Oesterreich | Fotoeins Fotografie

Vienna in (the) 5: artist Julia Bugram

(“Raising Hands”)

The sculpture provided the introduction three years ago. Two clasped hands, each as tall as a person. Each hand made of 1-million 1-Eurocent coins. Seen in 2022, next to St. Stephan’s Cathedral. Seen next in 2023, the sculpture moved near the big fountain at Schwarzenbergplatz. A wonderful crowdfunded project, created by Austrian artist Julia Bugram.

This past spring, I receive a kind invitation to visit her studio. It’s July and I’m in Vienna’s 5th district. I make my way up to the 2nd floor of an “Altbau”, and arrive at a cozy working art-space shared between Julia and another artist.

Julia is presently exploring themes surrounding community and society; and how art can create, enhance, and strengthen connections among people. Artistic influences include: Hilma af Klimt, Mela Diamant, Renate Bertlmann, Margot Pilz, Jakob Lena Knebl, Martha Jungwirth. Her “Raising Hands” sculpture is presently in storage, waiting for new benefactors and fresh eyes.

We spoke at some length about the economic and cultural challenges contemporary Austrian artists face in the creation and distribution of their work, as well as the difficulty of commuting between Vienna and her home in Burgenland. Despite challenges, I’m looking forward to seeing what she’ll create in the near future.

Links to her website and Instagram.

*Working art space shared by Julia Bugram and Elisabeth Hansa. (I’ve greyed out their contact numbers.)*

Julia’s recent book with images of her recent art pieces, including extensive discussion and the context of her work: “Widerstand & Neugierde: Kunst, die Veränderung fordert.” (Resistance & Curiosity: art that demands change).

*Most who directly supported the publishing her book are from Vienna, other parts of Austria, and Europe.*

Her triptych creation, “Fut – Mut – Wut”, presented here in alphabetical order with carefully selected wallpaper-like background motifs. Three words of equal length that rhyme, each word an expression of an essential facet or dimension for a woman.

*Defiance and empowerment, body autonomy, questioning the gaze, control of their own narratives*.

*Many of the pieces on the wall include sketches of plants, emphasizing her desire to commune with and derive inspiration from nature.*

My thanks to Julia for her invitation and her time. I made all images above with an iPhone15 on 11 July 2025. I received neither support nor compensation for this piece. This post composed within Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.

25T77 “Light is what we see”: Brigitte Kowanz at Vienna Albertina

E76, V24.

Austrian artist Brigitte Kowanz (1957-2022) long held a fascination for light. Light isn’t simply the medium through which information propagates; rather, light itself is the tool and the mould for illumination, reflection, and even introspection. There’s a definite spirit of fun and “lightness” when she matches her fondness for Morse code with illumination sources.

In my view, there’s something in her light-based artworks which allude not only to her philosophy and worldview, but also, happily for me, to her clear interest for science. Her works also anticipate and explore timely themes including what it means to live in an information-rich society that fully embraces digital habitats and virtual spaces.

She’s quoted as saying (2017):

“Licht ist expansiv und flüchtig, es bleibt nie bei sich – Licht ist eine Lebensmetapher.”

(Light is expansive and elusive, it never remains the same – light is a metaphor for life.)

I discovered her work for the first time in 2018 on the roof of the Leopold Museum in Vienna’s MuseumQuartier. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to come across more of her artwork installed throughout the city.

The Brigitte Kowanz retrospective, “Light is what we see”, is now on display at the Albertina from 18 July to 9 November 2025. In part, I arranged my 2025 time in Vienna to coincide with the final run of the Francesca Woodman exhibition *and* the start of the Brigitte Kowanz exhibition.

“Alphabet”, 1998/2010: neon, mirror. Letters A (right-centre) through Z are represented clockwise with each letter as illuminated Morse code. I may be out of the “game”, but this looks a lot like an accretion disk surrounding an astrophysical “black hole”.

“Echo Hall Flow Nein”, 2003/04: neon, mirror. Each word appears vertically, consecutively from left to right. The large number of internal reflections is another hallmark of her work, always asking the viewer to determine the placement of the original source.

“Morse Alphabet”, 1998: fluorescent tubes, plexiglass tubes, enamel paint. Each radial spoke contains a letter of the alphabet in illuminated Morse code. “A” begins at the top at around 12:02, moving clockwise to “Z” at 11:58.

*An example of one of her infinity boxes. “Rund um die Uhr” (around the clock), 2011: neon, mirror. The image is partly corrected for geometric distortion.*

*“asap omw imo tbh bif afaik irl idc idk iow hth fyi omg”, 2021: neon, aluminum, enamel paint. I had to look up a couple of these in the urban dictionary. NGL, but I feel old.*

*“Forward”, 2005: neon, stainless steel, enamel paint. Each letter is represented in Morse code by a vertical panel with an illuminated tube; “r” 3rd from the left & 2nd from the right.*

“Speed of Light sec/4m”, 1989/2007: neon, chrome steel. “0,000000013342563 second” (1.33E-8 sec or 13.3 nanoseconds) is the time required for light to travel 4 metres, which appears to be the actual length of this sculpture.

*“light is what we see”, 1994/2019: glow lamps, power strips, plexiglass, stainless steel.*

*“Signature” (Kowanz), 2015: neon, mirror. That’s my bulbous head in the reflection.*

I received neither support nor compensation for the present piece. I made all images above with an iPhone15 on 23 July 2025. This post composed within Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.

25T76 Please, Vienna: may I have a Leica?

E75, V23.

I don’t want to be a king; oh no.

But I am a man of wishful thinking, at least for the duration of this entry.

In Vienna’s 7th district on Westbahnstrasse, there are a couple of city blocks that’s essentially “camera & photography row”. Personal highlights include the Westlicht Schauplatz für Fotografie, which promotes the visual medium as an art form with key exhibitions; and next door a Leica store, one of two direct brand-to-customer shops in the city.

I have a second-hand Fujifilm X70 fixed-lens prime compact camera that’s always been fun to use, because it’s small, light, and wide. Remaining strong in its 8th year with a shutter count past 110-thousand, I’m thinking about what might be next. There are some choices, and going “fixed” again to the X100 series would be fine, but I think the model’s 35-mm focal length is too long compared to my sweet-spot between 24- and 28-mm. Leica’s exquisite quality control in all phases including parts and production has always been a key selling point, but realistically, their suggested pricing is usually beyond my limit. (That D-Lux 8, though …)

I press my nose (or in this case, mobile) against the window of the closed shop, and dream about what it’d be like to hold, carry, and photograph with one of these beauties in my hands. Fortunately, the shop is closed for the day, eliminating for today any chance for temptation.

The answer to the very first question is a solid and confident “no”. 😅

*Westbahnstrasse in the 7th district: Leica store Wien West (left) and the Westlicht Museum for Photography (right).*

*Didn’t I just see in person here in Vienna* *a print of this very famous image?*

*Leica M6 10557P “PROTOTYPE-like”: 5700€.*

*The shop has other products, including the Rolleiflex Tele: 1560€.*

*Ducati Sogno “Per Collaboratore”: 1560€.*

*The word “Leica” is an amalgamation of the company name **Lei**tz and the word camera.*

I made all images above with an iPhone15 on 22 July 2025. This post composed within Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.

25T75 Vienna’s Blutgassenviertel (Blood Alley Quarter)

E74, V22.

It sounds macabre at the outset, and admittedly, the legend of the 1862 naming for the alley points to the mass elimination of medieval Templar Knights in 1312.

But those apparently nondescript entryways, if open, reveal much more: to residential blocks, several Pawlatschen (“stacked open balconies”), and a big quiet inner courtyard with a tree that’s apparently more than 250 years old. While the foundations of this complex go back to the 12th- to 13th-century, post-war restorations and preservation efforts retained the historical character of the buildings in Vienna’s oldest residential area.

Perhaps, the only thing “bleeding” is the source of funds required to maintain the appearance and everyday working nature of the apartments within.

*Entry into Singerstrasse 11, 11a, 11b, 11c.*

*The “seam” and open courtyard separating the blocks at left (Blutgasse 5, 7, 9) and the blocks at right (Singerstrasse 11a,b,c). The big plane tree at centre is apparently at least 250 years old.*

*Facing Blutgasse 9 at centre, the general description seems apt: stacked *and* squeezed.*

*Blutgasse 3: typical of Viennese “Pawlatschen” style of stacked open balconies. This individual structure is a Pawlatschenhof, a courtyard with stacked balconies.*

I made all images above with an iPhone15 on 21 July 2025. This post composed within Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.

25T74 Sisi got an imperial summer house because she disliked Vienna

E73, V21.

It’s late-19th century Vienna, and Emperor Franz Joseph I (FJ1) is in charge of the Austria-Hungary dual monarchy. He’s ordered and overseen big changes to the city landscape in Vienna. Problem is his wife Empress Elisabeth (Sisi) isn’t taking any liking to the city. To sweeten the deal (and stay close to Vienna), FJ1 commissions the construction of a quiet hidden “Palace of Dreams” in what is now the forested land near Lainz in western Vienna. It’s his present to his wife in 1886.

Today, the Hermes Villa is a part of the Wien Museum. While the grounds outside are free to walk around, there’s an admission charge to view the interior.

*The north or main entrance leads to the museum inside. Emperor Franz Joseph I commissioned the architect Karl von Hasenauer for the design and construction of the villa.*

*Genovevabrunnen (Genoveva fountain), by Viktor Tilgner, 1885.*

*“Putto mit Krokodil” (child with crocodile), by Viktor Tilgner, 1886.*

*Hermes statue, by Berlin sculptor Ernst Herter, 1888.*

*The villa is named after this central sculpture.*

*St. Francis of Assisi, by Josef Josephu, 1934. There’s another statue of St. Francis of Assisi behind the Minoritenkirche in central Vienna.*

*Patron saint of animals, on the 800th anniversary of his birth.*

“Elisabeth: Zwang – Flucht – Freiheit”, by Ulrike Truger, 2006, to represent Empress Elisabeth. Wearing a coat, Elisabeth’s face is partly obscured by the fan in her left hand; the wings appear just below the fan.

Truger created this marble sculpture to counter against the Sisi cliché and to comment about how trapped she felt. Three aspects of the sculpture refer to her personality: a fan representing her obligation, a coat for her desire to escape, and wings for her freedom.

I made all images above with an iPhone15 on 20 July 2025. This post composed within Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.

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