esmaspäev, 21. august 2017

Modernism, wood and Estonian architecture in the 1930s

Narva-Jõesuu beach pavilion. Engineers Robert Ederma, Erich Otting, design 1935, completed 1936, destroyed in WWII. Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

In the 1930s, as Modernism was spreading internationally, Estonian architecture retained its relative conservatism. Changes in local architecture mostly developed hand in hand with, rather than in opposition to, history and tradition. Stone, glass, and steel slowly became common construction materials, but wood, as a practical, affordable material, remained popular as well, particularly in residential architecture and seasonal public buildings (stadiums, bathing facilities, open-air stages etc.). Combing Modernist aesthetics with wood as a traditional building material resulted in a number of interesting buildings in the 1930s.

Artists as innovators of space
Modernism as a cultural phenomenon often first emerged in fine arts and literature. This was the case in Russia, in a number of European countries, and in Estonia too. Compared to visual arts and literature, architecture, as a practical art, is more dependent on economic, technological and broader social processes; it needs more time and resources to manifest itself in built form. Compared to the rapid manifestation of Modernism in art and literature, it took nearly a decade for Estonian architects (and their clients!) to pick up ideas about Modernist architecture and implement them in designs and buildings.

Artist Ado Vabbe (1892-1961) made his first abstract drawings inspired by Vasily Kandinsky’s works just before WWI. A broader breakthrough in Estonian avant-garde came a little later, in the early 1920s. Strongly influenced by Cubism, Constructivism and Expressionism, Eesti Kunstnikkude Rühm (Estonian Artists’ Group) was established in 1923. The members of this group talked of their artistic output as Cubism, even if their work actually resonated more with what could be called post-Cubist tendencies – Cubo-Futurism and Constructivism (Russia), Purism (France), and Neoplasticism (The Netherlands).

In the mid-1920s Märt Laarman (1896-1979), one of the leaders of this group, used urban and architectural motives in several of his graphic works and paintings. Sculptor and painter Henrik Olvi (1884-1972) made several models of fictional monuments resembling Kazimir Malevich’s architectons. In 1926 Laarman and Olvi, both probably familiar with the ideas of El Lissitzky, Theo van Doesburg, and other theorists of their time, designed kiosks which are reminiscent of architect Gerrit Rietveld’s design for the Schröder House in Utrecht (1924).

The Estonian Artists’ Group seems not to have had close ties with local architects. Several of the group’s exhibitions during the 1920s might have provided a good platform for public as well as interdisciplinary dialogue. Yet it seems that local architects were either not sufficiently informed or not interested in the kind of radical re-conceptualisation of space seen in the works of Laarman, Olvi (and also Vabbe who was not a member of the group). One can only fantasise what might have followed from active dialogue between artists and local architects at the time.

Ehitis ('Edifice'). Painter Märt Laarman, between 1924-28. Oil on canvas. Location unknown.
Published in art magazine TAIE No. 3-1928, p.125

Design for a kiosk. Sculptor and painter Henrik Olvi, 1926. Indian ink, chalk, cardboard.
© Art Museum of Estonia

Thus with hindsight one has to admit that compared to local artistic practices, Estonian architecture in the interwar years remained relatively conservative. The latter applies to both aesthetics and construction technology. Even if living conditions for local inhabitants improved and there was development of both building regulations and the construction industry, Estonian architecture – in terms of new aesthetics and innovative technology – remained unambitious.

The relatively conservative approach to architecture in interwar Estonia can partly be explained by the impact of the global financial crisis (1929) and the conventional tastes of local clients, but may also be attributed to the fact that majority of Estonian – and local Baltic German architects – looked to the more conservative tendencies in recent German architecture. During the 1920s Estonian architecture was often an interpretation of so-called Heimat architecture; the result was Estonian Traditionalism. During the 1930s the main influence was Neue Sachlichkeit (‘New Objectivity’), an art and architecture movement in the Weimar Republic characterised by a deliberately objective, rational, down-to-earth mentality – something very different from the artistic extravagance of Le Corbusier and technological ambitiousness of the Bauhaus architects.

Modern times, modern homes
Estonian architecture historians usually take the first ‘pure’ instance of interwar Modernism – or Functionalism as it is often called locally –  in Estonia to be a private dwelling designed by architect Herbert Johanson (1884-1964) on 6 Toompuiestee Boulevard in central Tallinn. Completed in 1929, this two-story urban residence on the edge of the historical Old Town is built of masonry though (mainly brick and limestone). Nevertheless, wood as a construction material remained popular also in contemporary buildings, particularly in residential architecture. In Tallinn, for example, 79% of all new dwellings built between 1918-1939 used wood as the primary construction material; four out of five new homes (private houses or apartment buildings) in Tallinn were built of wood during this period.

First 'pure' example of interwar Modernism in Estonia, a private residence at 6 Toompuiestee Boulevard, Tallinn. Architect Herbert Johanson, completed 1929. Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Compared to materials such as steel and reinforced concrete, wood is far less facilitating of interesting structural and spatial solutions. Le Corbusier’s five points for modern architecture were inapplicable to brick or wooden houses. Even if floor plans and division of space became less rigid, free plan in its Corbusian – or Rietveldian – sense was not possible because in wooden as well as most brick structures the walls still had to carry loads. The latter also impeded the use of ribbon windows; finishing materials (plaster, bricks, wood boards etc) were used to imitate long horizontal windows instead. Due to traditional structural solutions, facades remained dependent on the rest of the building and did not become a freestanding element, a ‘curtain’ around the perimeter of the building. Neither could pilotis be used; in most cases the building still stood on traditional limestone foundations and the basement remained part of the spatial programme, used for various household activities and as storage. Reinforced concrete was typically used only for lintels and occasionally for cast-in-situ floors on the ground floor. Due to the relatively cold Estonian climate, roof terraces were also not common even if the number of balconies, usually on top of ground-floor verandas, increased during the interwar years.

The (upper-) middle class in this young country grew step by step. During the 1930s, together with a relatively small number of representatives of the wealthy elite, the middle class became the primary group of clients interested in contemporary Functionalist architecture. As building in masonry (e.g. bricks, limestone, concrete) and steel was still relatively expensive, a large number of Functionalist private dwellings were built of wood. Nõmme, a garden-city type of district in western Tallinn, was an independent municipality during the interwar years and became a popular area to build modern private villas as well as small apartment houses. Architect Edgar Velbri (1902-1977) alone designed around 20 Functionalist dwellings in Nõmme during the 1930s.

Nõmme-type dwelling at 18 Mängu Street, Nõmme, Tallinn. Architect Edgar Velbri, completed 1933.
Photo © Peeter Säre, Museum of Estonian Architecture (1992)

Nõmme-type dwelling at 18 Mängu Street, Nõmme, Tallinn. Architect Edgar Velbri, completed 1933.
Photo © Martin Siplane, Museum of Estonian Architecture (2012)

Velbri’s design for a two-story dwelling on 18 Mängu Street (completed 1933) became an example of what has later been called the Nõmme-type dwelling or the Nõmme house (a term coined by architecture historian Mart Kalm). Essentially, this is a small apartment building. The owners lived on the ground floor while the upper-floor apartment was rented out. The latter enabled repayment of the loan taken out in order to build the house, a measure which for middleclass families was essential to finance construction. Many of the Nõmme-type houses were built of wood. To make them look more modern, architects broke the traditionalist symmetry and dynamically played with building volumes; they lowered the roofs, plastered the walls white, and added large glass windows where it was possible, usually in the stairways, since the latter were not heated.

As well as Functionalist apartment buildings like the Nõmme house, there were also private residential buildings. Those are often referred to as ‘villas’, although their size might vary considerably. The majority of Functionalist villas in Estonia were built of masonry, usually brick. Nevertheless, there were also remarkable wooden private houses. Architect Nikolai Kusmin (1906-1994) designed a two-storey Functionalist villa for school director Elmar Einasto’s family in the university town Tartu. Completed in 1937, this house is an original interpretation of the international architecture of its time and has been preserved relatively well to this day.

Villa at 3 Aardla Street, Tartu. Architect Nikolai Kusmin, completed 1937.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Construction of the villa at 3 Aardla Street, Tartu. Architect Nikolai Kusmin, 1936-37.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Front facade of the villa at 3 Aardla Street, Tartu, was recently renovated. Architect Nikolai Kusmin, 1937.
Photo © Egle Tamm (2016)

Not all Functionalist private residences can be called ‘villas’ as some are rather modest in size. Architect Engelhard Corjus (1899-unknown), for example, designed a small two-story private residence (designed in 1929, completed in 1932) also in suburban Nõmme, Tallinn. Standing under tall pine trees, this cube-shaped building sets up a calculated contrast with its natural context. As in many other cases, the exteriors of the wooden load-bearing walls were covered with brightly coloured limestone plaster in order to make the house resemble contemporary masonry buildings. What makes this dwelling by Corjus stand out among similar contemporary buildings, though, is not only its exceptional form but also its custom-made technical solutions. The large corner window of the living room on the ground floor, for example, was specially ordered from the Järvakandi Glass Factory. The loadbearing structure of the veranda, on the other hand, was built from reinforced concrete, use of which was rare in Estonian residential architecture at this time.

Private residence at 29 Sõbra Street, Tallinn. Architect Engelhard Corjus, design 1929, completed 1932. Photo © Urmas Hiis, Museum of Estonian Architecture (1991)

Custom-designed living room window of the private residence at 29 Sõbra Street, Tallinn. Architect Engelhard Corjus, design 1929, completed 1932. Photo © Monika Eensalu-Pihel (2009)

In the 1930s wood as a finishing material was considered – at least among more elitist critics such as Hanno Kompus – to be outdated and more suitable for rural architecture. Despite such criticism, considerable numbers of Functionalist dwellings were designed with wooden facades. In these instances the wooden exteriors either expressed continuity with either the previous Traditionalist architecture or, alternatively, tried to adjust wood to the representational as well as practical demands of Functionalism (using materials in accordance with their natural properties). Architect Anton Soans (1885-1966) designed a modest summer house for the van Jung family in coastal Pirita in the eastern suburban area of Tallinn. Standing on a high stone plinth, this building has dynamic massing of its higher levels while the wooden-board facades emphasise its horizontal, down-to-earth character. Large windows, metal barriers, and porthole windows are among features which indicate the architect’s desire to combine modern construction forms with the leisurely, intimate cosiness of a summer house.

Summer house in Pirita, Tallinn. Architect Anton Soans, completed 1934, since demolished, front view. Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Summer house in Pirita, Tallinn. Architect Anton Soans, completed 1934, since demolished, garden view.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Summer house in Pirita, Tallinn. Architect Anton Soans, completed 1934, since demolished, backside view. Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Private residence at 40 Sõbra Street, Nõmme, Tallinn. Architect Eugen Habermann, 1939.
Photo © Martin Siplane, Museum of Estonian Architecture (2009)

Print workers holiday home in Aegviidu, Harju County. Architect Anton Soans, 1937.
Photo © Martin Siplane, Museum of Estonian Architecture (2013)

Public buildings as seasonal event spaces
In public architecture wood was more common in buildings with a more or less temporary character, and mainly in those intended for seasonal use. As in many other European countries, recreational activities, especially bathing and public sports events became increasingly popular in Estonia during the interwar years. Functionalism was quickly applied in public resort architecture such as beach pavilions and cafes, in sports facilities such as stadium grandstands, and in open-air stages in public parks.

In 1928 architects August Tauk (1892-1965), then still an engineer, and Konstantin Bölau (1899-1959) entered the architectural competition for the Pirita beach pavilion in Tallinn. Bölau's and Tauk's simple design for a wooden building might not look impressive at first glance, but asymmetrical floor plan, dynamic massing of building volumes, and facades which emphasise contrasts between horisontal windows and flat wall surfaces predicts the arrival of Functionalism. Competition entry "Mare" got a purchase prize (shared 4th-5th place), and without doubt looked more modern than the winning entry (architects Anton Soans, Edgar Johan Kuusik and Franz de Vries), which got built a year later.

Competition entry for the Pirita beach pavilion in Tallinn, elevations. Architects August Tauk, Konstantin Bölau, 1928. © City Archives of Tallinn 

Competition entry for the Pirita beach pavilion in Tallinn, floor plan and sections. Architects August Tauk, Konstantin Bölau, 1928. © City Archives of Tallinn 

One of the few monumental examples of wooden Functionalism in Estonia is the grandstand of the Pärnu stadium (completed 1933, demolished 1981) by architect Olev Siinmaa (1881-1948). Pärnu was – and still is – the most popular summer resort in Estonia. Siinmaa was municipal architect of Pärnu for several years. During the 1930s he designed numerous white Functionalist buildings, including his own home in Pärnu (1931-33), a masterpiece of Estonian Modernism.

Grandstand of the Pärnu Beach Stadium. Architect Olev Siinmaa, completed 1933, demolished 1981.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Siinmaa did not make frequent use of wood in his 1930s designs; the stadium is a rare exception. The grandstand was built on the foundations of its former predecessor and therefore maintained the latter’s symmetrical floor plan. In its details though, the new grandstand looked exceptionally modern. Wooden facades were left exposed in their natural beauty, while the curved walls and ribbon windows expressed the dynamism of the new, international architecture.

Inspired (allegedly) by Siinmaa’s sketch design for Pärnu’s beach pavilion (unrealised, 1934), engineers Robert Ederma and Erich Otting designed a spectacular beach building (design 1935, completed 1936, destroyed in WWII) for another resort town, Narva-Jõesuu in North-East Estonia, close to the border with Russia. The floor plan of the building, which comprised dressing-rooms, a restaurant, and utilitarian spaces, is again conservatively symmetrical but the facades with narrow ribbon windows, flat roof and simple detailing express the authors’ awareness of what a contemporary beach pavilion should look like.

Narva-Jõesuu beach pavilion. Engineers Robert Ederma, Erich Otting, design 1935, completed 1936, destroyed in WWII. Photo © Johannes Reitsnik, Museum of Estonian Architecture

Architect August Volberg (1896-1982) designed a simple Functionalist summer hotel (designed 1934, completed 1936, demolished in the 1990s) in yet another small coastal resort, Haapsalu in Western Estonia. A simple two-storey rectangular box with smaller volumes built on exuded tranquillity in the shade of majestic old trees; the facades were clad with horizontal wooden boards. For an open-air swimming arena in Tallinn, architect Tõnis Mihkelson (1887-unknown) designed an airy, romantic bathing pavilion (designed 1935, completed 1936, destroyed in a fire in 1974) with wide eaves to protect visitors from direct sunlight.

Summer hotel Ateena in Haapsalu. Architect August Volberg, design 1934, completed 1936.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Bathhouse in Mustamäe, Tallinn. Architect Tõnis Mihkelson, completed 1937.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture 

Construction of the bathhouse in Mustamäe, Tallinn. Architect Tõnis Mihkelson, 1936-37.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Estonian architecture of the 1930s responded to international Modernism in its own way – in accordance with the local climate, technological possibilities, and social circumstances. As a relatively cheap and accessible local material, wood made it possible to materialise modern architecture in a local, regionalist form. Wooden Functionalism never came to dominate Estonian architecture, but it embodied a peculiarly local, contextual response to broader changes in society and international architecture. As in several other European countries, by the mid-1930s architecture in Estonia had taken a more conservative direction. Nevertheless, dozens of interesting Functionalist buildings were designed and constructed in Estonia during the interwar period.

With regard to Estonian wooden Functionalism today, it has to be admitted that most of the public buildings described above have either burned down, been demolished, or been substantially rebuilt. Residential architecture from this time is in a somewhat better condition; several wooden villas and small apartment buildings from the 1930s have survived since they have been continuously inhabited and maintained. Most of these dwellings are located in Nõmme, Tallinn, but there are also original Modernist buildings influenced by local vernacular architecture in smaller Estonian towns like Rakvere and Sindi.

Original version of this article was published in the Project Baltia architecture magazine No. 04/16-01/17, p.126-130

Construction of the villa at 15 Raudtee Street, Sindi. Unlicensed engineer Alexander Laurfeldt, 1934-35.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

Villa at 15 Raudtee Street, Sindi. Unlicensed engineer Alexander Laurfeldt, completed 1935.
Photo © Museum of Estonian Architecture

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  • Arhitekt Nikolai Kusmin: 1906-1994 [Architect Nikolai Kusmin: 1906-1994]. Ed. Mihkel Karu, Tallinn, 2007
  • Eesti kunsti ajalugu. 5, 1900-1940 [History of Estonian art. 5, 1900-1940]. Ed. Mart Kalm, Tallinn, 2010
  • Funktsionalistlik maja [Functionalist dwelling]. Ed. Monika Eensalu, Tallinn, 2013
  • Puit Eesti arhitektuuris [Wood in Estonian architecture]. Ed. Leele Välja, Tallinn, 2016
  • Tallinna puitarhitektuur [Wooden architecture of Tallinn]. Ed. Leele Välja, Tallinn, 2014
  • Bruns, Dmitri. Tallinn. Linnaehituslik kujunemine [Tallinn. Development from the perspective of urban planning]. Tallinn, 1993
  • Kalm, Mart. Eesti 20. sajandi arhitektuur [Estonian 20th century architecture]. Tallinn, 2001
  • Kalm, Mart. Rannalinn, seenrõdu ja viinakapp: Pärnu linnaarhitekt Olev Siinmaa [Beach town, mushroom balcony and vodka cabinet: Pärnu city architect Olev Siinmaa]. Tallinn, 2012

    neljapäev, 17. august 2017

    Louis Kahn ja Arne Maasik soolalao keldris

    Bangladeshi parlamendihoone Dhakas. Foto © Arne Maasik 2017

    Näitus „Kahn. Magnum Opus. Arne Maasiku fotod“, kuraator Heie Treier, Eesti Arhitektuurimuuseumis Rotermanni soolalaos 01.06.-19.08.2017

    Sellel suvel on arhitekt Louis Kahni (1901-1974) loomingu austajatel võimalus fotode vahendusel tutvuda tema Aasiasse kavandatud hoonetega. Fotograaf Arne Maasik käis hiljuti pildistamas Bangladeshi parlamendihoonet Dhakas ning India ärijuhtimisinstituuti Ahmedabadis (India). Teisel pool maakera asuvatest hoonetest on kohapeal kujunenud rahvussümbolid; Kahni arhitektuuriloomingus kuuluvad need tema küpse perioodi põnevamate tööde hulka. Arne Maasiku sugestiivsed fotod, mida eksponeeritakse Rotermanni soolalao keldrisaalis, püüavad vaatajale edasi anda seda õhustikku, mis Kahni Aasia hooneid ümbritseb.

    Vanad kultuurid, noored demokraatiad ning nende arhitektuurisümbolid
    Bangladesh, mille territoorium on Eestist ligi kolm korda, elanikkond aga ligi sada korda (!) suurem, on maailma üks vaesemaid ja tihedamini asustatud riike. Pealinnas Dhakas asuvat parlamendihoonet hakati kavandama 1962. aastal, kui riik kandis veel Ida-Pakistani nime. Louis Kahn nägi siin erilist võimalust kavandada suursugune arhitektuuriansambel, mis täidaks nii esindusfunktsioone kui ka riigijuhtimise praktilisi vajadusi.  Ligi 80 hektari suurusel alal paiknev kompleks koosneb rahvusassamblee hoonest, kus on suur istungite saal, mitu administratiivplokki, mošee, söögisaal ja juhtkonna esindusruumid. Peahoone naabruses paiknevad saadikute residentsid ja abifunktsioone täitvad hooned.

    Dhaka ansambel, kus delikaatset rolli mängib ka maastikuarhitektuur, on küpsele Kahnile omaselt monumentaalne ning sünteesib muinaskultuuride ehituspärandit keskaegse kindlusarhitektuuri ja 20. sajandi modernismiga. Tähtsaimaks ehituskiviks, mida kasutada, pidas Kahn siin valgust, sest sel on nii poeetiline kui ka praktiline toime. Materjalidest domineerivad Kahni lemmikmaterjalid savitellis ja valubetoon, vormidest geomeetrilised põhielemendid ring, ruut, silinder, kuup jt. Erinevatel põhjustel venis Dhaka kompleksi kavandamine ja ehitus pikale (1962-1983); arhitekt seda valmiskujul ise näinudki. Peamiselt bengalitest koosneva elanikkonna jaoks on parlamendihoonest kujunenud rahvuslik sümbol ja riigi üks peamiseid visiitkaarte.

    Bangladeshi parlamendihoone Dhakas. Foto © Arne Maasik 2017

    Louis Kahniga 1950.-70. aastatel koostööd teinud eesti päritolu insener August Komendant oli Kahnile abiks ka Dhaka kompleksi kavandamisel. Oma mälestusteraamatus kirjeldab ta üsna sapiselt seda, kuidas Kahniga tolle käitumise pärast tülli pööras ning projekti juurest juba algfaasis lahkus. Komendant, kes hindas arhitektuuri esteetilise poole kõrval ka konstruktsiooni ratsionaalsust ja materjalide ökonoomset kasutust, ei pidanud Bangladeshi kompleksi Kahni parimaks tööks. Peale konstruktsioonilahenduste näis talle parlamendikompleksi arhitektuuri puhul vastu käivat ka Kahni soositud jõuline, abstraktne kujundikeel, mis eriti eksterjööris mängib ideega monumentaalsetest varemetest.

    Indias Ahmedabadi linnas paiknevat ärijuhtimisinstituudi kompleksi hakati samuti kavandama 1962. aastal, kuid see valmis Dhaka ansamblist veidi varem (1974). Uuendusmeelse kõrgkooli rajamise peamine tõuge oli vajadus koolitada kohalikke juhtimisspetsialiste – hiljuti iseseisvunud Indias oli käivitunud ulatuslik moderniseerumisprotsess. Kuigi naaberriigi parlamendikompleksiga võrreldes on Ahmedabadi kõrgkool oluliselt väiksem, on selle arhitektuur orgaaniline osa Louis Kahni küpse perioodi loomingust: ka siin kohtuvad omavahel arhailine ja modernne, lokaalne ja globaalne, mateeria ja metafüüsika.

    Kahni arhitektuur ja Kuressaare loss
    Kümmekond aastat on näituse kuraator, kunstiteadlane Heie Treier teinud süstemaatilist uurimistööd, mille fookuses on Louis Kahni loomingu ja tema (tõenäolises) sünnilinnas Kuressaares asuva keskaegse piiskopilinnuse vahelised seosed. Oma spetsiifilise meetodiga, mis tugineb eelkõige võrdlevale visuaal-kriitilisele analüüsile, püüab Treier tuvastada neid jälgi, mille võis noorele Louisele jätta monumentaalse arhitektuuriga Kuressaare loss ja selle ümberehitus 20. sajandi algaastatel. Arhitekti isa töötas nimelt ametnikuna lossi naabruses ning on võimalik, et vahel võttis ta poja tööle kaasa. Kahn on ka ise hiljem väitnud, et temast sai arhitekt juba kolmeaastaselt, see tähendab ajal, mil elas vanematega veel Kuressaares, toonases Arensburgis…

    Eitamata seda, et Kuressaare loss võis noorele Kahnile tugeva mulje jätta, on siiski küsitav, kas kogu arhitekti hilisemat loomingut on mõtet „lossikogemusele“ taandada. Arhitektuur on suuresti järjepidevusele, edasiantud kogemusele, st erialasele ekspertiisile tuginev eriala. Samuti on arhitektid läbi aegade saanud inspiratsiooni ja mõjutusi ajaloolisest, erinevate kultuuride ehituspärandist ning seda siis oma loomingus tõlgendanud, sünteesinud. Le Corbusier sai näiteks tugevalt inspiratsiooni Ateena Akropolist, eriti sealsest Parthenoni templist. Üksi Parthenonist jääks aga tema loomingu analüüsimisel ilmselgelt väheks. Üks kindel ajalooline hoone vaevalt suudab seletada kogu arhitekti loomingut.

    Ka Kahni puhul tundub mõistlik vaadata tema huvi monumentaalsuse, geomeetria, ajaloo, varemete ja kadunud tsivilisatsioonide vastu laiemas, sünteesivas raamistuses. Palju reisinud mehena oli tal vaevalt ühte kindlat hoonet, mis oleks tema töös mänginud domineerivat rolli. Arhitektuuriajaloolane William J. Curtis, kes on põhjalikult uurinud just Kahni Aasiasse kavandatud hooneid, on nii Dhaka kui ka Ahmedabadi  puhul inspiratsiooniallikatena näinud ajaloolisi templeid ja linnu erinevates Aasia paikades, kus arhitekt reisis, samuti keskaegset kindlusarhitektuuri (nimetamata küll Kuressaaret), aga ka modernistlikku, Kahni kaasaegset arhitektuuri (Le Corbusier’, Alvar Aalto jt looming).

    Siiani pole enamik välismaiseid Kahni-spetsialiste Eesti-seoseid ega ka Kuressaare lossi mõju kuigi oluliseks pidanud. Märgid siiski näitavad, et Heie Treieri, Arne Maasiku ja nende kaaslaste tegevuse tulemusel (publikatsioonid, näitused) on olukord muutmas. Võib arvata, et Kahni seosed Eestiga kirjutatakse lähitulevikus detailsemalt lahti ka rahvusvahelistes arhitektuuriajalugudes.

    Bangladeshi parlamendihoone Dhakas. Foto © Arne Maasik 2017

    Näitus Rotermanni soolalao võlvkeldris
    Soolalao näitusel Kuressaare seoste temaatika siiski ei domineeri ning külastaja võib keskenduda ka pelgalt fotodele. Sügavalt läbi tunnetatud ja hoolikalt kadreeritud Arne Maasiku fotodel kujutatud Kahni arhitektuur haakub soolalao keldri kaarjate vormidega tellisvõlvidega hästi. Nii fotod Bangladeshi parlamendihoonest kui ka Ahmedabadi juhtimiskoolist mängivad keldrisaali karakteriga kaasa. Kangale trükituna on fotod küll mõnevõrra kaotanud oma teravust, kuid tekstiili faktuur muudab pildid seda enam ruumiliseks. Justkui altarimaaliks on näitusele riputatud Louis Kahni tütre Alexandra Tyngi portreemaal oma isast, mis siiski maalitud tagantjärele (2006). Tavaliselt ripub see südamlik portree, mille taustal just Bangladeshi parlamendihoone, väärikalt Kuressaare barokse raekoja seinal.

    Kuigi tegemist on eelkõige fotonäitusega, oleks ehk võinud nii Dhaka kui ka Ahmedabadi hoonete arhitektuuri tutvustada ülevaatlikult ka jooniste ja lühiselgitustega. Dhaka hoonestusest on küll mõned aerofotod ja paar joonist, kuid Ahmedabadi puhul ei ole isegi ülevaatlikku fotot. Seepärast jääb ansamblite arhitektuuri terviklahendus raskesti hoomatavaks. Kuivõrd Louis Kahni käekiri on nende kahe kompleksi puhul üsna sarnane, siis on fotodelt kohati raske aru saada, kumma hoonega tegu. Enamik fotosid näitusel on igatahes Bangladeshi parlamendihoonest Dhakas. Neist silmapaistvaim on keldrisaali lõpus paiknev horisontaalformaadis kaader, kus Kahni monumentaalne arhitektuur astub dialoogi ümbritseva maastikuga.

    Artikkel ilmus algsel kujul ajalehes Postimees 19.06.2017