, one of my favourites.  There now: it has lost its scaffolding and can be seen in (nearly) all of its glory.  U-bahn to Stephansplatz.  Wandering into a bookshop with lots of linguistic books (Baltische Sprachen, Alte aramäische Sprache etc.) and Colloquial Basque (in English) – yummy…

Now in Peterskirche – the first time here, I think.  Very kaiserlich und königlich it seems to me – old gilt, ochre walls.  Looking in a few more bookshops, took a trip down to the Westbahnhof (on the U3 – "my" U-bahn, since I was here on the day it opened).  It's much more parochial – going West – nothing so romantic as the Südbahnhof, with all the wonderfully evocative names – and that Drang nach Osten…

Taking U-bahn back, and then S1 rail service (which always worries me for some reason – I never feel that I'm going where I want to), back to find Rosenkavalier restaurant at the Südbahnhof.  No Gulaschsuppe this time, but Wiener Schnitzel + Vöslauer Wasser with Hundertwasser's characteristic label.

On the train – 418/34, as before.  But now we have a family of three – mother, five-to-six year old son, three-to-four year old daughter – who are ethnic Chinese, but come from Calcutta, and now live in Wien… How complicated it all becomes.  Also present an exaggeratedly-leggy young woman of indeterminate nationality.  Taller than me…  Just as a point of reference, the leggy is Slovenian… Nope, sorry, not Slovenian, Slovak – and a model to boot, en route to Calabria.  The Chinese woman also speaks English – and Hindi: what a polyglot lot we are in here tonight… Although these kids are driving me nuts (as is the model's smoking, albeit in the corridor), it is an interesting microcosm of the future.  Where everyone speaks several languages and drops from one into the other…

Venice 8.8.96

On the Fondamenta Diedo, walking through a silent, deserted Venice at 4 in the morning.  Air balmy.  Cats miaow distantly, boats' ropes creak, water drips.  Overhead, a sliver of moon dodges in and out of the clouds.  Selig

In Piazza San Marco – alone.  Raining slightly now – air very humid.  The sky lightening gradually.  Faint sounds of the dawn chorus – and of refrigerator units.  A beetle crawls on the step beneath me.  Down by the gondolas, which thrash like so many startled cows as the waves from the vaporetto slap their bottoms.

Light now (6am), in Campo Santa Maria Formosa; they have put out chairs and tables in the square (shocking).  I wonder (always) who owns the ruined but fine palazzo opposite the church.  A story there surely.  Past the forestiera – lights in the main hall.  Now at Santi Giovanni e Paolo.  Everywhere in the city there is the smell of fresh-baked bread.

The sky quite leaden now, with a strange line in the sky, as if it had been cut with a knife and sewn up.  Eight o'clock, and I'm a wee bit stanchino.  Thunders growl and some bright flashes of lightning fork to the east.  The wind is getting up: it'll rain.  Time for another breakfast…

It is now utterly bucketing down – I have taken refuge in the Bar Ristorante Da Gino (ciao!, Gino…), just a few steps from "our" restaurant, "Ai Cugniai".  I hope this rain burns itself out in the next 30 minutes, or I am stuffed (a statement that begs for the following sentence: "yes, I am stuffed…").  Vedremo.

Imagining a world without Venice is like imagining one without Mozart.  But this is daft: imagine a world without Mozart's 63rd, 74th and 99th symphonies, or the late operas – "Die Gesellschaft", "Immer die Liebe" and "Amletto" – or his amazing late string quartets inspired by Beethoven's Rasumovsky set (and what a pity Beethoven died so tragically young – imagine what symphonies and piano sonatas he might have produced…)

What's nice about these bars is the sense of family – as well as Gino, it's all first-name terms here.  Pity they are smoke like the proverbial.

Re-reading the Siena Days in this notebook, I am struck by my double privilege: not just to have seen these things wonderful things, but to have returned to them.  The joy of recognition, re-discovery and new discovery.  The same, of course, with Venice, which I have visited perhaps ten times now.  But all the more important to stay here only a few days, lest it become familiar and lose its glorious improbability.

Gino sings quietly behind the bar.

To the Palazzo Grassi, "I Greci dell'Occidente".  Interesting distinction between colonisation and founding (metropolis = mother-city).  Greeks brought the polis – city – with them.  Amazing the tribes that we know of early Italy: Sikans, Sisidi, Elinians, Ausonians, etc.  Nice oath of the Greeks with the Sicels: "As long as they trod on this earth and had heads on their shoulders" – but they put earth in their shoes and garlic heads hidden in clothing on the shoulders…

The origins of the Doric order: triglyph may have been decorative ends, but mutules were a reflexion of older structures.  Wonderful: the angle conflict of corner triglyphs.  The origin of the temple – oikos (home/hearth).  The link between colonies and the development of classic architecture = propaganda = civic architecture.

The Temple of Apollo at Syracuse – first monument entirely in stone.  Wonderful metope with Odysseus and Alcyoneus (550BC).  Goethe on the Selinous temples: "oppressive and almost terrifying".  Selinous – wow.  Manifestation of town planning because aligned with the town.  Syracuse – 733BC – its street plan is used to this day.  Interesting how close Thucydides is to all this.

Money was mostly used to pay mercenaries.  Each city had its own weights systems – which made commerce difficult.  Greek tyrants affirmed rule with public works – pushed Agrigento  to do the same.  And of course, the colour of the ceramics.  The Ionic order, especially at Metaponto, all about Athens vs. Sicily.  This war destroyed Athens and its empire.

Amazing diagrams using coloured blocks to show ratios of various parts of the temple – the issue of why is one more beautiful than another – if maths is the basis of beauty.  Town planning at Naxos (Sicily).  Wonderful all the dubious stories and opinions on the Boston ThroneSybaris = Sybaritic = decadence.  Description of enforced deportations, return of citizens – like Bosnia.  Hippodamus of Miletus – urban theoretician, urban blocks.  The change in theatrical masks from variable to fixed.  The catapult was invented at Syracuse.  Colours used to articulate architecture: red for horizontal, blue for vertical.  The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus is like Étienne-Louis Boullée

Since I have missed the 11 o'clock train and there isn't one at 12.06, I may as well luxuriate in the sunny (and increasingly touristy-filled) Venice.  To the Caffè di Torino – but not for chocolate this time: for tramezzini.

Although I was not particularly impressed by the background "info" on the exhibition, I think that I can say that I learnt more from this than most others I have ever been to (with the emphasis on learning).  That is, it taught me both about the roots of Classicism, and also the end of Athens, and how Sicily/Syracuse are central to this.  I can see how to tie together many elements from this.

The exhibition really was excellent – everything that the Danube one, alas, was not: well organised, easy to follow, rich, attractive to look at, and ultimately revelatory.  Walking back to the Ferrovie dello Stato  station I somehow ended up near the Piazzale Roma – very strange how the landscape changes there, with trees and roads – a real few hundred metres of transition – palpable.

Now on the extremely comfortable Zurich train (I'm almost tempted…), which is pleasantly empty at the moment.  Parenthetically, it seems that I have been quite prescient all these years in using the @ sign in my notebooks instead of writing "at"…  I did notice, though, that there is an interesting exhibition in Trieste – of Czech-held Venetian paintings.  I quite fancy seeing Trieste in winter...

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