Showing posts with label Graz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graz. Show all posts

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Musical, Magical, Murinsel

This amazing island in the Mur, designed by New York architect/artist Vito Acconci, is an amphitheatre, a cafe, a playground, and a bridge. Unlike my initial reaction to the Kunsthaus, I take an immediate liking to this structure -- it's interesting to look at and highly practical, and doesn't conflict with it's surroundings. Locals joke that if the Murinsel breaks free, we'll all end up in Slovenia, but hey, what a ride that would be!

Les Etoiles have an evening performance here, and the amphitheatre is filled to overflowing. Once the scheduled show is over, they begin singing improptu with a group of Croatian girls, angelic voices raised in a unified chorus of Dona Nobis Pacem. A keyboard is brought out, the music continues, other voices join in -- and the effect is absolutely magical.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience in an unbelievable location, and I know they will never forget it. Isn't that why we're here?

Kooky Kunsthaus

When I first laid eyes on the Kunsthaus Graz from high above town, I must admit I had an allergic reaction to its quirky form. Seemingly so out of place in the historical center of town, it feels almost like an insult to the senses. But as the days pass, I begin to soften and my tolerance for its out-of-place appearance mounts. Once I actually go visit, I'm smitten.

Inside, the strange ventricles reveal themselves as windows -- portals to the sky. Moving walkways move visitors up an incline, and the exhibits are small enough to be digestible. At the moment, articles by the late Italian designer Joe Colombo are being showcased. Every graphic designer I know had one of his rolling plastic tabourets at one point or another. When I see his Total Furnishing Unit, I want to move in.

The Kunsthaus, nicknamed the "Friendly Alien", has grown on me to such an extent that when I leave, I'm tempted to blow my luggage weight limit with books about the place. I grudgingly control myself, remembering that the internet is weightless and infinitely accessible. A web visit won't be the same, but at least it won't break my back. I only hope the locals love it as much as I do...