Baroque happy hour at Belvedere Palace ushers in the weekend

Rome is generally considered to be the best city in the world for Baroque art and architecture, and it deserves its reputation. Vienna, however, must certainly be in the running for the No. 2 slot. I've always found that a bit surprising. The bombastic, exuberant, emotionally draining style seems at home with the Southern Europeans. You'd think the stereotypically colder, more rational Northerners would have resisted this wild artistic foray, skipping straight from the cool rationalism of the Renaissance to the cooler control of Neo-Classicism. If anyone tried to promote that idea, they certainly didn't get through to the Viennese. And most specifically, to Prince Eugene of Savoy.
Eugene built his Belvedere Palace on a hill just outside of Vienna. It is textbook Baroque in every grand element. Larger than life, sensuous sculpture. Excessive use of marble and gold leaf. Exuberant frescoes drawing visitors to heavenly scenes. Ornate gardens with blockbuster views. Conveniently, the Belvedere is only a five-minute walk from the conference hotel (more on the hotel below), thus was the perfect option for a bit of post-conference culture.
My appreciation for the Baroque may stem from the fact that it's the most successful PR campaign of all time. Created as a way to lure Catholics back from the reformation (who wants austere interiors and men preaching at you for hours when you can have incense, music and great art?), it quickly spread beyond religion. In secular contexts, it mirrors the power of the church while screaming money. Baroque is lavish, lavish is expensive, expensive is powerful. Why convince anyone with logic, when you can overwhelm their senses to capture hearts?

The palace complex actually has two main buildings. The Lower Belvedere is a long, single-story palace at the foot of the hill where Eugene lived. Stretching up the hill from there are magnificent gardens filled with dramatic statues, long gravel paths and ornate parterres, all leading your eye to the Upper Belvedere. This much larger palace was meant as a grand entertainment space, enhanced by the vision of Vienna spread below you. (Bel vedere in Italian translates to "beautiful view".) A single 12.50 euro ticket gets you into both palaces and the orangery, each of which is used as a display space for different collections. Unless they're particularly interested in Baroque architecture, however, most people will be satisfied spending 9.50 to get into the Upper Belvedere to see its main attraction, Klimt's The Kiss, and to walk around the gardens for free.

Eugene built the whole complex near the end of a phenomenally successful, and profitable, military career. He was, most notably, the general responsible for keeping Vienna from falling to the Turks and, by so doing, is probably one of the most important people in European history you've never heard of. You won't forget him once you see his house.

You enter the Upper Belvedere through a white marble hall, arched ceiling supported by writhing giants. Stucco decoration on walls and ceiling is abundant with spears, helmets and armour; imagery that continues throughout the house. The decor leaves you in no question about the man's profession. From there, it's up a lavish white marble staircase where more giants ... this time oversized putti rather than the menacing men below ... hold up grand lanterns. The landscape around the Upper Belvedere actually slopes up, meaning that the landing of this impressive stair is also the main entry from the upper garden. Continue upstairs and you emerge into the marble hall, its riot of colour a real shock after the white approach.

This is an almost religious space, rising two very grand stories to a ceiling that's almost a dome. The walls are covered with pink marble, the ceiling frescoed with the apotheosis of Eugene. This, by the way, is a must for every self-respecting Baroque home owner: a grand scene of you being welcomed into heaven by the Christian panoply, the Greco-Roman gods or a confusing mixture of both. Eugene opted for the pagans. The views of Vienna from here are even more staggering than those from the garden, now 20 feet below. Other rooms still preserved from Eugene's time include a painted hall in which every element, architectural or figurative, is fresco; a jewel box of a corner pavilion dripping in gold leaf; another corner pavilion painted in the Italian "grotesque" style; and a lavish chapel in similar style to the marble hall.

The remainder of the rooms have been stripped back to simple cubes, and it's there that you find the art collection. The focus on the upper floors is European art from the early 19th century. (Basically, picking up where the Kuntshistoriches leaves off.) The vast majority of tourists will shuffle immediately to the Klimt room, where The Kiss takes centre stage. It is indeed a lovely thing, conjuring perfectly the passionate love that keeps a couple separate from, and oblivious to, the dangers of the world. But we've all seen it so much that its impact is perhaps a bit dulled. I found myself much more drawn to his less familiar Judith and Holofernes in the same room. The sexual satisfaction Judith gains from holding her enemy's severed head is both obvious, and deeply disturbing.

The other blockbuster here, which everyone seemed to miss on their way to The Kiss, is Jaques Louis David's portrait of Napoleon at the St. Bernard pass. This is one of the most famous portraits ever painted of the French emperor, capturing him when he was still a virile and ambitious general with a glorious career before him. There's also a Renoir of a blond nude bathing, which you'll recognise, and a Van Gogh which you won't, but is worthy of worship.

The rest of the rooms are pleasant, but without many recognisable masterpieces. There is an abundance of early 19th century portraiture and a wonderful room of Romantic landscapes that really deserve a bit of Beethoven piped in to bring the artistic movements together.

Down the hill in the Lower Belvedere are four rooms still wearing their Baroque trappings. The main entry hall is another marble, fresco and plaster tour de force, matching the marble hall in the palace above, which is clearly visible through the massive windows. Off to one side is a larger than life statue of the triumphant Eugene. At one side of the building, overlooking the privy or "private" garden, is what's left of Eugene's private quarters. His bedroom is entirely gold leaf and mirrors, and must have been a bit like sleeping inside a piece of jewelry. There's a dignified marble hall in greys and whites, displaying a collection of classical statuary, that leads out to his garden. On the opposite corner is another room frescoed in the Italian grotesque style, now a large gift shop where you can get tee shirts, scarves, cups and anything else you can imagine in Klimt-inspired patterns. The rest of the Lower Blevedere has been stripped back to unadorned rooms and is given over to modern art. There's currently a major Kokoshka retrospective; a lot of harsh and unlovely things that didn't cause me to break my stride as I moved through the galleries looking for anything of interest.

The Lower Belvedere with Prince Eugene's private apartments in the foreground, the Upper Belvedere at the top of the hill

The Orangery, just across the privy garden, has also been stripped back to a bare core for modern art. On display at the moment is an interesting selection of modern sculpture. This I liked much better, as it matched the spirit of the place. Though massive and abstract, the marble sculptures bore a wonderful resemblance to giant Baroque pearls.

They locked the door behind me at 6 and I found myself alone in Vienna with the evening before me. Fortunately the weather was absolutely lovely, so I set off for a long stroll around the city centre. I whiled away the hours sitting on the steps of various fountains or statues, listening to a great range of street musicians. As dark fell I had a meal of peasant simplicity to counter the evening's culture: cheese sausage, brown mustard and a slab of brown bread from a street vendor for the princely sum of 3.50 euro. Fantastic.

About the hotel: I'm staying at the Renaissance Imperial Riding School, which used to be the Penta and is still known by most taxi drivers under this name. I was very excited when I first saw the name, imagining that this was going to be right in the centre, somewhere near where you see the Lipizzan stallions. Wrong riding school. This one is about a mile out of town. The main building was a riding school set up for the military by Franz Joseph. It's a coral pink building with white gothic accents; not the most militaristic of styles, but who's going to argue with the Emperor. Thus the lobby and the public spaces are nice. Lots of marble and sweeping, vaulted ceilings. The hotel rooms themselves are in a long, modern wing that juts from the historic core. Pleasant, classic corporate rooms. Attentive staff, good room service, excellent space for meetings. An ugly, modern section of town lies in front of the hotel. At the back, however, is a gracious section of town containing many of the foreign embassies. This includes the beautiful Russian Orthodox cathedral, just getting a major renovation. At about a mile and a half from the Hofburg, however, probably too far for convenience if it were entirely a leisure trip.