It was the very beginning of my new life in Vienna when I first laid eyes on Gustav Klimt’s work. I came from Poland by train and arrived at Südbahnhof around eight in the morning. It was September 1978. I was alone and didn’t know anyone in Vienna except Marek, my friend from Wrocław, who promised to help me find accommodations and work. Later that afternoon I was going to meet with Marek, but until then I had many hours to kill.
I intended to stay in Vienna for a few months, working and saving money. At that time, Poland was still behind the Iron Curtain. As a journalist, I was earning very little, and I knew that working as a simple house help in Vienna, I would make at least ten times more. This economic disparity led many Poles to immigrate to Vienna at that time. Why Vienna? Because it was the only country in the West we could travel to without a special visa.
I had a lot of time, so I left my luggage in the storage at the station and went for an aimless stroll feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. It was time before iPads and Google, and I didn’t even have a map of the city. Little did I know that my first day in Vienna would lead me to a lifetime passion for Klimt and his paintings.
Not everyone knows that Vienna was home to Klimt. So it makes sense that the main home for his works was, and perhaps still is, Belvedere. I will never forget that first encounter. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I remember discovering the luscious gardens of Belvedere during my walk. The stunningly beautiful blue sky and almost white facade of the palace with green roofs were all immersed in the vibrant greens of the grounds.
At that time I had no idea where I was, so curiosity led me to walk around, and I was lucky to find out that the entry to the palace was free. I walked in with no knowledge of what was inside. I don’t remember other exhibitions, but I still remember when I spotted the first Klimt painting from far away.
As I stood there, awestruck by the unique blend of colors and the intricate, golden patterns that are synonymous with Klimt’s style, I felt a deep emotional connection. It was as if the beauty of his work opened up a new world for me.
Years later, when I immigrated to the US, I purchased my first reproduction of “The Kiss.” It was a cheap poster, but it made me very happy, even though it left much to be desired. It took many years before I was able to buy a great quality print on silk, worthy of placing it on display in our dining room. It is still as awe inspiring as it was when I saw the original painting the first time.
Then, one day, I found “The Virgin” in a book about Klimt, and it was as if the universe had answered my call. I was captivated by the women resting among intricate patterns and my favorite colors. It was a visual symphony of violets that spoke to my soul. I knew I had to find a high-quality reproduction of this masterpiece, no matter the cost or effort.
My search led me to a gallery selling a life-size replica print of “The Virgin” on silk through eBay. It was very expensive and felt risky, but I couldn’t resist the allure of owning this stunning piece. Thankfully, the gamble paid off. The painting arrived in perfect condition, beautifully framed and ready to grace our bedroom walls.
For the past 15-20 years, “The Virgin” has been a constant source of inspiration and joy. Each morning, I wake up to the sight of these six interlacing women in various disrobed positions on a bed. Some sources say that there are seven of them but no matter how I try, I can see only six. Anyway, despite the painting’s name, it’s clear that these women are far from virgins. Of course, this playful twist adds a touch of intrigue and mystery to the piece.
Over the years, Klimt’s style, particularly the bold use of color and intricate patterns, has had a profound influence on my own artwork. As I’ve grown as an artist, I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to the vivid hues and swirling designs that first captivated me in “The Virgin.”
Reflecting on my own journey, I can’t help but feel grateful for that fateful encounter with Klimt in Vienna. It was the start of an enduring love affair with his paintings that has become an inseparable part of my life. And “The Virgin” in my bedroom isn’t just a painting; it’s a symbol of my connection to Vienna, and my love for Klimt’s work. Every time I look at it, I’m reminded of the magic of that first encounter at the Belvedere Palace and the incredible life journey it has led me on.