GEIERWALLY

In the summer of 1862, Anna became the subject of local legend. The press dubbed her "the one with the vulture" after the daring eagle rescue, later coining her the "Geierwally." Wilhelmine von Hillern later turned Anna's story into a novel, Die Geier-Wally (1873), romanticizing the tale with a dramatic plot and heroine, though von Hillern never consulted Anna. While the novel’s success fueled her fame, Anna found the fictionalized portrayal alienating, feeling distanced from the exaggerated character.

Despite her discomfort with the myth, Geierwally became widely popular, adapted into theatre, opera (including Alfredo Catalani’s La Wally), and film. The novel blurred the lines between fiction and reality, a confusion that Anna found challenging. To reclaim her narrative, Anna created her own version of the eagle's nest removal, a self-assured and detailed work that she completed with great effort, traveling to Elbigenalp for on-site studies. Though the painting was damaged in transit, it became one of her most significant works, showcasing her artistic vision and resilience.

A few days later, Anna received a letter addressed to "the man across the hall." Curious, she knocked on his door. What followed was a surprise — a tall, slender man greeted her with warmth and politeness. Despite her usual confidence, Anna was caught off guard. "So, now my destiny has come to me," she wrote later. "I felt it with horror — this or no one."

Their love story blossomed quickly. Anna was drawn to Engelbert’s determination and work ethic. A self-made man, he had cared for his sick father and learned plaster moulding against his initial wishes. Their connection deepened, and soon they were engaged. However, their love faced challenges. Engelbert confessed to having fathered an illegitimate child. Despite this, Anna stayed by his side, defying her parents' objections. Eventually, they wed on October 14, 1867, after her father reluctantly gave his blessing.

Their honeymoon was modest, but their return to Innsbruck marked the beginning of a new chapter. They settled into a small, humble home, and their family soon grew. Business was tough, and the winters were harsh, but together, they built a life full of love and creativity.

Anna and Engelbert had four children. Their eldest son, Karl, studied medicine, while Leo trained in Berlin and later took over the family business. Rosa attended a sewing school in St. Nikolaus, and their youngest daughter, Emma, followed in her sister’s footsteps.

It was Franz Migerka, a ministerial councillor and passionate advocate for women in the arts, who recognized the value of her work. Rather than returning the piece, Migerka ensured it was displayed in a parallel exhibition organized by the Miethke Art Gallery at the Künstlerhaus on Lothringerstraße. Though her painting could not compete with the grandeur of Hans Makart’s main exhibit, it caught the eye of an English collector who purchased it for 50 pounds sterling — one of Anna's first major sales. This success brought much-needed financial relief to her family.

However, despite the triumph, the experience in Vienna proved exhausting. The bustling city, coupled with health issues, left Anna and her husband, Engelbert, physically drained. Upon their return to Tyrol, Anna had to take a break from painting to recover, finding solace in the quiet of the Lech Valley and simpler fieldwork.

Once restored, Anna entered a highly productive phase of her career. Together with Engelbert, she launched a new business venture: painted alabaster figurines and floral souvenirs. These sold rapidly, particularly during the Passion Play season in Oberammergau. Moving the family to a more centrally located home on Rudolfstraße in Innsbruck further boosted sales, making their business more successful.

During this time, Anna worked relentlessly, often painting late into the night. Her dedication took a toll on her health, but her efforts began to pay off. Her work found a steady stream of buyers, and Anna gradually gained financial independence, even insisting on opening her own savings account — an exceptional act of self-determination for a woman of her time.

On a trip to the Igler Alpe, Anna and Engelbert met a young man named Adolf Ortler. Initially welcomed into the family, Ortler appeared to be an ideal match for Rosa, who had grown into a tall and graceful young woman. After a few outings, an engagement followed. But what seemed like a stroke of luck quickly unraveled when Ortler, now a pharmacist in Kössen, began an affair while refusing to end his engagement with Rosa. Heartbroken, Rosa ended the engagement — a bold decision that profoundly affected her. The emotional toll manifested physically as Anna watched her daughter struggle with loss, leading to a decline in her own health.

Amidst these personal trials, Anna and Engelbert marked a bittersweet milestone: their silver wedding anniversary in October 1892. The couple traveled through northern Italy, including Trento, Riva, Verona, and Venice. Anna’s poetic account of the journey reflected a deep emotional resonance. The moment she first saw the open sea at the Lido was transformative, inspiring in her a contemplative understanding of life’s fleeting nature. This experience brought her both solace and strength, marking a significant moment of self-reflection.

But their happiness was short-lived. Upon returning to Innsbruck, Rosa’s health sharply declined. After a stay in Merano, she returned frail and weakened, an image that haunted Anna: “With what heartache I saw her coming up the stairs.” Rosa’s condition worsened rapidly, and despite the best efforts of doctors, she passed away shortly after, in the family home. Her untimely death left an indelible mark on Anna, who faced the loss with the strength and fragility of a mother who had already endured much.

Anna continued to paint and sell her work after Rosa’s passing, using art as a means to process grief and find hope. Her paintings became a way of preserving beauty, even in the darkest hours. Despite this, the pain of Rosa’s death remained a wound she revisited often in her letters, a shadow that never fully lifted.

On September 13, 1903, Engelbert passed away after years of struggling with a chronic stomach ailment. Anna, though devastated, continued to paint, splitting her time between Wattens and Innsbruck. In 1911, an exhibition dedicated to Anna was held at the Ferdinandeum in Innsbruck, marking her continued prominence in the local art scene.

Anna’s last self-portrait, painted in 1915, is a poignant reflection of her artistic maturity and introspection. Unlike earlier portraits, where she donned traditional Tyrolean dress, she is depicted in a simple blue dress, exuding an air of calm composure. On the table before her, a still life of wildflowers — a recurring motif in her work — captures the viewer’s attention, reinforcing her connection to nature and her art.

The portrait itself is striking: Anna, holding a palette in her left hand, gazes directly at the viewer with quiet intensity. The unfinished quality of the painting, particularly the raw surface and unfinished background, gives it a modern, open feel, almost as if the artist was still in conversation with her work — and with us. The juxtaposition of detail and imperfection suggests a deliberate break with tradition, a final commentary on her artistic journey.

Anna never completed this portrait. In February 1915, she fell ill with pneumonia. Despite her age and weakened heart, she could not recover. Anna Stainer-Knittel passed away on February 28, 1915, at the home of her son Karl in Wattens.

Her last self-portrait remains a silent legacy, an image of an artist who fought for her art, her family, and her independence. With a steady hand, a fierce mind, and an eye for detail, she preserved the beauty of life and death in her work, leaving behind a legacy that endures in both her paintings and her story.