Ludwigstraße
1 - 33b
In German, the words “history” and “story” are the same: “Geschichte”
Goldsmith Josef Aumayr first opened his shop at Ludwigstraße 1 in 1919.
In 1935, artist Max Kaiser married Anna Aumayr, Josef Aumayr’s daughter.
Above Aumayr’s Jewelry Store today, a lüftlmalerei painted by Kaiser in 1932 of his future wife’s namesake, Saint Anne (“Anna” in German).
While Saint Anne, Mary’s mother, is absent from the Christian Bible, the life of Saint Anne is described in The Golden Legend, a collection of popular stories about the saints compiled by Jacobus de Varagine around 1259-1266. His book incorporated apocryphal accounts from the Protoevangelium of James regarding Mary’s parents — Saint Anne and her three husbands, Joachim, Clopas, Solomas, and with each marriage producing one daughter, each one named “Mary.”
A cult of Saint Anne developed, and she became a popular saint in Catholic Europe, recognized as the patroness of grandparents, women in labor, and, oddly, of miners — Christ being compared to gold and Mary to silver, with Saint Anne the one who brought forth both.
In an almost total absence of textual sources, however, beginning in the 14th Century, artists began to depict Saint Anne as teaching her daughter Mary to read. At first, in a sort of feminine Trinity, with Anne, Mary, and an infant Jesus — an image called an “Anna selbdritt” in German. There are also depictions of Anne teaching Mary with Jaochim looking on. But, over time, the image that became popular was simply Mary and her mother, Saint Anne, reading from an open book.
In these depictions, Anne is always a matron, wrapped in a shawl — then the symbol of a married woman — and usually shown sitting or enthroned beside a much smaller Mary. In Roman Catholic tradition, the “Seat of Wisdom” or “Throne of Wisdom” is one of many devotional titles for Mary, the Mother of God. These scenes with Anne are modeled on earlier images of Mary on a throne with a young Jesus in her lap, but instead putting Anne on the Throne — signifying her as the mother of the Mother of God.
Just a short walk up a large hill from this very location sits the chapel of Saint Anna in Wamberg. Built in 1720 on the site of a previous building, the chapel was consecrated the following year on September 11, 1721. Its high altar is an Anna Selbdritt — an image of Saint Anne with Mary and Jesus — created by local sculptor Andreas Onich.
In the bottom left corner of this particular lüftlmalerei, an incense burner is aflame, with clouds of smoke pouring past the women into the background. While so much smoke would be incredibly distracting — certainly making it difficult to read — in Renaissance art, the image of incense being burned in a censor, called a thurible, represents the prayers of saints. Here it seems that Mary is reading from a Book of Hours, and her prayers are powerful — igniting the incense, and billowing like smoke, through the room and to the heavens.
Ludwigstraße 6, “Haus Seilerpauli,” an old farm house, is now home to Wittmann’s shoe store, first established by Sebastian Wittmann in 1920.1
On the walls outside, lüftlmalerei advertising the store painted by Michele Nardiello in 2002.
The Sieß Bakery was founded in 1886 by Anton Sieß. His sons started their own business in Partenkirchen in 1919. Now in its fifth generation, in 2005, Christian Sieß took over the family business at Ludwigstraße 7.2
On the wall outside the shop, a lüftlmalerei advertising the bakery painted by Sepp Guggemoos in 1996.
The oldest known coat of arms for German bakers dates back to 1111 AD, with pretzels already appearing as the symbol of their occupation.
Their name, “Bretzel” in German, derives from the Latin word “brachiatellium” — translated as “little arms” — because the pretzel symbolizes arms folded to pray. This was the bread Christ supposedly offered to his followers at the Last Supper. The twists create three holes which came to represent the Christian Trinity –- the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Thus, the pretzel took on religious connotations for good luck and prosperity.
No wonder, then, that the pretzel has been the symbol for bakers in Germany for a thousand years.
Legend has it, that in 1323, Emperor Ludwig of Bavaria awarded bakers an official coat of arms for their participation in the Battle of Mühldorf. At the center of their banner, the image of a pretzel.
In 1348, the pretzel of their crest was overlaid with the Bohemian royal crown above it.
For their services during the first Turkish siege of Vienna, in 1529, two lions on either side were added.
As the story goes, during the siege, the Ottoman Turks dug a tunnel under the city wall at night. The pretzel bakers — who were awake and busy baking when the wall was breeched — are said to have heard the sound of digging first, and, when the Turks broke through, they fought “like lions.” For saving the city, they were awarded the two lions on their guild’s coat of arms.
In 1690, in recognition of their services during the second Turkish siege, Emperor Leopold gave the bakers’ guild permission to arm the lions with swords.
Hence the coat of arms you see on the bakeries on Ludwigstraße today.
“Das Alte Haus,” or “The Old House,” at Ludwigstraße 8, is one of the few buildings to survive both the fires of 1811 and 1865.
The date “1772” is carved on one of the beams, but it’s believed to be even older than that — assumed to have even been originally built in the 12th Century, in the so-called “Barbarossa Period.”
The former house “zum Kischemna” with its distinctive round entrance archway was first photographed by the court photographer Bernhard Johannes in the late 1800s.
In 1920, the building was acquired by Gustav Becker, the owner of a laundry and art dealer in Munich, and renamed “Kistner-Hof.” At the time, the windows were still square in the style of a simple farmhouse with their signature shutters. Today’s appearance — with its lüftlmalerei in the original lime-plaster fresco style and large, decorated windows — comes from its conversion to a commercial building and antique dealership in 1922.
The inscription above the front door tells the story of this renovation:
“Das Alte Haus genant der Kistner-Hof, teilweise aus den Babarossazeit AD 1772 renoviert. Von den Brüdern BECKER aus München und Nürnberg in der jetziger Form umgebaut, MDCCCCXXII.“
Or: “The Old House, called the Kistner-Hof, partly renovated from the Barbarossa period AD 1772. Rebuilt in its current form by the BECKER brothers from Munich and Nuremberg, 1922.”
As part of that renovation, Heinrich Bickel — in his first job as an independent facade painter — decorated the building and painted the large mural on the north wall in 1921 or 1922.
To commemorate this building’s origin during the “Barbarossa Period,” he painted an image of Emperor Friedrich Barbarossa kneeling before Bavarian Duke Heinrich the Lion to try and persuade him to take part in the Italian campaign in 1176, likely inspired by Philipp Foltz’s 1877 painting, “Kaiser Friedrich Barbarossa und Herzog Heinrich der Löwe in Chiavenna”.
Online, at the Bavarian State Archives, you can see August Beckert’s photograph of this building taken some time between 1927 and 1930, here and here.
However, this “Old House” has so much history, the owner actually maintains his own website with photos, here.
While Foltz depicted Holy Roman Emperor Barbarossa falling to his knees, imploring Bavarian Duke Henrich the Lion for aid in Chiavenna, a town in Italy north of Milan, in 1176, there is a competing legend for the location of that fateful footfall.
In his 1834 travel guide, Taschenbuch für Reisende durch Bayerns und Tyrols hochlande, author Adolph von Schaden wrote, “Apart from its old age, Partenkirchen is unremarkable.”
His very next line, however, noted that “Emperor Friedrich the Red Beard sent the Bavarian Duke, Heinrich the Lion, here, who, however, refused to help him in the further war against Italy, which later led to the fall of the Lion.”
This is a remarkable legend.
At the turn of the first millennium, around the year 1000 AD, Europe — including what is now Germany, France, and Austria — was divided into a patchwork of states, called “duchies,” each one ruled by a different “duke.” At the time, these dukes, each one the representative of a royal dynasty — such as the powerful Welf, Zähringen, Babenberg, and Wittelsbach Houses — elected a single King to rule over all of the Germans.
In 1152, they elected Friedrich I of the House of Hohenstaufen as King of Germany.
The most powerful of these dukes, Heinrich “the Lion” of the House of Welf, was the king’s cousin. For his support, Heinrich was given the Duchy of Bavaria, where he then founded the city of Munich.
Heinrich proved to be loyal, and went to Italy with his cousin in 1154 to be crowned by the Pope in Rome. 200 years before, in 962, an earlier pope had crowned the German King Otto the Great the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, making him the protector of Christianity in the West. Friedrich was the tenth German king to wear the Roman imperial crown, but it was not just Rome that Friedrich claimed as part of his imperial territory — he claimed all of northern Italy, too. Thus, Friedrich — nicknamed “Barbarossa” by the Italians, supposedly for his “red beard” — was in constant battle with the pope and a powerful union of northern Italian cities, including Milan and Florence.
In 1156, Friedrich wed Beatrice, the daughter of the count of Burgundy, in Würzburg. (The wedding was depicted centuries later in a monumental ceiling fresco in the staircase of the Residence, the Bishop’s Palace in Würzburg.)
For decades, the cities of northern Italy refused to accept Barbarossa as their emperor. Feeling cheated of his imperial rights and of lucrative tribute, Friedrich fought and sieged the cities of Northern Italy several times, intent on exacting their tribute by force.
During the winter of 1174, after he had unsuccessfully besieged the city of Alessandria, Friedrich was forced to retreat with his forces north across the Alps. In extreme need, fearing another loss might cripple the Holy Roman Empire in a way it might never recover again, Friedrich asked Heinrich, who was in Bavaria, for a meeting.
Although historians now say they actually met in the city of Chiavenna (if they even met at all), for nearly a thousand years the story of what happened next — just as Adolph von Schaden wrote in 1834 — was said to have happened just over the Alps, here, on the Roman road in Partenkirchen:
Barbarossa asked the Lion for help in his siege. Heinrich replied that he would provide financial assistance, but would not actively intervene in the fighting, nor would he call on his knights for another campaign, noting that he was not obliged to support the emperor outside the German kingdom.
Legend has it that Friedrich fell to his knees and begged Heinrich for help — a theatrical display of just how powerful Heinrich had become by that time. This gesture was so unexpected, according to a chronicler, that the Empress Beatrice, who was present, exclaimed to her husband: “Rise up, my lord, and remember this arrogance, that God may remember!”
On May 25, 1176, Friedrich Barbarossa and his forces lost the Battle of Legnano, northwest of Milan. A year later, the emperor returned to Germany, defeated and looking for revenge.
In 1180, he declared Heinrich the Lion an outlaw, broke up his duchies into separate fiefs and redrew the borders of the German kingdom. Barbarossa distributed them among the other dukes in a way that ensured none of them would ever again become as powerful as the Lion, giving the House of Wittelsbach control of Bavaria.
The Wittelsbach family’s rule of Bavaria did not end again until 1918.
On the wall of Das Alte Haus, beside Heinrich Bieckel’s depiction of Barbarossa kneeling before Duke Heinrich the Lion, Bickel also painted a simple lüftlmalerei of Saint Mary holding an infant Jesus — the image of the “Patrona Bavariae.”
On the front wall of Ludwigstraße 12, where wood sculptor Hans Guggemoos has his shop, a lüftlmalerei depicting a coat of arms with a goose. A banner beneath reads simply: “Mittner”.
Around the corner, a lüftlmalerei of a view of this building on this street in “anno Domini 1800”
On the street just outside his shop, the “Rottbrunnen,”– a beautifully designed fountain with a rooster on top — sculpted by Hans Guggemoos, describes how the “Rottstraße” transport route from Venice to Augsburg once passed through Garmisch-Partenkirchen here. During the “Rotthandel,” — or the days when trade goods came over the Brenner Pass through the Alps from Italy by ox-carts and horse-drawn covered wagons — hotels, traders, stables, and warehouses stood here beside fields and farmhouses.
Online, at the Bavarian State Archives, you can see a photo of what this street and this fountain used to look like (and how it once was used) in this photo by Bernhard Johannes taken some time between 1870 and 1875.
On the walls facing the the fountain, Ludwigstraße 13, House “zum Bailer,” boasts beautiful Fensterumrahmungen — or painted “window fames.”
Ludwigstraße 14.
Local artist Martin Lödermann (1913 – 1995), known in Partenkirchen as “Moar Martl,” had a passion for woodcarving since he was a small boy working on his parents’ farm. He had a special affinity for carving images of the Nativity of Jesus Christ, known as a “crèche“— a particular focus of woodcarving in Germany, called “Krippenschnitzen“.
Over his lifetime, he not only worked as a crèche carver and collector, but, shortly after the founding of the Werdenfelser Krippenfreunde Association, he taught an annual nativity scene building course.
He became second chairman of the association in 1981.
That same year, in 1981, Sebastian Pfeffer painted a large lüftlmalerei on the walls of the artist’s shop, the “Lödermann-Haus ”at Ludwigstraße 15, depicting a nativity scene and the birth of Jesus in an alpine style, with Saints Mary and Joseph dressed in traditional Bavarian costumes.
So distinctive was the art of the artist and the lüftlmalerei outside his shop, the Garmisch-Partenkirchen Tourist Office even used to advertise this location and the mural.
However, in 2019, after renovation, the walls of the building were blank.
Owner Martin Simon explained at the time to a reporter from the local paper, the Kreisbote, that the building had already had three different paintings on the facade, saying „Alle 20 Jahre ist ein neues Bild darauf entstanden” (“Every 20 years a new picture is created on it”), and that he was talking with Stephen Pfeffer — Sebastian Pfeffer’s son — about painting a new mural.3
That article detailing the renovation and the lüftlmalerei loss can be found online, here.
Ludwigstraße 16 has simple Fensterumrahmungen around the windows and fake bricks painted on the corners of the building.
Ludwigstraße 17 is now home to the Musik Produktiv. According to its website, the music store was first founded in 1968.
However, the lüftlmalerei covering its walls — all painted by Sebastian Pfeffer — have nothing to do with music.
On the front in the center, a large narrative lüftlmalerei painted in 1987.
At the top, floating in the clouds above the Bavarian mountain climber, farmers, and little boy collecting water, is an image of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary.
Born in 1207, Saint Elizabeth was the daughter of the King and Queen of Hungary. As a child, she was taken to live with the family of her future husband in Thuringia, in Germany. There, she was badly treated by the ladies of the court. In her loneliness, she turned to religion, devoting her time to helping the poor.
As legend has it, on one occasion, she left the castle with her apron full of kitchen scraps for the needy. On her way, she chanced upon her husband, who asked her what she was hiding — believing that she was stealing from his castle.
When she opened her apron, miraculously, all he could see were roses.
In religious art, this saint is often depicted with her “Miracle of Roses,” sometimes with a crown because of her noble birth, and — at least in lüftlmalerei in Garmisch-Partenkirchen — with a castle in the background.
Above them, a cartouche with the Bavarian flag and painted antlers.
Between them, a reprisal of a portrait of King Ludwig II of Bavaria (1845 – 1886) painted in 1879 by artist Karl von Piloty.
Around the corner, two completely different lüftlmalerei:
The first, two separate cities’ coats of arms tied together by a ribbon of the Bavarian flag — a symbol for a marriage and the coming together of two families from different places.
The second, an image of the Virgin Mary.
In Catholic religious art, when Saint Mary is portrayed in the midst of sorrow and with up to seven long knives or daggers piercing her heart, it is a specific image known as “Our Lady of Sorrows.”
According to a single Biblical passage, a man named Simeon — either a pious stranger, or perhaps some church official — had been given a vision that he would meet Christ. When Mary came with her infant son to his temple, an episode known as the Presentation of Jesus, Simeon took Jesus in his arms and uttered a prayer and a prophecy. His prophecy is the basis for the artistic depiction of Our Lady of Sorrows:
Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too."
Here, the putti (or the angels) on either side of her are holding the Crown of Thorns and the three Holy Nails, as if playfully reminding Mary of the greatest tragedy in her life — her greatest sorrow — as prophesied by Simeon: the torture and crucifixion of her son.
Beside the lüftlmalerei on the wall also rests a large sculpture of Jesus on the Cross.
If you find Ludwigstraße 21, just off the main street, you’ll find it framed by a tremendous backdrop of the Wetterstein Mountains.
Besides the decorative Fensterumrahmungen (“window frames”), in the upper right corner there is a lüftlmalerei of Saint George slaying a dragon, all painted by Sepp Guggemoos.
This particular image of Saint George seems to be based on the one painted around 1790 by Josef Gegenhart on a building in Lechtal, Austria — a photograph of that lüftlmalerei can be found on page 108 of the book Bemalte Fassaden (1975) — and similar to other lüftlmalerei Guggemoos, himself, did at Dreitorspitzstraße 3 and Hölzlweg 36.
In 1985, Sepp Guggemoos also painted all of the lüftlmalerei at Ludwigstraße 22, the current home of the Schönegger Cheese Alm.
A putto points to the stylized house number.
In the center, an image of this street and the fountain as it looked a hundred years ago.
In the gable at the top, an image depicting Mary, Jesus, and Joseph on their “Flight into Egypt.”
The “Flight into Egypt” is a story recounted in the Gospel of Matthew. Soon after the visit by the Magi at the Nativity, King Herod asked his advisers about ancient prophesies describing the birth of a miraculous child. As a result of their advice, he sent soldiers to kill every boy child under the age of two in the city of Bethlehem. But an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream, telling him to flee to Egypt with Mary and the infant Jesus.
When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”
The Flight into Egypt was a popular subject in art, often — as here — depicting Mary with the baby on a donkey, led by Joseph, borrowing the older iconography of the “Journey to Bethlehem,” as shown in the mosaic at the Church of the Holy Saviour in Chora, created some time between 1315-1320.
At Ludwigstraße 24, the Gasthof Fraundorfer — with its traditional Bavarian food, live music, and Schuhplattler dancers — has been a landmark on this street for almost 100 years.
Its front facade with its epic lüftlmalerei depicting a Bvarian wedding — including the bride and groom, guests, and the traditional master of ceremonies, a “Hochzeitslader” — was first painted by Heinrich Bickel.
According to the Garmisch-Partenkirchen Tourist Office plaque on the wall, there has been a building at this location since the 15th Century. Josef Frauendorfer acquired and renovated the building into this restaurant and hotel in 1929.
The German government’s list of protected monuments notes that Bickel painted this facade in 1928 — presumably during that renovation.4
However, at the Bavarian State Archives online, you can see an un-doctored photograph by August Beckert of the building as it looked before Bickel’s lüftlmalerei were painted, taken some time between 1928 and 1930. In that photo, there are only some geometric designs between the windows.
The lüftlmalerei one sees on the facade today were actually created by Heinrich Bickel in 1949,5 with additions later on by artists Franz Winterholler and Otto Ertl.
At the very top of the building, precariously perched on a pedestal just barely big enough to hold him, is a life-sized statue of a little boy in traditional dress waving the Bavarian flag.
On the left at the bottom, is Saint Mary holding an infant Jesus painted to look like a statue, an image of an icon in a mock niche.
Above the front door, an inscription.
On the right, a coat of arms in a cartouche.
Besides these traditional lüftlmalerei, there are also two painted advertisements for Paulaner beer — the brand of beer served at the restaurant, here.
The modern-day Paulaner’s history began in 1629, when friars of the Order of the Minims, founded by Saint Francis of Paola in southern Italy, started brewing a potent doppelbock they called “Sankt-Vaters-Bier” — or “Saint Father’s Beer” — in the Neudeck op der Au monastery on the outskirts of Munich. They famously drank this “liquid bread” during Lent, when they would otherwise forgo solid food for 40 days.
Legend has it, to even be allowed to make such a strong drink, the monks had to have the consent of the pope. The monks were technically only supposed to consume water during Lent, so when the pope heard that the monks were drinking beer, he ordered a sample to be transported to Rome for a taste. However, as a result of the long journey over the Alps and the warm Italian sun, the beer went bad. When the pope tasted the spoiled brew, he said he saw no reason why he should deprive his brothers north of the Alps the penance of drinking this repulsive beverage — subsisting for more than a month on nothing but vile-tasting beer would make them humble, if not sober.
The monks thus had the right to brew the beer for their own consumption.
In 1780, the monks presented Bavarian Elector Karl Theodor with the first tankard of a refined version of this beer, they called “Salvator.” He was so pleased with it, he officially permitted the Paulaner monks the right to sell their beer to everyone.
That presentation of the beer by the monks is the logo for today’s Salvator, a version of which is painted on the front of the Fraundorfer.
Paulaner today is one of only six breweries allowed to provide beer for Munich’s Oktoberfest. Oktoberfest is, above all, a celebration of Bavarian traditions, so the only beer you’ll find during the festival is brewed within the city limits of Munich.
Since 1950, the festival has only started after the mayor of Munich shouts “O’ zapft is!” (“It’s tapped!”) and offers the first mug poured to the Minister-President of the State of Bavaria.
About one hour before the “O’zapft is!”, though, the festival tent keepers and the breweries have their ceremonial Grand Entry of Landlords and Breweries. A colorful procession of horse carriages and wagons decorated with flowers festively march down Sonnenstraße to the festival ground. The procession is traditionally led by the Münchner Kindl (the coat of arms of Munich), followed by the mayor’s festival carriage, and, behind him, the six breweries'”Festgespann” — or “Festival Teams.”
Franz Winterholler painted an image of Paulaner’s Festgespann on the wall around the corner here in 1980.
While there are a number of images painted on the building, it is the lüftlmalerei of the wedding scene that dominates the facade. And one’s focus is immediately drawn to the curious character on the right dancing and waving a long staff covered in ribbons.
At a typical Bavarian wedding, everything revolves around, not the bride and groom, but the Hochzeitladen — literally, the “Wedding Inviter” (“Hochzeit” meaning “wedding,” and “laden” from the word “einladen,” which means “to invite”).
The Hochzeitladen is identified by the carved wooden stick he carries, the “Ladstecken,” decorated with different colored ribbons in red (symbolizing “love”), blue (symbolizing “loyalty”), green (“hope”), and white (“virginity”).
The tradition of the Hochzeitladen goes back to the 16th century and, as the name suggests, it was the man who went door to door and invited the guests to the wedding back in the day when there was no postal system to send invitations by mail.
More than that, though, back when eligible bachelors and would-be brides grew up in separate towns, far apart from each other, it was the traders who would travel to distant farms and who knew whose sons and daughters might make a good match. Accordingly, they brought the couples together and passed the invitation to the wedding on to the families and neighbors. Hence the Hochzeitladen might also be called the “Schmuser” — the “cuddler” or “coupler.”
At the wedding itself, Hochzeitladen are a combination of wedding planner and master of ceremonies. He’s the one who arranges and leads the wedding procession to the church, arranges the seating, organizes the dance and the dinner, sings, dances, teases the bride and groom, makes jokes, and ensures that everyone has a good time.
After the wedding is over, its the Hochzeitladen who pays all the bills and tips the musicians.
On the otherwise blank wall around the corner, in the alley off of Ludwigstraße 27, “Haus Baudrexl,” a conspicuous inscription certain locals delight in pointing out to passerby:
Mit jedem Tag den ich älter werde,
mächst die Zahl derer,
die mich am Arsch lecken können!
The literal German is a bit more graphic in its imagery, but it (very) loosely translates to:
“Every day older I pass, increases the number who can kiss my ass!”
As the story goes, the owner of Ludwigstraße 27 got into a disagreement with the owner of the building on the other side of the alley. Soon after, he purposefully painted this where the other owner was sure to notice.
Although Ludwigstraße 30 now only has lüftlmalerei decorations around the windows, at one time it had a large narrative lüftlmalerei on its front, as you can almost make out in this photograph taken by August Beckert between 1928 and 1930.
On the front of Ludwigstraße 31, a lüftlmalerei of a couple resting beside the coats of arms of their respective cities painted by Heinrich Bickel in 1950 and restored by Eberhard Hülsmann in 1974.6
On the left, the blonde in the Dirndl rests on the coat of arms for the town of Freising — Saint Corbinian’s bear below the blue and white checkered Bavarian flag — while the stoic fellow on the right rests on the coat of arms for the town of Partenkirchen.
While the word “Dirndl” is an old Bavarian word for “girl,” it has become the name for the traditional costume worn by Bavarian women. Modern Dirndls consist of a bodice (“Mieder“), blouse (“Bluse“), a skirt (“Rock“), and an apron (“Schürze“).
How the apron knot (“Schleife“) is tied is said to reveal the wearer’s availability. If the knot is on the left, the wearer is single. If it’s tied on the right, she’s engaged or married. If it’s right in the middle of her back, the wearer is either a widow . . . or a waitress.
Ludwigstraße 32, which used to be the “Gasthof Zum Hirschen,” now has a Greek restaurant on its first floor, “Taverna Hellas.”
Around the corner, a lüftlmalerei originally painted some time before 1935 shows a horse drawn carriage carrying supplies on the road to Partenkirchen. This is another reference to the “Rottstraße,” the trade route that once passed through Garmisch-Partenkirchen here during the “Rotthandel.“
Most recently renovated in 1997 by Georg Rieger The current inscription on the banner beneath reads:
“Lustig fuhren durch das Landerl Schwer beladen aus dem Süden Unsre Fuhrleut kreuz und yver Und zurück vom Norden her“.
Which translates to something like, “Jolly drove our porters through this country, heavily laden from the South, crossed and came back from the North”.
However, as you can (almost just) see in photographs online at the Bavarian State Archives from 1930-1935 and 1936-1940, at some point since 1940, the original lüftlmalerei was restored and repainted in a way that changed the original mural.
Trees used to frame the image, and there were no decorative scrolls framing the sky, for instance. But, the original banner at the bottom of the mural also used to have a break in the middle.
Thus, if the words had been copied by the restoration artist correctly, they would still be read in two separate blocks — rather than read straight from left to right, as they appear to be written now — making a poem where the capital letters make sense and rhymes in German, like this:
“Lustig fuhren durch das Landerl, Unsre Fuhrleut kreuz und yver / Schwer beladen aus dem Süden, Und zurück vom Norden her“.
And which translates a bit simpler: “Jolly, through this country our carters crossed / Heavily loaded from the South, and back from the North”.
While other buildings on this street have a plaque from the Garmisch-Partenkirchen Tourist Office explaining their history, the owners of Ludwigstraße 33 have painted their own on the wall.
According to the painted chronology:
In 1655, this space was a horse stable. The stable was completely destroyed by the fire in 1865. In 1866, the rebuilt stable was renovated and extended.
In 1909, carpenter M. Bader opened a shop here. Two years later, he renovated the stables to make a living space.
In 1953, furniture maker Bruno Dahlmeier acquired the building.
In 2006, the building was completely renovated to the way it looks today.
Unfortunately, after one of those earlier renovations, the lüftlmalerei on this building were lost, as you can see in this photo taken by August Beckert some time between 1920 and 1930.
Hidden just off the street and almost out of view, underneath the eaves at Ludwigstraße 33b, a lüftlmalerei of a fading sundial.
- "Historie". Wittmann Shuhe und Orthopädieschuhtechnik. http://www.schuh-wittmann.de/historie.html. Accessed 25 November 2020: "1920 Eröffnung des Schuhgeschäfts durch Sebastian Wittmann sen. und Josefa Wittmann in der Ludwigstraße in Partenkirchen".
- "Historie". Über Uns. https://www.baeckerei-siess.de/ueber-uns/. Accessed 25 November 2020: "Die Bäckerei Sieß wurde am 1.12.1886 durch Bäckermeister Anton Sieß gegründet. Nachdem drei Söhne das Bäckerhandwerk erlernt hatten und sich später, jeder für sich, in Partenkirchen selbständig machten, wurde unsere Bäckerei im Jahre 1919 am heutigen Standort eröffnet. Als zweites Standbein wurde damals eine Landwirtschaft und ein Fuhrunternehmen (mit „Lohnkutscherei“) betrieben. Im Jahr 2005 übernahm der heutige Besitzer Christian Sieß von seinem Vater Benedikt Sieß, der die Bäckerei mehrere Jahrzehnte erfolgreich geführt hatte, den Betrieb. Bäckermeister Christian Sieß führt die Bäckerei nun in fünfter Generation im Sinne der Familientradition fort."
- Hornsteiner, Josef. "Verschwundenes Kunstwerk: Lüftlmalerei fällt Sanierung zum Opfer". Merkur.de. https://www.merkur.de/lokales/garmisch-partenkirchen/garmisch-partenkirchen-ort28711/verschwundenes-kunstwerk-lueftlmalerei-in-historischer-ludwigstrasse-faellt-sanierung-zum-opfer-11446714.html. Accessed 25 November 2020: "Das Gebäude mit der Nummer 15 an der Historischen Ludwigstraße zierte bis vor Kurzem noch ein filigranes Werk des Mittenwalder Künstlers Sebastian Pfeffer. Das Bild, das 1981 entstand, stellte eine Krippenszene mit der Geburt Jesu in alpenländischem Stil dar. Jetzt ist es weg. Hat bei einer Sanierung einer neuen Fassade Platz machen müssen. Das hat viele erschreckt, Einheimische, wie auch Urlauber, die dem Tagblatt geschrieben haben. [...] Der „Moar-Martl“, wie ihn die Einheimischen kannten, war als Krippenbaumeister über die Landkreisgrenzen hinaus bekannt. [...] Hausbesitzer Martin Simon beruhigt ihn. Die aktuell nackte Fassade bleibt nicht so. Im Gegenteil: „Es wird wieder eine Lüftlmalerei darauf entstehen.“ Und zwar von Sebastian Pfeffers Sohn Stephan. „Die ersten Gespräche haben bereits stattgefunden“, sagt Simon. [...] Keine Überraschung für Simon, blickt er auf die Geschichte des alten Gebäudes zurück: „Das Haus hat insgesamt schon drei verschiedene Malereien auf der Fassade gehabt“, hat er nachgeforscht. „Alle 20 Jahre ist ein neues Bild darauf entstanden.“ Das Haus Nummer 15, das so nach dem großen Marktbrand von 1865 zum ersten Mal gemauert wieder aufgebaut wurde, gehört zu einem sogenannten Denkmalensemble in der Historischen Ludwigstraße."
- Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege. Denkmalliste, Markt Garmisch-Partenkirchen. 11 November 2020, http://geodaten.bayern.de/denkmal_static_data/externe_denkmalliste/pdf/denkmalliste_merge_180117.pdf, p. 16: "D-1-80-117-148 Ludwigstraße 24. Fassade, mit reichen Malereien, von Heinrich Bickel, 1928."
- Härtl, Rudolf. Heinrich Bickel - Der Freskenmaler von Werdenfels. Adam Verlag, 1990, p. 125: "A 144 Ludwigstraße 24, Gasthof Fraundorfer: Zechende und tanzende Bauern, Hochzeitslader, Hund, in Scheinnische: Madonna, Kartusche mit Wappen; nach 1945."
- Härtl, Rudolf. Heinrich Bickel - Der Freskenmaler von Werdenfels. Adam Verlag, 1990, p. 124: "A 65 Ludwigstraße 31, Haus Sommer: In Landschaft ruhendes Bauernpaar mit Partenkirchner Wappen, sowie Wappen mit Bär; Scheinarchitektonische Fassadenmalerei; erneuert von Hülsmann 1974; ursprünglich 1950".