Siegfried Goldberger is not only one of the most talented artists in Tyrol; he is a true original, a rare gem that one must search for like a hidden treasure in today’s world.

His specialties include oil paintings, watercolors, pen drawings, and etchings. Executed with utmost precision, his motifs merge into a kind of dream world for the viewer. From unusual perspectives, he creates spatial and temporal distance, capturing the light, air, and remoteness of both familiar and unknown worlds, conveying feelings of solitude and sublime beauty.

For many years, Sigi has also been working for the Hexenwasser Söll. Maps, overviews, wall designs, and graphic elements all originate from his hand. Most recently, he painted the landscapes for the elaborate intro of the new Hexenwasser website. His artwork can be found all around the Wilder Kaiser, and nearly every visitor to Söll recognizes at least one Goldberger.

In an interview, I wanted to find out: Who is the man behind these unmistakable works of art?

Creaking like the lid of an old treasure chest, the door to Siegi Goldberger’s rustic, smoke-scented studio in the heart of Söll swings open. Time seems to have stood still in this room—everything here is art. The scent, the atmosphere, the furnishings.

Sigi greets me attentively and warmly as we sit down for our first chat. I had originally planned to conduct a formal interview with the Salzburg-born Söll resident today. Instead, we ended up talking about everything and anything while admiring his numerous paintings, which are arranged around him like an ensemble. Our interview is postponed to another time.

But one thing is already clear to me: Sigi truly lives up to his name, Goldberger. If he were a material, he would undoubtedly be gold. He is not as transparent as glass, not as fragile as ceramics, not as easy to shape as wood, yet not as hard as steel. He shines, cannot be bent easily, and, like a rare treasure, he has become a rarity—valuable in his apparent timelessness.

Why that is, I hope to reveal today, after Sigi shared nearly an hour of his life story with me during our meeting.

Sigi, how did you become an artist? Is this kind of talent something you’re born with?

My father may have passed down some of his talent for craftsmanship and drawing to me. He was quite skilled, but he never actually taught me how to draw. I started painting at my grandmother’s house on the Rinneralm. I come from a very large family—my grandmother had around 20 siblings.

I, myself, only have two siblings, but as a child, I was quite the rascal. That’s why my parents often sent me up to my grandmother’s Alm. There wasn’t much to do up there, and I often got bored. So, I grabbed some sketchbooks and spent hours drawing.

Fortunately, my family supported my growing passion for art, and I was later able to attend the musical high school in my birthplace, Salzburg. The violin lessons required for admission were pure torture for me since I’m not particularly musical, but they were my ticket to the education I wanted.

The historical city of Salzburg fascinated me, and my appreciation for all things old and historical grew stronger over time.

You are no longer just a freelance artist but also teach technical crafts at a private school in Vienna. How did that come about?

After finishing school, I first worked as a carpenter and truck driver in my hometown. My first “artistic commission” came in 1980 from the Höfe-Museum in Salzburg/Großgmain. However, I quickly realized how difficult it was to secure commissions as a freelance artist in our region. So, in 1987, I packed up a portfolio and headed to Vienna.

I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to study under Professor Rudolf Hausner in the Phantastic Realism movement and earn my master’s degree. Back then, a lot was still taught about effects, color chemistry, and mixing pigments. For example, I had to learn and draw every muscle and bone in the human body. It was also very much a craft-based education. I believe that’s important—one should truly understand their craft. Representational painting (depicting reality, such as people, landscapes, or objects as perceived by the senses) is hardly taught anymore today.

My second skill, craftsmanship, eventually became my profession. Originally, I was just a substitute teacher for technical crafts in Vienna. I had never studied education, but somehow, I stayed. Now, I’ll continue teaching until I retire next year. I’ve always enjoyed it, and at the same time, I’ve still been able to paint a lot.

Your works can be found all over the region. Can you estimate how many paintings you have created in your lifetime? Do you have any personal favorites?

I honestly have no idea how many paintings I’ve created. I don’t keep records, nor do I collect my sketches in a book or digitally. I’m a bit chaotic in that sense. When I’m out and about and something catches my eye, or I have an idea, I’ll sketch it on a napkin or a scrap of paper. Maybe that’s a bit careless, and sometimes I regret it—especially when I think, I’ve painted this before… but I have no idea where that painting is now. Sometimes, it’s funny when I come across a painting I had completely forgotten about.

I do remember some of my favorite works well, though none of them are in my possession. One was a pen drawing of a Gothic church under renovation, which I sketched from the Enzinger Bichl in Salzburg. A special ramp had been built for the restoration work, and the view was uniquely fleeting.

Another painting I recall vividly is a square-format landscape of the Eiberg facing the Hohe Salve—that one was something special, too. I think I even know where it hangs; someone from the region bought it.

In general, I often incorporate fantasy labyrinths into my paintings. It has become something of a trademark for me. Sometimes, I compare them to Trojan castles, whirlpools, or flowing water. Someone once told me they reminded him of brain convolutions. Everyone can form their own interpretation.

Sigi, you don’t have an email address or a smartphone? Can a working man even survive like that today?

Yes, absolutely. I get by just fine. I just can’t relate to all this technology. Sometimes, I find the digital world downright unsettling. There’s a kind of self-propelling momentum to it, and it seems like the people caught up in it often don’t even understand what they’re doing anymore. Technology is beginning to develop its own intelligence, and that unnerves me.

For example, I drive a very old car where I still understand the mechanics and can fix things myself. I prefer that over being at the mercy of new technology.

My students, on the other hand, communicate almost exclusively through their phones. I have no idea what information about me might be floating around online, but it doesn’t bother me. I enjoy it when people call me—or even better, when they talk to me in person.

You’ve worked with Hexenwasser for many years. How did that collaboration begin, and how have you experienced Hexenwasser as a local over the years?

I met Markus Henkell, the chairman, on the Hohe Salve. We started talking about my paintings. Not long after, I was commissioned to paint a ceiling mural of the Hohe Salve for the Hexentopf. That’s how our collaboration began, and it has continued for many years now.

I’ve always perceived Hexenwasser as something very positive because it has grown in harmony with nature. I love the materials they use—wood, stone, and iron. With similar projects, the excessive use of plastic often bothers me.

Additionally, Hexenwasser has constantly evolved over the years, which is important. My grandchildren love it up there. It’s magical and mystical, but above all, it tells real stories. That makes all the difference.

The witches really were up there around the Saukoglalm—at least, that’s what the old Söll locals knew. It’s wonderful that such stories are being kept alive. That is worth its weight in gold.

Thank you, dear Sigi. Just like you! We hope to continue working with you for many more years to come.