It’s a warm, sunlit day in July. I stand outside the Volksgarten (People’s Garden) in Linz, Austria. The usual traffic has given way to pedestrians. As far as the eye can see, the city centre transforms into a sea of humanity. From somewhere nearby, the slow sound of beating drums rises. I am at the Pflasterspektakel, one of the biggest busking festivals in the world. It’s also among Linz’s – and Austria’s – best-kept secrets.
Every summer for the last 40 years, Linz has invited street performers from across the globe to the Pflasterspektakel. But what began as a meeting place for street artists from around the world is now one of Europe’s most important and diverse street performance festivals. Its name literally translates to the Plaster Festival in English, but the German-language use of the word is more metaphysical, and what it actually means is a celebration of art.
That’s also what we will see over the three days of the festival, as 300 local and international performers play their music and demonstrate their art before 200,000 visitors over three days. But in spite of the scale of the festival, like most people, I discovered Pflasterspektakel only after I came to Linz.
We make our way to the sound of the drums. It’s the first performance of the day. And it is enacted almost flashmob style against the background of the biggest mall in the city centre. The old and the new merge effortlessly in the architectural landscape. And the performers also seem to reflect this synthesis. They bring a modern identity to an old city, where contemporary styles blend seamlessly into a medieval setting.
Down the road, a few minutes away, another performance had already begun to unfold, this one by a traditional Austrian band. We stopped to listen to them combine a violin, a guitar, drums, and a handpan. The slightly UFO-shaped handpan is a modern version of a percussion instrument that has its roots in Switzerland. But it fits in easily with the busking traditions of its Alpine neighbour. In fact, for this band, who go by the name of Marcel Hutter Project, the handpan is at the heart of the music they produce. Like the audience around them, we watched spellbound.
This deep appreciation of music reflects the character of the city. After all, a city is not just its buildings. It’s about people. And for Linz residents, the Pflasterspektakel has been as much a part of their childhood as Mozart’s symphonies. So, it’s a tradition they are now passing on to their children. That’s why they sit sprawled across the sidewalks and the streets, children and adults alike, in rapt attention, as the music unfolds. The most experienced attendees have even come armed with sheets that they lay on the ground before they sit down. Art has never been only for the elite here. It truly belongs to every man, woman, and child. Just like a good street performance!
We sat with them too till the performance concluded. Then the audience rushed forward to the hat placed near the performers. This is where they left their tips. Since the Pflasterspektakel is a festival funded by a hat-money scheme, this local support plays a big part in the festival’s success. Most Linz residents understand this, too. That’s why many of them actually show up at the festival with a jar of coins, which they will use to tip performers across the three days of the festival.
All roads from here lead to the Hauptplatz, or the city’s central square. As we join the crowds heading in that direction, we stop at a street corner to watch Borja Catanesi, a guitarist and street performer from Spain, jam with his audience. Just up the road, Katie Ferrar, a soloist who has travelled to the festival from Los Angeles, USA, sings for the crowd beside a fountain. “Danke Schon!” or thank you in German, her guitar case tells the audience. We continue and join the audience watching another local band. In spite of the thronging crowd, a deep hush always accompanies a musical performance.
We finally reach the Hauptplatz, which has almost taken on the role of a central stage for the festival. That’s also when the global nature of the Pflasterspektakel hits home. This is where clowns from Chile, fire jugglers from Finland, and stunt performers from New Zealand appear alongside each other in their separate shows.
Remember, the Pflasterspektakel is not just about music. It is about street artists, too. Nowhere is this more evident than in the work of the clowns. Even when they don’t speak German, they remind us that laughter doesn’t need a common language. They use improvisation to craft their show as they go along, involving the audience in every stage.
The Altstadt or the old city, in the background of the Hauptplatz, comes alive with these performances. Some of which are even taken into its tiny alleys. It’s still the same old city, but now enveloped in the spirit of celebration.
On the way back, we notice that all the acts on the path are new ones. The Argentinean clown Manshula Circo is inviting people to her party. And Charming Jay from South Korea, who alternates between a magician and a clown, is trying to cover up his ‘failed’ tricks. Both still manage to find an attentive audience that is still going strong. Both display fire-eating skills that particularly have the kids enthralled.
In a festival that is really a collaboration between a city, the performers, and the audience, the organisers use brisk changes like this one to keep the Pflasterspektakel’s performance spaces constantly rotating, and bring in over 800 performances in just three days. For the performers, it is a chance to reach an audience. For the residents, it’s a moment in the year when they welcome the world into their city. And for Linz itself, it is a day when the welcoming heart of the city shines.
