100 Years
The winter wind sweeps in and chills the cities, as the trees lose the last of their leaves. Radiant yellows and oranges, honeycomb tones the colours of Baltic amber, gather and pool under bare branches. The fog rolls across rivers, hiding steeples. Repairs are being made as buildings close for the winter; a hibernation of brick and timber behind scaffolding frames.
This year marks 100 years of Latvia and Lithuania. As 2018 draws to a close, the two nations are reflective. Outdoor exhibitions fill squares, flags line streets, and commemorative items decorate shops.
The architecture of these Baltic states is the main drawcard - Art Nouveau in Riga, Art Deco in Kaunas, and Classical and Baroque in Vilnius. Old Towns and new towns and remnants of Soviet occupation fill the cities, dividing them and reminding of the past. Onwards, ever onwards, layers build and fill the cities.
In Riga, the city is decorated with statues - bold and striking. Artists, musicians, playwrights, and poets are commemorated. The walk to the Latvian National Museum of Art is tree-filled and winds past buildings of striking red bricks. Inside, the museum is a mix of old and new - both in architecture and in art. In the lower level of the museum, the collections store fills a cavernous space with rows upon rows of art collected by the nation. Its walls are made of glass, allowing glimpses of lake scenes and self portraits; hints of colour, splashes of shape, the suggestion of the scope and scale of the art of this young nation.
The journey from Riga to Kaunas is scenic despite the day making its way steadily into the night. The bus crawls past forests of birch trees, bare and awaiting winter. Seamlessly and without acknowledgment, the border is crossed from Latvia into Lithuania. Small towns appear from time to time, the street lights creating triangles of orange light in the mist.
The next day is spent exploring Kaunas, walking through the wide tree-lined avenue of the new town, and through the winding alleys and narrower streets of the Old. The main street -Â LaisvÄ—s alÄ—ja (Freedom Avenue) - is undergoing maintenance. The central aisle is being dug up and so the walk requires weaving from one side of the avenue to the other; passing around trees, making detours into side streets. On one side stands a square with an exhibition at its centre - with a pastry in hand you can walk through the past century of Lithuanian life.
At the edges of the Old Town stands Kaunas Castle, continuing to keep watch after all these centuries. The nearby markets buzz with temporary stalls of vibrant yellow. Here gather piles of cured fish and baskets of fresh vegetables, buckets of cut flowers and towers of Šakotis - Lithuanian cakes of egg and flour that stand tall and spiky like Christmas trees.
In the afternoon, a hill is climbed and a feat of Art Deco architecture rewards. Christ's Resurrection Church stands tall and proud, surveying the city below. Inside, the expanse of white and light impresses with its scale and soothes with its simplicity. At the altar stand two trees; a shed behind the church offers others for rotation.
The next day a train goes from Kaunas to the current capital, Vilnius. Towns and forests, shrouded in mist, fill the windows. It is on this train that the centenary of the Armistice is commemorated - the 'ding ding ding' of the train interrupts, as the next station is announced. Onwards, ever onwards.
The Old Town of Vilnius charms and impresses with its curving streets, its collection of churches, the Classical architecture. Buildings in pastel pinks, oranges, yellows, and greens are dotted throughout the city.
To the west stands the Museum of Occupations and Freedom Fights. The former Lithuanian headquarters of the KGB now tells the tale of the decades of Soviet occupation. They tell of labour camps and a lack of freedom, restrictions on faith, and art, and lives. The prison cells in the basement are eerie, bare, and unpleasant; cold in a way that creeps into your bones. Yet for all that, there are tales of families and lovers, of the Three Crosses returned to Plikasis Hill, of a poetry anthology composed by inmates.
To the south, on another divide between the Old Town and new, stands the MO Museum, newly opened. A private collection of Lithuanian art is housed in a building starkly, strikingly contemporary. In the middle of the white expanse of gallery walls, sweeps a bold staircase; an ebony curve up, up, up. As you glide to the top, it opens out into the colour and exuberance of the main display. The carefully curated exhibition contains a breadth and depth of Lithuanian art that tells of control and power, mythology and storytelling, and the seemingly mundane experiences of daily life.
In the wake of Soviet occupation, and in the celebration of their 100 years, Latvia and Lithuania are reclaiming their stories, their nations, their art. These countries contain within them the tales and memories of the many centuries before the last. Throughout Old Towns and new avenues, winter winds sweep in, and as hibernation begins again, new stories are being made and told and histories are being uncovered and shared.
Onwards, ever onwards, we whisper together.
Â
"There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them."
– The Naked City, 1948
Â