Artist Max Freund is stitching new narratives in old Vienna

Max Freund stands between two sculptural columns in his studio, part of a shared house in Vienna’s Meidling district. Canvases, textiles and found objects fill the room, reflective of his experimental practice. Tactility is central to his work, whether expressed in thick oil paint or patterned fabrics, spliced and stitched together. Gathered materials carry traces of another life, while forming a new narrative.

“They can feel personal and mysterious, familiar and strange at the same time,” says Freund. The same contrast can often be found in Vienna itself, where he grew up. After travelling extensively, he returned to the city, drawn to its unhurried pace, cultural depth and the direct, honest character of its people.

We meet as part of Roadbook’s ongoing collaborative series with Wilde Aparthotels, bringing creatives together across Europe. That evening, he hosts a long-table dinner in Wilde’s open-air courtyard, his bespoke tablecloth setting the scene.

Freund sat down with Roadbook to discuss his creative process, and why there is nowhere else he would rather live.

How do you describe your creative style?

I would describe myself as a painter, even though my work often moves between drawing, textiles, writing and wall-based interventions. When you get close to my paintings, you’ll notice that I’m very drawn to texture and surface. I think it’s important for there to be a tactile quality to the work, something you can almost feel with your eyes before you touch it. Whether it’s thick, heavily worked oil paint or found textiles with distinctive patterns, sewn densely on top of one another. I like the feeling that you can sense that our reality isn’t flat.

Is there a common thread that runs through everything you make?

Alongside tactility, the unrecognisable also plays an essential role in my work. A piece becomes interesting to me when it resists categorisation, when it is neither clearly figurative nor completely abstract.

I intuitively collect materials and textile remnants, illustrated books and literature, create photographic archives, or browse flea markets for curious objects, unusual artefacts and discarded things I find on the street. These sometimes banal, seemingly worthless items share a certain quality: they all carry a story, their origins often no longer recognisable. This ambiguity creates a kind of density of information, showing how things can feel both personal and mysterious, familiar and strange at the same time.

Tell us about your studio.

After moving several times and spending the last two years searching intensively, I finally found this studio by chance. There was a lot that needed renovating, and there are naturally little rough edges and imperfections everywhere, but somehow that suits me perfectly. The beautiful sculptural room dividers were left by the previous owners, a Persian couple. Some of my friends have said that perhaps it was the studio that found me, because the columns look as though they could have come straight out of one of my paintings. I’m also incredibly lucky to share the house with some of my closest friends, who are artists too. We have enough space, a workshop, and even an almost enchanted garden.

What was the idea behind the tablecloth for the Wilde dinner?

I wanted to incorporate the work directly into the table, so that the guests wouldn’t simply stand in front of a piece as they might in an exhibition, but would actively become part of it through the experience of eating. I loved that each guest could touch the textile work and physically engage with the many different layers of sewn fabric. Seeing the table fully set and filled with food was a highlight, and how the meal itself gradually left its own individual mark on the work.

What is it like to live in Vienna?

I used to think that I only loved Vienna because I grew up here. But after travelling a lot, I’ve realised that the city actually has everything I want: it’s incredibly relaxed and slow paced, while still offering so much variety and a great quality of life.

You can go swimming in the Danube or spend an afternoon at a Heuriger (a Viennese wine tavern). For a change of scenery, you can also quickly escape to the mountains and forests, or a nearby lake.

Are there any misconceptions about Vienna?

I once read that Vienna is the unfriendliest city in the world. I think that is misunderstood. People here can be very direct and unapologetically honest, but it’s not meant to be rude. At the same time, they can also be quite shy and reserved.

Does Vienna’s art and architectural history feed into your work?

I think it’s impossible for Vienna not to feed into the work, or leave some kind of visual impression. I love all the flourishes of Jugendstil, the spirals, the elongated ornamentation, the entrance portals, the layers and additions that have accumulated over the decades, and the many different motifs you find in the stucco facades.

We are surrounded by the remnants of Vienna’s monumental architecture. These buildings stand like great giants from the past. Vienna has unfortunately been through a lot, but luckily it remains such an interesting crossroads of culture and diversity.

How would you describe Vienna’s art and cultural scene?

Vienna has always had a huge amount to offer culturally: theatre, opera, exhibitions and all kinds of leisure activities. In recent years, the scene has, fortunately, become more accessible and diverse.

Like cities everywhere in the world, many areas of Vienna have been gentrified and redeveloped, which has both positive and negative aspects. Personally, though, I often don’t find these changes particularly pleasant, and in many cases I see them as a clear loss in quality of life.

I find it strange that so much in Vienna is demolished and replaced rather than preserved. It’s sad, because no visitor or tourist is going to come here for an ugly new building or interchangeable shopping streets.

Where else do you look for inspiration?

At the Amalienbad swimming pool, the ice cream parlour, out on a walk, in a Gasthaus, at the Wurstelprater amusement park, in small cafés, junk shops, and even in dumpsters.

What do you like best about the city’s energy?

Other cities that are constantly caught up in a rush, reinventing themselves every few years, are definitely not for me. In Vienna, luckily, you can still find small moments when it can feel as though time is standing still. I think you can find the same sense of intimacy in painting or music.

Wilde Aparthotels Vienna is priced from 187 EUR / 216 USD per night, wilde.com/vienna