Years ago, as a young man not particularly interested in art, I walked into a museum in Amsterdam, and happened to come face to face with a monumental painting of Anselm Kiefer. It made such an impression on me, that I still remember the moment, even the painting: a dark post-apocalyptic scene.

In the meantime I have learned that Kiefer, who was born in Germany amongst the ravages of bombing raids at the end of World War II, is preoccupied, if not obsessed, with his struggle with war and destruction. And over the years I have seen more work by Kiefer, invariably dark and menacing, in my memory. As recently as September 2023 I admired a huge, wall-covering war scene in a museum in Finland (https://theonearmedcrab.com/08-the-museum/).

‘Le Promethee Mal Enchaine’ – also called ‘the bookshelves’ – a quintessential Anselm Kiefer work of 2023 in lead and steel
‘Wolfsbohne – fur Paul Celan’ (2020), oil and acrylic and a whole lot more on canvas. The Ukrainian-born poet Paul Celan was an important source of inspiration for Kiefer

So when the Museum Voorlinden (https://theonearmedcrab.com/museum-voorlinden/), near The Hague in the Netherlands, put up a solo exhibition of Kiefer, I just had to see this. New Year’s Day 2024 was the opportunity. It is called ‘Bilderstreit’, which is something like battle with the images.

It did not disappoint, on the contrary. The visitor is blown away by room after room of monumental art works, sometimes paintings, sometimes installations.

Many of the paintings need to be viewed in three dimensions, as huge metal constructions come out of the canvas, into the room. The overall impression was actually a lot less dark than I had imagined, despite the copious use of black lead; although the subject matter remains mostly depressing, of course. There is a room full of collages of woodcuts on canvas, with a sombre depiction of the Rhine, for instance. But another room contains a collection of, rather erotic, watercolour and pencil works, which at least are a lot more colourful.

Most of the works on show are fairly recent, or fairly recently completed, in the last ten years, or so. Culminating in a delightful series called ‘Journal Intime’ (2023), adorned bicycles – and in one case a super market trolley – glued to painted canvas. There is an installation, a room full of objects dedicated to historically relevant Germans, including a bed for Ulrike Meinhoff. But my favourites remain the huge paintings, each of which require meticulous study to discover the many details. A sample, below.

monumental works of art they are, this one appropriately called ‘Samson’ (2014-2017), oil, acrylic on canvas
another wall full: ‘Sichelschnitt’ (2019), oil and acrylic on canvas
Kiefer has also ‘ Sonneblume’ (‘Sunflowers’) is his repertoire (2023)
sometimes in a more complex setting, like this ‘Hortus Conclusus’, a woodcut collage (2007-2014); note the body in yoga pose at the bottom of the image
another woodcut collage, ‘Der Rhein’ (1982-2013), actually a series of woodcuts glued together; the Rhine being a national symbol in Germany, which in Kiefer’s memory was appropriated by the Nazis
and a third one, ‘Melancolica’ (1982-2013), referring to Albrecht Durer’s famous 16th C engraving of the same name
‘Ignis Sacer’ (2010-2022), which becomes ever more fscinating if you concentrate on the details, left
‘La Voute Etoilee’ (1998-2016), made of lead, oil and a whole lot more on canvas on wood
whereby the lead columns literally come out of the canvas
lots of more detail, of which the significance is – to me, at least – not immediately clear
similar technique, ‘Sternenfall’ (1998-2016)
with once again the lead sticking out into the room
a room full of installations in display cases
amongst them ‘Monsalvat’ (2018), more steel, glass and lead
and ‘Der Fehlende Buchstabe’ (2017), same thing, a bit
‘Der Freimaurer’ (2010-2011), the emblem of the Freemasons, with the now-derelict Berlin airport Tempelhof in the background
‘Canis Major’ (2010), another monumental painting which refers to the Great Dog constellation
and a detail of a mountain in the back
and, yeah?, burned and dead wood in the front?
‘Aus Herzen und Hirnen Spriesen Sie die Halme der Nacht’ (2019-2020), a fabulous, wall-filling oil & acrylic painting on canvas
and look at the detail, not the just the scythe
but also die Halme – the straw
‘Winterreise’ is an enormous stage set where Kiefer creates a forest in a winter landscape, with the names of well-known Germans written near individual objects; many poets, philosophers, writes, and even composer Schubert, creator of the same-title song cycle
a bed pontifically in the middle
which is dedicated to ‘famous German’ Ulrike Meinhoff
and the side view of the same scene
one of the watercolour and pencil works
and another one; I left the more erotic ones out
‘Journal Intime’ (2023), oil, acrylic, steel – a bicycle, or a supermarkt trolley – on canvas
the trolley in more detail, including its burnt contents
and another ‘Journal Intime’ (2023), in the same room
and a room full of more bicycles
one stacked with hay, another burdened with bricks

a fabulous exposition, never seen anything like it!!

the Green Gate, one of the medieval gates that lead to the old town centre of Gdansk

Although not in the Baltics, Gdansk is on the Baltic Sea, and on the way home, so we decided to stop here for a day. A bonus, so to speak.

Entering Poland from Lithuania is a difference of night and day. Once across the border, we realise how poor Lithuania actually is. In Poland the roads are better, the houses are better, life seems to be much more prosperous. Another observation: people are so much more friendly, talkative – perhaps also because their English is better, something that especially in Southern Lithuania was occasionally lacking. But come to think of it, during this entire trip there has been a gradual improvement in interhuman interaction, from the stoic, non-communicative Finns who would not by their own choice get involved in any form of vocal exchange, slowly improving through the Estonians, who were better and the Latvians even better communicating, and the Lithuanians. Culminating in the Poles, who naturally smile, and happily strike up a conversation.

Long Street, the centre part of neatly restored Gdansk

more off the coloured houses

pastel-coloured, decorated houses in Long Street

 

 

painted facade, with medieval themes

decorations on the facade of one of the houses

the entire outer wall has been painted

stucco decorations, equally dating from the 1950s restoration

a curious sign board, not sure which business is promoted here

We will be coming back to Poland, for sure, but Gdansk is a pleasant introduction. The old town part, which has suffered badly from Soviet and Allied bombings during the war, has been beautifully restored, to the extent that we recognised a lot of Dutch-style architecture that wouldn’t be misplaced in Amsterdam. It is only after reading up on Gdansk’s complex history – Polish, German, a free city state during the interbellum – that I can place the restoration in context. Although this was a truly meticulous exercise in the 1950s and -60s based on old photos and building plans, the reconstruction was undertaking with the objective to dilute what was called its German character, from the time Gdansk was part of Prussia, and make the city look like what it must have been in medieval times. Indeed, with a lot of Dutch influences.

Never mind the political intentions at the time, Gdansk now looks beautiful, with its rows of stately houses, in tasteful pastel colours, some of them richly decorated with stuccos and frescos. It is a pity that the weather is overcast, so most of my pictures don’t do justice to the lovely Long Market, or any of the other streets in the Old Town. Nice to wander around, even though we spot even more tourists than we have seen in any of the other towns visited this trip. And even though picturesque, cobbled Saint Mary’s street is given over to the amber-selling stalls serving the same tourists.

souvenir shops sell minatures of the pastel-coloured houses, kind of

the High Gate, at the other end of Gdansk old town

and the decorated bank building around the corner of High Gate

the Green Gate in full view, from the outside

amber-selling stalls in cobbled Saint Mary’s street

the old wooden crane, a Gdansk landmark

and the waterfront at the Motlawa River, which in Gdansk flows into the Baltic Sea

another painted wall, in perfect condition

There is no doubt much more to see in Gdansk than we realised, and with more time – and better weather – we may have explored it further. But the afternoon rain drives us inside, to the World War II museum, a strikingly modern building, with a strikingly powerful permanent exhibition. Of course I know my history, but the way the museum has been set up, very visual, rams home reality once more. There is film material of pogroms, the usual documentation of German war crimes, the horror of the Holocaust, you name it and it is here. That it is a bit centred on Poland, is forgiven. Especially because for me perhaps the most illuminating message was we in Western Europe grow up with the message that after the war, our parents could look up again. Here, after the war one terror regime was replaced by another. Which, come to think of it, was of course not different in any of the Baltic republics.

Even our bonus day on this trip has taught me something.

the modern-design Second World War museum

with poignant picturs of Holocaust victims

and a collection of their universal symbols

cobbled Gdansk at night

one of the few more abstract sculptures at the Grutas Parkas near Druskininkai

Druskininkai is a small Lithuanian town in the far SE corner of the country, near the Belarus border. It is insignificant, except that it has somehow developed in the spa capital of Lithuania. “Druska” is Lithuanian for salt, and refers to salt springs that apparently form the basis for this development, although I have seen no hotels advertising a link to authentic spring water. Yet, each and every hotel seems to have a spa and sauna and massage and whatever else.

in the south of Lithuania, also outside Druskininkai, we encountered lots of wooden totems

often intricately carved images, of which I have not been able to find the origin and meaning

outside town, the countryside is still full of wooden houses, a fairly poor area, I would say

Druskininkai is also where the interests of my travel companion and of me diverted. Confronted with the opportunity to enjoy a last spa, before we are heading home again, she elected not to accompany me to the real reason for coming here, the Grutas Parkas, a few kilometers outside town.

there are not that many statues of Stalin in the park

the other scuplture of Statin, in his Napoleontic stance

Of Lenin, there are many scultures in the park, here are two (!)

another Lenin, as said, one of the many

We recognise these two fellas: Engels and Marx

sculpture Felix Dzerzhinsky, a bit of a Fidel Castro avant-la-lettre. He was a Polish revolutionary of aristocratic background, one of the founders of the Polish Lithuanian Social-democratic party in 1900. But he gained even more notoriety by establishing the Cheka, the first Bolshevik secret police, in 1917

this, too, is supposed to be Lenin – perhaps a younger version of the man?

sculpture Felix Zemaitis, a Lithuanian who became a major general in the Red Army, and was instrumental in the destruction of the Lithuanian army during the WWII

and this is how his sculpture stood in a public place, in the past, significantly elevated, so to speak

a sculpture of Karol Pozela, a local, leader of a communist anti-state underground organisation with a fabulous haircut, executed in 1926

and Karol was not alone at his execution, these other three guys also got the bullit in December 1926; Karol in the one on the left, recognisable at his hair-do

an old Soviet watch tower, as we have seen them at the borders of former Soviet republics, too.

The Grutas Park ‘outdoor experience’ is – literally – a walk in the park, in this case a walk through a pine-forested park. A concrete path forms a loop through the forest and leads past a collection of statues and sculptures of prominent Soviet and communist Lithuanian characters, all bad guys (and one or two bad girls). In earlier days these decorated prominent public squares, but after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the reestablishment of Lithuanian independence, these people fell from their pedestal, sometimes literally. The museum has collected quite a few, and given them a new life. Lenin in over-represented, especially in the beginning of the park, Stalin only appears twice, and a few other Soviet terror-mongers also surface; the Lithuanian communists are less interesting for the outsider, but are compensated by a number of grand sculptures and decorative friezes, some damaged before the museum could salvage them. Some of the statues have fallen on the ground, and not been put back, perhaps because they are still so much hated? Or does the museum want to illustrate this aspect, too? Not everywhere is English explanation, sometimes there is no explanation at all, and sometimes there are numbers along the path, without exhibits, but all in all it is an entertaining walk, with enough information to get the message across: these were bad people.

The museum claims, on their website, that they are the only museum to exhibit Soviet relics, and that theirs’s is ‘a rare, and maybe even unique phenomenon in the world’. The ‘maybe’ suggests that they are probably well aware of that other museum, near Budapest, which also shows a collection of Soviet-era sculptures, and which I liked more, to be honest. Grutas Park is, after all, a bit dominant on individuals, not all of them that well known.

Next: on the way back, Gdansk.

not every statue in the Grutas Parkas is a once-celebrated politician

there is also room for some of the unsung heros of the revolution

this is a monument to the partisans. The Soviet Partisans in Lithuania spread from 1942 onwards, encouraged and organised by the Soviet Union and its Red Army. They were groups of saboteurs in the German-occupied country, consisting of a wide group of individuals, amongst them activists, Red Army men, escaped prisoners of war and Lithuanians, many of Jewish origin. They were not supported by the majority of local population, who had set up their own resistance groups. But the Soviets won, and the partisans survived in post-war roles as so-called ‘stribai’, provocateurs for the Russian secret service.

stained glass remains, Soviet propaganda for a model society

in which the helmets of the military men are quite visble, still

stained glass work depicting a factory or a train (?), proclaiming the virtues of a worker’s paradise

although voluptuous women also were part of paradise, it seems

another propaganda tool, a coloured mosaic called ‘the pioneers’ (1954)

the first sculpture you encounter, this one just outside the Europos Parkas sculpture garden

I am not sure that the claim of this museum, also known as Europos Parkas, to be the centre of Europe is geographically entirely correct – although, apparently, the French National Geographic Institute has, in 1989, determined so. But in any case, at about half an hour’s drive north of Vilnius this this is a wonderful open-air museum, or rather a sculpture park, with over a hundred works seemingly randomly distributed across a 55 hectare forest. The works represent artists from 35 countries, of which the majority are, understandably, Lithuanian. Especially Ginteras Karosas, coincidentally also the founder of the park, is well represented, but then, quite a lot of his works are original and interesting, not in the least the ‘Infotree’, claimed to be the largest sculpture with TV sets in the world, using some 3000 of them.

The museums advertises with a few of its top artists, like Sol LeWitt and David Oppenheimer, but many other artists are, let me say, less well known – I certainly recognise none of the Dutch sculptors represented here. Nevertheless, we spend an enjoyable few hours in this museum, admiring a whole range of interesting, thought-provoking art works, once again in beautiful surroundings.

Next: Druskininkai.

just to prove, it is really claimed to be the centre of Europe

the sketch map of the park, not easy to work out

Lithuanian Danatas Jankauskas’s sculpture ‘Bye-byes’ (2013)

also Lithuanian, Elena Urbaitis’ ‘Reflectiveness (1995) – they are not all very recent works, here

one of the main attractions of the park, ‘Chair-pool’ by American Dennis Oppenheim – the pool is in the seat of the chair

I love this one: Magdalena Abakanovich’ from Poland, made ‘Space of Unknown Growth’ (1998)

El Sayed Abdou Selim, from Egypt, with ‘Eve among Trees’ (1997)

another big name, Sol LeWitt (USA) with his sculpture ‘Double Negative Pyramid’ (1998), nicely reflected in the lake

a Dutch contribution, ‘Small Monument for Humanity’ (1994) by Adri de Fluiter

Argentina is also represented, by Matias di Carlo
and his work ‘Gravity Matters’ (2023)

‘Europe’s Bird’ (1993), by Hungarian Zsigmond Szoradi

and the same work, from the other side

detail of ‘Requim for a Dead Pony’ (1994), by Irishman Laurent Mellet

another Lithuanian, Adamas Jacovskis, made ‘Lying Head’ (2001)

a work not yet in our list, to illustrate how recent it is: ‘Coal Forest’ by Jolita Vaitkute and Andrius Marmontovas

by Lithuanian and the main character of the park, Gintaras Karosas

and here he is, Guiness World of Recor sculpture ‘LNK Infotree’ (2000)

the world’s largest sculpture made from TV sets (really…)

rather more subtle, Damien Moreau’s ‘Reclining Woman’ (2010)

some metal circles; I don’t know the artist, neither the title, but I like it

another very visible work, ‘Drinking Structure with Exposed Kidney Pool’ by American Dennis Oppenheim again

the Gediminas tower, landmark of Vilnius towering over the Old Town

Vilnius is considered one of the best preserved old towns of Europe, ‘old’ meaning medieval. It was established in 1323 and grew to become the capital of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea, including large parts of Belarus and Ukraine, and even Russia. However, its biggest expansion period was the 16th century, when the walls were built, the nine gates – of which one is left -, the palace of the Grand Dukes and the university. And much of the old town seems to date from this time, or a little later, demonstrating a distinctive baroque architecture. This has either been maintained very, very well over the years, or has been restored, as much of it, the stucco and the frescos of the university, for instance, look too perfect to be original. Many of the baroque churches, too, seem to have been patched up, with all the details, perhaps because during Soviet times they have been neglected. The defence works and parts of the wall are, well, horribly over-restored, really.

the Gate of Dawn, the only gate left

the neighbourhood full of narrow, cobbled streets

or otherwise alleys leading off to yet another corner

the Grand Duke’s palace, impressive building, now a museum

and the is the monument to the Grand Duke Gemenimas

front facade of the cathedral, next to the palace

and the inside of the cathedral

the clock tower, a stand alone tower in front of the cathedral

a fountain – always nice for variation

more variation, colourful city bikes

one of the entrances to the former ghetto

the balconies on the outside of the former ghetto

large square in the middle of the Old Town of Vilnius

the inside of the Ortodox Church of the Holy Spirit

with the relics of three saints covered by a purple cloth – only the feet are visible

the courtyard of the university

inside the Saint John’s church, part of the university complex, a very barroque interior – quite unlike the Lutheran churches of Estonia and Latvia

they are nice enough, though, patched up and all

decorated with frescos, which I don’t think are entirely original anymore

I don’t think the city suffered badly during the war, except for the two Ghettos, which have been totally destroyed. Vilnius was known as the Jerusalem of the North, with 60,000 Jews living there before 1940, of which only very few have survived. The ghettos have been rebuilt, kind of, and although my guide book insists that we have to go and have a look there, it is not particularly attractive – of course not, compared to the rest of town.

Which is nice enough – but remember we are suffering a bit from city fatigue, after all these weeks. Lots of churches, again, like Kaunas, and here especially the expansive and detailed decorations of the Baroque are fully developed. Quite a few squares provide space in between the often narrow, often cobbled, streets. And lots of people outside, and in restaurants and on terraces, there is a good atmosphere. Quite a few tourists, too, but I suppose that is unavoidable, Vilnius Old Town is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Saint Anne’s church, so beautiful that Napoleon, apparently, had wanted to ship it lock, stock and barrel to France

luckily he didn’t get the time to carry out his plan

and inside Saint Anne’s church

fresco on the ceiling of Saint Anne’s chapel, part of Saint John’s church

yet another church, Saint Casimir’s

sculptures at the side of the National Opera and Ballet Theatre

depicting the arts that are being preformed here

another little cobbled street, outside the walls, just beciause it is so picturesque

stairs and walking paths past the numerous tombs at the Antakalnio cemetery

some of the thriteen graves of those who died during the independence protests in 1991

and the memorial, complete with soldiers keeping watch

and tomb stones as works of art

tombstones as rogh stones, meant artistically

Outside the Old Town is the Antakalnio cemetery, originally a military burial ground. A section is devoted to Polish soldiers, another large grave contains remains from Napoleon’s Grand Armee of the early 19th century; the thirteen victims who died during independence protests in 1991 are also buried here. But the most attractive part, if you can use that term for a cemetery, is the park itself, tree-shaded, undulating, and graves everywhere. And although many of the graves are standard, crosses or simple head stones, quite a few have been adorned with elaborately sculpted stones, that wouldn’t look out of place in a modern art gallery. I am a sucker for cemeteries.

And for modern art galleries, one of which is not far north of Vilnius.

like this one, for instance

flowers on one of the graves

a rare moment of colour at the cemetery

one of the sculptures on the street art route through Kaunas: ‘Greed’, by Donatus Dovidavicius (2006) – referring to the bank with is opposite this sculpture

Although perhaps not all of equally great quality, the street art of Kaunas is actually a good attempt to enliven the city. In between the Old Town and the Art Deco buildings the murals and sculptures provide a welcome distraction from the architecture alone, and in most cases add significant colour to the town – especially on the day we were there, grey and overcast. I have selected a few examples of this open air gallery.

There is a map with a street art route, one of the ‘Wallographers Notes’, produced by local enthusiasts, I suppose, which is also available on www.kaunastika.lt (where you will find more maps, as well).

Next: Vilnius.

this is ‘The Wise Old Man’, by Gyva Grafika (2013)

this is a mural of an apparently well known street artist, Ernest Zacharevic, called ‘Untitled’ (2016)

sometimes a whole house is being used for art: ‘Windows’, by Linas Kaziulionis (2015)

another mural, one I cannot find name or artist for, close to the Britanika Hotel

a wall painting, called ‘Princess on a Horse’, a drawing originally by a seven year-old girl, Gabija Menkeviciute, in 2015, transferred to the wall by Tados Simkus

one of the sculptures on the street art route through Kaunas: ‘Greed’, by Donatus Dovidavicius (2006) – referring to the bank with is opposite this sculpture

another work, in a non-descript courtyard, probably called ‘Fishes’ – cannot find a reference

another whole facade being used, for ‘Contemporary Ladies’, a painting by Linas Kaziulionis (2015)

this is another one, also in the courtyard, which we kind of had to break in to see, as the gate was closed

there are several paintings in the courtyard of the National Drama Theatre, part of the centenary celebration of the theatre

one of the best known, most often used murals, ‘Pink Elephant’, by Vytenis Jakas (2014)

this one is not in the route, but equally artistic, facade of a shop

another one I don’t know the name or artist of, but funny enough to include in this selection

the entrance to the Yard Gallery, perhaps the most expressive courtyard in Kaunas – don’t miss it if you are there!

one of the murals at the entrance of the Yard Gallery

this is the actual courtyard, full of art

painted doors and walls, and a bicycle on the balcony

one of the inhabitants, I guess, actually woring on one of the walls

it is just fabulous, every side of every house contains another mural

and what about this for a wall, each apartment its own scene

this just being one of the many details I could have shown

bathtub and coloured tyres, how lse to decorate a brick wall?

and the painted bathtub in more detail

and we are even spontaneously treated by a classical music concert, not part of the route we followed, but arty enough

footbridge in Kaunas, over part of the Nemunas river

The young host of our B&B was very enthusiastic about Kaunas, and convinced us not only to have a look at the Old Town, what all the tourists do, but also concentrate on the Art Deco buildings, which sprang up in the newer part of the town from the 1920s onwards. Although Lithuania gained its independence from Russia in 1918, its capital Vilnius, was soon afterwards occupied by the Poles, in fact all the way to WWII. Kaunas then served as the interim capital, which led to a construction boom to bring the city up to the standards of a European capital city. By this time Art Nouveau had been replaced by Art Deco, or Modernist architecture, and indeed we found many examples of very stylish facades of functional buildings, like the post office, and apartment buildings. But perhaps we are suffering from an architecture overkill, or was it the weather that didn’t help? As a contrast with Art Nouveau it was a very illustrative exercise, compare this with the rather over-decorated extreme of Riga. But all in all it did not impress us as much as earlier. We also had the feeling that the buildings were often less well maintained, quite a few looked in relatively poor state – which is surprising, because Kaunas, like Kuldiga, also achieved UNESCO World Heritage status this year.

Art Deco is the architectural style here, from the 1920s

another Art Deco, or Modernist, building

and the post office, quintesential Art Deco, too

 

the Kaunas castle, heavily restored, and a bit too obvious, to my taste.

the gothic House of Perkunas, landmark in Kaunas

view of a street in the Old Town – imncluding tourist infrastructure

Of course, there is much more than Art Deco to Kaunas. The Kaunas castle was first built at the end of the 13th century, and has since been restored, perhaps over-restored, significantly. The gothic House of Perkunas, named after the God of Thunder, stems from the 17th century, and lots of other buildings in the Old Town have a medieval origin. Unlike Lutheran Estonia and Latvia, Lithuania is Catholic, and has lots of more elaborately decorated churches. But again, having seen so many Old Towns already, this one was, perhaps, a little less impressive. Nice enough, though, don’t get me wrong. And Kaunas has the Vytautas the Great bridge connecting the two sides of the Nemunas river; in the 19th century this was called the longest bridge in the world, because on one side the Julian calendar was in force, whilst on the other bank the Georgian calendar rules, a difference of 15 days!

incientally, there is nothing wrong with tourist infrastructure!

the Vytautas the Great bridge

iron door on the bridge

just a balcony, no specific architectural highlight

the orthodox church, representing a minority in this staunchly catholic country

another interesting building, I wouldn’t know which architectural style this is

the Britanika Hotel, Soviet project that was never finsihed

another view of the the Britanika Hotel

Some of my favourites in architecture are more recent, of course. You know my obsession with palatis, and the outskirts of Kaunas do not disappoint, in the form of an endless array of 9-10 floor Soviet era apartment buildings, balconies closed off in a variety of ways. More unique is the Britanika Hotel, a project started in the 1980s, but never finished because it got interrupted by Lithuania’s independence. So many years later it has still not been completed, never will, but neither will it be demolished: it now has become a symbol of Soviet incompetence. Reminiscent of Monrovia, earlier this year. Oh, and there are more concrete remnants of Soviet construction, rather brutal type of architecture, which I don’t dislike.

the Bank of Lithuania building

and one of its doors, not very inviting

not all of the town is equally well maintained, but this is also a nice balcony, look at the flowerpots on the railing, and the stucco decorations on the wall

and this little decoration is above the door of the same building (I think)

the palatis in the outskirts, these more than four or five storeys high

large mural, part of the street art component of Kaunas

Another theme during our walk in Kaunas was street art, once again following our enthusiastic host’s recommendations. We even had a map, indicating the most important graffiti paintings and sculptures – although the map wasn’t very accurate (or perhaps we weren’t); many of the works we failed to locate. The once we did find were, let’s say, of variable interest. A few large wall paintings did impress, and some sculptures, even though much smaller than the map suggested, were also of artistic quality. The most interesting collection was in the Yard Gallery, where a group of local artists and residents have turned a derelict courtyard in an attractive location, with various art initiatives decorating the walls. You don’t know where to look, really, each and every side has something of interest. In fact, art was being made whilst we were looking on! More here.

a mural in the Yard Gallery, one of many

and these are photos of some of the former Jewish residents, who never returned

the Ninth Fort, outside Kaunas, built at the beginning of the 20th C

but obviously modernised to serve in the WWII, as concentration camp

the impressive monument for the 30,000 Jews that were murdered here

more details of the monument

with hands and faces

Next to the extravagant decoration of the Yard are also more introspect images, of a boy, an old man, three women. Photos, too, of Jewish people who lived here before the war, before they were taken away. Kaunas’s concentration camps were at some of the old forts that surrounded the town, and one of those, the Ninth’s Fort, has been turned into a memorial site. The fort itself was closed, as all museums are closed on Mondays, but just walking around the site, to what the Lithuanians refer to as the Mass Murder place, seeing the impressive memorial, and reading some of the remembrance stones installed, is quite moving. For instance from the city of Munich, which “in sorrow and shame – and appalled by the silence of the bystanders –“ commemorates the Jews that were deported to Kaunas in 1941 “and brutally murdered at this site”. A number of poignant, not to be misunderstood, art works have been placed in the park surrounding the memorial, which makes the experience at once more dramatic and more accessible. Another part of Lithuanian history.

Next: Vilnius.

artwork in the park, ‘Hopscotch’, by Lina Jonike (2023)

with an obvious theme of war and repression

another poignant art work, ‘Walk as freedom walks’, by Dziugas Karalius and Giedrius Bucas (2023); walking through this tunnel, in between the fences, mimicks the experience of prisoners that have been deported

which you can imagine: this is the end of the tunnel

thie meaning of this art work, ‘Suitcase’, by Rokas and Egle Kasetos, is also quite obvious

the Hill of Crosses, Lithuania’s most spiritual location

We didn’t spent much time in Klaipeda. Our first experience in Lithuania was a little disappointing. Saturday night was deserted, hardly anybody in the streets, the town was dead. Sunday morning we did a fleeting tour of the city, by car through the centre – admittedly, not a very balanced approach, but there seemed little of interest. Most of what we saw looked pretty run-down.

cover of one of the four missile silos in the Cold War museum

The excitement came a little later, at the Cold War museum, housed in a former Soviet nuclear arms launch facility, deep in the Zemaitija National Park. The facility has been disarmed, luckily, and what is left is the command bunker and the four launch silos. The museum takes you through the history of the cold war, which we – older people – know pretty well, of course. But the opportunity to wander around this huge bunker is irresistible, from one underground compartment to another, the living quarters for the crew, the command room etc, even descending to another, lower level, to power generation rooms, ventilation equipment, and liquid fuel storage space. Ending up at one of the silos, a 30 meters deep concrete hole, with a second, metal cylinder inside. Now all dismantled – once the facility was closed, in 1979 already, metal thieves have taken their illegal share -, but still mightily impressive.

entrance to the nuclear bunker, now museum

this is where the missiles were being stored

series of doors in the corridor

one of the four actua silos, from above

know your missile!

the Hill of Crosses, stairs up

The main target for the day is what is perhaps Lithuania’s best known site, the Hill of Crosses. This is a place, indeed a little hill, where an estimated 100,000 crosses have been planted. The origin probably goes back to the Lithuanian uprising against Russian domination, in 1831, when people who had not been able to find back the bodies of fallen rebels put up a symbolic cross. The habit gained especially poignant relevance during the Soviet occupation from 1944 to 1990, with Lithuanians defying Russian attempts to clear the hill, putting crosses up at night despite considerable risk if caught. Or crucifixes, or statues of the virgin Mary, or sculptures of the Sorrowful Christ, or typical wooden sculptures of a figure topped with a little roof, or tiny effigies and rosaries. The rosaries, hung on a cross and moved by the wind, produce a peaceful clinging sound.

the Hill, full of crosses from the bottom to the top

another cross, full of rosaries and smaller crosses

many crosses have been used to add rasaries, of smaller crosses

the Sorrowful Christ, an often repeated theme here

the Sorrowful Christ, but entertained by happy birds

By now, crosses cannot be removed anymore, yet, anybody can add a cross. Had you forgotten yours, you can always buy one from the souvenir sellers at the information centre, who helpfully lend you a marker pen, too, to add your message. This means that the crosses have sprawled well beyond the hill, in several directions; it also means that this Lithuanian tradition has, in my view, somewhat been undermined by all those tourists who add their own, from The Netherlands to New Zealand. But it is a very impressive site, not to be missed.

Next: Kaunas.

a very high desity of crosses, indeed

crosses come in all sorts

once over the hill, the crosses continue

the variety of crosses once more

thhe Curonian Spit, just beyond Klaipeda, has the same collection of mushrooms we have seen earlier

I had to look it up, too, but the Curonian Spit is the name an almost 100 km long, thin dune-covered sand bank that separates a lagoon from the Baltic Sea. About half of it is Lithuanian territory, the rest is Russian, part of Kaliningrad.

the ferry, the only connection to the Curonian Spit, at least from the Lithuanian side

The Lithuanian part is accessed from Klaipeda, our entry into Lithuania – we drove here from Liepaja along the Baltic coast, but we didn’t get to see much of it. Klaipeda is the country’s third largest city and the only important sea port. From here, ferries depart, for instance to Germany and to Denmark. But also, to our surprise, to the Curonian Split. Somehow we had expected to just be able to drive onto the narrow land tongue, but no, there is no direct connection here, no bridge, so we suddenly found ourselves lining up for another ferry crossing, of just 20 minutes, no more. That is, if you can get onto the boat, of course. On a Saturday, brilliant autumn weather, it took a few departures before we got on.

the harbour of Klaipeda is photogenic

and it seems the containers have been stacked by colour

the only road on the Spit

along the road, the swans floating on the water of the lagoon

another picture of the swans

Which should have been a sign. The Curonian Spit turns out to be incredibly touristic; no surprise really, as this is a great nature area, a national park even, with easily accessible beaches on both sides on the Spit. Yet, equally unexpected by us. For most of the drive to Nida, at the far end of the Lithuanian part, we drove in convoy – there is really only one road, of course.

and yes, more wooden houses, again!

But I would not have wanted to miss the experience. It is indeed a beautiful area, of mostly pine woods, introduced to stabilise the dune ridge. Because the spit is narrow, between 400 and 3800 meters, in many places you see the water, and less vegetated dunes, through the woods, sometimes even on both sides. Difficult to stop, though, so we continued to the end, to the town of Nida, where we could climb the highest dune of all, the 52 meter high c. Because of the ecological sensitivity of the dune, the only way up is via wooden stairs and board walks, to avoid erosional damage to the sands.

these are the windvanes, not just one, on the beach of Nida

including Russian watch tower in the distance

the Parnides dune, seen from Nida

and the view from the top of the dune

The view from the top of the dune is great, of course, overseeing the spit, the lagoon and the Baltic Sea. And a glimpse of Russia, of course, complete with watch tower and antennas.

However, the real reason to come this far is the existence of the Nida cemetery, unique because of its wooden tomb monuments. These, apparently, originate from the 19th century, carved for the deceased in the form of stylistic plants, birds and hearts. Many of the monuments have been restored in 1975 by a local artist, otherwise the older wooden structures would no doubt have disappeared by now. Not every tomb is adorned with a special monument, there are also simple, and more elaborate, wooden and metal crosses. The combination, however, makes this a very special cemetery, indeed.

a selection of wooden tomb monuments at the Nida cemetery

one of the older wooden tomb monuments

and this one, topped by a small cross

three particularly nice examples

at the back of the cemetery, a whole range of tomb monuments

By the time we reached the ferry back to the mainland, everybody else had also decided to return. So it took another three of four boats, well over an hour, to get us across. Imagine this place in the middle of the summer!

Next: more crosses.

the ultra-modern concert hall of Liepaja

Liepaja was not in the plan, but our Latvian friend suggested we go here (and I do listen to others, occasionally). And we didn’t regret it. For starters, I have been going on about wooden houses for a while now, and guess what? The apartment we booked in Liepaja was in one of those wooden houses. Brilliant experience, a comfortable modern-fitted apartment, reached by rickety wooden stairs and a dark corridor, shared with other apartments. A bit like our palati (see below) stay in Tajikistan, some time ago.

entrance to our appartment in a wooden building

the houses of the neighbours

the stairs

and the corridor

and the inside of the apartment

and more wooden houses

a wooden window in a wooden house

another balcony, but look at the decoration in wood!

a larger Art Nouveau facade

with a great entrance door

and a small-scale Art Nouveau building

Art Nouveau closed balcony

another Art Nouveau detail

elaborate Art Nouveau door

with a lugubre decoration

We spent the morning wandering through Liepaja. From our own neighbourhood, full of the now familiar wooden houses, we reached the boulevards in the centre, lined with Art Nouveau, once again. Not as ostentatious, mostly, as in Riga, and therefor perhaps even more to my liking. But other styles are also common, some great red-brick buildings, further wooden buildings, mostly houses, and a fabulous modern concert hall.

the unreconstructed palatis

lovely palati balconies, decorated with flowers and laundry

and these ones, the middle one closed in to create an extra room

here, too, the balcony turned into an extra room

And in the outskirts? Yes, finally, there they are, the unreconstructed palatis from the Soviet era – ‘palatis’ is an Albanian term that has entered out vocabulary, and relates to cheap four- or five-story apartment buildings, thus no need for a lift, of which the apartments are so small that many home owners have, at their own initiative, closed the balcony to create an extra room. I have photos from palatis in many ex-Soviet republics, and in Eastern European countries, and now from the Baltics, too – just in time, as many of those have already been refurbished, and look a lot better now (although less photogenic).

market stall with berries and mushrooms

and more mushrooms

more berries and mushrooms

Just before we leave we end up at the market, another colourful happening thanks to the vegetables, the berries, the mushrooms and the flowers. This is a country that enjoys flowers, it seems, much more so than what we saw in Estonia and in Finland.

Next: the Curonian Spit.