Schloss Ambras: Curiouser and Curiouser

On a couple of occasions in my long and diverse teaching career, I’ve been asked to teach a course on museum studies. A prominent feature of that course — and it’s a really fun course to teach, by the way — is a series of lectures on cabinets of curiosities. These are essentially the early modern precursor to the museum, ad hoc collections of all manner of materials strange, unusual, marvelous, and beautiful. The cabinet of curiosities is a concept with enormous range — with origins in Italian studioli (little studies) and royal treasuries, it takes a particularly elaborate form in the collections of the Austrian Habsburgs, who bought, stole, commissioned, or were given every imaginable kind of object.

I’ve written about some of the fruits of this collecting before—indeed, the newly reopened Kunstkammer in the KHM in Vienna has the very best objects from the Habsburg cabinet of curiosities (at its height called a Wunderkammer); these objects were, in the late 19th century, split off from the paintings and sculptures, and from the naturalia, that became the basis of the rest of the KHM and of the neighboring NHM (about which I’ve also written). But if you want to see the collections of rare and precious objects presented as they would have appeared in the 16th century—that is, at the height of European craftsmanship—you need to head to Innsbruck, and to Schloss Ambras. Here, the collections of Archduke Ferdinand II, ruler of Tyrol, can be seen still in their original setting, some of them in their original display chambers. It’s a rare and extraordinary window into Renaissance collecting—and also just some really cool shit.

The castle/palace complex is 16th century, with gardens set against a spectacular Alpine backdrop that you unfortunately can’t see while looking at the palace, rather from it (who gets the good view? The inhabitants, that’s who):

Schloss Ambras

 Schloss Ambras, Grounds

 Inside, the first room you come to is a large hall of armor—some of it rather interesting. The armor has an incredible intricacy; this was, after all, the 16th century, and Habsburg gear. It was more likely to be used for parades than for riding into actual battle. Also, these people were seriously tiny.

Armor Ambras

There were also some pretty weird choices—like these helmets given the shape of Moors’ faces, to be worn by archdukes and their like.

Schloss Ambras, Inexplicable Objects

“What were they thinking?” you ask. Good question. In further rooms you can see the cabinet of curiosities as it was originally displayed in the 16th century. This is a rare, indeed unique, opportunity, because most objects that were originally part of these collections are scattered, with their original settings destroyed, and only inventories give a sense of how they might have been assembled. At Schloss Ambras, you can see that the collection is organized according to a set of taxonomic principles that make little sense to modern minds. That is, by material, regardless of any other consideration (for example, art vs. nature).

Schloss Ambras, Curiosities

Among the highly curious objects in the collection, a sort of carved coral diorama of the Crucifixion:


A carved wood dancing death:

Dancing Death

And, in a corner that it shares with a tree trunk that has grown around a set of deer’s antlers, you will find a taxidermied forerunner to the early work of Damien Hirst:


Shark Ambras

Wait…let’s get a better look at those antlers, shall we?

Antlers Ambras

The collection does not distinguish, as I said, between works of art and nature, and so it includes a series of paintings of the extraordinary hirsute family of Pedro Gonzalez, a Spanish man who was part of the court of Margaret of Parma, the governor of the Netherlands:

The Family of Pedro Gonzalez

No doubt such hirsutism caused the family distress. But surely it was better than a sharp stick in your eye. Not sure? Consider the trials and tribulations of one Gregor Baci, unsuccessful jouster:

Ambras Injury

Gregor’s portrait is just one of the dozens upon dozens in Ambras’ extensive and quite quality portrait collection; you can also see many of the original rooms (including an incredible bathroom with a deep pool meant to be kept warm with heated stones). In contemplating what picture to give you in closing, I choose this incredible example, which I think captures the curiosity’s concept of limitlessness. Why live in a world with a concept of the impossible, when you could instead live with this guy:

My God, that is a hat and a half. The whole idea of riding a horse in that thing is incredible. Why is the horse not running from it in terror? Perhaps he is. Perhaps that is what this painting is really of.
My God, that is a hat and a half. The whole idea of riding a horse in that thing is incredible. Why is the horse not running from it in terror? Perhaps he is. Perhaps that is what this painting is really of.
This entry was posted in Adventures, Around Austria, Art, Culture, Regan Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Schloss Ambras: Curiouser and Curiouser

  1. Ambras houses one of the most fascinating cabinets of curiosities indeed. If you are keen to see another one: There is a small cabinet of curiosities at the Dommuseum in Salzburg. By the way there are two interesting details I’d like to add. The illness depicted in the painting of Pedro Gonzalez is named after the castle: Ambras Syndrome. Another famous painting shown at Schloss Ambras is a portrait of Vlad III. Drăculea who is supposed to be the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

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