BIENNALE ARCHITETTURA 2016 – NATIONAL PARTICIPATION OF THE BALTIC STATES (ESTONIA, LATVIA AND LITHUANIA)

The Baltic Pavilion inhabits the Palasport Arsenale, Giobatta Gianquinto—a brutalist architecture sports hall located next to the main Arsenale exhibition grounds. Its tall concrete wall, cast in-situ, features an upright perimeter extrusion, which provides a stepped piazza—a clearing in the dense, historical city fabric. 

Designed by Enrichetto Capuzzo, the building has been actively used by the Venetian community for sports activities since the 1970s. The Baltic Pavilion provides the occasion for its doors to be opened to visitors of the International Architecture Exhibition for the first time .

Realia can be understood as a particular material object or idea—linguists use the term to highlight structures that cannot be translated from one language to another. The intersection between power structures, ideologies, and resistances on one side, and the assembly of things on the other, results in realias as authentic responses to specific material parameters. This project proposes a reading of spatial interventions as realia—formed in relation to a place. The common denominator for the international team working on the Baltic Pavilion is a specific relationship to the Baltic region as a starting point for inquiry—it is an attempt to re-articulate architecture while responding to the logic of a particular place. Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania share common processes in political, economic, cultural, and infrastructural transformations–from the central planning of the Soviet Union to the current governmentality of the EU. Perhaps the phenomena of the shifting definition of the Baltic countries is a double fold—from the outside it is addressed as one region whilst on the inside it is often understood as three separate quests for identity. Thus, this project is an attempt to link contrasting concepts while analysing the conditions for integrity of the Baltic States through relation to a wider context.

Overlayed in red, green and blue colour spectrum this analysis visualizes Landsat 7 and 8 band 1 data identifying man made features in the years 1999, 2008 and 2014 respectively.The hard surfaces from the earliest dataset that later disappeared are shown in red, while green represents features from the middle of the period and blue presents the latest developments. That in white is the data that appears in all three overlayed data sets, thus showing features that are unchanged. While reading the visualization, naturally occurring surfaces such as ice or sea vegetation are also visible and identifiable after closer observation.

The Atlas of Russian History is a book of translucent pages, superimposing thirty seven maps. Produced in 1953 in the year of Stalin’s death the study was made by twenty three year old George Maciunas while studying at Carnegie Institute of Technology taking inspiration in the course “Evolution of the Modern Russian State”. The study surveys the complex forces that formulated the system of Russian government at the time.  

The Baltic timeline considers the ever shifting definition of the Baltic states through an overlay of historical events with spatial interventions articulating transformative efforts.

Two master students at the École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne (EPFL) were asked to produce an énoncé théorique: theoretical research, exploring a subject that they deemed interesting and relevant to introduce their diploma project. They chose to study the Baltic Sea through a selection of various climatical, geological, social and political topics. This book is the result of those four months of research. The énoncé théorique goes into detail—through maps, diagrams, charts, etc.—searching for clues and patterns on what an overexploited territory looks like (different layers of interaction) and what planning such a territory would imply. This book hopes to generate more ideas on how the exploitation of the Baltic Sea could be organised so humans can adequately manage and use the resources offered by the sea, today and in the future. Planning will become crucial for the Baltic Sea where user pressures are currently relatively manageable but are expected to witness a strong shift in the years to come. Text: Muriz Djurdjevic, Thomas Paturet

One way to strike a balance between developmental interests and environmental protection is to ensure the spatial planning of the sea. This is a new concept in Europe, and most countries are only now drafting their first plans on the basis of a “learning by doing” approach. In the Baltic region, only Germany and Lithuania have created such plans. A maritime spatial plan in Latvia is being drafted, while in Estonia two pilot territories have been planned to date and preparations are being made for the imminent drafting of a national maritime plan. Maritime spatial planning means identifying possible areas for development, as well as organizing the way that the sea is used in terms of time and space. Activities are arranged and prioritized in a spatial way, with particular focus on their potential impact on the marine ecosystem. As is the case with terrestrial planning, maritime planning involves both the public and a series of institutions. Unlike the land, the sea is publicly owned, which means that the public have greater opportunities to influence decisions that relate to the management of the sea. In practice, public interest in the development of the sea is far lower than in the case of similar questions around land—particularly when it comes to territories that are beyond one’s horizon. This is due to low interest in the processes that do not directly affect one’s everyday life, as well as the comparatively short history of maritime spatial planning. Maritime economic activities and the sustainability of marine ecosystems are transboundary by nature, and therefore countries must harmonize solutions, for example in terms of ecological value protection networks or the co-ordination of the placement of linear objects. The Baltic Sea region is at the forefront of such processes, actively looking for new approaches towards better co-operation in the planning of the Baltic Sea as a collective resource.Text: Jānis Ušča

Caused by the excessive introduction of nutrients to the marine environment, eutrophication remains one of the principal threats to the biodiversity of the Baltic Sea. It is driven by a surplus of the nutrients nitrogen and phosphorus in the sea: this nutrient over-enrichment then causes elevated levels of phytoplankton. The blue/green swirls that can be observed on the images are cyanobacteria or phytoplankton blooms that were captured by the Landsat 8 satellite (courtesy of USGS) and enhanced through our pre-processing maneuver. The maximum area of 125,000 km2 covered by cyanobacteria blooms was observed on August 14, 2015. 

The areas of Bolderāja and Daugavgrīva hold significant historical importance for the city of Riga; however, that importance has decreased and they have swiftly turned into neglected peripheries with remarkable swiftness.For many centuries the only road that connected Riga to the whole region of Kurzeme ran through these dune territories. The Daugavgrīva Fortress which is located on the eastern part of the island next to the estuary of Daugava was erected to protect Riga from enemy ships. The Fortress remained of military importance right up to the First World War when new military technologies were introduced that made fortresses somewhat useless.Several fishing villages were located near the Fortress; shortly before the First World War the inhabitants of Riga followed the trends of the time and summer houses started to appear in the region.The Second World War brought dramatic change. When it ended, Daugavgrīva became a closed territory used by the Soviet Naval Forces—the fishing shacks were replaced by high-rise buildings and gardening and garage cooperatives were introduced in the rich bottomlands of Buļļupe.Years have passed since Latvia restored its independence and the Soviet Army has left, but the areas have not yet recovered. Their predominantly Russian-speaking inhabitants remain stuck somewhere between the Soviet past and the ever-changing present. Bolderāja has one of the closest beaches to the Baltic Sea and yet most of Riga’s inhabitants choose to ignore it and search for resorts, sanatoriums and plots of land for their summer houses elsewhere. Text: Pauls Bankovskis

Stepping down from the ambition for iconic architecture, this project looks back at the lost historical evidence, focusing on the endangered modernist monument—the bus station building— while recognizing qualities in projects developed previously. Visions of a city train by another architecture studio, a waterfront park from a successful diploma project and Rail Baltica —back then still only a vision.Lack of continuity is one of the main reasons for significant urban problems in Riga. Although the proposal did not result in a commision and construction process, it has served as the basis for the Rail Baltica project development and to some extent for the historical decision to finally, after 100 years, eliminate the railway embankment dividing the city.Text: Outofbox

3+1 architects won the Rail Baltica Tallinn terminal architectural competition in 2014. This provided the architects with the opportunity to be in real-time contact with the most monumental recent spatial changes in Estonia—our connection with the European railway network.They will get first-hand experience of the process that a relatively small terminal with a gross floor area of 2000m2 can initiate beside, below and above itself and also the spatial, economic, political and socio-cultural changes it can generate on a wider scene and larger scale.Architects have collected all of the archival fragments from the past two years that are either directly or indirectly related to the terminal: the so-called linear park between the terminal and airport, the tramline between the railway station, airport and city center, the new entrances to the airport, the plan of the bus station, various versions of Ülemiste “Smart City”, the new cultural center, and the discussions around the identity of the present and future shopping center in the context of the changing public space. They found ourselves surrounded by a world of various fragments that all have a strong impact on the terminal before we had even begun to design it.

“Quantum Strider” transforms all of the capital cities in the Baltics together with Helsinki into the so-called Finno-Ugric-Baltic network with a population of 11.6 million people. A new underground connection between Tallinn and Helsinki will become vital. Finland is like an isolated sea island looking from the perspective of Europe and Tallinn is potentially the closest link between them. Why not close up those gaps by creating a fast and efficient hub that will teleport passengers from Helsinki to Tallinn in twenty minutes?Furthermore, reduced travel time allows for a so far non-existent synergy. We are not only discussing that this fast hub will enabling us to travel quickly from Tallinn to Helsinki, we are also pointing out that from now on it is possible to define Helsinki and Tallinn as one. The “Talsinki Finno-Ugric metropol” holds great potential and real attraction for the Baltics States, a challenge for St. Petersburg, a rival for Stockholm, and the real destination for Rail Baltica. 

The bipole vision marks the shift from the tantamount distribution urbanization of the region established in Soviet Lithuania to new concentrated urban agglomeration in country’s central region. Project aspires for bipolar-metropolis that would meet the requirements for a competitiveness in wider EU free market region and formal Eurocity standards.Soviet demographic expansionism into newly integrated regions (ex. Baltic states) was followed by russification taking advantage of newly established industrial agglomerations. In contrast doctrines in Soviet Lithuania in 60’s–70’s fostered the development of the small and medium size towns and equalized industrialisation – and altogether served as a buffer to reduce forced demographic integration into the Soviet Union. The inherited logic of region is at the moment overlaid with EU integration processes.In the new political light during the first years of independence the lithuanian engineer, architect, urbanist PhD Jurgis Vanagas starts developing the concept of bipolar urbanised region encompassing two biggest Lithuanian cities within the distance of 80km. North – South and West–East European transport corridors crossing near Kaunas, are marked by Rail Baltica and Via Baltica projects. Karaliaucius District – Russia link is of major logistical importance in this geographical nod. The negotiated addition to the Rail Baltic project that would connect Vilnius to Kaunas works as a central spine and the strategic base for the Bipolar conglomeration.The new agendas were being reformulated in the project preparing proposals for general plan of Vilnius in 1995. And the concept became a part of strategic territorial general plans of Lithuania that were validated by the parliament in 2003 and stays as a political strategy that is waiting is for more detailed implementations in the regional plans.

A classic card deck consisting of fifty two cards was put forward to make the fatigued format of the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) more vivid and accessible for the public. Values assigned to constituents signify surprising combinations which might ensue during the planning and building of the railway across the state. Simplified operative images presented on the cards, in turn, convey the reciprocal relationship between flora, fauna, humans as well as modern transport technologies coexisting all along the projected timeline.Joker: The new Rail Baltica railway may run adjacent to the near-surface radioactive waste repository "Radons" and despite extensive safety measures to be taken, its impact upon the storage elicits worries among the local population.Aces: The Rail Baltica project advents an unprecedented degree of infrastructural integration among the three countries and considerably shortens the travel times between the largest cities in the region.King: While the benefits for passenger commuters are stellar, the opportunities presented for cargo are believed to be the driving force behind the project.Queen: In addition to higher train speeds, the shift from 1,532mm (the Russian gauge) to 1,435mm (the European gauge) train track warrants a symbolic integration into the European transport networks.Jack: The "RB Rail AS", a unique three-state joint venture, has been established to manage the colossal task of procuring planning, construction, communication and business development of the Rail Baltica project.10: Construction and operation of the track presents considerable risk to bird migration, feeding and nesting sites.9: State of the art infrastructure for fauna envisages animal passages, underpasses and overpasses to enable a safer migration of wildlife across man made barriers.8: Noise emission and acoustic pollution from construction and operation of railway traffic will have to be countered with rail noise abatement measures.7: Drainage systems will have to protect water basins and wetlands from contamination as well as provide passages for amphibians and reptiles.6: Complex negotiation, land acquisition as well as the resettlement of residents predates construction of the railway throughout the region.5: Riga International Airport (RIX) will boast a high speed railway connection to the city of Riga.4: The route of the track was adjusted several times to limit its impact upon Natura 2000, the network of protected areas including marshes, biotopes, wetlands and habitats. 3: Construction of the track posits a significant risk to local historical heritage and natural landscape.2: While the train junction will only have four stops in the region, there are plans to adapt the network to spur the cargo traffic and local passenger transportation.Text: Viesturs Celmiņš

Gravity´s Infinite Range is a project about material and informational trade flows and their escapes. The systems used would seem weird at first sight—for example, why are most merchant ships registered in Panama or Liberia? This question will also be key to the work. I´m collecting and comparing information in various forms to grasp at least some boundaries of fluid geography and its limits.The interdependence between information and material is central in Gravity´s Infinite Range

Free Zone is a visual and conceptual analysis of three different free zones in Estonia, located in Sillamäe, Paldiski and Muuga. Free Zones are economic instruments, which connect direct geographical and national territory to the global free flow of goods. "Free zones are special areas within the customs territory of the Community. Goods placed within these areas are free of import duties, VAT and other import charges. Non-Community goods stored in the zone are considered as not yet imported to the customs territory of the Community" European Customs Law

This installation is based on “FACE-TO-FACE: The Story of The Baltic Exchange”, a monumental kinetic piece by Maarja Kask and Ralf Lõoke of Salto Architects and artist Neeme Külm, exhibited this spring at the Museum of Estonian Architecture in Tallinn.Together with the accompanying publication it tells the story of the Baltic Exchange which was deprived of its site in the City of London and thus also its context as a result of an IRA terrorist attack in 1992. For various reasons, the plan to restore the building did not materialise. The building was dismantled, its fragments were auctioned and subsequently bought by Estonian businessmen. In addition to its physical relocation to Estonia, many design projects have been produced regarding where and how to place the deconstructed building. Its integration in a new environment has failed, causing the fragments to lay waiting in shipping containers for the last decade.Having addressed the issues of site-specificity before, the authors were intrigued by the unusual story of the Exchange building. They transformed one of the most conspicuous elements of the building’s facade into a kinetic installation at the the Museum of Estonian Architecture. In the process, they were faced with a series of new questions such as: What happens to a building that loses its original site? Who is to pass judgement on the value of a piece of architecture? What value is there in salvaging a building? What role does architecture play as a means of exerting influence in society and politics?

The master plan of Riga Port City sets forth several scenarios of development of Andrejsala and Eksportosta, and demonstrates the maximum development opportunities of this place. The concept provides relatively specific data on the properties of the new district of the city, its spatial composition and town-planning principles. The district of Andrejsala and Eksportosta is divided into three bands and includes six various zones. Each of the zones is planned with its own identity, atmosphere and main buildings (e.g. the ContemporaryArt Museum, conference centres, a design school etc.), as well as the landscape formed for a purpose. The area development process envisages successive phases. The total area of development is expected to be 2,700,000 square metres, of which Andrejsala’s share shall be 700,000 square metres.(© SIA „Jaunrīgas attīstības uzņēmums”)

The Riga Metro was a planned metro system devised during the time of the Soviet Union. Three lines with a total of thirty-three stations were planned to be built by 2021, however in the late 1980s, during the independence movement, the whole project was put on permanent hold. After the fall of the Soviet Union, the possible construction of a metro system has still not been publicly discussed.The main reason for public opposition concerned how the metro was to be built, with a belief that the construction could adversely affect the architecture of the old town and historical center of Riga. Discussions also focused on the ecological and social aspects of the project and its impact on unfavorable national arrangement. There was concern regarding a new wave of migrant workers from the Soviet Union, which would be an inevitable consequence of the subway construction. Strong public opposition led to the fact that the city and the Soviet republic would lose even more control of their territories, as Riga would be developed into a disproportionately large regional center for the region’s scale.

In 1994, news was circulating in the architecture circles in Estonia, that a delegation of Japanese businessmen were on their way to visit the newly independent Republic of Estonia seeking new business and investment opportunities. Using a Canon NP-3225 copy machine, the artist and designer Tõnis Vint put together a booklet of simple black and white prints on bright colored paper to attract interest in potential investors for what, at that time, had already been a five-year obsession about a fantastic special economic zone in the former closed military zone on the island of Naissaar (Estonian for Woman’s island). In traditional Japanese binding, he presented a wide scope of his work and references from others, most of them re-drawn in classic oriental dotted technique, ranging from Yakov Chernikhov inspired constructivist megastructures appropriated with Estonian flags to studies on traditional craftsmanship and comparisons of Japan and Estonia to mappings of Feng-Shui axis and energy flows. In addition he provided an overview of the contemporary architects of Estonia—many of which had just opened up their own first offices in the new and exciting free market economy.

Fourteen Objects From Kulttuurisauna: Five Kiuas Stones, An Axehead, A Portrait, Four Enamel Plates, A Concrete Housing Tower, A Bronze Pillar, An Open Letter, A Song, Tuomas Toivonen, Nene Tsuboy, Åbäke, 2013–2016

Vilnius Notebook 1, Mindaugas Navakas, 1977–1988, courtesy: Romanas Raulynaitis private collection, Mindaugas Navakas private collection.

This sculpture series started in 1977 and evolved into a twelve page cahier of collages that formed an artist’s publication printed in eighty copies in 1988. The works comment on found cityscapes, recognising the expressions of large objects and spatial formulations. The collages of installations create situations ordering things in the space of the city according to meaning and proposed logic. The sculptural comments offer variety of dialogues and possible solutions.

“This is MMD (Micro-Macro Disc) house compilation project” states young Lithuanian architects Valdas Ozarinskas and Aida Čeponytė while describing Lithuanian Pavilion project for Hanover Expo 2000 in Baltic architecture exposition in Paris, La Galerie d’Architecture.Evolved from the ideas confronting manipulative „retro-utopian“ visions of Lithuania and it’s “imprisoning into the slow modernity” effect, Hanover expo introduces the new “possible” into the inert local architectural fabric. The contradictory competition process related to the recently implemented public procurement law, and controversial moves towards unlocking hermetic understanding of the style brings the newly established non-formal lithuanian group “Private Ideology” on board.Exposed in the “Boulevard of Europe” highly acknowledged lightweight steel structure first time participant in Expo Lithuanian Pavilion marks the turn century as aerodynamic and within “cosmopolitical“ forms, transfiguring into another.1. Nordic - Baltic Architectural Triennale in Tallinn. Authors: Private Ideology group: Audrius Bučas, Marina Bučienė, Valdas Ozarinskas, Aida Čeponytė, Gintaras Kuginys, 1999, Gintaras Kuginys photograph.2. Four architectures Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Sweden. La Galerie d'Architecture . Authors: Private Ideology group : Audrius Bučas, Marina Bučienė, Valdas Ozarinskas, Aida Čeponytė, Gintaras Kuginys, 2000. Courtesy: Valdas Ozarinskas.3. Explanatory statement for the Lithuanian Hanover Expo 2000 architectural competition. Authors: Valdas Ozarinskas, Aida Čeponytė, 1998 Courtesy: Valdas Ozarinskas.

The project on numerous 1x1m size panels was submitted as part of the first Latvian Young Architects exhibition in the Chamber of Architects, Riga, under the open call: "What will be the future of regional architecture?"The project authors were four young architects studying at the biggest Latvian USSR Institute of Architecture and Urbanism, in what was known as the “Urban Project’’ department. The architects offered their perspective on the regional architecture by transforming the abandoned gas towers in Riga into a technical museum. On the submitted panels, shown here, a grand airship or Zeppelin was situated among the three towers—as a reference to the First World War when the German army aircrafts settled in the Latvian territory.During the Soviet regime, Soviet Latvia’s architecture was an area in which the implementation of new, experimental and ambitious ideas was practically impossible yet one of the exceptions was the young architects’ conceptual exhibitions in the late 1970s, marking new trends in the field. This moment witnessed and emergence of both the impressions of international architectural trends, acquired through architectural journals, and efforts to highlight the regional and national architectural contexts. In times of stagnation these rather daring fantasies were likely encouraged by the young Estonian artists and architects, later known as the “Tallinn School’’, whose works were shown in the exhibition at the Chamber of Architects that same year. It highlighted new ways of thinking about architectural processes in Estonia and had an impact on architects in Latvia. Their distinctive architectural vision included proposals on how to change the perception of the environment and present new, alternative functions to the historic architecture by offering new purposes for redundant industrial facilities. The historic gas storage toweres were built in 1882 and 1901. They have been renovated and improved with a third newly built tower in 2008 where the state owned company "Latvian Gas" is located.

In the 1980s, the environmental protests both rejected the mass-industrialization of local resources and galvanized the Estonian independence movement. Analyzing the historical precedent as a starting point, the focus of the discussion shifts to contemporary developments. The statements on two opposing video screens will inquire into a range of issues enabling connections between politics, civic processes, technological developments and built infrastructures in order to establish an understanding of the complex phenomena as space for architectural interventions to deal with its consequences.The Baltic Pavilion's curatorial team summoned a public forum for two days in February 2016. With invited designers, planners, paleoecologists, environmental activists, geologists and representatives of the mining industry the focus was on society’s relationship to mining—how Estonia and the Baltic region relates to its mineral resources and industries involved. The round table discussions traced the ideas relating society to its material space and resources. Both extremes of this debate—the condition of mining and not-mining—consist of their inherent material and immaterial infrastructures, technologies and strategic argumentation where visionary thinking meets provisionary control of the environment, while creating complex material, bureaucratic, political, civic conditions to enable or disable the process.The result renders out as an operative image or a diagram charting those two opposites, the conditions of mining and not mining with the aim to understand their interrelations as specific parameters for possible further formulations of architectural agendas and ideas on modes of intervention possible in the region.

At first glance ordinary gray stone is explored by Viktorija Rybakova while consulting Professor Vytautas Narbutas a specialist of Devonian geologic system. The sensibility to gray matter gets augmented with discoveries of dolomite metaphorical and analogical qualities. Slight deviations in colour and consistency of dolomite used as facade cladding for buildings unfold as set of references, quotes from stratigraphy leading to numerous sites, quarries and stories.

The Inčukalns Underground Gas Storage facility is situated in the central part of Latvia (Riga District). The structure is of great practical importance, because it has stored natural gas since 1968. 200 wells reaching the reservoir were drilled in the territory of the facility and extensive seismic prospecting was carried out there. The reservoir consists of porous and permeable sandstone which is overlaid by a clay. According to calculations made in 1968, the total volume of the Inčukalns underground gas storage was evaluated at 5.7 billion m3. At the State Geology Fund are over fifteen geological, hydrogeological and seismic research review materials from the period 1960 to 1994.

The pyramidal structure which rises sixty-eight meters high is a place of cognition equipped with state-of-the-art technology. It has been the most significant investment in cultural infrastructure since the establishment of the Latvian state and is one of the largest cultural buildings in Northern Europe in the 21st century. The 40,455 m2 library holds 6.5 million books and can serve simultaneously 1,000 visitors. A 400-seat concert hall/auditorium and transformable meeting rooms of various sizes are suitable venues for conferences, congresses and concerts. Taking advantage of modern technology, the National Library of Latvia and nearly 900 other libraries in Latvia are interlinked within the Network of Light a single network of digital resources available on the internet throughout the country, which was set up with the support of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

SAF Integra is a next generation all-outdoor integrated microwave radio, designed for large scale wireless data transmission, delivering up to 1Gbps. The integration of next generation microwave radio with high and super high performance antennas into a single unit translates into a lower total cost of ownership, and better link reliability even in densely served areas. Its body is made from an EMC-compliant plastic material ensuring complete corrosion resistance. The system has a green control diode that determines whether the radio is receiving power as well as if the signal is interrupted (blinking). Because of this microwave radios are used for internet services, mobile data networks as well as in any location that requires stable wireless data transmission. Integra is employed by mobile operators, internet providers, mineral resource industries, oil and gas companies, where offshore platforms need to ensure stable data transmission from the sea to the data centers on the coast. SAF is currently in 130 countries, including Cuba and Antarctica, and some of the biggest clients are AT&T, Verizon, Boeing, Shell, Petronas, Tele2 Russia, TESSCO, Chevron, China Mobile, Siemens, Level (3), Telefonica, BSNL India, F1, etc. A pair of radios has also operated in the stratosphere in the last couple of years.

During the nineteenth century Estonia experienced an “age of awakening” with the spread of a national consciousness and the establishment of Estonian-language literature, theater and professional music, as well as the formation of the Estonian national identity. Estonia initially gained its independence from Russian rule in the 1920s, only for its parliament to be disbanded in 1938. During World War II, Estonia was occupied and annexed first by the Soviet Union and subsequently by the Third Reich, only to be re-occupied by the Soviet Union in 1944. War losses in Estonia, at around 25% of population, were among the highest in Europe and an estimated 90,000 Estonians died. Estonia regained its independence on 20 August 1991 and joined the European Union in 2004. It has since embarked on a rapid programme of social and economic reform. The creation of the new Estonian National Museum, to be located in the city of Tartu, is testament to the quest for reawakening a pride in national identity and a unique cultural history. The international competition for the design and execution of the 34,000 m² building, housing a collection of 140,000 objects, was launched in 2005. The architects’ proposal for this museum challenged the competition brief. Instead of locating the building on the proposed site, they chose to re-appropriate a nearby former Soviet military base as the setting for the museum—a physically present “ruin” of a painful history. They believed that the new museum should play an essential role in the regeneration of the area and to do so it had to start by dealing with this heavily charged and spatially unique place. With a sensitive implementation on this site, the National Museum becomes a continuation of the airfield—its roof lifting and expanding towards “infinite space”— inviting the visitor to enter into the landscape and into the heart of the museum. Their design creates an open house for public activities— exhibition, performance, learning—a place of gathering and interaction, bringing people together to celebrate a rich, if sometimes painful, history.

In ancient times, people of power realized huge constructions purely by exploiting their unthinkable divine power: they simply told their underlings to organize their wishes, by forcing ordinary people and slaves to erect huge monuments, like say, a pyramid. And they did not overemphasize the fact that sometimes thousands of people died because of an almost inhuman effort. They knew that a pyramid or any other kind of monument, a temple for example, had to be made for it was the word of God. These kinds of edifices remain to this day, not only admirable, but also somewhat dark and morbid objects of culture and history. There is really nothing much to actually do in these places anymore, but they still tell us so much about the ancient past of humanity. Today we have another problem: no-one will think of forcing people to die by constructing some kind of monumental complex and neither does any decent person want people to die because of a polluted environment. In Aidu in North-Eastern Estonia we witness a complex and simple situation where the in-built human drive to create something huge, almost divine, comes together with natural, almost inevitable resources from the Earth's surface. In this ground lies a vast area of oil shale mines, set to produce just enough natural waste-material to create an architectural environment instead of just piling the mass of earth up on a high stack. Text: Urmas Oja

In the series “Macrorayon”, Kadarik and Tüür follow up on the ongoing debate about the future developments of socialist housing blocks using Lasnamäe in Tallinn, Estonia as a case study. Using digital collage and high-end rendering aesthetics borrowed from commercial architecture they render out speculative futures of the utopias realized in the Soviet time for free plan districts. The dramatic scenery illustrates the blocks as self-sufficient local macro-habitats. The storyboard is woven together with global political, societal and environmental realities, to provoke discussion on the potential fate of Eastern European widespread modernist housing districts in relation to a wider geopolitical context. 

Peat forms when plant material, usually in wet areas, is inhibited from decaying fully by acidic and anaerobic conditions. It is composed mainly of wetland vegetation: bog plants including mosses, sedges, and shrubs. Approximately ninety five percent of the moss peat volume is pores. Smaller pores are filled with water, while the larger ones are filled with air. Peat deposits are between six to twelve thousand years old and accumulate slowly, at the rate of about one millimeter per year. Extracting and treating peat in a specific way, it is possible to obtain a wide range of innovative materials—paints, fillers as well as composite materials.

Composite Countryside has picked out six spaces as found in the Estonian countryside. These are; Soviet Ruin, Medieval Wall, Manor House Grounds, Timberland, Shop On Wheels and Shed. Although light on built structures, the countryside is heavy on constructed environments that manifest themselves in mental and physical landscapes. Composite Countryside calls for investigating the countryside with a focus on everyday processes that shape it. The Estonian countryside is increasingly subjected to political processes directed towards maximum productivity and taking place on a grand scale. In parallel, however, there is a rich layer of informality shaping the landscapes. The vernacular entails a pragmatic adoption of current circumstances and is an outcome of local custom. Although not necessarily reaching the high level of design and formal intelligence present in political solutions, it responds in various ways to its immediate situation. The vernacular can be considered to be weak and it is seldom taken seriously. However, Composite Countryside celebrates it as a first-hand reflection of the contemporary condition.

After the fall of the USSR in 1991, one of the most significant and rapid changes in land use appeared during history of humankind. The population that previously inhabited rural areas fled the countryside, following a trend of rapid urbanization in major regional centers of the Baltics. The change from state-owned agricultural fields to private ownership, caused large areas of previously cultivated farmland to become abandoned. Creating largest artificially made carbon sink by abandoned farmland landscapes of former USSR, marking the end of the Stalin’s applied collective farming system. Copernicus is a European system for monitoring the Earth, its pan-European component, coordinated by the European Environment Agency, has produced CORINE Land Cover (CLC) datasets from the period between 1990 and 2012. CLC is used to illustrate agricultural land use changes after 1990. Another tendency in land use changes in the Baltic states can be seen in forest cover. While overall former soviet countries are witnessing forest growth over abandoned territories, supporting carbon sink in locking and storing carbon dioxide, The Baltic states have the opposite phenomena of forest cover decrease since 1991. By new markets opening demand for timber products has radically increased, resulting in logging activities that have increased 3 fold for Estonia and even 4 fold for Latvia, compare to Soviet period. Very clearly this tendency can be seen in the period between 2006 and 2012, during which global economical crisis occurred, during which timber logging was reducing for most of the countries except the Baltics states.

The collectivisation process changed the rural landscape of Latvia. One of the symbols of this form of management was the construction of villages with a centralized infrastructure and their vertical symbol—the water tower. Several water towers based on a design Juris Skalbergs developed in the 1980s still mark the rural landscape.

The mass collectivisation of Lithuania’s territory started in 1947, four years after the second occupation in 1944 in the midst of famine in Ukraine and Russia. Dekulakization measures forced the peasants to sign away their land property rights and join collective farms. All the bigger landowners and political opponents to the new regime were sent to labour camps in Siberia. At the time the 250 000 farmsteads that were spread in the territory with houses built on plots of private land in non-centralised manner formed a significant challenge for the Soviet occupation, making them uncontrollable in the midst of partisan resistance. Straightforward collectivisation processes made about 7000 villages disappear, peasants were forced to abandon individual farmsteads and move into newly planned villages formed around the collective farms were they worked since. The centralised and concentrated villages required less military and administrative resources to be controlled and thus presented less threat to the Soviet government.

In 1986 Lithuanian photographer Algimantas Kunčius spends weekends in the construction site of Pašilaičiai – one of the last soviet centrally planned district in Vilnius and Lithuania. Observing stop motion of the process he created series of photo documentaries directing his camera to emerging forms of prefabricated concrete panel housing blocks – concerned with the parameters that would shape the next. While looking into condition of the constructions this subjective inquiry uncovers machine of auto–destructive qualities in the last years of Soviet regime in Lithuania. Series of images bring into focus the processes through details and elements revealing insights into the state of a collapsing empire, bankrupt ideology, and insufficiencies of centrally planned mass architecture production. Photo–documentary walk through Pašilaiciai district construction site happens parallel to Chernobyl catastrophe in 1986. Images of newly laid foundations and repetitive structural elements of new the housing district bare a feeling of ruins itself. 

Another step forward by Lithuanian architects was called “overcoming the standard Soviet five-storey residential block”, which, for good reason become known as “the brick”, as it was one of the most monotonous edifices. Innovations were very moderately applied in Lazdynai and, of course, were met with tremendous enthusiasm and considered as a great event in the Soviet residential design. I am talking about the terrace-like five- and nine-storey buildings, those of broken configuration and the twelve-storey tower blocks. The biggest obstacle while implementing those new house designs was the approval of the designs by the producer at the Industrial Enterprise of Housing Construction. Directors of such enterprises were stagnant, and according to many architects of the time, only with the help of informal relationships was it possible to persuade them to launch innovation in the production line.Planning and, of course, construction of the buildings were always implemented with some delays. For Lazdynai there was one special solution that was planned but never realized. It was the main commercial and leisure center, which was innovatively designed above the highway (compared to the similar district center built over the subway line in Vällingby). According to the architect Česlovas Mazūras, the reason for the failure was the usual one—lack of funds. Although approved with delays and huge criticism due to its innovative solutions, Lazdynai was not only implemented, but also eventually awarded the Lenin prize in 1974. It was the first award of such high rank granted to an residential area design in the Soviet Union. Lazdynai not only became the epitome of Soviet urban planning, but also an example for the entire socialist bloc.Text: Marija Drėmaitė and Vaidas Petrulis 

Many like-minded contemporaries contributed to the making of this video work, who went on to evolve in the field of performance art—the musicians Dace Šēnberga and Aigars Sparāns; Latvian tape art pioneer Roberts Gobziņš (known as Eastbam); camera operator Gvido Zvaigzne; the photographers Gvido Kajons and Imants Žodžiks; and others. The video is based on Lediņš’ and Žodžiks’ idea of a staged photo series, which focuses on portraying residents from new multi-storey residential micro districts. The project spontaneously evolved into the form of videos. It should be noted that 1986 also marks the beginning of the Latvian video era, when the first video cameras were available to a few individuals. The work was commissioned by the Latvian Institute of Scientific Research and Experimental Technology of Construction and the film was screened at the conference of Latvian Association of Architects and Scientific Research Institute of Construction on April 21, 1986. It is a visually poetic and critical portrayal of Riga’s residential neighborhoods. While moving the camera through residential areas of Riga, the filmmakers document, investigate, implement acts and performances and question the residents, forcing viewers to think about the efficiency and suitability of the environment according to their everyday needs.Effective and picturesque frames are complemented by Hardijs Lediņš’ historically theoretical excursus on the interaction of modernist and postmodernist architecture.

Five pleasures displays five ways to enjoy free plan areas (the outcome of mass housing production during Soviet times) as a living environment. Each proto-project hints at how to articulate currently homogeneous space and create spaces with varying degrees of privacy and publicity. Simple and at the same time twisted interventions manifest realistic developments for free plan areas and should function as triggers for inhabitants' imagination. The provocative poster format can also be read as a dislocated dialogue between soviet propaganda posters and capitalistic consumerism. Are there ways to talk about "enjoying the space" without becoming purely consumerist? In the context of free plan areas we never speak in terms of pleasure, can contemplation and being in space be the only source of pleasure?

Physiologically humans are essentially tropical mammals, in their naked selves physically ill-equipped for withstanding the frigid climates modern man inhabits. Thus, the relationship between our body and the world is necessarily mediated through the technologies of clothing and shelter. Zoos for animals and greenhouses for plant life replicate the exact same process as the construction of houses and cities does for humanity: a simulation of the climate the organisms inside are adapted to and able to thrive in.Neither consumption nor being social requires the homeostatically taxing act of leaving the comfort of one’s home; neither does going to work, because, either there isn’t work (and we haven’t even witnessed the full effects of automatization and its corollary technological unemployment yet), or there is no physical office or factory to go to anymore.By encapsulating unused and underdeveloped parts of cities in light greenhouse-like structures, we can part by part reclaim the street from the indifferent violence of weather into a public, climatized realm. Eventually: vast interior agoras; malls with nothing to buy, with no other purpose than providing a hospitable climate to human endeavor; a co-working space for entreflâneurs at the scale of a gigafactory; an unconditional conditioned space; a non-assuming standard greenhouse structure for a poorer one; the city after the internet happened.

Latvia has undergone an array of regime changes. During Soviet rule, all privately owned land was appropriated, and mass-produced housing districts were built without regard to previous ownership conditions. After the collapse of the USSR, original land ownership was restored through an ill-considered process of privatization. In Riga, this patchwork of entangled ownership has now resulted in a standoff between plot owners and residents, which has left the municipality no choice other than to ban all development. To untie this knot, there is a need for the architect to enter into the role of a mediator, aligning these often opposing interests.

Sixty percent of all of the residential space in the Baltic states is made up of multi-apartment buildings constructed during Soviet industrialization, approximately: 20,000 in Lithuania, 18,000 in Latvia and 17,000 in Estonia.Supported by the European Union through the financial instrument JESSICA (Joint European Support for Sustainable Investment in City Areas) renovation models conceived by the governments of the Baltic states have attempted to extend the life cycle of the multi-apartment buildings and most importantly reduce the amount of energy imported solving geopolitical dependency.Renovation models provide financing schemes that channel the flow of money paid for energy resource imports towards repayments against loans for renovation materials, thus stimulating the building industry while reducing the outflow of capital from the country and softening geopolitical tensions. The renovation strategies offer budget solutions for uniform insulation over bare large concrete panel housing on a regional scale. Strategies are efficiently simplified making them adaptable to every individual scenario of each multi-apartment building. The smallest actor in the renovation process is a single multi-apartment building. The renovation strategy descends the understanding of “community” from above implicating the private owners to address the existing arrangement of their housing collectively—communities that do not necessarily have many things in common.Three facades:Ventilated facade: Mineral wool PAROC Extra, Mineral wool PAROC Cortex (windward), Aluminum profiles, Fiber cement panels, Rivets, Plastic pins. A ventilated system is the most popular facade due to the wide range of fiber cement panels on offer and the possibility to replace parts in case of damage.Non-ventilated facade: Polystyrene foam, Cement, Reinforcement net, White stucco, Paint. Non-ventilated system is significantly less expensive, but harder to install, wears quickly while being difficult to repair. Foundation insulation: Styrofoam, Hydro Insulation, Drainage board, Aluminum studs.

Soviet mass housing territories raised mostly between 60’ and 80’ are in a state of critical physical condition in Baltic states today. Most of the precast building structures were planned to sustain not more that approximately 50 year life span. After the ideological bankruptcy and the economical collapse of the Soviet empire the region inherited the aging low quality massive housing sector and urban framework dedicated for the centrally planned society. Currently the districts have to be adapted to the new needs of the capitalist society and new free market agendas that came together with the integration to EU processes. Hologram pyramid was presented in the interactive booth of Vilnius City Municipality in 22nd International Exhibition of Construction and Renovation RESTA 2015 - the main annual event of construction business in the Baltic countries. Exhibit reveals panel housing renovation strategy with the focus on the insulation and material update of the facades and balconies aiming reshape the Soviet urban super structure for the new state of the society.

This diagram was produced for the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant Unit 1 control room and was used as operating instructions until the the unit was shut down in 2004.Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant (INPP) became even more important for the national energy system after the restitution of Lithuania’s independence. Due to a surge in fossil fuels prices that are imported mainly from Russia, electricity generation costs at the nuclear power plant were almost two times lower than in other plants. INPP produced sixty percent of Lithuanian electricity in 1991. In 1993 INPP produced a record amount—eighty eight percent of electricity necessary for the state. This figure was recorded in the Guinness Book of Records as the largest contribution to common electricity production in the world’s nuclear history.After Lithuania took over its jurisdiction of INPP in 1991, it became the 31st state in the world using nuclear energy for electricity generation.As INPP had an RBMK type reactor similar to the failed Chernobyl one, INPP has undergone a number of international studies and extensive safety analysis. It can be argued that the probability of the accident at Ignalina NPP and the overall level of safety were similar to the western nuclear safety standards. However, unlike other types of modern NPP, RBMK-type reactors have no protective shield that might contain radioactive material during an accident. For this reason western policy makers and organizations agree that RBMK-type reactors operating risks cannot be reduced to the extent that they are safe to operate permanently.The Decommissioning Service was founded in 2000 which is the newest division of INPP. The Decommissioning Service is subordinate to the General Director of the INPP and its activity is financed by the Ignalina NPP Decommissioning Fund.Following the resolutions taken by the Government INPP Unit 1 was shut down at the end of December 2004 and Unit 2 was closed on 31 December 2009. During the suspension of Unit 1 there were 3,517 employees at INPP and during the closure of Unit 2 there were 2,354 employees.The construction of INPP necessitated the construction of 142 km of roads, 50 km of railway, 390 km of communication lines, 334 km of electricity lines, 133 km of sewerage lines, and 164 km of thermal lines. 3 544,000 m3 of concrete and reinforced concrete and 76,480 tons of reinforcement was used for the construction.

1. Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant Unit Panel, A. Karasev, 1984–1989.2. Ignalina nuclear power plant in the third block construction. Rising power station chimneys, the reactor building. Vaclovas Kisielius, ~1985. 3. Ignalina nuclear power plant turbine hall. Author unknown, 1984–1989.4. In the background of old house rises the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant. Author unknown, ~1985.5. Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant. Visible I and II blocks. Author unknown, 1984–1989.6. Sniečkus (now Visaginas) city center. Author unknown, ~1983 7. High-voltage switchgear next to being built Ignalina nuclear power plant. Author unknown, ~1983.8. Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant Unit Panel. Working dispatchers. Author unknown, 1984-1989.9. Symbolic pole in the future Ignalina nuclear power plant construction site. The entry in the other side of the photo "Here is the Ignalina NPP. 1970.VI.4. Author unknown, 1970.

Locations: Litgrid AB, Geoterma, Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant, Lithuanian Museum of Geology, Klaipėda LNG FSRU Independence

Next step: the Baltic countries as fully-fledged members of the European power systemAfter two new power links with the West were installed, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia remained as the isolated energy island of the EU in the sense of system control and operational work. The top priority of the Baltic countries is to change the rules for how the 50 Hz frequency of power system is controlled. At present the Baltic countries’ power systems operate in the IPS/UPS synchronous area with a principal dispatcher center based in Moscow, within the power ring of Belarus, Russia, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania (BRELL). Reorienting the power systems of the Baltic countries to working with the networks of Western Europe will create new opportunities for competition in the power markets. In light of the geopolitical situation east of the EU synchronization will strengthen the security of power supply. The common goal of the Baltic countries is to control their power systems in accordance with uniform and transparent European rules.

The Druzba Project explores the cultural, political, and geographical territories that unfold in a fictional journey along the Druzba, the world’s longest pipeline. Launched in 2003, the project performs a psycho-geographic reading of an infrastructure revealing mechanisms of power and submission that rightfully belong to the past but which still persist even today.

The project Ground is an exploration of landscapes of the Baltic States visited during three trips to Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia in early spring of 2015 and 2016. ____"This form of mediation between the territory, its scars, its drains, the waste sites, side-effects and residues of production, and the almost direct transportation of its substances into a new, though reflective production for yet another infrastructural project—that of cultural understanding and collaboration of sites—is to be taken both metaphorically and literally. We are looking at matter, at the end of a chain of processes, waste materials, remnants of faster, but still moving industrial processes that have turned matter into energy, data and dust. Chemical leaks, residues of industrial processes, colored earth turned over and carved out are the remains of social, economic and chemical events and processes that are historically past, but whose afterlife represents the burden and duty of care for this new Baltic Sea region.""The Baltic Atlas Project", Ines Weizman, The Baltic Atlas, page 224, Sternberg Press, 2016

David Grandorge

This atlas is a gradient between two questions. The first: "what is possible to imagine?" focuses on interpretations, fictional stories, analyses, and reflections on the ongoing processes, and proposes future projections. The second: "what is possible?" is an inquiry into the methods, resources, and parameters that define space.All texts have been specially written for this publication. Parallel discourses are positioned next to each other—overlaid in an atlas that works in range of different modes. An atlas is a medium that unravels multiple ways of seeing the region of the Baltic States as an intensification of networks, agendas, and ideas that are relevant on a global scale. Along with the Baltic Pavilion exhibition, this publication offers a sense of an open-ended ecology of practices—a forum on what is to come.Book contributors: Åbäke, Indrek Allmann, Reinis Āzis, Viesturs Celmiņš, Nancy Couling, Tom Crosshill, Muriz Djurdjevic, Leonidas Donskis, Jānis Dripe, Keller Easterling, David Grandorge, Felix Hummel, Gustav Kalm, Karolis Kaupinis, Maroš Krivý, Jonathan Lovekin, Carl-Dag Lige, Laura Linsi, Agata Marzecova, Timothy Morton, Kaja Pae, Thomas Paturet, Ljeta Putāne, Eglė Rindzevičiūtė, Markus Schaefer, Jack Self, Nasrine Seraji, Tuomas Toivonen, Nomeda and Gediminas Urbonas, Jānis Ušča, Aro Velmet, Ines Weizman.Copy editor: Jennifer Boyd Proofreader: Gemma Lloyd Design: Åbäke, Vytautas Volbekas Printed by Petit Lublin, Poland ISBN 978–3–95679–248–9 Publisher: Sternberg PressThe Baltic Atlas and the Baltic Pavilion are projects by Kārlis Bērziņš, Jurga Daubaraitė, Petras Išora, Ona Lozuraitytė, Niklāvs Paegle, Dagnija Smilga, Johan Tali, Laila Zariņa, Jonas Žukauskas .