Forget Florence—too crowded. Paris? They coined a whole term, the Mona Lisa Effect, to describe the letdown of seeing its art in person. Berlin is gray and dreary, and its scene has now been declared “dead” more times than I can count (RIP).
What if I told you there was a city boasting artistic treasures of every kind? Behold Vienna—or Wien, as it’s known locally (anglophones, brace yourself for the inevitable dick jokes).
I’ve been to Vienna close to a dozen times and still haven’t seen it all. That’s remarkable, given that it’s among the most walkable cities I’ve visited. It’s bikeable, too, with lanes that feel properly protected even for the risk-averse, and municipal bikes are free to rent for the first 30 minutes.
As for the art—where to start? Perhaps at the beginning, with the Venus of Willendorf, a 30,000-year-old limestone figure and one of the oldest and most well-preserved examples of Paleolithic art. And it wasn’t even looted: It was unearthed in Willendorf, Austria. Now, it’s part of the permanent collection of Vienna’s Naturhistorisches Museum (Natural History Museum).
Stroll across a grand garden—lush in spring, host to a Christmas market in winter—and you’ll arrive at the Kunsthistorisches Museum (free German lesson: kunst means “art”). If you’re speed-walking in your Hokas and have time for only one stop, make it the Bruegel room. Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s famed snowscapes and The (Great) Tower of Babel (1563) are displayed here before what may be the most comfortable museum seating anywhere—velvet couches parked right in front of the paintings, inviting you to linger. Viewing art is all the more fun with a goal or a game, and Bruegel is perfect for playing I-Spy. Challenge yourself to find the waffles in The Fight Between Carnival and Lent (1559)—the earliest known depiction of the treat. (Hint: They’re worn on someone’s head.)
Just across the street is the MuseumsQuartier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bad—or even mediocre—show at MUMOK or Kunsthalle Wien, both dedicated to temporary exhibitions of modern and contemporary art. But if it’s your first time, you can’t miss the Leopold Museum. Where to begin: Egon Schiele or Gustav Klimt? Both are worth the hype, but I have a controversial favorite—Josef Hoffmann. Like most casual admirers, I’m usually more easily seduced by paintings than by furniture. Not in Vienna. And that’s no slight to the paintings; the designed objects are simply that good.
You hardly need to visit a museum to see great art: Fin-de-siècle Wiener Werkstätte designs line the city’s cafés, which are everywhere and an absolute must. For a slice of art history with your mélange, try Café Museum, with an interior by Adolf Loos, the architect famous for declaring ornament a crime. If only we could replay the conversations once had there, among luminaries from Freud and Kokoschka to Klimt and Schiele. (For more of the latter two, head to the Belvedere—a museum housed in a palace, with a striking garden leading down to yet another contemporary art museum.)
There’s one big, bad reason it’s all so well preserved: Vienna remains more intact than many other European capitals because, when the Nazis arrived on March 12, 1938—an evening remembered as the Anschluss—they were met with little resistance. Hitler, born in Linz, was simply coming home. The city was not entirely spared from bombing: The interior of Vienna’s 19th-century opera house, where Mozart’s Don Giovanni premiered, was restored after American munitions set the stage ablaze. But otherwise, it is remarkably well preserved.
The heyday of Viennese culture ended abruptly with the Nazi takeover: Its protagonists either fled, were killed, or colluded with the regime. But another heyday is upon us. The city’s gallery scene is thriving, with newcomers like Vin Vin and Felix Gaudlitz alongside blue-chip stalwarts such as Eva Presenhuber. Two annual festivals of contemporary art—Vienna Art Week in November and Curated By in September—are ideal times to visit, if you’re curious about the present and enjoy good weather. And if you are, make a reservation at Das LOFT, where video artist Pipilotti Rist designed a mesmerizing ceiling.
No matter who you are, don’t miss Kunst Haus Wien; unless you’re already a Hundertwasser-head, you’ve never seen a building like it. Friedensreich Hundertwasser—a quirky, ecologically minded artist and architect who ate a strict diet of nettles—converted a former factory, where the Bistro chair was invented, into an undulating mosaic meant to merge nature and humanity, inside and out. Vienna isn’t exactly a foodie city—unless you’re curious about bat schnitzel—but the café here is worth a stop. And don’t miss his other building, Hundertwasserhaus, just around the corner.
If combining nature with culture is your fancy, you won’t have to look far. You might enter a park through a gate handle shaped like a Belgian endive or spot sculpted leaves climbing the handrail in your Airbnb. At the Museum of Applied Arts, you’ll find more classic examples. Don’t miss all things Jugendstil—the Germanic version of Art Nouveau, far less saccharine and more elegant than its French counterpart.
My recommendations could be endless, but I’ll end with a classic: the Vienna Secession. The building is striking—potted trees balance on sculpted turtles at the entrance, and a golden orb of leaves crowns the roof—and the institution is still artist-run, with a committee voting on who gets shows. This turns out to be a good system: Show after show is a banger. And if I haven’t convinced you yet, one last thing: Austrian wine, for my taste, is the best in the world, and it’s scarcely exported.
