Under construction: The tradition of modern Latvian decorative art
Photo: personal archive
Since being taken out of my familiar environment of European Post - Soviet Latvia and living in Brexit Britain, I have been able to distinguish some key ideas about nationhood and aesthetics that I am curious to explore. As an embroidery artist, I'm gaining confidence in relating my work to my heritage and Latvian decorative arts, have begun exploring Soviet Latvia’s history and politics, and traditions within native textiles. The presence and legacy of Soviet rule is a crucial aspect of collective memory in Latvia and it is important for me to explore this in order to inform my practice. By compiling a literature review I will attempt to unravel the role of national identity in correspondence to history with USSR and textiles significance in nationhood.
Globalism, Nationalism and Design
Hugh Aldersey-Williams is addressing the interaction and dynamic between globalism, nationalism, identity and design. Each of these components inform the other, as globalism is affecting nationalism, how nationalism is linked with identity, but design invents different form of nationalism to comfort/reflect the individual. In this article the author is addressing the designer - where are the boundaries for nationalism, what is the demand for it and it concludes with a nod to reinvention and reinforcement of national identity if necessary. This article explores the necessity to adapt to globalisation meanwhile establishing identity for a nation to relate to. This publication illustrates the complex nature of what it means to be a creator today; juggling the pressure for “global design” with added need for nationality while keeping in mind an individual and their experience.
The author illustrates the rival nature between units mentioned earlier with a quote from Paul Ricoeur - “The phenomenon of universalisation, while being an advancement of mankind, at the same time constitutes a sort of subtle destruction, not only of traditional cultures, which might not be an irreparable wrong, but also of ... the creative nucleus of great cultures.” While at the same time Aldersey-Williams makes a point that any national design will be a political statement; one cannot design for nation and an individual and not have politics or globalisation present. In context of modern Latvian design, this clearly underpins a large portion of its self determination; merchandise with national symbols to make an individual included with a format used globally, but making a political statement within a nation. In the past years t-shirts and caps with handwritten “Latvian” on them has become a phenomenon, especially when written in Cyrillic script displaying the tension between ethnic minorities and Latvians, while illustrating a nationalist idea that has been copied time and time again.
The myth of a global citizen is a form of a millennial escape whilst being a signifier of our time; a generation connected over shared experiences through technology without geographical limitation. As societies are exposed to globalisation it puts nation in question; as individuals we will always seek out a group to belong to, identify with and contribute to. Globalisation is about a shared experience and there is no room for being insular; there is more to gain when adding to the experience of a global citizen than to reject. It is an exchange of experiences between cultures and the outcome is a culture that is accessible all over.
A recent phenomenon is merchandise with Latvian national symbols and slogans to show attachment to the society as the pop-culture is emerging with trends on Instagram and Facebook, and an overall culture of creating superficial affiliation. Mugs with national symbols, ethnographic jewellery etc. tend to show pride, while some people are sucked into the stream of having cliche items as it has become a trend in gift-giving more than a way of displaying pride. The victim is authentic craft - undervalued due to cheap merchandise without quality and or personality. The handcrafted market is left for tourists and Latvian emigrants with the intention that they would be the only ones to be ready to pay for it. This accurately illustrates the text - as a society, we are living up to the reality of globalisation; involved, global, but still very connected to our nation. The connection might not be as strong as it seems being based on prevalent superficial affiliation and is the opposite of meaningful display of nationhood.
Together and apart (2019)
Matīss Groskaufmanis and Evelīna Ozola in this publication of 2019 draw the attention to Soviet housing in the Latvian landscape, how it has shaped Latvian society and what it contributes to collective memory. Apartment buildings are a phenomenon in urban living in Latvia brought to a grand scale by USSR. These buildings represent the idea of 'living together and apart’ and the reality of luxury of owning a home (Groskaufmanis and Ozola, 2019). The over fetishised idea of owning a private house as a symbol of status and independence is negated by the 50% of Rigas neighbourhoods consisting of apartment housing. This topic was explored in Venice Architecture Biennale 2018 in Latvian pavilion - how apartment housing has shaped the society and what role it plays in political ideology, economical doctrine, and societal hierarchy (Groskaufmanis and Ozola, 2019). This book illustrates the severity of Soviet remnants in Latvian narrative today using Soviet architecture, the reality of Soviet housing, and how that follows through till today. It challenges the reader to sympathise with the reality of what's left from history, how it affects the daily life of an ordinary Latvian while explaining the real estate market and the progress of it through the last 40 years.
As mentioned above, these signifiers of time passed are being rejected by Latvian society as one would with a toxic break-up; changing furniture, rejecting design icons due to negative emotional attachment, etc. Snobby comments by private homeowners that Soviet apartment housing is for lowlife are very common. The portion of people who are able to reject and avoid Soviet housing is just as substantial as people who cannot, as this puts in perspective the discussion about how remnants of the USSR are still shaping generations and our society. The void created is left for Contemporary Latvian decorative art to fill, but instead, the design that has surrounded us is disappearing only to be replaced by Ikea and Jysk merchandise causing Soviet design icons to go extinct. It is more about the common known cycle of replacing meaning for “good taste” over time and substituting it with a trend.
These apartments that once represented the socialist utopia are now a flashpoint of tension between private homeowners and apartment dwellers as E. Ozola writes about the “sharing economy” that comes with it. The rejection comes from communal living, as the lack of personal space and Soviet ideologies understanding of the “young adult” has left a mark on many people (Mintaurs, 2018). That illustrates the fetishised private property as one has no obligation to participate in sharing and is independent and responsible for their own space.
The design and aesthetics of these apartment buildings are brutalist in nature, but decorative in a Soviet way, as it clearly translates from the Soviet regime of brutality and aggression, taking control, and a false sense of freedom. The culmination of industrial production gave the scale to plant and curate the environment in suburbs providing access to education and medical institutions, shops, and everyday services like hair salons, shoe repair shops, etc. whilst concentrating in one territory 3000 - 5000 residents (Mintaurs, 2018). The illusion of a sharing economy and dependence on favours from the government is at the core of many young adults' conceptualisation of the recent past in Latvia and reflects their understanding of a community that was designed and imposed on them. The necessity to create a “young adult” who would develop the socialist narrative furthermore, collapsed as the occupation failed in the early nineties; generation Z is the one disconnected from that narrative and has to learn to live with it while the physical remnants are still around. One can find fascination with those artefacts while treating them as a novelty; Faceted Glass, Modular Furniture, and other everyday items surrounding us create the novelty of an era that we were not a part of. The recent publication of this book of such a narrow subject shows the attachment and curiosity to the Soviet era - the nostalgia and idea of preserving ideology and artefacts of a time so radically different while discussing society's response towards the shift in state.
SHARED IDENTITY
The Soviet occupation of Latvia has left damage in the collective memory of society; emotional attachment to these memories is still deep as living family members were deported, land collectively taken and sense of nationalism destroyed. MarxistLeninist ideology created a false sense of security; imperialism, communism, and socialism took over and redefined “Latvian destiny” to fit the Soviet framework. “Latvian destiny” as defined by V. Skultans in Testimony of Lives as 'the farmstead as a pastoral idyll and the joy of being a shepherd’ paints a perfect picture of Latvian national aesthetic (Skultans, 1998).
As a small nation with a history of domination by Germans, Swedes, and the Russian empire due to the desired geographical location, Soviet occupation was familiar, but the most painful as Latvia was already an independent and progressive country this time. Soviet regime planted new housing, grand infrastructure, and politics. Soviet architecture and aesthetics and design created in that period of time, it has become a shared identity for every post-USSR nation trough invented tradition that Hobsbawm and Ranger are discussing in Invention of Tradition. It is a shared experience; familiar, relatable, therefore a sign of comfort and security - all the same qualities I would assign to tradition. The dynamic that lies in brutalist buildings, as of the shared experience, involve tradition-like rituals. One knows where to park, where to find the stairs or elevator, the layout of the flats, and the relative idea of where the hallway might lead. This familiarity gives a sense of community as with the idea of living together but apart, and an idea of community that is in question in Latvia.
Because of the divide in ethnicities, there always will be a tendency of Latvians to be divided from Russian Latvians, this connects to the fetishising of a private residence. The problem that is occurring now is that, because half of Rigas neighbourhoods consist of Soviet apartment housing, there is nowhere to escape them and the traditions that are
involved. Economically it’s not the time to tear down half of the housing in the city and there is no trust in the new. The old is tried and true, the new is too new to adapt and involves new set of traditions that need inventing.
Invention of Tradition by Hobsbawm and Ranger written in 1983 talks about the significance, importance and invention of tradition; how traditions are prone to dying out, can be adjusted to fit different frameworks (political, religious etc.) and reinvented. Hobsbawm makes a point of invented traditions -“important symptoms and therefore indicators of problems which might not otherwise be recognised, and developments which are otherwise difficult to identify and to date. They are evidence.” Hobsbawm and Ranger are addressing what tradition means and how much of it is made up to fit an idea; throughout history, there is an adaptation of tradition, which can be crucial for the longevity of tradition itself and now it is time for Latvian art to create authentic tradition truly of its time.
Despite being a nation steeped in the material culture of Soviet Russia ideology, Latvia always has had its own national design aesthetic. Art production from 1941-1992 was regulated and funded by Artist’s Union of Latvia (Artist’s Union of USSR at the time) in compliance with Soviet standards to sustain art demand all over USSR. In many cases, artists were removed from AUL due to lack of compliance with USSR rules for art, which made them outcasts and more difficult to make a livelihood from their art. AUL provided artists with work, funding, and certain privileges such as skipping the line for a car or an apartment, discounts on studio space, and trips abroad for their practice development which were tightly supervised. This was a Soviet battle against the US to prove their superiority across all boards while state-sanctioned art and artists were held on a short leash. Most of the Latvian art qualities are visible within the concealed artworks, as they show national identity and rebellion. All of the mentioned qualities were quite subtle and cleverly used to make the point come across; the empowerment of a choice to not comply with regulations should be brought into the light and celebrated widely across the industry. A step to create an exhibition of the censored artworks would be quite drastic and controversial but would illustrate clearly the idea of invented traditions. Wide recognition of control and abuse of power in the invented tradition framework would open the door of inventing a new environment to welcome nationalist art for Latvia and its future.
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Textiles have a long history and as a medium they are concomitant with tradition, involving sourcing, making, using, and wearing. In Latvia, textile culture is purely material based around available sourced fibres as linen and wool. The national dress has become one of the most common and dedicated ways of showing affiliation to our culture and nation. Quintessential performance of nationhood is evident at Song and Dance Festival in every 4-5 years in Riga when all folk ensembles are dressed in national costume from their region, the audience follows through with whatever they can wear to fit in the “Latvian destiny” fantasy.
Any time when a national costume is worn, a question arises - is it accurate to the region and time period? Folklorists will harshly point out mistakes in the tradition of wearing a costume regarding the time period, marital status, and region that it is supposed to resemble. That is a response to the freedom of curating one's own costume, while in some cases the region is chosen not by birthplace, but the aesthetic presented. A mild form of cultural appropriation is noticeable with the intent of honouring the heritage and showing affiliation; today wearing a costume while it is traditional, it does serve the purpose of inventing a collective identity through textiles for the 21st century Latvian.
As the folklorist movement was reborn in the 1980s in Latvia, traditional skills have emerged and been revalued. While the skills involved in preserving traditions of textiles are precious, they require pastoral and traditional setting to have a monetary value. If newly invented traditions could change the direction of Latvian decorative art, how much traditional textile skills with newly invented frameworks would change textile consumption?
In a global world, Latvians are made to re-value our traditions of national dress, as a rejection of globality that Hugh Aldersey-Williams was addressing in Globalism, Nationalism and Design to reinvent a traditional 21st century Latvian. The longevity of an invented tradition of performing nationality trough folklore can shape a lasting ideal trough time to stay in touch with a nation even through severe changes in politics; this tradition has been reinvented to comply with communism, and once again to give grounds for Soviet-less Latvia. Invention of Tradition by Hobsbawm and Ranger and Together and apart by Matīss Groskaufmanis and Evelīna Ozola together prove the importance of questioning, analysing and preserving the traditions of today; they might change, die out or become even stronger over time to support our ever-changing world.
This literature review provides some insight as to how a specific Latvian experience correlates in a Global World; how invented traditions have affected many generations by structuring a tangible narrative for a future that failed. Some recognition goes for the last 30 years in rebuilding Latvian narrative and attempts to restructure society whilst decorative art is set free. Now is the time to recognise the freedom from Khrushchyovka and look forward to a Soviet-less nation and it’s triumph. In light of this realisation as an embroidery artist and former resident of Soviet housing, it has lead me to explore and pay tribute to this very sensitive and unique phase of Latvian nationhood as I am commemorating this experience in my work and try to transition to the next Latvian art narrative.
