Wassily Kadinsky in Lana

From the outside, the house appears frozen in time; inside however, it offers a world of light, wood and silence, a place designed for work, reflection and gatherings. Yet this house has another little story to tell, one that is rooted in the heart of European art. It was already there, almost identical to how it is now, when on May 6th 1908 along with his companion Gabriele Münter, the celebrated Russian artist Wassily Kandinsky arrived in Lana on the tram connecting Merano to the small village.
The two were guests of Alexander Strakosch, an art enthusiast who dreamed of founding an artists' commune in the mountains. After lengthy travels throughout Europe, the painter was in search of a respite, a time of reflection far from the hustle and bustle of Munich. South Tyrol welcomed him like a parenthesis of light: a landscape of rolling mountains, orchards, pointed roofs, and long, sunny days. Kandinsky stayed in Lana for a month, and during that time he painted tirelessly. His views of Lana reveal a progressive dissolution of contours and a new focus on colour as an autonomous energy, capable of expressing inner feelings rather than describing external forms. It was here amid the silence of the fields and the slow pace of the days, that he developed the awareness that would lead him to Abstraction. The turning point was close: just a few months later in Munich, he would join the Neue Künstlervereinigung München or New Artists' Association and begin a journey that would forever change 20th century painting.

In “Lana Landscape”, one of the canvases he painted here and which is now in the Wassily Kandinsky Collection in New York, the outline of the house on Gries Street in the centre of Lana is clearly recognizable: the pitched roof, the wooden balcony, the simple geometry bathed in light. It is a fragment of landscape that tells the story of the moment when looking at the world from Lana, Kandinsky began to see it with new eyes—no longer as a reality to be reproduced, but as a vibration to be listened to. And so, on certain summer afternoons, amid the clatter of footsteps and the quiet chatter of the village, one can still imagine the Russian painter leaning out on his balcony, intent on watching the light change on the mountains and benevolently caress that small, discreet house, overlooking a secluded and quiet square.
And yet, this house has another little story to tell.