UNHEIMLICH

In the early hours of December 12, 1877, there was no stopping the guests of the Court Opera Soirée. The Waltz-addicted Viennese pushed chairs aside and took over the floor, in defiance of an Imperial ban on dancing. An homage to the Waltz, the Opernball and the Viennese Blood.

Within the silence of the sacred stone walls and smooth marble floors, flickering altar candles radiate hints of wax, ashes and chilled frankincense.

A fragrance as intangible as Klimt’s golden vision of the Elysian Fields: “an ideal realm, wherein alone we can find pure joy, pure happiness, pure love.” It wears like a subtle, immaterial cloak of bright light, verdant freshness and subdued florality.

In the world of Freud, wood stands for sexual desire in general and the female bosom in particular. A milky fragrance that captures intimate skin feeling ⸺ with animalic and lactonic notes vibrating around a luscious woody core.

A dark, spicy warmth reveals the presence of the great beast. Typhon, or Typhoeus, once ruled the deepest realms of Hades. Klimt places him at the center of the hostile forces, in shades of black, brown and uncanny blue.

High above the mountain forests, between snow fields and bare rock, the crystal-clear nocturnal sky carries the scent of cold wood and eternal ice.