After one Olympic Games ends, the next one is already on the horizon. This adapted sporting proverb also applies to Innsbruck’s urban development. Between the 1964 and 1976 Winter Olympics, Innsbruck expanded in every conceivable way. Shopping centers, churches, new roads, the motorway, bridges, and residential complexes were built in the optimistic spirit of the post‑war economic boom. After the major expansion of the city with the Olympic Village blocks in the east, city planners decided in the late 1960s to advance residential construction in Höttinger Au in a modern—and especially dense—way. Unlike the Heiligjahr settlement near the airport, which, under the influence of Christian social doctrine, was built as a row of single-family homes, the Mariahilfpark was intended as a holistic, urban extension of the inner city in the architectural style of its time. On the site of the former Schießangergasse with its typical late‑19th‑century rental houses and workers’ lodgings on the north bank of the Inn, a new district was created west of the Universitätsbrücke. The Mariahilferstraße was significantly widened to accommodate increasing car traffic, and new sidewalks were added. On the riverside, the Inn promenade was created—today a busy route for pedestrians, joggers, and cyclists.

Between 1969 and 1973, the residential complex commissioned by the nonprofit housing association Wohnungseigentum was constructed. To this day, it divides opinions due to its appearance and is considered by many one of the worst architectural “sins” ever committed in Innsbruck. Architect Franz Kotek was one of Tyrol’s representatives of Brutalism, a style that, since the mid‑1950s, expressed modern urban life. Brutalism sought to make the increasingly industrialized society visible through architecture. Continuing the legacy of New Objectivity, simple forms and construction elements were to gain monumental aesthetic presence through the exposed use of structural materials. The name derives from the rawness of the materials—especially the dominant use of concrete—béton brut, as coined by the visionary architect Le Corbusier. Kotek designed the five‑ to nine‑story buildings with broad floor plans in a prominent position against the backdrop of the Nordkette at a time when Brutalism was gaining ground in Innsbruck. A row of shops in the basement connects the four structures—containing over 270 apartments—into a unified complex when viewed from Mariahilferstraße. From the Inn promenade, however, one sees the expansive green spaces surrounding the cubic blocks. Viewed from the opposite bank, the buildings appear surprisingly harmonious due to the surrounding trees. Unlike the prefabricated blocks of the Olympic Village, their broad footprint makes them seem more solid and of higher quality. The striking balconies—individually decorated by residents, made of heavy precast concrete elements, and adorned with greenery—give the impression of a terraced housing complex. Multiple types of concrete, the futuristic‑monumental entrances with cut‑out circular forms, brick, and orange elements as openly displayed building materials take the viewer on a time journey back to the 1970s.

Under architects such as Franz Kotek, Horst Parson, Gustav Peichl, and Josef Lackner, a whole series of Brutalist projects emerged in the late 1960s. Not only in new districts—like the youth hostel in the Reichenau or the Technical University campus in Hötting West—but also in prominent locations and under unexpected clients, the then‑modern style was implemented for a brief but lasting period in Innsbruck’s architectural history. The office building in front of the Casino, the ORF broadcasting center in Saggen, the terraced residential complex on Höttinger Höhenstraße, and the Kreidpassage at the corner of Boznerplatz and Meinhardstraße stand as silent witnesses. Particularly interesting is the acceptance of Brutalism by conservative Bishop Paulus Rusch. The parish churches of Petrus Canisius in Höttinger Au, Paulus and Pius in the Reichenau, and Wilten West were built in fully modern—one might say brutally modern—fashion. Only after the 1976 Olympic Games did these concrete giants fall out of favor and fashion.

The parish of Mariahilf gives its name to the Innsbruck district west of the Inn Bridge. Together with the Mariahilf Church, the cemetery, the kindergarten, the Kunstkammer, and the Widum (rectory), it forms a complex that vividly illustrates the church’s influence on infrastructure, society, and community life. The origins of the parish date back to the 17th century. After Swedish, French, and Hessian troops had devastated large parts of neighboring Bavaria and the city of Bregenz during the final years of the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), the Tyrolean Estates vowed on 1 February 1647 to build a church dedicated to Cranach’s miraculous image Mariahilf—today housed in the Cathedral of St. James—should Tyrol be spared the horrors of war. With the building project, the Estates also sought to demonstrate political self-confidence toward the reigning Archduchess Claudia de’ Medici and her chancellor Biener.

The construction was led by Christoph Gumpp. As early as 1648, the first mass was celebrated on a provisional altar, and one year later the shell of the building was completed. Over the centuries, several generations of Tyrolean artists contributed to shaping the church into its present form. Gumpp, likely inspired by his travels to Italy, drew from domed structures such as the Roman Pantheon. Unlike typical Baroque architecture, which emphasizes a unified interior, Mariahilf follows Renaissance principles: a composition of distinct elements. Five side chapels form the rounded outer structure. Six oval ceiling frescoes depicting scenes from the life of Mary decorate the inner side of the dome, while six additional frescoes present scenes from the Old Testament. As Cranach’s original Mariahilf remained in St. James, Michael Waldmann created a painted copy in 1654. This painting was integrated into a depiction of the church’s origin story. Surrounding it are representations of the four Estates—clergy, nobility, farmers, and burghers—who hand the new church over to Mary’s protection at the high altar. Above the triumphal arch appear the coats of arms of Tyrol, the House of Austria, and the Medici family, to which the late Archduchess Claudia belonged. Perhaps the most important figure in Mariahilf’s history, however, was neither artist nor architect, but Dr. Sigismund Epp (1647–1720), professor of theology, pro‑chancellor, and rector of the University of Innsbruck. He endowed two benefices that allowed the Tyrolean Estates to operate and later expand the church, thereby strengthening their influence in the city. Under Epp, Mariahilf became the parish of the University of Innsbruck. His generosity came with conditions, including the requirements for the benefice holder:

“To enjoy this benefice, a pious and respectable secular priest, a native Tyrolean and capable of speaking the German language, shall be appointed… The benefice holder shall include the founders in his prayers and good works.”

After Epp’s death, the privilege of serving as university church shifted from Mariahilf to the Holy Trinity Church of the Soldiers of Christ. Through the Mariahilf chaplaincy, the Tyrolean Estates could form political opposition not only to the Jesuits and the territorial prince in religious matters but also in key issues such as education and university governance. The independent parish was able to counteract Vienna’s growing centralization under Maria Theresa and Joseph II, whose governments sought to move educational authority away from the church and under state control. In the early 1850s, Mariahilf’s pastor Caspar Weyrer founded a parish school. Decades earlier, an attempt to establish an educational institution independent of St. Nicholas’ trivial school had been rejected. Weyrer, however, obtained capital and property through another benefactress, Elisabeth von Mayrhofer zu Koburg & Anger, enabling him to establish the Mariahilf school independently of governmental oversight. The foundation charter stated:

„Die beiden Häuser, der Garten, der Hof, kurz den ganzen Einfang vermache ich zu einem Schulhaus oder zu einer Kinderwarth-Anstalt… die Kinder (sind) verbunden, alle Wochen einmal in der Versammlung laut einen Vaterunser und ein Avemaria zu beten.“

Praying for one’s soul remained popular in 19th‑century Innsbruck. With the enactment of a new school law in 1872, the parish school was forced to close. Weyrer immediately founded a private school to circumvent the law. Neither the liberal‑German city council nor the Ministry in Vienna wished to see a church‑run school in Innsbruck’s educational landscape, and the district school board soon declared the foundation buildings unsuitable for schooling. Yet the matter was not settled. A few years earlier, the Mariahilf cemetery—established in 1786—had already come to the authorities’ attention due to poor soil conditions and related hygiene issues. In 1876, four years after the school’s closure, the parish began planning the relocation of the cemetery. The Tyrolean Estates, who still oversaw Mariahilf, acquired the land where the cemetery remains today. In its picturesque hillside location, with arcades and a Neo‑Renaissance chapel, the Tyrolean State Cemetery is considered the most beautiful in Innsbruck. Moving the cemetery finally made way for the construction of the new school. On the former burial ground, the present‑day Mariahilf primary school opened in 1902. A small portion of the former chapel wall remains visible on its rear side. The old school building was converted into a parish kindergarten.

Despite Mary’s blessing and protection, disasters struck the parish over the centuries. The major Innsbruck earthquake of 22 December 1689 caused significant damage to the newly built church. Later destruction came at human hands: during World War I, the bells cast by the Grassmayr foundry in 1837 and the organ pipes were melted down for weapon production. When the National Socialists seized power in 1938, the Mayrhofer foundation—like many church institutions—was dissolved, and its assets absorbed into the National Socialist People’s Welfare organization. During WWII air raids, the kindergarten and parish hall were destroyed, and the church suffered minor damage. Shortly before the end of the war, a 1,000‑kg bomb landed between the kindergarten and parish hall but failed to explode. Whether the Virgin’s intercession was responsible remains a matter of speculation. Today, the Mariahilf parish remains the dominant institution in the neighborhood that bears its name. Next to the church stands the Epp benefice house, designed by Johann Martin Gumpp as the chaplain’s residence and now home to the Kunstkammer—a collection of exhibits and archives on Mariahilf. On the opposite side, the church is flanked by the Messnerhaus and the kindergarten reopened in 1952. North of the church stands the 19th‑century rectory with its large parish garden. Today, the Mariahilf parish and the Vincentian Conference jointly administer the parish center and kindergarten.

No fewer than three churches shape the center of Hötting. The Old Parish Church, located on what is now Schulgasse, is built on the remains of one of the oldest sacred buildings in the region around Innsbruck. Excavations by Wilhelm von Sydow on the site were able to date graves back to the 7th century. It must have been very early Bavarian Christians or a remaining Breonian settlement who operated a church at this location. Over this early Innsbruck burial ground, the first Romanesque church building was erected in the 10th century. Just as Gothic architecture later did, or Baroque architecture in the early modern period, Romanesque was an artistic and architectural style that dominated Europe between late antiquity and the High Middle Ages. The patron saints of the parish were as contemporary as the architecture of the building. Saints Ingenuin and Albuin took on the patronage. Both were highly relevant figures for their contemporaries. Albuin was likely serving as Bishop of Brixen at the time the church was built. Around the year 1000, the relics of his predecessor Ingenuin—who had died centuries earlier—were transferred to Brixen Cathedral. The Hötting church was first mentioned in 1286, when it appeared in a letter concerning indulgences. Paying an indulgence—essentially a contribution to the church to reduce one’s time in purgatory after death—was common practice. Many medieval churches would likely never have been built without the financial possibilities provided by indulgences. The present core of the Gothic nave and the tower date back to the 15th century, which still sets the structure apart from most other churches in Innsbruck. In 1641 the tower was rebuilt after a fire. During the 18th century, the interior was remodeled in the Baroque style.

In 1853, Hötting—until then under the ecclesiastical care of Wilten Abbey—was elevated to an independent parish. The population of Hötting grew at an unprecedented rate during the 19th century. The 400 seats of the old church were no longer sufficient, and the cemetery also became too small for the municipality, which at that time did not yet belong to Innsbruck. In 1888, the parish priest of Hötting founded the Pope Leo Church Building Association to finance a new building. Pope Leo XIII (1810–1903) was a politically active pontiff. By strengthening the Christian workers’ movement, he sought to reestablish the Church as a major player on the political stage. Neo-Gothic church buildings were meant to revive and manifest the ancient medieval bonds between European ruling houses and the papacy. His rejection of republicanism, of the state as the highest social institution, and of socialism, along with his devotion to the veneration of the Holy Mother of God, made him popular in conservative circles in Innsbruck. One of the major initiators and donors was Robert Nißl, brewer, restaurateur, and owner of Büchsenhausen Castle. He provided the land for the project. Although indulgences were no longer common practice in the Catholic Church, donations to the parish still benefitted both one’s salvation after death and one’s social standing within the community. Five years after the association was founded, the first part of the complex—the cemetery and chapel—was built. Through further donations and the sale of popular New Year’s “apology cards,” the industrious parish community raised funds for the church over the next 15 years. In 1909, the construction company Josef Huter & Söhne began building the New Hötting Parish Church. A little over 20 years earlier, the same builder had been commissioned with the construction of the Church of St. Nicholas. It is therefore unsurprising that the two churches bear strong resemblance. Neo-Romanesque arches and Neo-Gothic pointed arches and turrets define the façade. Above the portal, Saints Florian and Sebastian as well as Hötting’s patron saints Ingenuin and Albuin were immortalized in mosaic. The gable features statues of Jesus and the two founders of the Christian Church, Peter and Paul. The shell of the building was solemnly blessed in 1911, and before the outbreak of the First World War, the interior furnishings were gradually added. Particularly striking are the artistically crafted windows produced by the Tyrolean stained-glass workshop. Due to the turmoil of war, the church could only be fully completed and consecrated in 1924. The current high altar was created in 1989 by Innsbruck artist Helmut Millonig, whose studio is located directly across from the Old Hötting Parish Church. The war also brought another artwork to the forecourt: the war memorial by Clemens Holzmeister.

Just a few meters from the New Hötting Parish Church lies the Hötting Plague Cemetery. It was established during an outbreak of the plague in Hötting, separate from the regular burial grounds. During the Thirty Years’ War, the plague struck Tyrol not only more frequently, but the lack of supplies also led to an exceptionally high number of deaths. Those who could afford it locked themselves in their homes with enough provisions to avoid infection. Exact numbers of plague victims have not survived, but the outbreak of 1625 left a particularly strong mark on local memory. In typical Baroque fashion, people not only prayed fervently, promised to build chapels, churches, and votive images, and undertook pilgrimages; superstition also thrived. According to legend, every night at midnight, the Grim Reaper would approach Hötting from the west carrying a scythe, while his female helper, the “Death Woman,” would approach from Büchsenhausen in the east with broom and rake. While Death carried souls to the afterlife, the Death Woman was said to sweep up the remains. Despite the devout population’s promise to undertake an annual pilgrimage to Kranebitten and the newly built Chapel of the Visitation of Mary (constructed the same year) to keep the eerie pair away from Hötting in the future, the plague cemetery fell into oblivion. In 1912, the small walled chapel was built according to plans by master builder Leopold Heiss, and the iron grave crosses were installed. Its current appearance evolved through several stages and renovations. Inside stands a Baroque-style crucifixion group. The modern images on the wall behind the chapel were added after the two world wars. Anton Kirchmayr and Josef Prantl each created modern interpretations of the great dying in 1925 and in the 1950s.

The parish of St. Nicholas is closely tied to the history of the Innsbruck district long known as a poor and working‑class neighborhood outside the city gates. Until 1789, St. Nicholas housed the city’s first Sondersiechenhaus—a special infirmary where people with contagious diseases or physical deformities were kept far away from the urban population. The institution is first mentioned in 1313. While the general hospital lay in the suburb, the infectious and socially weakest members of society were housed even farther from the center. The Sondersiechen formed a brotherhood organized much like a guild of beggars, sustaining themselves through gifts and alms. Begging in Innsbruck was regulated by a formal ordinance. The group was led by the Siechenvater and Siechenmutter, who served externally as their official representatives and internally as the organizers of daily life. From the 16th century onward, a chapel dedicated to St. Nicholas with an adjoining cemetery stood next to the infirmary. Nicholas of Myra had been chosen as the patron saint not only by various craft guilds but also by thieves and prostitutes. Yet it was most likely the river rafters who made him the patron of Innsbruck’s suburb. These rough boatmen who navigated the river between Mötz in Tyrol’s Upper Inn Valley and Passau in Bavaria had their landing site in St. Nicholas and likewise adopted the Bishop of Myra as their guardian saint. Nicholas fit the Koatlackn, the district where one found the jail, execution site, laborers, and beggars. The Handl House across from the church bears on its gable a mosaic of St. Nicholas in an Orthodox‑influenced style—one of the first works produced by Albert Neuhauer’s mosaic workshop. The three golden balls symbolize the legend of the three young women whose dowries Nicholas provided, saving them from a fate in prostitution.

In 1851, St. Nicholas was elevated to an independent parish. During industrialization, the community had grown rapidly, and the old chapel had become too small. Between 1882 and 1886, the construction firm Huter & Sons erected the imposing church. The design came from Viennese architect Friedrich Schmidt (1825–1891). A professor of medieval architecture at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna, Schmidt had played a leading role in the construction of Vienna’s City Hall and St. Stephen’s Cathedral, where a commemorative plaque honors him. In Innsbruck, besides the design of St. Nicholas Church, he also created the plans for the Rudolfsbrunnen fountain. Schmidt shaped Neo‑Gothic architecture as a hallmark style of the Austro‑Hungarian Empire. Between 1870 and World War I, churches and public buildings in this recognizable style were erected throughout the monarchy from Innsbruck in the west to Galicia in the east. Because both religious and governmental buildings used similar architectural language, citizens began to associate the two dominant institutions of the era—monarchy and church. The bell tower, the pointed-arch windows, the statues of St. Martin, St. Nicholas, and Mary with the Christ Child above the entrance, the façade, and the windows all evoke a stylized medieval grandeur. The windows, designed and manufactured by the Tyrolean Stained Glass and Mosaic Company, are true works of art; when sunlight streams through them, it floods the vaulted interior—decorated with sacred imagery—with color. The eight mosaics on the façade, also created by the Wilten workshop, depict the four evangelists of the New Testament and the prophets Daniel, Ezekiel, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. In 1906, a side‑altar dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus was added, symbolizing Tyrol’s famed 1796 Sacred Heart vow. The war memorial at the church entrance commemorates the soldiers who fell in World War I. The sandstone statue by Johannes Obleitner was transported from the Wilten cemetery to St. Nicholas. The wooden Pietà originally intended for the Koatlackn stands inside the church. A plaque lists the names of all parish members who died between 1914 and 1918. The cemetery surrounding the church is also worth a visit. In the Middle Ages and the early modern period, this was the final resting place for the poor souls from the infirmary and for those executed at nearby Köpflplatz. Much of its original structure has been preserved. On three sides, the church is encircled by an arcade walkway with columns. Today, the grounds contain impressive graves of notable Innsbruck families dating back to the 19th century—inviting visitors on a small journey through time.

Almost unexpectedly and in radiant yellow, Büchsenhausen greets walkers who toil their way up the steep Weiherburggasse. The castle, which towers majestically over Innsbruck in neo-Gothic style, was once the Pichsen- und Gueßhaus. Peter Löffler, one of the founders of Innsbruck’s early modern armaments industry, produced cannons and bells here in his foundry before Maximilian I had the arsenal in the Saggen district built. His son Georg expanded Büchsenhausen into an estate in 1539. Thanks to their exceptional craftsmanship, the Löffler family had accumulated wealth in early‑capitalist Innsbruck and could afford to hire the well‑known master builder Türing. Unlike the nobility, they did not owe their social status to birthright but to their skill. Their residence was therefore intended to be representative. Anyone looking from Innsbruck toward the Nordkette could see the stately residence perched above the Inn, which only faded into the background once Hötting became densely built up. In the book Die Paläste und Bürgerbauten Innsbrucks, the creation of the castle is described as follows:

“The famous cannon founder Gregor Löffler built an estate in 1539 on an orchard at the Fallbach, purchased from King Ferdinand, and named it Büchsenhausen after his nearby casting house. On a meadow plot acquired in 1545 directly to the east, he erected another building, which served him primarily as a residence.”

Buildings such as Schloss Büchsenhausen or Weiherburg as well as the history of the Löffler family give an idea of the shifting power structures from around 1500 onward. It was the era in which science slowly began to detach itself from its ecclesiastical environment. Rulers such as Maximilian had realized that it took more than soldiers to win wars. Power was rooted in capital—in the case of the Habsburgs, especially the Fuggers—and in innovations such as the Löfflers’ weapons technology. Founders like Löffler were still craftsmen rather than weapons engineers, but their technical know‑how was in high demand. The cannons they cast provided advantages in warfare comparable to the superiority of tanks and flamethrowers over traditional cavalry during World War I. The range of their cannons helped England defeat the Spanish Armada, laying the foundation for the British Empire. The book Der Meister des 7. Siegels recounts the story of the Löffler family, who rose from Innsbruck to fame as international weapons masters. The peak of Innsbruck’s cannon production ended in 1590 when Hans Christoph Löffler moved to Vienna. A plaque along the long stone wall with two portals in Weiherburggasse opposite Büchsenhausen commemorates the foundry that operated here from 1503 to 1854.

In the 17th century, the complex was extended by Court Chancellor Wilhelm Biener, who used Büchsenhausen as his residence. Claudia de Medici had sold the palace to her chancellor for his services and because she needed money to build her new summer residence in today's Hofgarten. In order to utilise his estate as profitably as possible, Biener had a brewery built and served beer. However, he soon had to give up his liquid business, as the sale of tax-free beer meant that the court lost much-needed revenue from the duty on wine. The legend of the Biener-Weibeles zurück. Nach seiner von vielen als ungerechtfertigt empfundenen Hinrichtung fand die Seele der Gattin des streitbaren Politikers keine Ruhe und sucht als Geist Schloss Büchsenhausen bis heute heim. 

In the following centuries, the building took on its present form under the stewardship of the minor noble family Ritter von Lama. The onion‑shaped tower and the chapel likely stem from the genius of Johann Martin Gumpp. The chapel, consecrated in 1689, features an altarpiece painted by Martin Knoller depicting Saint John of Nepomuk. While the façade still displays a sundial adorned with Baroque putti, the tower carries a later‑added clock. In the 19th century, the aristocratic era of Büchsenhausen came to an end as the second industrial revolution heralded change. The last noble lady of the von Lama family married the commoner Johann Nepomuk Mahl‑Schedl (1806–1873). When she died young in childbirth, the widowed castle owner led an eccentric life. In 1837 he had the estate remodeled in neo‑Gothic style. Mahl‑Schedl, who had grown up in an inn in Upper Austria and was a resourceful businessman, not only established a tavern and coffeehouse, but also opened Tyrol’s first swimming and bathing facility at Büchsenhausen, which remained in operation until the 1960s. In the spirit of bourgeois culture, he organized the Nibelungen literary circle in the castle, where he and his companions composed folk‑style legends with German‑national enthusiasm and collected German‑language sagas. In his second marriage, he wed Emilie von Eliatschek‑Siebenburg, the daughter of a general. In patriotic fervor, he joined the war front in Italy with a privately financed rifle company. Three years after his deployment he was elevated to knighthood, at which time he renamed Büchsenhausen “Alpenburg” and began calling himself Johann Nepomuk Mahl‑Schedl von Alpenburg. In 1865, at an advanced age, he sold his property and emigrated with other adventurers from St. Nikolaus to Peru, where they founded the settlement of Pozuzo, which still exists today. Shortly before his death, he returned to Innsbruck to spend his final days there and was laid to rest in an honorary grave at Innsbruck’s West Cemetery. By this time, Büchsenhausen had been turned into a brewery by its new owner Robert Nissl. From the former noble estate, he supplied his nine inns throughout Innsbruck with beer. He remodeled the castle yet again—the spacious entrance area on the west side still reflects his aristocratic ambitions. Although he never achieved noble status before his death in 1910, he did at least earn the title of honorary citizen thanks to his philanthropy. In 1913, in the final days of the monarchy, the eastern sections of the complex were added. Today, the venerable castle houses art studios, apartments, and spaces for events of all kinds.

One of the most beautiful views over the city can be enjoyed from Innsbruck's Villa Blanka tourism school. Unfortunately, there is hardly anything left of the neo-Gothic villa from 1882, which the artist Edgar Mayer had built for himself. After several changes of ownership, the Innsbruck municipal council bought the property in 1936 with the financial support of the Sparkasse. The park and the beautiful building were to be open to all citizens. The villa was leased out as a coffee house to replenish the city's empty coffers in the interwar period.

During National Socialism, the building was first used by the Nazi women's organisation as a training centre for "music and celebration design" and later as a training centre for the catering industry. After the war, the province of Tyrol leased the property to set up a vocational school for the tourism professionals of the future. After the turmoil of the war, tourism was to regain its former strength. The basis for this was well-trained chefs, waiters and hoteliers. After the time-honoured Villa Blanka no longer met the requirements, a modern school building was erected on the site of the magnificent building in 1967 according to Hubert Prachensky's plans. Only a small arch and two stone benches remain in the well-tended garden in front of the modern new building as a reminder of the old Villa Blanka.

What remains from the Belle Epoque and the interwar period is the park, which is still open to the public today. The association Tyrolean Ornithological Institute built a modern bird enclosure as part of the takeover of the park with money from the Sparkasse fund. The smooth and round shape of the cages with the cubic centre sections is a typical example of the modern architecture of the 1930s in Innsbruck. Architect Siegfried Thurner, who had also designed the Theresienkirche on the Hungerburg, planned three open-air areas, each five metres long and three metres high, connected to each other by heated interior spaces. The individual areas were to present the lowland zone, low mountain range and high mountain range. Visitors to the park should be able to view native birds in the most species-appropriate environment possible thanks to the elaborate interior design. The aviary can be regarded as the nucleus of the Alpine Zoo, which was founded in 1962.

The selection of birds presented to visitors over the decades is interesting. Initially it was mainly alpine, native animals, but during the 90s and 00s the taste changed towards exotic parrots before the aviary stood empty for a few years in 2005. Since 2022, the enclosure has been populated by collared parakeets, among others. These birds, originally native to Pakistan, south-east China and Sri Lanka, have been resident in Innsbruck's Hofgarten since 1978, after a couple fled from a villa in Saggen. The refugees multiplied to as many as 30 birds in the 1990s thanks to abundant feeding by delighted walkers in the Hofgarten and a warm winter quarters under the roof of the Kongresshaus. The renovation of the Kongresshaus and the removal of the hibernation site cost many of the exotic birds their lives. The specimens in the Villa Blanka aviary can be read as an example of the biodiversity of modern Tyrol.

Just above the school is the second remnant of the old Villa Blanka. A pavilion with a stone floor and bronze dome stands somewhat secluded at the edge of the grounds. It seems to have fallen out of time, a kind of lost place. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, pavilions were an integral part of leisure facilities such as parks and promenades until the First World War. Here, walkers could rest and young couples were protected from prying eyes. In the private sphere, pavilions were long the domain of the aristocracy before the middle classes adopted this architectural element to demonstrate their wealth.

To the north of the town, elevated above the River Inn, is Weiherburg Castle, which has had a number of prominent residents in its long history. Around 1460, Christian Tänzel had it built as his private residence. Tänzel was one of the many up-and-coming citizens who were able to capitalise on this period of upheaval in Tyrol. He had made his fortune in the booming silver mining industry in Schwaz.

The silver mine in Schwaz was the largest of its kind in the world. It had changed the country and its social order like nothing before. With its 20,000 inhabitants, Schwaz was one of the three largest towns in the Habsburg Empire in the 16th century. A new middle class emerged with the miners. The majority of the workers were unskilled, but trained miners were sought-after labourers who came to Tyrol from all over the German-speaking world. These foreigners not only brought their labour, but also new customs, eating habits, traditions and religious views to the country. Tänzel, however, was less middle class than manager and top earner. At times, the Tratzberg Castlethe mighty castle near Schwaz, to his property portfolio. In 1483, Tänzel and his descendants were elevated to the nobility. The Weiherburg was intended to represent this. The residence was close to the court of Prince Siegmund and yet pleasantly removed from the narrow town centre.

Siegmund erwarb das Anwesen von ihm, um verdiente Mitglieder des Hofes wie seinen Leibarzt damit zu verwöhnen. Siegmunds Nachfolger auf der Weiherburg Maximilian I., der dem Anwesen auch seinen Namen gab, nutzte die Weiherburg der Legende nach gerne als Jagdschloss, wenn er in Innsbruck weilte. 1560 kam die Weiherburg in den Besitz Anna Welsers. Sie stammte aus der reichen Augsburger Kaufmannsdynastie, die nicht nur die Weiherburg, sondern über ihr Investment in Maximilian den gesamten Tiroler Bergbau übernommen hatten. Ihre Tochter Philippine war mit Ferdinand II. verheiratet. Die Weiherburg war näher an der Stadt als Schloss Ambras, was für den Regenten recht praktisch war, wenn er die damals beschwerliche Reise in den Süden nicht antreten wollte.

The current purpose of the Weiherburg also goes back to Ferdinand II. He laid the foundations for today's Alpine Zoo with a small zoo opened in 1591. Unlike today's zoo, the Renaissance prince and hunting enthusiast did not limit himself to the Alpine mountain world. Monkeys, lions, leopards, peacocks and ostriches were brought to Innsbruck for the amusement of the prince and his court. The Alpine Zoo has been open to everyone since 1962. The terraced zoo is home to bears, lynxes, wolves, otters, beavers and many other animals from the Alpine region.

After several changes of ownership, the building came into the hands of Rifle Major Philipp von Wörndle, who commanded the Schlacht von Spinges gegen die Übermacht der französischen Armee im Tiroler Abwehrkampf 1796 gewonnen hatte. Die Jungfrau von Spinges, Katharina Lanz, who fought alongside the troops, is the Tyrolean equivalent of Joan of Arc. Wörndle's daughter Maria married Joseph Andreas von Attlmayr. He had the castle remodelled in the 19th century and ran the estate as a hotel. Wealthy English and American tourists made it possible to maintain the large complex even after the upheavals of 1848. The Attlmayrs rounded off their property with the purchase of a large part of the forest on the plateau between Gramartboden and Mühlau, from which the Hungerburg district was to develop. After the death of his son Richard (1831 - 1910), the last Attlmayr was, in keeping with the style of the time, a member of the Innsbruck Beautification Association and the Crown Prince Rudolf Veterans' Association, the city of Innsbruck acquired the Weiherburg.

In doing so, she also took on the historical obligation from Attlmayr Senior's time, which led to the preservation of the listed grave of another „Richard“ at Weiherburg Castle. During a stay at Weiherburg Castle in February 1840, Englishman Richard Tooth succumbed to illness at the tender age of 22. As he was not Catholic, he could not be buried in one of Innsbruck's cemeteries. His tomb, a marble stele with a stately white cross, was preserved by the then lord of the castle, Josef von Attlmayr, for a fee and thus survived the test of time. Today the grave is a Richardsruhe and is a listed building.

Ferdinand‑Weyrer‑Street is home to two historic building complexes — the workers’ housing and the Weyrer grounds — which formed the stage for both of Innsbruck’s industrial revolutions. The best way to enter the Weyrer grounds is from the Mühlau village square with its fountain. The village coat of arms, featuring the distinctive millstone, symbolizes the early industrialization of the area. Passing the baroque estate with its chapel, you arrive at the square in front of the workers’ housing. A sign above the passageway shows three workers and bears the inscription: “Honor the work and respect the worker.” Just below it, a metal plaque certifies that the United Cloth Factories Baur‑Foradori were part of the Tyrolean Eagle quality label and produced genuine Tyrolean loden. A few steps further stands the workers’ house. The plain façade of the small building is a well‑preserved relic from the era of tenement blocks around the turn of the century. Workers who had moved from the rural surroundings to the city lived here. The social changes brought about by the transformation of working life can also be observed in buildings like this one. Those who moved from the countryside to the city exchanged not only their address but their entire lifestyle. A place considered a slum today was state‑of‑the‑art when it was built. Running water and a modern division into sleeping and living areas — or even one bedroom per person — would remain a utopia for most Innsbruck residents for decades. Visitors who are lucky to find the entrance unlocked can admire the remarkable cast‑iron staircase in the courtyard.

Between the buildings flows the lively, energy‑giving Mühlbach stream, which made this site so suitable for early industrialization. The Arsenal and Büchsenhausen had already been Innsbruck’s early industrial zones since the 15th century thanks to metal‑processing workshops. Under Tyrolean ruler Sigmund, the metal trade began to flourish in Mühlau in the 15th century. Armour was produced in the plating workshop, allowing nobles to present their military merits and skills in a fashionable manner. In 1511, court architect Nicolas Türing built a foundry on the site where the workers’ house stands today. Among other things, the figures for Emperor Maximilian’s tomb in the Court Church were cast there. In the adjoining “Bilderhaus,” a columned hall was constructed to store the finished figures. When the work on the “Black Men” statues was completed, the production facility — strategically located at the eastern end of the city — was converted into a mint‑rolling plant. The casting hall of the former Bilderhaus, including its cross vault and pillars, was restored and has been preserved to this day.

The second wave of industrialization in Mühlau began in the 19th century, driven — as in many cities — by the textile industry. Until the opening of the railway lines, most products were manufactured within the region. In 1790, Johann Weyrer founded a wool‑cloth factory. Soon, he faced competition within the city: Daniel Friedmann and Franz Baur were also producing for the growing local demand. In 1838, under pressure, the Weyrer family relocated to Mühlau, where there was space and energy for a modern factory complex. In 1875, Ferdinand Weyrer (1842–1892) took over the wool factory founded by his grandfather. Much about Weyrer’s path is reminiscent of the Epp family, whose factory was located in Pradl. Both men embody the image of the civic‑minded, diligent entrepreneurs of that era. Well‑liked by his workers, Weyrer founded the fire brigade and served as mayor of what was then the independent village of Mühlau. His private home stood on the factory grounds. In 1889, the textile company Franz Baur & Sons also moved from its former site in Sillgasse to today’s Ferdinand‑Weyrer‑Street 9. The northern part of the building was converted into a residence by the Baur family. In 1890 and 1900, the buildings at numbers 7 and 11 were constructed. A boiler house, a factory hall, and even its own small power plant were located there. The upper floors contained apartments, and the Villa Baur was also part of this complex. In the 1920s, the facility was expanded again. The house at Ferdinand‑Weyrer‑Street 5 was designed by the renowned Tyrolean architect and designer Clemens Holzmeister. After another extension in 1943, parts of the operation moved to Reichenau in 1955 due to renewed space shortages. The deindustrialization of Europe in the 20th century also affected Innsbruck’s businesses. In the 1970s, production at the Baur premises in the Weyrer area ceased entirely. Since then, the site — partly lovingly restored — has been occupied by various small enterprises.

Many historic Innsbruck taverns bear the names of alpine wildlife. The “Vier‑Viecher‑Eck” (“Four‑Beasts Corner”) in the old town is home to several of them. Additional eagles, grey and black bears, or lambs further demonstrate the local innkeepers’ affinity for fauna. But how did an Innsbruck tavern come to be named Elephant? The answer lies in the far‑reaching dynastic connections of the Habsburg ruling family. In 1551, Archduchess Johanna of Austria — married into the Portuguese royal family — decided to give her brother‑in‑law, the future Emperor Maximilian II, a precious gift. At that time, Portugal was Europe’s leading trading and naval power. In 1494, shortly after the European discovery of the New World, Portugal and the rising power of Spain divided the newly discovered territories between them with the Church’s blessing. With the Pope as arbitrator, the Treaty of Tordesillas allocated a vast portion of the then‑known non‑European world. This included parts of the African coast, belonging to the Portuguese kingdom. Johanna’s gift, intended to display Portugal’s wealth and power, was an elephant named Soliman. Maximilian and his entourage, with Soliman in tow, set off from Valladolid after visiting their Habsburg relatives in Portugal, beginning the long journey home to Vienna. Travelling via Barcelona, Genoa, Trento, and Bolzano, the caravan reached Innsbruck. From there, they continued eastward along the Inn River. Written eyewitness accounts from Innsbruck describe astonished locals marveling at the exotic animal. Maximilian’s entourage lodged in Innsbruck on Epiphany Day in 1552 at a tavern in Anpruggen, today’s Innstraße 87. Since 1661, this establishment has borne the name of the previously unknown exotic creature. Not only in Innsbruck but also in Auer near Bolzano and in Brixen, taverns were named after the travelling elephant. In Linz, a building on the main square still displays a relief depicting an elephant. Nearly 300 years later, the Beisl in St. Nikolaus became a meeting place for Innsbruck’s working class during the Vormärz period. Metternich’s secret police monitored who entered and left the establishment, fearing that republican, socialist, anarchist, or even communist ideas from neighbouring countries — especially Italy, France, and Switzerland — might spread among the craftsmen who gathered there. In 1910, the Gasthaus Elefant in Innsbruck closed its doors. Today, the dilapidated building in St. Nikolaus remains only an inconspicuous witness to a remarkable story.

Less spectacular in terms of its name’s origin, but far more beautiful to look at, is the Gasthof zur Eiche in the neighbouring building — particularly its entrance area. The Renaissance‑style portal is flanked by columns modelled after the architecture of antiquity. Its upper section features imaginative dolphins. Nikolaus Türing the Younger was the master builder of the now‑listed building, which has served as an inn since at least 1640. The upper floors date back to renovations in the late 19th century, when Innsbruck restaurateur, brewery owner, and proprietor of Büchsenhausen Castle, Robert Nissl, had the Eiche expanded.

The penitentiary was once located where the flats and shops are today. The core of the building dates back to the 18th century. The three-storey building stretches along the Innrain. A small tower crowns the barrack-like building with arcades, which today houses shops and restaurants. The inner courtyard with its remarkable fountain and barred windows is reminiscent of the old town today. Look and feel still remember the past uses of the Turnusvereinshaus.

In the 18th century, not only did the number of citizens grow, but the rate of beggars and alms recipients also skyrocketed. Coupled with the emergence of a new, more enlightened understanding of the law, the need for "to detain labour-shy and dissolute people and to take in the individuals arriving with thrust“. The Kräuterturm on the east side of the city wall was not a prison, but a detention centre. Long-term imprisonment was not common practice. The stay in prison was only a transition until the court hearing, where the actual sentence was imposed. For a long time, the plan to open a prison failed due to lack of funding. It was only through the plan to finance the construction through forced labour that the prison could be completed. In 1725, after almost fifteen years of construction work, the prison opened its doors. The new penal institution was not a prison, but a workhouse. The inmates were expected to pay for their stay with their own labour. Around 300 people worked under the most difficult conditions in the linen factory and later in the loden factory. The most common offences were theft, assault, murder and infanticide, which was nothing other than abortion after birth. It was not only convicts, but also beggars who had to pay for their existence here. Were these liederlichen Leute during the Middle Ages and the early modern period under the patronage of ecclesiastical institutions such as the special sieve house The attitude towards people unable to work had changed during the all-rationalising Enlightenment. In line with the ideas of the Enlightenment, this was intended to serve the good of society as well as provide the offender with individual improvement and integration.

1859 kaufte die Stadt Innsbruck das Gebäude und gab es an den Turnusverein der Stadt Innsbruck weiter. Es war zu dieser Zeit Sitte und Pflicht, dass Bürger der Stadt Soldaten auf Durchmarsch bei sich zu Hause aufnahmen. Mit den Kriegshandlungen in Italien mehrte sich auch die Zahl der durchmarschierenden Soldaten, die über den Brenner zu den Schlachtfeldern transportiert wurden. Wer es sich leisten konnte, wurde Mitglied des Einquartierungs-Turnusvereins and was thus able to hand over the soldiers, who were supposed to be accommodated in their own homes, to the Turnusvereinshaus. This civic duty was cancelled in 1869. With the opening of the railway line over the Brenner Pass, the stopover in Innsbruck disappeared. The drastically reduced time needed to get soldiers from A to B not only revolutionised warfare, but also made facilities such as the Turnusvereinshaus superfluous. As a result, the Turnus clubhouse converted into the Provincial Gendarmerie Command. During the First World War, the building served as a temporary camp for Italian prisoners of war. The Turnusvereinshaus had once again become a prison. Most of the imprisoned soldiers only stayed in Innsbruck for a short time. They were relocated to larger camps in eastern Austria, including Mauthausen.

Am Innufer vor dem Turnusvereinshaus bietet der sogenannte „Dürerblick“ einen schönen Panoramablick auf die Altstadt. Hier saß Albrecht Dürer 1495 wohl, als er die Skizzen für sein berühmtes Aquarell der Stadt Innsbruck anlegte. Das Werk selbst entstand später in seiner Werkstatt in Nürnberg. Das Original des Bildes „Innsprugg from the north" now hangs in the Albertina in Vienna. Innsbruck's penal institution is now located on the western outskirts of the city and bears the name "Zieglstadl", as there was a brickworks on this site before the move in 1964. Despite all the innovations that Austria's penal system has undergone over the centuries and the various forms of government, it may come as a surprise to realise how recently the approach of reintegrating offenders into society has been in place. As recently as the 1970s, it was common practice to put people in prison with light deprivation or solitary confinement and regularly punish them with food deprivation.

One could say that the Inn Bridge was Innsbruck’s midwife. The city’s earliest surviving coat of arms from 1267 already depicts the bridge atop the stone caissons used for its protection at the time. It gave the city its name and for centuries remained the only bridge connecting the present‑day Old Town with the older districts of St. Nikolaus and Mariahilf. Above all, it was the source of the city’s rise and prosperity. The Counts of Andechs recognized the importance of this junction for north–south trade. Until then, the only bridge over the Inn in the region was a remnant from antiquity near the Roman military camp of Teriolis, today’s Martinsbühel near Zirl. In the 12th century, they had a bridge built across the Inn and secured it with a fortification. Anyone traveling from the east toward the Brenner Pass could use this new structure and save significant time. But it came at a price. Alongside taxes, tolls were Innsbruck’s most important source of income. Tolls functioned as an economic policy tool for territorial rulers. Today, central banks adjust interest rates; back then, rulers reacted to natural disasters, epidemics, fires, or wars by raising or lowering tolls and levies to stimulate trade, consumption, economic activity, or state revenues. The toll was collected at the city gate by the Inn Bridge. There were two types of tolls: the small toll based on the number of draft animals pulling the wagon, and the large toll based on the type and quantity of goods. The revenues were shared between Innsbruck and Hall; Hall, in return, was responsible for maintaining the Inn Bridge. Trade not only filled the city’s treasury but also provided citizens with the right of staple. Goods otherwise difficult to obtain in the Alpine region had to be offered for sale in the city by passing merchants. Anyone with enough money had access to wine, beer, meat, salt, spices, textiles, and more. Thanks to the goods passing over the Inn Bridge, Innsbruck distinguished itself from the surrounding countryside in many aspects of daily life—fashion, food, and drink.

The Inn Bridge lost its exclusive importance as a trade route when the Mühlau Bridge opened in the 17th century. With the arrival of the railway, the transport of goods through the city center decreased further. In the 19th century, however, individual traffic increased. Apart from river rafts, the Inn Bridge remained the only near‑city crossing between the two banks of the dividing river for a long time. When the bridge was closed—often due to flood damage—the districts were effectively separated. In the Age of Enlightenment, it became intolerable that nature could so strongly disrupt everyday life. During the 18th‑century regulation of the Inn within city limits, the Inn Bridge was modernized, yet its wooden construction repeatedly fell victim to flooding. A first stone bridge, built in 1790 from remnants of the old city gate, could not withstand the pressure on the river’s soft bed. Bold plans to construct a suspension bridge failed due to lack of space at the Old Town entrance. In 1871, after another flood destroyed the wooden bridge, it was replaced by an 83‑meter iron truss bridge supported by only two concrete pillars. In 1983, the Inn Bridge was rebuilt in its present form: concrete spans supported by reinforced‑concrete pillars. The retaining walls were—true to Innsbruck’s building tradition—constructed from highly durable Hötting breccia. The latest renovation, including widening and replacement of the railing, took place in 2023. A special gem of Innsbruck’s cultural history can be found in the middle of the bridge: the crucifix by Thaur artist Rudi Wach (1934–), depicting Christ naked and without wounds in a strikingly human manner. Planned for installation in 1986, the sculpture had to remain in the Tyrolean Folk Art Museum for over two decades due to a petition campaign led by particularly devout Tyroleans. Only in 2007 was it finally erected—officially as a gesture of thanks to the heavens for sparing the city during the 2005 flood—by Innsbruck’s first female mayor, Hilde Zach.

Looking up from Innsbruck toward the Nordkette, one notices a striking structure: a yellow, somewhat bulky-looking cube situated on the plateau nearly 300 meters above the city. Today, hikers, mountain bikers, and tourists gather there to enjoy majestic views of the surrounding peaks and to wait for the cable car taking them to the Seegrube and the Hafelekar. In the early 20th century, however, this area was home to a kind of artificial wonderland for affluent travelers as well as an exclusive planned community. What Dubai accomplished in the 21st century with its fantastical tourism project The Palm had already been attempted on Innsbruck’s Hungerburg more than a century earlier—indeed, the history of its creation reaches back even further. The journey from the no‑man’s‑land between the formerly independent municipalities of Hötting and Mühlau to a popular tourist hotspot was a long one. For centuries, the area stretching from Gramartboden in the west across the quarry below it to Mühlau in the east was largely undeveloped forestland. The steep, pale rock formations gave the region the field name Grauenstein (“grey rock”). In 1840, after clearing some of the forest, Joseph von Attlmayr—owner of Weiherburg Castle—purchased significant portions of land on the plateau overlooking the city. A shrewd businessman, Attlmayr was already operating part of his residence as a lodging establishment. According to legend, while standing above the quarry and looking across the valley toward Heiligwasser, he struck the ground with his walking stick. When water emerged from the soil, he decided to dedicate the site to the Virgin Mary and the miraculous water. He piously named the farmstead he built there Mariabrunn. Attlmayr leased the building as an inn, laying the foundation for the Hungerburg’s rise as a beloved holiday and excursion destination. Another legend claims that the food served there was so poor that locals mockingly called the place Hungerburg (“Hunger Fortress”), but the name actually predates the inn’s opening.

In the second half of the 19th century, tourism became an important economic sector in Innsbruck. The Hungerburg—blessed with its supposedly health‑giving air at over 800 meters above sea level and its panoramic view—had great potential, but with no accessible road, it could only be reached on foot. Wealthy travelers of the era arrived with heavy luggage and stayed for weeks. It took a visionary pioneer to unlock the area’s potential, and this figure was the Kaiserjäger officer Sebastian Kandler (1863–1928). Before becoming an early tourism entrepreneur, Kandler had led an eventful career. He joined the military at 18 and later worked in the canteen of the Klosterkaserne. In 1902, he built what is now Villa St. Georg in the Saggen district and opened the restaurant Klaudia. After just a year, he sold it and purchased the Mariabrunn estate from Attlmayr’s descendants. Kandler didn’t just see the Hungerburg’s potential—he actively developed it. He expanded the Hotel Mariabrunn in an exotic mixture of architectural styles, giving it the appearance of a small castle. Under his direction, more hotels were built: Villa Karwendel, Villa Felsen, and Villa Kandlerheim. Since the construction of villas and cottage-style homes had been banned in the Saggen since 1898, the new trendy hillside district attracted wealthy citizens seeking their dream of an exclusive single-family residence. To make the Hungerburg appealing to visitors, Kandler also created infrastructure. He transformed the steep path from Weiherburg—once climbed by Emperor Ferdinand in 1848—into the safe, easily accessible Wilhelm‑Greil promenade. The Café Bahnhof at the Hungerburgbahn mountain station, the Karwendelhof, and the Waldschenke provided refreshments. The crowning achievement of his efforts was the opening of the Hungerburg Railway in 1906. Starting at the Kettenbrücke in Saggen, the spectacular line connected the city to the upscale hillside district. From downtown, one could now ascend effortlessly to the plateau—spending several weeks as a wealthy tourist or a few hours as a day‑trip visitor, elevated physically and socially above the city.

The second major investor in Hoch‑Innsbruck was Franz Schwärzler, who had acquired one of the exclusive villas on the Hungerburg. A dynamic businessman, he didn’t stop at hotels or his Tyrolean Specialty House, where visitors could purchase Tyrolean arts, crafts, and local products as souvenirs. In 1911, he developed the idea of creating an artificial lake in the former Spörr quarry. Together with his brother, he began the ambitious project in February 1912. Above the 3,500 m² lake, they constructed a medieval-style tower with a viewing terrace and a rocky promenade. On August 4, Mayor Wilhelm Greil and the imperial‑royal governor of Tyrol, Markus Freiherr von Spiegelfeld, officially opened the attraction. In summer, swimmers and would-be captains in rowboats filled the lake; in winter, it became an ice-skating rink. Its banks featured not only an artificial cave—heightening the Alpine romanticism—but also the Hotel Hungerburgseehof. At its beachfront tables, aristocrats from the old world and the nouveau riche of the international jet set drank fine wines and champagne. Although the remote Hungerburg hosted only a handful of homes and hotels, a gendarmerie post was established to protect its affluent residents and visitors. With the outbreak of World War I, the exclusive spectacle came to an abrupt halt. Like many who had invested in luxury ventures or war bonds, Kandler and Schwärzler lost their fortunes. Schwärzler’s widow was forced to sell the Seehof, which later served the Social Democratic Party, the Fatherland Front, and eventually—under National Socialism—as an elementary school. Kandler sold his Hotel Mariabrunn to an industrialist from Vorarlberg. His final years resembled his youth: he spent his days in the Halleranger, desperately searching for silver.

The Hungerburg received new momentum with the construction of the Höhenstraße mountain road. As the economy recovered in the mid‑1920s and major projects resumed, the long‑planned road connection—independent of the Hungerburgbahn—was finally realized. Builder Fritz Konzert had already proposed a route in 1906, while Schwärzler, at the height of his imaginative endeavors, had also envisioned a road in 1911. The Höhenstraße, winding from Hötting Church through what is now a densely developed area and up to the Hungerburg in several switchbacks over 3.5 km, opened in 1930 after a little more than a year of construction under Viktor Berger. Not only was the Hungerburg now linked to Innsbruck by road; with the incorporation of Hötting and Mühlau in 1938, it officially became part of the city. The district emblem near the cableway, the Gasthaus zur Linde, and the Seehof commemorates the Hungerburg’s origins, combining the old Hötting church tower, Mühlau’s millwheel, and the pillars of the original Hungerburgbahn in the Inn River at Saggen.

But what exactly is the striking yellow building that catches every eye from the valley? It is the former Hotel Mariabrunn, built by Kandler. In 1930, parts of the late‑historicist building burned down, and its new owner commissioned young rising star architect Siegfried Mazagg to redesign it completely. The cubic, asymmetrical elements recall contemporary works of New Objectivity architecture, such as the municipal indoor pool. In 1988, brothers Hubert and Michael Prachensky redesigned the interior into residential flats while preserving Mazagg’s exterior. The inscription Mariabrunn is still clearly visible on its western side. Today, the futuristic mountain station of the Hungerburgbahn—designed by Iranian architect Zaha Hadid—dominates the district. The square in front of it, overlooking the Inn Valley and surrounding mountains, is named after Innsbruck mountaineer Hermann Buhl (1924–1957). Little remains of the turn-of-the-century fantasyland envisioned by Kandler and Schwärzler during the optimistic Belle Époque. The observation tower still rises above the now-dry former lake; the former Hotel Seehof houses offices of the Chamber of Labour. Despite heavy postwar development, several buildings from the early 1900s have survived. The villa beside the Theresienkirche, with its patriotic red-and-white shutters, resembles the Ottoburg in the Old Town. The façade of Gasthaus zur Linde—once Villa Tiroler Haus and part of Schwärzler’s empire—still features the legend of Frau Hitt, recalling the days when a kind of Tyrolean Disneyland flourished on the Hungerburg. Perhaps it is fitting that this tale of hubris and impermanence is the story that survived in Hoch‑Innsbruck. Today, the remarkable building in late‑monarchy Tyrolean Heimatstil houses a kindergarten. And the two pioneering tourism entrepreneurs, Kandler and Schwärzler, were ultimately right: the Nordkette is a hotspot. The crowded buses, funiculars, and gondolas carrying thousands of sightseers, hikers, skiers, and bikers to Hoch‑Innsbruck every day prove it.

One floor above Innsbruck lies the pilgrimage church dedicated to Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus. The history of this modest little church reflects the turbulent and changeable events of the first half of the 20th century and became the stage for what was perhaps the greatest art scandal in recent Tyrolean history. At the turn of the century, the Hungerburg had developed into an attraction for wealthy tourists and locals. The First World War and the economically difficult years that followed brought this lively scene to an abrupt end. Hungerburg had become a deserted residential area with only a handful of houses and no significant infrastructure. Nothing less than the first “miracle” that made the development of this new district possible was needed to breathe new life into “Hoch‑Innsbruck.” A few decades earlier, after discovering a water source on his land on the Hungerburg, Josef von Attlmayr had gratefully named his residence “Mariabrunn” in honor of the Virgin Mary, and this name quickly caught on in Catholic circles as the district’s designation. The Mariabrunn Church Association, founded in 1910 and named after this “miracle,” placed the fate of Hungerburg in the hands of a modern saint. In the 1920s, the devout members built a small chapel in a garden house around a relic and an image of Saint Thérèse. Thérèse of Lisieux had died only a few years earlier—after a short but exceptionally devout life—of tuberculosis, and had been canonized with remarkable speed by Pope Pius X. Around ten years after the war, when the period of hardship transitioned into a boom and Hungerburg once again became a popular travel and excursion destination thanks to renewed tourism and the construction of the Höhenstraße, the moral life of the locals—especially the youth—was also to be strengthened. In 1927, the Tiroler Anzeiger wrote:

“Mariabrunn urgently needs a church and a school! Not a magnificent building is required, but a simple little church in the familiar Tyrolean style, nestled in forest greenery on the hillside, whose bright bell calls the inhabitants of the entire Hungerburg plateau—locals and visitors alike—to worship, and invites Innsbruck’s mountain-loving youth to pause on their Sunday walks. A house of God as a visible gathering place for solemn and joyful occasions in the newly emerging community, alongside a simple schoolhouse for the youngest citizens of ‘Hoch‑Innsbruck,’ where they are to be raised not as class warriors, enemies of religion or property, but as upright Germans and Christian Tyroleans who love their homeland.”

In 1931, the Mariabrunn Association launched an architectural competition. The Upper Austrian architect Wilhelm Stigler (1903–1976), who already ran his own office at Claudiaplatz in his early twenties, surprisingly won against established architects such as Clemens Holzmeister and Franz Baumann. However, since his plans exceeded the limited financial means—by then the economic crisis of the 1930s had struck—a more economical design by Siegfried Thurner was implemented. The cubic building followed the contemporary style of New Objectivity rather than the Tyrolean style desired by the Tiroler Anzeiger. The clock without numbers on the prominent tower was a popular stylistic element. After the building was completed in 1935, the Innsbruck‑based artist Ernst Nepo (1895–1971), who was sympathetic to both New Objectivity and fascism, created the fresco of Saint Thérèse above the entrance. The depiction already anticipated the artistic style favored under the National Socialist regime, which would dominate Austria from 1938 until the end of the war. After the war, Nepo’s involvement in the church’s completion was no longer desired; his history as the Tyrolean representative of the Nazi Reich Chamber of Fine Arts outweighed his undeniable artistic talent. Among other things, the early National Socialist had painted a portrait of Adolf Hitler as early as 1937—before the Anschluss—which had been presented to the Führer personally by the Tyrolean Nazi Women’s Association as a birthday gift.

In his place, the Tyrolean artist Max Weiler (1910–2001) continued the work from 1946 onward, so that the nave would be decorated in time for the 150th anniversary of Tyrol’s renewal of the Sacred Heart Vow of 1796. Weiler, himself a silent follower of the system during the Nazi era, completed four paintings before he had to pause his work prematurely. “The Veneration of the Sacred Heart,” “The Sacred Heart Sun,” “Love of John and Gethsemane,” and “The Piercing of the Side” sparked a scandal that spread widely. The painting of the Sacred Heart Sun was mockingly dubbed the “Priests’ Carousel” due to its six flying clerics. The public was particularly dissatisfied with “The Piercing of the Side,” which depicted the onlookers at Christ’s last breath in traditional Tyrolean peasant clothing. One of the men beneath the cross bore a suspicious resemblance to Adolf Hitler, while a Tyrolean marksman thrust the spear into Christ’s side. A nude Venus had to be modestly painted over to quell the initial public outrage, which eventually led to a lawsuit filed by a farmer from Kössen, who claimed the painting disturbed religion and public order. Threats were made against both the artwork and the artist. The Tyrolean Farmers’ Association and parts of the Tyrolean clergy even forced Vatican intervention. After consultation between the Holy See in Rome and Tyrolean Bishop Paulus Rusch, a strict verdict followed: Completion of Weiler’s planned cycle of paintings was prohibited, and the unfinished sketches were never executed. For ten years, the existing artworks were hidden from public view behind a cloth. Today, the once‑scandalous Weiler paintings are proudly displayed and attract more visitors than Saint Thérèse herself.