The art scene in Vienna

First look of the city of Vienna had me thinking, “this is so boring”. Having come from venice which was touristy, dreamy amd romantic of the hat-wearing and hand-holding kind; the methodical arrangement of the buildings, the order, the cleanliness, the quiet roads, the shutting-down-of-shops even-in-train stations at 7 pm, the not-so-fashionable people, all made it look like this might not be too fun! I had an idea that this might be a city kind of a place where, when you happen to know no people, you feel invisible and like you will vanish and die.

But as we kept walking and hopping on and off the trains, I started enjoying myself.
It was not just the interiors of palaces and the historical buildings in InnerStradt that had pieces of art to go gaga over.
The city had a celebratory feeling, the art was in people, in motion, in its restaurants, on the streets, in huge statues, in the festive spirit, in the easy atmosphere, in art museums and its students, in parks where we lay.
The hofburg palace grounds had a music concert going on, people eating spitzel and singing along, there were boys and girls both dressed in candy colored girlie costumes playing a cross between dodge ball and god-knows-what game, there was some fair like thing happening at the Rathus, at the Stephensplatz there were loud groups of friends drinking beer and stagger-dancing, clapping and cheering a guy playing accordion while awkward-dancing himself.
Stephsplatz is one happy place where everyone feels welcome and part of the gathering. You will have 3 glasses of raspberry wine- himbeerstrum while there.

As we entered Mumok, we started looking at the large graphical images  on its walls while trying not to block the sight of this lady standing between two images and staring intently at something placed at the other end of the room. I turned around and saw what she might be looking at, trying to understand the maze that she might be probably trying to understand. She wouldn’t move. Only after 5 minutes, did I realize it was just a wax model.

Apart from kunsthistorisches for history/art, it was Mumok in Museum Quartier where I got most inspired. While dipping my feet in the arena pool as I watched art students sketching away or reading a book, realization came to me that art need not be just in a perfect painting or in a deeply meaningful poem. It could be in disarray, in a wooden pile randomly assembled, in patchworked pieces of paper and industrial junk, in spooky images and in rags.
I have fallen in love with pop art ever since.

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