Ground that deliberately rises and falls under your feet — the experience the artist wrote everything about.
C.Stadler/Bwag — CC BY-SA 4.0 · Jules Verne Times Two — CC BY-SA 4.0 · Jules Verne Times Two — CC BY-SA 4.0 · Afifa Afrin — CC BY-SA 4.0
The house is free and takes twenty minutes from outside; the museum is ticketed, takes an hour and explains the whole idea. See the house first, then decide whether the style earns a ticket.
Reasonably so: the colours and tilting floor appeal to them, and the spaces don't demand the silence of a classical painting gallery.
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A nineteenth-century furniture factory that Hundertwasser redesigned entirely as his own museum: the same vocabulary as his famous house nearby — coloured tiled façade, undulating floors, trees out of the windows — except here you can go in and walk through it. Two floors are given to his own work: paintings, prints, posters and ecological projects, including designs for buildings, ships and waste incinerators that he made look like toys. Two more host temporary photography exhibitions, which the museum runs to a consistently good standard. The place is unexpectedly restful: a café inside dense with plants, and uneven passages that make you notice your own footing in a strange, pleasant way. If the Hundertwasserhaus intrigued you from outside, this is where you actually understand it.
Ground that deliberately rises and falls under your feet — the experience the artist wrote everything about.
An incinerator, stations and public buildings designed to look like toys — some of them standing in Vienna today.
Dense planting and natural light at the building's centre — a genuinely restful pause mid-day.
Untere Weißgerberstraße, Vienna