Last night a good friend of ours invited us to join her and a colleague at the opening party for the Wiener Festwochen, Vienna’s music and performing arts festival that’s got something going on everyday for the next month!

Situated directly in front of Rathaus (or City Hall), the opening ceremony for the event included a special emphasis on the human voice, particularly collective singing, and included a range of styles from gospel or opera to classical symphony and choral arrangements. And, in each piece, the celebration of the human voice seemed heightened, and had we been sitting, would have left us on the edge of our seats.

As tradition has it, and perfectly so, the concert closed with the Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor: Choral, Op. 125.

Afterward, the party moved inside to the main festivities hall inside the Rathaus, where invitees met the musicians, singers and others who are part of the festival performances. The architecture inside the building is as ornately gothic as the outside of the building, but when decorated with modern lighting, the hall became a dreamy hallucination between the past and present.

We feel honored to have been invited, and are looking forward to checking out some of the performances.

● Also check out full coverage of the Opening of Vienna’s festival (in German).

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Have a great week!

I was walking to the trainstation on Argentinierstrasse in Vienna, admiring the nature around me, looking at large trees hanging over me when I turned and saw this:

On the other side of the street; these eyes watching. A series of art, one oil painting and two other collages.

I was fascinated by the messages: “Poverty and opulence” and “Self control.” Thoughts to consider on an Easter Monday.

Mette Tronvoll, a Norwegian photographer, studied in New York and now lives in Oslo. Her exhibit at the Landesmusem was a treat.

Portraits are the cornerstone of Tronvoll’s artistic practice it seems, portraying friends and acquaintances, or people from different groups or cultures. The portraits are usually produced in a series that reveal tensions between individuals or types, and what I realized was that they speak loudly about similarities and differences.

In the series Couples, Tronvoll portrays friends with their partners. The way the couples position themselves, their individual expressions dominate the mood in each picture. The almost life-size format brought me close to each subject.

Tronvoll has also traveled extensively, and I loved the portraits and people from various rural parts of the world, such as Mongolia. I was particularly fascinated by the portraits of soldiers in the series Rena. The camouflage and the uniforms counteract individual characteristics and the only thing that makes it personal is the subject’s gaze.

I was inspired by the captured moments in the photographs. I hope that each of you are inspired by life’s treasures too.

Press accreditation and information room for guests

Most Austrians are familiar with the annual film festival Viennale. It draws a public from all around the world and goes on for one month. A smaller version of the Viennale, and perhaps a bit less known, is Crossing Europe.

(sponsored by Silhouette)

This year is the festival’s eighth year, but the genre stays the same, devoted to idiosyncratic, contemporary and socio-political auteur cinema from Europe.

Guests of the film industry (nearly 600 accredited festival participants) and the local cinema audience are able to choose from a program with 130 hand-picked films, documentaries and short films.

Linz views

The opening night was filled to the brim with the press, photographers and other guests, being welcomed to the program, the jury and the guest of honor, Austrian film producer gone Hollywood, Eric Pleskow. He is the former president of United Artists and Orion Pictures, and during the hight of his career the film One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest (1976) under the ownership of United Artists, won an Oscar.

Eric Pleskow (sitting) is greeted by a very (and I mean very) excited event organizer

Before the first screening of the festival, the co-organizer OK Kulturhaus invited guests to enjoy the traditional Austrian meal knödel and sauerkraut and a cold beer to splash it down.

For some strange reason, I got in the middle of the new group of soldiers marching to their post.

It turns out, there are many Royal Guards who are women.

I was told that there was a huge party at the Royal Palace for the millennium, and apparently the organizers were concerned that the floor wouldn’t hold out for all of the dancing, so they had all the palace guards come in and jump up and down on the floor to make sure that it would hold. I guess that would be the boring part of the job…

As I continued walking from the palace toward the waterfront, I noticed the good, old Volvo driving off.

Although situated on a very northern latitude, Sweden supposedly has a rather moderate climate. Growing up in Sweden, I am not so sure about that, and coming from the warmth of spring in Vienna, I was shivering cold at times. But it is April after all, and some were sure to enjoy the customary fika, or coffee break, by the water.

In the narrow alleys and small squares of Gamla Stan you can find old and cozy cafés, restaurants and shops. During earlier days the inns around the old marketplace, Stortorget (below), were places where people came together and drank beer like we drink water today. I hear, in one of these inns the Swedish troubadour Carl Mikael Bellman entertained the drunken regulars. Today you enjoy a cup of coffee or lunch here.

At Stortorget the Stockholms Blodbad took place in 1520 when many noblemen were decapitated by the Danish king.

I was told by the owner of a small grocery store named Gamla Stan Livs, that one problem with keeping Gamla Stan intact is the constantly sinking ground level, a surprising couple of centimeters each year. The instability of the ground makes the houses and streets sink and it is noticed in the store,which has been there for many years.

As I was making my way towards the Royal Castle, Slottet, I dove into small stores and second-hand shops with stairs leading down into cellars and cave like spaces.

Often we head down to Naschmarkt in the evenings after work. It’s an open-air market where we usually food shop, and occasionally stop for a glass of wine. This being somewhat of a necessity after the 25-minute train-ride — yes, I’m being slightly facetious.

We live next door, which is not to say that the atmosphere has become dull and monotonous, rather that we find it comforting and nigh. It’s old-worldy, too! Check out the brass bar stool in the background below.

As we passed one of our favorite wine-vendors, the owner called to us to try a new wine!

This week he’s serving a fresh 2010 Grüner Veltliner — young and… — and we were more than delighted to be tasting it while hanging out in the evening sun!

The weather this weekend is supposed to be gorgeous in Vienna — high of 22° C — so there will be plenty of hangin’ around outdoors.

A man and woman in discussion, Viksraitis’ work behind

Titled the Real World, the exhibit is on display at the Anzenberger Gallery, where we attended the vernissage. The composition of the two sets of photographs vis-à-vis one-another forms a remarkable collection; Parr’s photographs appear vibrantly colored next to Viksraitis’ high-contrast black-and-white images.

The exhibit will be showing through May, though for those who didn’t attend the opening night, both photographers have already left town.

Further reading can be found in German in the daily, Der Standard.

We hit the road – driving on the left side of the road for the first time soon became second nature – and were met with picturesque rural lanscapes and fresh perspective.

At each pitstop, we encountered the same utterances of financial instability and hardship, yet never came across a dimmed sense of hospitality or unfriendliness. When we mentioned living in Vienna, there were expressions of awe, which sparked reflection over and appreciation of the standard of living that we enjoy from day to day in the city we call home.

The closer we grew to the peninsula, the narrower our path became. Hills started to become small mountains and the lines dividing traffic all but disappeared. We rolled into town as the sun set, found a friendly innkeeper with reasonable prices, and went out for the freshest fish and chips either of us had tasted.

As dawn broke, we rose to the little town we’d been promised. It was sunny. Being March – clearly the off season – the town’s folk were hibernating, but we welcomed the silence as a cue to take it easy.

After our third full Irish breakfast, we went out to discover the beauty of the Slea Head, the rest of the Dingle Peninsula, and eventually head north toward Galway.