The city is a union of two spaces: one of these is purposefully organised, the other develops spontaneously. Cities are planned and architects deliberately create the cityscape, thinking about the future. This to some degree is an attempt to influence the environment according to devised principles. However, the environment is often defined spontaneously, and often unconsciously, by the influence of the people. Professional designers or artists are cosmopolitan in their visions, even if they are interested in local characteristics. Although there are people who, through their actions, become unconsciously involved in the process of design, and quietly help form the identity of a city. Riga has an East European problem. For a long time this kind of self-initiated activity was impeded and controlled by the State. Now there is more freedom of self expression, although I cannot say that it manifests itself effectively. This is perhaps also linked to some kind of local mentality – people find it easier to acquire already finished forms and add original details to them, rather than invent something totally new. The current state of affairs is not sharply rejected by people, so there is no relational drama. Perhaps that’s also why there’s no “artistic” suburb like UΩupis in Vilnius – although you can’t artificially create places like that. If you open a cafe or gallery with the only aim of starting a business, then it is doubtful if you will introduce anything new to the urban space. A place like this must introduce ideas about what you wish to find in your city. Good examples of this are the cafes Goija and Istaba. The example of Moscow also comes to mind, where business projects are successfully developing, and cafes are being combined with galleries and book stores (for example, the chain store ОГИ). These take root in an earlier, informal “kitchen” culture. Businesses like this often begin when someone decides to convert their apartment into a cafe. In this way the kitchen expands its walls into the whole apartment, and the apartment becomes a public space. Unfortunately, in Riga there is only one place like this – the cafe Ûako, which was opened by its owners in their own house in Pårdaugava. A few years ago this hosted a very active cultural life with DJs and theme nights. Young artists tended to gather there. Now, particularly in the summertime, you meet them more often at Andrejsala. The most active cultural precinct in Riga is the city centre, where space is expensive, that’s why it is difficult for this kind of emotional, non-commercial projects to develop. The appearance of Andrejsala has changed this situation somewhat, because the rent is cheap, it is close to the city’s main freeways, and galleries have began to open etc. At the moment it is unclear what will happen there in five years time. In terms of the future it would be good if there were some large cultural building at Andrejsala: a contemporary art museum, for example, which would attract visitors with a permanent arts programme. This would also help independent projects.
The current structure of the arts developed by the city has a more protective nature. Wealthy people, who have no respect for historical values, wish to change the city beyond recognition, whereby we would lose the city that we know. However I currently don’t see any anchor places for culture, which have been built in the public space and which engage the public – perhaps the new concert hall or library will serve this function. A foundation should be established, which supports small projects – for example, the old idea about the book bar and others.
It is a positive thing if the city has enough resources to make a more definite image for itself: in the process of globalisation, difference is that which gives value. The link with tradition is important. If Swedish design has a strong foundation from which to develop, and can plan for Göteborg tram cars to look different to those of Stockholm, the Latvian situation is different by comparison. Our most difficult challenge is to create an inheritance, to find things – perhaps they could be, for example, VEF radios – which have an image, emotionality, which could inspire the objects of the future. The most difficult aspect is to create a balance between tradition and innovation. Currently there is a conflict between those who are officially creating the image of the city and the interests of the inhabitants who are trying to shape the city. Both sides should collaborate, there could be economically justified models of cooperation. Riga has a short memory, it is quickly freed of the cultural symbols of the recent past – the 1960s and 70s. Each new generation builds the city anew.
Speaking of the subculture of Riga – graffiti in the old town looks like violence, the old buildings themselves hold enough information. The new suburbs with their standard multi-storey buildings are another issue, however (in my childhood I always found it difficult to find my grandmother’s house at Jugla): in these areas this kind of roadsign is appropriate. A real master of graffiti should be gifted with a feel for Japanese tact. Our graffiti artists are more like partisans, for whom the most important is to draw something, and then to run away. Often they have the need to express themselves without any sense of the message and without any communication style. This is no longer graffiti but visual rubbish. I am always interested in the development of subculture – how one replaces the other – although at the moment a certain stagnation can be seen, there’s nothing essentially new. Perhaps this is related to social structure: early opportunities for a well-paid career – particularly in Eastern Europe – are destroying alternative movements. This creates a particular shortage of brains, because talent is ‘snapped up’ straight away. The protest movements of the past were global attempts to live differently. Now it is more a question of style – to live a ‘normal’ life and to make it more colourful, giving it a relevant subculture design.
Material prepared by Ilze Martinsone