the defining art work of the Padvale Art Park, ‘the Sky Chair’, by Estonian Villu Jaanisioo

The Pedvāle Art Park, near Sabile, warrants a separate entry to this blog, because there is a great variety of art works – sculptures, all made to be exhibited outside. There is quite a bit of stone, or stone and metal, no doubt influenced by Ojars Feldbergs, the sculpturer who is the brain behind the park and runs the workshops that provide material for the ever changing exhibition. But there is also enough experimental work, of a variety of materials, that look original and authentic enough.

the map, with the two circuits with sculptures

Obviously, most of the artists are Latvian – actually, ‘most of the artists’ is Ojars himself, who is probably responsible for about half of the sculptures -, Estonian and Lithuanian, but there also quite a few Americans who lend their talents, as well as an Indian and a Japanese sculptor. The occasional Europeans from ouitside the Baltics make up the rest; I even spotted work from a Dutch artist.

We only circled the main route, where the majority of sculptures are; a lower part, geographically, with another twenty or so works we skipped, because of time pressure on our programme for the rest of the day. In fact, the upper route was sufficient to get a good impression of the collection, of which I share a few examples hereunder.

NextL Liepaja.

a bit weird, ‘Land Table’, from Tamsie Rigler from the USA

‘The beginning of Everything’, by Indian Udeya Vir Singh

‘Northern Wind’, by Carl Billingslay, also USA

I couldn’t find the name/artist of this one back, very prominently present in the middle of the field

‘Snake’, from Latvian artist Pauls Jaunzems

‘Requiem’, also Latvian, by Ojars Bregis

‘Divine Necessity’, by Igor Dobicins, also from Latvia

‘Crossbeam’, by Mindaugas Navakas (Lithuania), with several other sculptures in the back

‘Sekimori Ishy, by American Daniel Postellon

another work I like, but cannot find back in the list

‘The Cosmocentric’, from Latvians Maria Folkmane and Ivo Folkmanis

and I love this one: ‘Nature Screen’, by Latvian Ojars Feldbergs, with a view to further sculptures across the river

the entrance to the wine hill of Sabile

Sabile is home to the Pedvāle Art Park. This sculpture garden was founded by Ojars Feldbergs, a Latvian sculptor, who not only sculpts, but also arranges symposiums and workshops where other sculpturers from all over the world sculpt – and their collective production is being exhibited in the garden. I suppose there are few individual top works of art – perhaps with the exception of the blue chair built up from empty oil drums -, and despite the variety of artists much of the work is a bit repetitive, no doubt the result of the teacher’s influence on his pupils. But the experience, the walk of well over an hour past so many art works, and that only for the first half of the exposition, is very nice, and Ojars is delightful to talk to. In fact, he was disappointed that we had to leave again, and couldn’t spend the whole rest of the day in the park. But with our fully packed programme…

the entrance to the Pedvale Art Park

and its most famous piece of art, the Sky Chair, made from blue-painted oil drums

view of Sabile on the Abava river

Because there is more to Sabile. Another local artist, Daina Kučera, has filled her roadside garden with over 200 straw dolls dressed as people of all ages and walks of life. There are children dancing, a rock band, policemen and military, armed with wooden guns, all types of people, accompanied by a motor bike, computers, transistor radios. Diana herself is also present, sitting in the back of the garden in a car. Unfortunately, communication is limited because of a severe language barrier – even my travel companion is at a loss.

a garden full of straw dolls

some really cute

like this rock band

an armed guerilla fighter is part of the collection

some historical objects added to the scene

and the local artist, Daina Kučera, overseeing her creation

attractive autumn colours on the way to wine hill

the local grape, Zilga, present in abundance

And that is it, as far as Sabile goes. Except, that Sabile is located along the Abava Valley, the wine growing centre of Latvia! In the town itself is the Sabile Vina Kals, the wine hill of Sabile, at some 57oN locally claimed to be the most northern wine region of the world (although I believe a Norwegian winery has more right to that claim). The hill itself is 33 m above the valley and the town, altogether 115 m above sea level, and it apparently has over 30 varieties of grapes, none of which I have ever heard of. The Zilga, apparently, is the most popular.

the local cidre and wine facility

the labels should have put me off already….

with the bottles inside

So we have to check out the local winery, which in fact is specialised in ciders. So-called grape wine is not very common – the hill is rather small, after all -, but rhubarb wine, blackcurrent wine, strawberry wine, indeed very sweet, and lots of other fruit varieties are widely available. No, we cannot taste the grape wine, no open bottle, but what about the apple wine? Not my favourite, and that should have been it. Unlike the fruit varieties, grape vine is actually not cheap, at 20 Euros a bottle. But curiosity gets the better of cost consciousness, and I buy two bottles, of which we open one the same evening, in our apartment. Undrinkable; we pour the whole 20 Euros through the sink. Obviously not the Zilga!

What did our Latvian friend in Riga said again, about Latvian wine? Politely, “it is not very good and is very expensive”. Why can I not just listen to people?

Next: Liepaja.

the impressive church spire of Kuldiga

We only came to sleep in Kuldiga, well, and maybe check out a thing or two. But what a lovely town this is. High percentage of cobbled streets, high percentage of well-maintained wooden houses, lots of flowers in the windows, and along the roads, and autumn colours providing the extra touch.

There is a red-brick bridge across the Venta River, just below the rapids. An old wooden town hall, from the 16th century, stands next to the more modern version. Another wooden house is claimed to be the oldest in what used to be Courland, Western Latvia. A park next to the river contains a sculpture collection, fairly conservative – truly communist popular art -, but nice enough. But that is not the point. The whole town, small as it is, is just a perfect little postcard for a medieval settlement. Admittedly, it may have been patched up a bit recently, as it got added to the UNESCO World Heritage list only this year.

Next: Sabile.

nice little, non-wooden corner building

the oldest house in Kuldiga, more a wooden barn, really

one of the streets in the centre highlights the efforts to acquire UNESCO World Heritage status

more old houses, in the main street

a large wooden house in the park

typical 1970/80s sculpture in the sculpture park of Kuldiga

like this one, too, a happy family

balcony with flowers

lots of plats decorate the streets, by now in attractive autumn colours

the red-brick bridge across the Venta River

one of the castles, Cecis, built by the Brothers of the Sword during the Livonian Crusade

So let’s summarise that Baltic history a bit. A few years ago, reading up about Ukraine trying to understand recent developments there, I was astounded to find that the western half of Ukraine had been part of a Lithuanian empire. We are talking 14th Century, when Lithuania stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, initially on its own, and later, through marriage, together with Poland, which became an ever more dominant partner in the coalition.

But by the 16th C Russian influence became tangible, Russian troops even conquered part of Lithuania. For a while, the Lithuanian-Polish entity fought back, even occupied Moscow in 1611-1612, but ultimately, Russia got the upper hand. It captured the eastern part of Lithuania and Poland, including Vilnius, in 1654, and gradually expanded its claims. Lithuania became a Russian satellite, Poland was partitioned between Russia, Prussia and the Austro-Hungarian empire.

another of the Livonian castles, near Vijanji

In the first World war the Germans occupied Lithuania, and allowed some limited self-rule, which formed the basis for the Lithuanian independence, declared in 1918 by one Antanas Smetona – on the back of German defeat and Russian revolutions. Independence was even formally recognised, by Russia, in 1920. Except that the capital, Vilnius, remained occupied by Poland, so that Kaunus became the temporary capital in the interwar period. But the idea that there has been a democratic country on the Baltic coast is not entirely true. A military coup in 1926 appointed Smetona as president, the man who had just lost an election, and who subsequently ruled as a dictator, eliminating more and more democratic elements. Until the Russians came back in 1940, as part of the Molotov-Ribbentrop non-aggression pact between Germany and Russia. Which the Germans broke in 1941 by invading Russia, and occupying Lithuania again, amongst others. The Russians had just executed and deported thousands of Lithuanians, now the Germans decimated the significant Jewish population of Lithuania.

Oh, and then the Russians – the Soviet Union to be clear – came back again, in 1944, and established their regime of terror. Until the Soviet Union collapsed, and Lithuania became an independent country once more, in 1991.

Unlike Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia were never a nation state, until the 20th Century. They were subject to Danish and Swedish interest, but most defining was the German crusade in the 13th Century, executed by the so-called Knights of the Sword, who came to bring Christianity. I mentioned this already earlier, in connection with the Vijandi and Cecis castles. Shortly after the invasion, of 1200, the bishop of Riga, Albert von Buxhoerden, made a deal with the Danes, who occupied the north of Estonia (the built a fort, Taani Linn, which means Danish Town), whilst Germans became the ruling class in the south, and in all of Latvia, which together was referred to as Livonia. But conflicting interests, of Sweden and Danmark, of emerging Russia and of the Lithuanian-Polish entity, made that the Confederation of Livonia, collapsed again after the Livonian war (1558-1583). Estonia was invaded by Russia at the beginning of this was, but then the Swedish made a move, kicked out the Russians and ruled Estonia, until they lost it again in 1721, when Estonia was ceded to Russia. As for Latvia, parts, like Riga, became Swedish, other parts fell to Lithuania-Poland, and a small part, Courland – referred to earlier as a true colonial power – remained sort of independent. But here, too, the Russians ultimately conquered all, Courland being the last territory to be incorporated in the Russian Empire in 1775.

Latvian nationalism, some form of national consciousness, emerged in the 19th Century. During a Marxist strike and demonstration in 1905 people first called for an independent state, Latvia. This ultimately materialised into a declaration of independence in January 1918, whilst still under German occupation, during WWI. Actual independence came in November 1919, when Latvian and Estonian troops drove the Germans out of Riga and the rest of the territory.

the statue of Jaan Tonisson, esteemed Estonian statesman, prime minister and head of state several times over in the 1920s

and another statue, to early Estonian nationalist, journalist and poet Johann Voldomar Janssen, equally attractive and with a hat in common

Similarly, Estonian nationalism grew at the end of the 19th Century, initially targeting the Baltic Germans. But Russia was to have none of it, and in any case the Germans marched in early 1918. Russians fled, came back after the German surrender, and were driven out again in 1919 by Estonian troops. By February 1920 Estonia was an independent country, for the first time in history.

Like Lithuania, this lasted until June 1940, when the Russians came back. For a year, because by July 1941 the Germans had occupied all of Latvia and Estonia, like Lithuania. And like Lithuania, the Russians deported thousands of Latvians and Estonians – in cattle cars, no less -, before the Germans all but exterminated the Jewish population. And like Lithuania, Russia – the Soviet Union – was back in 1944, to replace the one terror regime with the next, until the Soviet Union collapsed, and both countries gained their final independence in 1991. And since then, we speak about ‘the Baltic States’. Part of the UN, part of NATO and part of the European Union. Yet, after Russian aggression towards Ukraine – and support for Ukraine is everywhere, here – increasingly nervous again about Russian expansion, and given their histories you do have to sympathise with that fear.

Next: the bog.

a tree mirrored in a bog in the Kemeri National Park

After a few days city exploration it was time for some nature again. Outside Riga is the Kemeri bog, a kind of wetland resulting from the differential filling in of post-glacial valleys, which ultimately led to an area full of small lakes, called bog pools. The area is part of a national park, and has been developed to allow visitors to see the pools while keeping dry feet; I suppose it has been fairly dry recently, but the fact that the entire walk is across wooden boards suggests that most of the time this area is much wetter. The first part of the walk isn’t very exciting, but the deeper we get into the bog, the more pools appear, and without much wind they are mostly perfect mirrors for the vegetation on the edges. Grasses are extremely bright green, to yellow, mosses a dark red or brown, a fabulous colour scheme. The best comes at the far end of the board walk, where we climb a viewing tower that provides the same scenery, but from higher up, bog pools as far as the eye can see. Breathtaking!

board walk in the Kemeri NP

this is a bog, or one of the many

rimmed with trees, and red mosses

or yellow and green reeds

another beautiful colour composition

the viewing platform at the far end of the walk

and the view from above

another rim of mirrored trees

or just an overall view of the bogs, and the board walk in between

and equally colourful fauna, using the boards as landing stage

one haphazard tourist, going for detail

and detail it is, once again colourful flora

the wooden orthodox church in Kemeri village

and a little pergola in the park

and well maintained wooden houses all over the place

We didn’t expect much from Kemeri village, except a cup of coffee. But like every village in this part of the world, it is like an open air museum. The Saint Peter-Paul Orthodox church is made of wood, entirely, and stems from 1893. And is part of a lovely park. But far more enchanting are the wooden houses – there they are again; we are just not used to this, but wood is everywhere, especially in construction. The only thing lacking was a coffee bar.

the water tower of kemeri

The next national park is around the Engure Lake, further west, and once again equipped with a viewing tower at the end of a trail. Although famous for its birds, we got there mid-afternoon, not the best time for birds; we spotted a woodpecker, some herons, some sea gulls and a duck or two, but the most obviously present animals were some semi-wild horses that didn’t look particularly wild.

 

a semi-wild horse in the Engure Lake national park

and the lake itself

a little wooden church near Mersrags

lots of flowers

with an impeccable cemetery in the back

and very neatly kept

Having been driving along the north coast for some time, without actually seeing the sea – the area along the beach is all privately developed -, we finally managed to get to the beach in Mersrags, near its lighthouse. The cast-iron lighthouse itself was not so spectacular, but the wooden church, a little further inland, was lovely, and especially the extremely well kept cemetery behind the church impressive. Altogether, a change of scenery from the city.

Next: Kuldiga.

rocks in the Baltic Sea, near Mersrags

rocks as far as the eye can sea, at least along the coast

a modern bridge across the Daugave River in Riga

Earlier I mentioned a third area of interest, beyond Central Riga and Old Riga, and this is the area south of the Old Town. Here is the Central Market, a sprawling complex covering five huge German-built halls to store the infamous WWI zeppelins. When the market was moved to its current location in 1930, the government decided to bring in those hangars from elsewhere in Latvia, which now form the heart of what is claimed to be the biggest market in Europe; it may well be, with each hangar being dedicated to one or two categories, which easily spill over to stalls outside, in between the buildings. Colourful, and mostly smelling great. All those mushrooms we have seen in the forests are being sold here, but also enormous quantities of fish, smoked in all different ways or just raw. Vegetables, and especially berries, it is the season; red and orange raspberries. And the widest selection possible, I think, of vicious sweets, in the most vicious colours.

inside one of the zeppelin halls of the large Central Market in Riga

some of the merchandise spoilling over to the streets in between the halls

raspberries in two colours, red and orange

those were some of the mushrooms we have seen in the forest!

and it is eqially the nuts season, including nut crackers

viciously coloured sweets, I told you

and fish, attractively presented!

one of the bridges over the Daugave river, modern buildings on the other side

the entire city lies open, it looks

the Academy of Sciences tower, with a next door church for scale

Behind the market is the Academy of Science tower, mostly relevant because from the balcony of its tower you have another fabulous view over the city, albeit only at 65 meters, less than the church tower in the Old Town. The building itself, the first high-rise in Latvia, with a total of 21 floors and 107 meters high, was completed in 1961. The view also includes the TV tower, claimed to be the third-highest building in Europe with its 367 meters, and the National Library, on the other side of the Daugave River, an attractive modern building.

this is the church for scale, from above

the bridge again, with the attractive National Library building behind, from the viewing platform

not necessarily nice, but impressively tall: the TV Tower

and a view back onto the Central Market buildings

the wooden Lutheran Church of Jesus

and inside, an unusual round structure

Just behind the tower is the Lutheran Church of Jesus, the largest wooden church in Latvia and one of the largest wooden churches in Europe. As wooden buildings go, they tend to burn down from time to time, but this one has lasted from 1822, and looks in prime condition. Unusually, the inside church area is round, and has a fabulous acoustic in the middle.

the Lastadija artist collective, also from above; note the fox on the wall on the side

garden full of flowers, and colourful murals

scrap metal sculpture

and another one, less scrap metal, more tin sheets

We also run into the Lastadija artist collective, or so I think. We were looking for a big fox on the wall, which we actually spotted from atop the tower (!), and when we arrived in the courtyard with the fox, this turned out to be a sculpture garden cum coffee bar. And at around 1 pm they also serve lunch, great vegan curry and rice, for a donation. Absolutely wonderful place, very nice people, and great art beyond the fox. See, these are the surprises Riga offers, also outside the Old Town.

and the fox in full glory

The one thing you don’t read in the tourist guides or websites is that Riga is also a vibrant city. There are people in the street, walking, or on terraces and in restaurants. The city is alive – admittedly, it is very pleasant autumn weather, but this was also the case in Tallinn and Tartu, and in Helsinki, yet these were comparatively sterile places, without much atmosphere. Riga is buzzing, even on a weekday evening.

Riga is a vibrant city….

On one of those evenings we met up with an old Latvian acquaintance, from long ago. He explained that this split between locals and ethnic Russians, also evident in Estonia earlier, is actually much more complex than it looks. Nationalists like to focus on language, if you speak Latvian, you are one of them, but our friend has a Russian mother – who is very critical of what happens in Russia and feels more connected to Latvia -, and a Latvian father, who more and more leans towards Russia, because everything was so much better in the past, in his eyes, and Russian empire resurrection could bring that back. He also points out that Latvian nationalism is a fairy recent thing, which, however, is being complicated by the fact in the in the Middle Ages, before Russian domination from about 1800 onwards, the north of Latvia was mostly associated with Swedish power in Estonia – staunchly Lutheran protestant -, and the southeast with the Lithuanian-Polish entity of that time. Staunchly Catholic. Only the southwest was a somewhat autonomous region, called Courland, which, incidentally, is still proud of its past colonies, an island in the Gambia River in West Africa and Tobago Island in the Caribbean. I told you, I am learning my European history as we go.

Next: a little more on the Baltics history. Or just continue the journe, to the bog.

This work, presumably African because it hangs in the Afrika Museum, but without reference to artist or title, is actually not part of the exposition, but part of the permanent collection.

By the time you read this is, it is probably too late not only to go and see this exhibition, but also to go and see the Afrika Museum in Berg en Dal, near Nijmegen in The Netherlands. Through an unfortunate conflict between the owners of the museum and the organisation that exploits it, the museum will close by the end of November 2023.

The Afrika Museum is best known because of its unique collection of African masks and sculptures, collected by generations of missionary priests of the Congregation of the Holy Spirit, which brought back these pieces from their various posts in Africa. However, during recent years the museum has also collected a number of modern African art works, and together with works borrowed from other institutions, it has now put together a small exhibition, called ‘In Brilliant Light’. Fascinating art, a struggle between what is African, and what has been influenced by Western art norms. A pity it is so small, and a pity it mostly found works of Nigerian, South African and Cuban artists (‘African’ includes its diaspora), but very interesting and calling for more, nevertheless.

‘Awakening’ (1961, bronze) Perhaps for historical reasons – this sculpture was the first contemporary art purchase of the museum – a small replica of the Igbo earth goddess Ani is included, by Nigerian Ben Enwonwu (1917-1994). Much larger versions of this sculpture are inside the UN building in new York, and in front of the national Museum in Lagos.

‘L’offrande’ (1966-1974, oil on canvas) This painting Senegalese Bocar Pethe Diong (1946-1989) was donated to the museum by the Senegalese president Senghor, when he visited the museum, who strongly believed in Negritude, the art movement promoting the African way in the arts, free of the traditions of the colonial powers. Which, however, in fact seems to reinforce European stereotypes, as in this painting and the next – which is why this earliest African movement isn’t very popular anymore amongst present-day artists.

‘La femme qui crie’ (1961-1966, oil on canvas) This painting, from Senegalese Iba N’Diaye (1928-2008), is obviously inspired by Edvard Munch’s famous ‘The Cry’.

‘Sphinx II’ (1999, charcoal, pastels and watercolour on paper) This is an early work by Deborah Bell, one of the more famous contemporary artists from South Africa.

‘L’offrande des Couleurs’ (2013, textile) This work, a wall hanging by Abdoulaye Konate from Mali, is inspired on a hunter’s tunic – a body an arms widespread – which refers to divination and the use of oracles, an important element in the preparation for the hunt. The colours red, white and black are those of the offerings: cola nuts, milk and the ox.

‘Niloro’ (1991, ink on paper) One of the most impressive works, this collagraphy (a printing technique) of female artist Belkis Ayon from Cuba is inspired by the Abakua, a Cuban secret society similar to those in many African communities. The Abakua is all-male, and based on secret rules that cannot be shared with outsiders, which is why most of the figures have no mouth. The white person on the floor is Princess Silkan, the only woman in the religion, who was killed – white is the colour of death – after she had broken the rule of silence. Ayon’s work is obviously an indictment of male-dominated society.

‘A Flutist with a Strange, Unseen Ghost’ (paint on triplex) and ‘Rainbow Goddess II’ (paint, linen, triplex)These two works by Olaniya Osuntoki, better known as Twins Seven Seven (Nigeria, 1944-2011) are deeply rooted in Yoruba imagery. Apparently, the artist, who was also a dancer, musician, poet, writer and sculptor, was the one surviving child of no less than seven twins his parents had. Especially the ‘flutist’ is so quintessential African, in my view, representing images, carvings, ancestor ceremonies and myths.

‘Rainbow Goddess II’ (paint, linen, triplex)

‘Pushing the Edge’ (2022)

‘Pushing the Edge’ (2022, handcarved MDF panel, paint and varnish) and ‘Soulful’ (2022, id) Both works show headless, but colourful figures – the left one has in fact a whole range of small faces painted inside the body. They represent the artist’s ancestors, headless ‘because we may not know the identities of our ancestors’. The artist is Sthenjwa Luthuli, from Aouth Africa.

‘iSbonakaliso’ (2022, acrylic on canvas) This is South Africa artist Wonder Buhle Mbambo’s grandmother, covered in golden flowers, which refers to the native flowers used in ancestor ceremonies in Mbambo’s village. Also note the empty background, a range of dark hills under a pale blue sky, that higher up turns into a piece of cloth pinned in the canvas.

‘Transformation of the Devil’ (1997, wood, paint, glass and metal) And I love this one, by South African Masaego Johannes Segogela. Which shows the deep penetration of European beliefs in Africa. We see, in three steps, the devil (black, with horns, in the upper box), his transformation (being operated on by white angles, who have removed his horns, see the scars on his head, and are now working on the tail, middle box), and his reintegration (dressed in a suit, next to a priest, lower box). Whether this is the best example of art rooted in the African continent, is debatable, of course!

‘Ulin-Noifo, the lineage that never dies’ (2022, rosary beads, thread with stones, lace) Another wall hanging, this one from Nigerian artist Victor Ehikhamenor. The work combines symbols of Catholicism, like the rosaries, and those of the Kingdom of Benin: note the outline of a Nigerian king in the middle of the cloth.

the king in detail

‘Alagba in Limbo’ (1996, iron, feathers, mirror and wood) This impressive sculpture, from Nigerian Sokari Douglas Kemp, shows a group of who carry the body of a masked dancer, supposed to be the goddess Alagba, but in fact a man, a normal person. It illustrates the idea that the gods have abandoned the Nigerian delta, and have left the people with characters who play god. The link to the environmental damage in the Niger delta, caused by multinational oil companies, is obvious. The sculpture is actually not part of the exposition ‘In Brilliant Light’, but powerful enough not to be omitted from this entry. It is part of the permanent collection of the museum

the front of the sculpture

and the back

 

 

Riga Art Nouveau mirrored in a modern facade

Riga being called the capital of Art Nouveau, there are lots of buildings that deserve to be included in this blog, beyond the main Riga entry. However, even I know some limitations, so I try to curtail the number of photos to what is just about manageable. A mix of facades, decorations, windows, balconies, all that makes Art Nouveau so special – for us, at least.

Like I did for Helsinki, a small additional selection, then.

Next: more Riga.

another facade, with the focus on the vertical lines

in this case, colour is a way of distinction

and more intricately than you would see from a distance

I love this type of robust buildings, also note the doorways

another more humble facade, almost functional

fabulous door, and I love the autoped detail

this is the type of classical decoration found on many of the Art Nouveau houses in Riga

why would you make windows square, indeed?

another window, elaborately decorated – but here the gass is sqaure, at least

a beautiful house, with multiple window forms and lots of decoration

one of the windows, oval-shaped

and the last Art Nouveau building of this entry

and lovely balcony

again, great window decoration

almost forgotten: decoration in between the windows, too

huge Art Nouveau building on a corner

detail of the little tower under the roof

and another detial, of the triangular facade and the tall windows

 

 

the Orthodox Nativity Catheral of Riga, just after midday

There are two parts of Riga that are of interest to the casual visitor, or three, actually. The big two are Central Riga, with its long, straight streets lined with Art Nouveau buildings, and Old Riga, the old town with its cobbled, twisted and turning alleys, and chaotic mix of architectural styles.

facade of an expansively decorated Art Nouveau house

Although we intended to start in Old Riga, our hotel is actually outside the old town, in the diplomatic quarter, which also happens to be the main area for Art Nouveau buildings. And of course we cannot resist, so for the next few hours we wander the streets, with oohs and ahhs at each and every discovery of yet another fabulous building, quirky balcony, imposing door or ostentatious decoration. Especially the latter is a recurring factor, more than in Helsinki, or in earlier Art Nouveau encounters we had; the buildings have a multitude of stucco faces, or sculptures (I will put together an architectural porn collection), or other external decorations, that take the focus away from the modernist design style of the houses, the facades. I can tell you all about this, but the photos are probably a more efficient way to show – and otherwise there are lots of far more scholarly books you could check out. Point is, we are just enthusiastic amateurs. But boy, did we enjoy this part of Riga, dubbed the Art Nouveau capital of the world.  Oh, and like any town in this part of the world, the wooden houses are just in between the rest of the buildings; even in the Art Nouveau quarter, there are, admittedly upmarket, wooden houses to be found, too. More Riga Art Nouveau here.

this is the type I like most, with the art of design in the building itself, not the decorations

and this is the type of construction that appeals so much to me

another Art Nouveau facade, which stretches even beyond the top of the roof

top of the facade, incredible detail, mostly lost on those on the ground without a telelens

windows of the same building

stairs inside the Art Nouveau museum; the museum itself less interesting

this is the type of ostentatious decoration that comes with Riga Art Nouveau

some of the decoration is more subtle

in the middle of the Art Nouveau neighbourhood, once again a wooden house

and also nice, a wooden window

Of course, not all buildings are Art Nouveau, but some are equally impressive, in their own way.

this is not Art Nouveau, of course, but an equally impressive building

and I love balconies

did I say balconies?

the House of the Blackheads, originally 14th Century, bombed during WWII, demolished by the Soviets, and meticulously rebuilt at the end of the 20th C

the liberty monument, remembering those who fell in 1918-1920, for independence

great sculpture, the memorial for the Latvian archers

Old Riga then. Established as a major city at the beginning of the 13th century, by one bishop Albert, who came with the Brothers of the Sword, it went on to become a major trading centre throughout the Middle Ages, no matter who controlled the territory. The city itself was largely controlled by the Baltic Germans, who dominated commerce – until 1939, when many of them were resettled in Germany and Poland as part of a Nazi repopulation initiative, and 1940, when the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact brought the then independent Baltic states under Soviet influence, which made the remaining Germans flee (and the ones who didn’t, subsequently disappeared into Soviet camps). After which the Germans returned in 1941 – but not the Baltic Germans – and were kicked out again by the Russians in 1944, the vagaries of WWII. All of this damaged not only the infrastructure of Riga, which got badly bombed during the war, but also the minds of the Latvians, some of whom fought initially with the Nazis against the occupying Russians, others subsequently against the occupying Nazis. (In all this it is actually easy to forget that the Liberty Monument, at the intersection between Central Riga and the Old Town, remembers those fallen during the fight in 1918-1920, for the establishment of the first independent Latvia.)

a square in the Old Town, all types of houses, terraces and a mural

another Old Town view

and one of the streets, with pastel-coloured houses

not the city gate, just a passage inside the Old Town

a door, part of an impressive brick building, the history museum of Riga

view over Riga, from the viewing platform of the Saint Peter’s church

from where you can also look into people’s living rooms!

behind the Dom is a courtyard loosely resembling a museum

and the organ, same Dom

the pupit inside the old Dom cathedral

All of this has left an Old Town with a huge variety of older and newer buildings, from the old Dom cathedral originally from 1211, but frequently added to since, and the gothic Saint Peter’s church, with its viewing platform – fabulous views! – at 72 meters above the town, to individual houses from all times. Some 16th century, 17th century, but also further Art Nouveau examples. I read somewhere that in each and every street of Riga’s Old Town you may find an unexpected surprise, and we did, in the form of a window, a statue, or just a sculpture of a young man reading a book, draped in a Ukrainian flag (support for Ukraine, in Riga but also earlier in Estonia and Finland is quite universal, and clearly expressed).

Next: more Riga.

the so called Three Brothers, 16th and 17th Century houses

one of the many church towers, I cannot remember which one this is

just a window, one of those surprises

the national opera and ballet theatre, but even more: a very elegant sculpture of Maris Liepa, a Latvian ballet dancer

support for Ukraine is widespread

a glass building, now restaurant, at the edge of the Old Town

Art Nouveau decoration

imposing tower of the Cecis Castle, on the way to Riga

An hour or so after we leave Tartu we enter Latvia, through the border town of Valga. And it shows, the difference is striking. Not so much in the countryside before and after, which is flat, lots of woods, the occasional farmland, and not very attractive. But the roads deteriorate notably, the towns we pass through look a lot poorer, and the roadside café’s are no longer slick affairs with uniformed waitresses, but – the one we stopped at – a small wooden building in a yard, with a couple selling not only coffee and homemade cakes, but also their own catch of lake fish, smoked, their own salamis and cured hams, and a whole lot of other unrelated products. A few tables on the veranda, a pregnant dog, all very local indeed, and so much nicer than formica furniture.

Cicis is also an attractive town in its own right

We had lots of ideas for stops on the way to Riga, but in the end we limited ourselves to the castle at Cecis and to what is called the White Dune, Balta Kapa, north of Riga. Somehow, we tend to take much more time than our original planning enthusiasm allows, which means skipping a thing or two, three.

full view of the Cecis castle

canon balls, stacked and ready for use

the castle windows

the stairs up the tower

and the top room, vaulted roof

Cecis castle, thankfully, we didn’t skip. Whatever you have ever imagined when thinking about a medieval castle, Cecis has it. The castle is surrounded by a moat, now dry. Many of the walls are in ruins, of course – that is how you imagine a castle – but the outline of the building is still clear. Two of the towers are proudly standing – perhaps a bit patched up over time -, and what is more, you can climb all the way to the top, along narrow, circular stairs. These are dark, so at the entrance you are given a candle light. Really! And it works!

We spent an hour wandering the castle grounds, climbing the towers, enjoying the view from the top floor. And we were the only ones, we had the whole place for ourselves. Fabulous. A boy’s dream.

Like the Vijandi castle in Estonia, the Cecis castle was built during the Livonian Crusade of the 13th century, initially in 1213 by the Brothers of the Sword – you remember? -, but the basis of the building of today stems largely from reconstruction by the Teutonic Order in which the Brothers had been absorbed, after a Prussian design. At the beginning of the 16th century the castle was further reinforced, with extra towers, only to be badly damaged in 1577, after having been besieged by Ivan the Terrible during the Livonian War (1558-1583), one of those wars between an emerging and expanding Russia and the Swedes. Further Russian demolition had to wait until the Great Northern War (1700-1735), again between Russia and Sweden, at the start of the 18th century (the war that firmly established Russia as the dominant, occupying power in the Baltics, at the expense of Sweden).

outside the castle of Sigulda we found a collection of knights (artist Juris Gagainis)

very original sculptures indeed

 

the castle itself it pretty much restored, besides, the main buildings were closed – for even further renovation

We briefly stopped at Sigulda, but after Cesis, no castle was going to match that, and in any case, Sigulda castle was closed for repairs. So we continued to Balta Kapa, heralded as ‘striking pine-covered cliffs that loom above a pristine white-sand beach dissected by a glistening stream and affording sweeping views of the Gulf of Rīga’. Hmmm. The dunes here, and dunes are no cliffs, have been formed long ago, and have since been stabilised by vegetation, mostly pines, to the extent that they are hardly recognisable as dunes anymore. The views are nice, not necessarily sweeping, and the infrastructure makes this a walk in the park: wooden walkway on top of the dunes, the occasional look-out platform, and in several places comfortable stairs down to the beach. Providing for a nice-enough and pleasant late afternoon activity, helped by beautiful weather. But not exactly overwhelmingly spectacular.

So, to Riga. Where we arrive early evening, for the next few days.

the view from Balta Kapa, the white dune

stairs down from the dune to the beach

and the beach itself, nice enough, and deserted