Imagine a quaint medieval village nestled in the Swiss countryside, where time seems to stand still, yet creativity and community thrive. This is Carona, a place that has been a sanctuary for artists, thinkers, and dreamers for over a century. But here’s where it gets fascinating: Carona isn’t just any village—it’s the creative refuge of the legendary artist Meret Oppenheim, whose spirit still lingers in its cobblestone streets. And this is the part most people miss: it’s also the ancestral home of the Wenger family, whose story is intertwined with the iconic Victorinox brand. Let me take you on a journey through this enchanting place, where history, art, and modern life blend seamlessly.
My family’s connection to Carona dates back to 1917, when my great-grandfather, Theo Wenger—a pastor-turned-knife manufacturer—purchased Casa Costanza as a holiday retreat. This charming house in the village’s main piazza later became a haven for my grandparents fleeing Nazi Germany and eventually my father. But it was my aunt, Meret Oppenheim, who truly transformed it into her Gesamtkunstwerk—a total work of art. Her legacy is etched into every corner of Carona, from the bronze fountain adorned with snakes in the piazza to the thousands of documents and letters I’ve transcribed and published since her passing in 1985.
Growing up in Basel, my summers in Carona were magical. My brothers and I would roam freely, exploring the forest and the walled garden just outside the village. I vividly remember the local women in their black dresses and wooden clogs, zoccoli, chatting and knitting in the narrow alleys. It was a world frozen in time, yet brimming with life.
But here’s where it gets controversial: In the 1960s, Carona became a hub for avant-garde artists and free spirits. My father and Meret purchased Casa Aprile, which my elder brother Christoph turned into a commune for creative minds, including his best friend David Weiss, who later gained international fame alongside Peter Fischli. Meret, who moved in the same circles as Picasso, Man Ray, and Duchamp, became a mentor to these young artists. Was this artistic revolution a blessing or a disruption to the village’s timeless charm? That’s a question still debated today.
Thirty years ago, I moved to Carona full-time, following in my grandfather’s footsteps by pursuing a career in psychology as a teacher of the Hoffman Process. What draws me to Carona is its humanity. It’s a place where everyone greets each other, where community thrives, yet it’s also well-connected. In just 20 minutes, you can reach Lugano by bus, and from there, Zürich is a two-hour train ride away. Milan is a mere hour and 15 minutes by car. My brother Michael and I now share Casa Aprile—I occupy the lower two floors, and he has the top two. It’s like the commune spirit lives on.
Carona is a paradise for hikers and nature lovers. The forest is home to the breathtaking Madonna d’Ongero church, a baroque masterpiece with stunning views of Lake Lugano and the surrounding vineyards. From here, you can see Montagnola, the village where Hermann Hesse once lived and wrote about Carona in Klingsor’s Last Summer. For a more adventurous outing, head to the Roccolo, an old bird-hunting tower, or take a gondola up to Monte Tamaro and hike along the mountain crest to Monte Lema.
Back in the village, Parco San Grato is a must-visit, especially in late April and early May when the rhododendrons and azaleas burst into a riot of colors and scents. Ristorante Posta’s garden is another gem, completely covered in wisteria during spring. For a taste of local cuisine, Grotto del Pan Perdü serves traditional dishes like grilled meat, ossobuco, polenta, and risotto. My personal favorite, though, is Bistrot del Tennis at the tennis club. It’s unpretentious but perfect for enjoying the sunset with a glass of excellent wine. Luciano Vanacore, the owner, creates culinary magic with his ever-changing menu of pasta, fish, meat, and antipasti.
For art enthusiasts, Carona is a treasure trove. I’m part of an association that runs Galleria La Loggia, showcasing local artists, and we also organize CaronaImmagina, a biennial outdoor photography exhibition that transforms the entire village into an open-air gallery. In Lugano, MASI (Museo d’arte della Svizzera italiana) is a must-visit, with its 2017 Meret Oppenheim exhibition still fondly remembered. The current show highlights David Weiss and his time in Carona. The museum’s concert hall, with its exceptional acoustics, hosts performances by the local symphony orchestra, theater, ballet, and even opera.
When it comes to dining, Bottegone del Vino in Lugano’s city center is my go-to. Their menu is small but impeccable, and the waiters have been the same for two decades. For a change from Italian cuisine, Ghost Bagel offers authentic New York-style bagels that my late Canadian husband, Douglas, would have adored.
Shopping in Lugano is a delight, especially around the cathedral. Boutique Scrupoli, with its handpicked classical fashion pieces, is a personal favorite.
Here’s a thought-provoking question: Should Casa Costanza become a museum to honor Meret Oppenheim’s legacy? I believe it should, but funding is a challenge. The more people know about Meret, the better. Her elegance, her art, and her spirit live on in Carona, a village that continues to inspire and captivate.
So, what do you think? Is Carona’s blend of history, art, and community a recipe for perfection, or does its evolution risk losing its timeless charm? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear your perspective!
