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Majolica House is one of those rare spots in Vienna (and probably further afield, too) where you can see flowers bloom not in the garden, but across the fa莽ade. This eye-catching beauty is the work of Otto Wagner, Vienna鈥檚 poster boy for the Secessionist movement. During his 鈥淚鈥檓 done with Baroque鈥� phase, Wagner decided to ditch the frills and go full-on floral with clean lines and tiled elegance. The building鈥檚 name comes from its ceramic tiles, dripping with pinks, greens, and blues in swirling botanical glory. Think wallpaper for the outside walls, only waterproof and wildly photogenic.

Wagner鈥檚 architectural rebellion was all about simplicity with flair. No ornate carvings, no dramatic cornices鈥攋ust smooth surfaces and windows that mind their own business. The outside hinted at the inside: clean, modern, functional. Still rectangular, sure, but very much a rebel in a world of curvy cupolas and frilly stonework. Today, it鈥檚 still considered a top-tier Art Nouveau masterpiece, minus the ego...

Not far off is House No. 38, where Wagner teamed up with fellow art renegades. You鈥檒l spot Koloman Moser鈥檚 bold reliefs and Othmar Schimkowitz鈥檚 gilded stucco medallions catching sunlight like they know they're fabulous. Then there鈥檚 a more modest building at No. 3 K枚stlergasse鈥攔umored to be Wagner鈥檚 own residence. Understated, of course, because nothing says 鈥渁rchitect鈥檚 ego鈥� like hiding in plain sight.

And when you鈥檙e ready to change levels鈥攍iterally鈥攈ead down into Kettenbr眉ckengasse subway station, also a Wagner design. It鈥檚 where style meets utility with such grace, you might forget you鈥檙e just waiting for a train.

Now, onward鈥擵ienna doesn鈥檛 admire itself...

Pro tip:
Go on a bright day, and bring binoculars. Seriously. The details tucked under balconies and along the eaves are worth the squint. Wagner wasn鈥檛 just designing buildings鈥攈e was composing symphonies in ceramic and stucco.

The shimmering show-off known as the Medallion House is a golden gem in Vienna鈥檚 Secessionist crown. Designed by none other than Otto Wagner and completed in 1899, this apartment block stands shoulder to shoulder with its equally flamboyant sibling, the Majolica House, in a dazzling display of architectural one-upmanship.

Why 鈥淢edallion House鈥�? Because of the bling, of course. The name comes from the gilded stucco medallions designed by Wagner鈥檚 prot茅g茅 and frequent partner-in-aesthetic-crime, Koloman Moser. Unlike Majolica鈥檚 garden-party palette of pinks, blues, and greens, the Medallion House prefers to go full glam鈥攇old rules the fa莽ade, and not just the front. Since the building is on a corner, Moser didn鈥檛 stop there鈥攈e decked out the entire length like it was going to a fashion gala.

The medallions feature serene, statuesque women flanked by palm leaves and floral swirls, a cocktail of classical inspiration and Art Nouveau flair. And if that wasn鈥檛 theatrical enough, look up. Higher... There, atop the roof, you鈥檒l find "The Criers" (or "The Crying Women" if you like), sculpted by Othmar Schimkowitz, who was no stranger to dramatic rooftops鈥攈e also did the angels for Otto Wagner鈥檚 Postal Savings Bank. These windswept figures seem to wail into the skyline, giving the whole building a kind of high-stakes opera vibe.

Wagner had big dreams for this stretch of the street鈥攗rban housing with style, edge, and plenty of Instagram appeal, a century before filters were a thing. In 1914, the Medallion House became the property of the Kohn family. But during World War II, the building was seized after the family was forced into exile. Justice prevailed in 1947, when the Kohns successfully reclaimed their home.

Today, the Medallion House doesn鈥檛 just star on postcards鈥攊t graces an actual 鈧�100 gold coin. And in true Viennese fashion, it currently houses... a bank. Because nothing says 鈥渁ustere financial institution鈥� quite like a fa莽ade dripping in gold and silent drama queens on the roof.

So, next time you're wandering the Naschmarkt side of town, look up. The Medallion House doesn鈥檛 just whisper history鈥攊t practically sings it from the rooftops.

Welcome to the rebellious heart of early 20th-century Vienna鈥攚here artists weren鈥檛 merely painting outside the lines, they were redrawing the canvas entirely. This is the Secession Building, a shimmering shout of defiance against artistic convention, and the architectural embodiment of the Secessionist movement鈥檚 famous motto: "To every age its art. To every art its freedom."

Designed by Joseph Olbrich in 1898, this building doesn鈥檛 just house art鈥攊t is art. From the gold-leafed laurel dome (which the locals affectionately nicknamed 鈥渢he golden cabbage鈥濃�攎ade up of 2,500 gilt laurel leaves and 300+ berries) to the stone turtles balancing enormous planters by the doors, the structure is a bold, symbolic nod to ancient triumph and an unapologetic flex for modernity. Olbrich imagined a dome of laurel; Vienna saw a salad. Art is nothing without interpretation, after all...

Now, here鈥檚 the main course鈥擥ustav Klimt鈥檚 Beethoven Frieze, painted in 1902 as a tribute to Beethoven鈥檚 Ninth Symphony. It wraps around the interior like a mythological fever dream鈥攌nights, maidens, monsters, longing, redemption鈥攁ll rendered in Klimt鈥檚 shimmering, sinuous style. It鈥檚 the only painting inside, and trust us, that鈥檚 all you鈥檒l need.

The interior is purposefully minimalist. No distractions. Just you, the art, and the low hum of quiet admiration. It's one of those rare museum experiences where you鈥檙e actually encouraged to pause, breathe, and let the space do its thing. Also, yes鈥攜ou can take photos (no need to sneak one with your phone pressed to your thigh).

If you鈥檙e a Klimt enthusiast or just curious about what happens when art stages a revolution, this is your temple. The fa莽ade alone stops traffic鈥攍iterally, tourists cross busy Vienna streets just to snap a shot.

Pro tip:
Grab the audio guide (available in German, English, French, and even Italian). It lets you sit, stare, and soak in each detail without juggling pamphlets or squinting at wall text. Art rebellion has never sounded so smooth.

Otto Wagner鈥擵ienna鈥檚 own king of curves and crown prince of steel... When he took charge of the city鈥檚 underground system in the 1890s, he didn鈥檛 just design train stations鈥攈e gave the Viennese public transit a full-blown Art Nouveau glow-up. Enter the twin Karl's Square pavilions, those photogenic little buildings that look like they belong in an opera about trains falling in love...

With their swirling floral motifs, sleek lines, and unapologetically exposed steel framework (because Wagner believed architecture shouldn鈥檛 lie), these beauties are equal parts sculpture and structure. They opened to the public in 1899 and promptly became the city鈥檚 most stylish way to exit a railway platform.

Fast-forward to the 1980s. The city鈥檚 old Stadtbahn line was being updated to the modern U-Bahn, and some genius had the bright idea to demolish Wagner鈥檚 pavilions. The Viennese public responded with a collective 鈥渁bsolutely not,鈥� and a full-on preservation revolt followed. As a result, the pavilions were disassembled piece by ornate piece, hoisted up about seven feet, and then reassembled like architectural Lego鈥擵iennese edition.

Today, the twin structures face each other across Karl's Square like two stylish old ladies trading secrets. One is now a delightfully eccentric caf茅 (no word on whether the ghost of Wagner sips espresso there); and the other houses a compact exhibit on his life鈥檚 work, including a striking model of his magnum opus, the Church at Steinhof.

Local tip:
While you're around Karl's Square, don鈥檛 miss Saint Karl's Church, an overachieving Baroque masterpiece with a dome that practically shouts, 鈥淏ehold me!鈥� You鈥檒l also find the University of Technology, the Vienna City Museum, and the delightfully rebellious Secession Building, famous for its golden cabbage-shaped dome and complete lack of subtlety. And if it's summer, grab a bench under the trees in Resselpark, and let Vienna do the storytelling for you.

Coming in just behind the mighty Musikverein and its glitzy Golden Hall, Vienna Concert Hall is no mere understudy. This is the grand stage for the Vienna Symphony Orchestra, a trio of concert halls, the Academy Theatre, and even a studio theatre鈥攂ecause why stop at one spotlight when you can have five?

Opened in 1913, the building is a late Secessionist beauty crafted by Austria鈥檚 theater dream team, Fellner & Helmer. Outside, a glowing wrought-iron-and-glass canopy (yes, illuminated) welcomes you in style, topped off with octagons and a charming half-moon gable鈥攂ecause nothing says 鈥渆vening of culture鈥� like celestial geometry...

Inside, you鈥檝e got options: the Great Hall for the grand and glorious, the Mozart Hall for the intimate and intricate, the Schubert Hall for that poetic melancholy, and the sleek Berio Hall if you're feeling a bit avant-garde. Four shows can go on all at once here, so don鈥檛 be surprised if you hear a string quartet on your left and world music on your right.

Musically speaking, the Concert Hall keeps things spicy. While the Musikverein sticks to its classical guns, the Concert Hall flirts with jazz, cabaret, world music, and the occasional brush with pop. It's the venue that wears a tuxedo, but might as well show up in training shoes.

Acoustics? Pristine. Seating? Surprisingly comfy鈥攏o need to endure 90 minutes of symphony with your knees wedged into your chest. Whether you鈥檙e here in January or July, something magical will be playing, echoing through halls that make you feel like the music is just for you.

In short: come for the concert, stay for the architectural flirtation, and leave with your ears (and knees) well taken care of.

When Otto Wagner decided to build himself a 鈥渢own house鈥� at Rennweg No. 3 during the 1890s, let鈥檚 just say he wasn鈥檛 slumming it. Today we know it as the Hoyos Palace, home to the Croatian embassy, but back then it was a flashy statement in high Ringstrasse style. Think lavish wrought-iron balconies, theatrical stucco flourishes, and just a dash of that future-modern flair Wagner would later be known for鈥攍ike the bold cornice and those elegant upper-floor reliefs that quietly whisper, 鈥淪ecession is coming鈥︹��

Wagner, ever the architectural multitasker, also designed the neighbors, including No. 5 next door. That one gained a bit of fame of its own鈥攖his is where composer Gustav Mahler resided from 1898 to 1909. One can only imagine the heated creative debates drifting through the walls鈥攁rchitecture meets music, with coffee breaks in between...

Just a few steps away along Rennweg, you鈥檒l find the Guards' Church鈥攁 temple with an identity crisis. Originally built in the 1760s by Nicol貌 Pacassi (the court architect to Empress Maria Theresa herself), it was given a Neoclassical facelift only six years later. Classic midlife glow-up... But walk inside and you鈥檙e back in full Rococo glory: gold-dripping stuccowork, a ribbed dome, lantern-lit drama, and those delightful bull鈥檚-eye windows watching over it all.

Once the chapel for the imperial hospital, it was handed over in 1782 to the Polish Guards, who made it their spiritual home. These days, it still hosts services in Polish and goes by the charming nickname 鈥淧olish Church.鈥� Because nothing says 鈥淰ienna鈥� like Baroque architecture with a Slavic soul.