Tag: Tallinn Trip

I accept that “punishment twigs” sounds almost whimsical, like something out of a fairy tale where misbehaving children are playfully swatted with willow branches, but the reality was far from a fairy tale. The Russian authorities didn’t like the 1905 uprisings against them and although initially political parties were allowed, the Tsar soon ordered newspapers to be closed down, meetings prohibited and revenge punishments were meted out to those responsible. The introduction of martial law meant that the court process was suspended and that the word of a local landowner or vicar was enough to impose a punishment. Those accused on taking part in the uprisings were sentenced to 500 lashes of twigs which had been soaked in salt-water barrels, a punishment designed to maximise pain and almost literally add insult to injury.

The twigs on display at the museum were used to punish wrong-doers in front of the Kohila Parish House. Kohila is in northern Estonia and in the uprising in the town, the manor house was badly damaged in the disputes. Fourteen of the rioters were sentenced to death by Russian troops and the Lord of the Manor was so shaken by the whole thing that he sold the site to a paper pulp factory. But whatever freedoms the Russians tried to limit, the resilience of the Estonian people fought them off and there’s a lesson for history….

I mentioned the 1905 uprising in Tallinn in my last post.

This is the original wooden memorial cross that was erected in New Market (Vabaduse väljak) in Tallinn to commemorate those who died during the demonstrations.

The museum didn’t say where this had been stored for over 100 years, I’m partly surprised that the Soviet overseers didn’t have it hidden away somewhere during their period of occupation after the Second World War. This is such a symbolic exhibit that it feels a little understated, a solemn reminder of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of Estonian independence.

Back to artworks, this one is in the Estonian History Museum.

Painted by Aleksander Peek in 1966, this painting depicts the events of 16 October 1905 (or what is now 29 October due to changes in the calendar) in Tallinn (then called Reval) when a general strike had spread due to widespread dissatisfaction with the authorities. The strike had become violent and a number of those not taking part had their houses looted and burnt by a mob, who then went to the Town Hall to demand political liberties and large amounts of cash. The Mayor, who didn’t have much choice here, gave them the money but couldn’t do much about the liberties that the mob demanded. Shops were plundered and the mob got drunk and then started singing revolutionary songs as anger against the Russians continued. This wasn’t unique to Estonia either, there were uprisings across the Russian Empire which was starting to crumble.

The Governor said that political liberties might be given, but demanded that the mob break up. They refused and thousands of people went to New Market Square to demand revolution, but Russian army Captain Nikolai Mironov said that the troops would fire on them if they didn’t disperse. It’s hard not to feel sorry for the Russian army here on the ground, they tried what they could to get people to disperse as they didn’t much want to shoot anyone, much as the senior officers seemed unconcerned by the violence that was to follow. The crowds that had now reached 10,000 people didn’t disperse so the Russian army were ordered to fire on them, killing 94 and injuring over 200 more. Order was restored for that evening, but the long-term impact was more serious for the Russian Government. History is told by the victors and all that, because this moment has gone into history as one of the defining moments of Estonian independence and it led to Tsar Nicholas II introducing legislation to allow for political parties to form in Estonia. Every single party that was created effectively wanted the end to Russification and wanted national self-determination, but only weeks after political parties were allowed the people of Tallinn found themselves living under martial law.

It’s a dark painting which is deliberately grim, the soldiers are given no humanity by having their backs shown, a terrifying moment. The lampposts light up those fleeing for their lives and dissolving into the surrounding chaos.  chapter in their history.

My eagle-eyed readers, who probably have better vision than us on that particular day, will have already spotted the slight flaw in our plan to visit an observation deck when it was just a little cloudy. However, we got free entry with our Tallinn Card and it was either that or endure another rendition of Bev’s ‘I wanna go to the zoo’ monologue.

The entrance to the tower and it was evident that they wouldn’t be getting many visitors that day.

Some older imagery of the TV tower.

An old radio.

Steve reading the news. Like a professional….

The lift up, the anticipation rising of just how much we could see.

Inside the observation deck where we mingled effortlessly with the other one visitor. As a little bit of history, this tower was constructed between 1975 and 1980 and it stands 313 metres high, with the observation deck at 170 metres. The total tower weight is around 20,000 tonnes and apparently the centre of gravity is in the base of the tower which explains why it doesn’t fall down.

Enjoying the beautiful view. All a bit lumpy really (I think that’s how meteorologists describe clouds) and Steve pondered how to make an exciting video with this material.

I went outside to get an even better view of the clouds.

Marvellous.

It was a bit blowy up there.

I went onto the computer to see a live view of the cloud. It was just as exciting as seeing it in person.

And here’s what we could have seen.

It’s possible to see to Helsinki in Finland on a really clear day.

Tallinn city centre. I mean, we’d just come from the city centre and so it might have been easier to take an actual photo of it……

Susanna playing. Some of the party had faffed about to get some photos of themselves, a service being offered for free by the venue as something was closed. Now, me, being the epitome of humility and selflessness, decided to pass on this golden opportunity, “it’s not all about me,” I thought, channelling my inner Gandhi. The others are a bit more like Donald Trump so they wanted a photo of themselves posing in front of something or other. It transpired, a bit too late, that I had been the only one listening to the staff member at the welcome desk about how to collect the free photos. The others? Not so much. They were too preoccupied with achieving the perfect selfie angle, oblivious to the crucial instructions. Thus, due to a collective lack of attention and an overabundance of selfie-induced narcissism, the dream of free photographic immortality was cruelly snatched from their grasp.

Waving goodbye to the TV tower. It is somewhere that I’d go back to if I returned to Tallinn and got another Tallinn Card, which is looking not unlikely at the moment.

Just like the bovine sculpture, I can’t find out much about this rather unconventional imagery of a hare seemingly randomly placed in Tallinn. The skeletal frame probably has a meaning, but I don’t know what it is, but I like a little bit of whimsy every now and then. Maybe it’s a commentary on the fragility of life, or a hair-raising (see what I did there?) whimsical creation from the artist who likes hares. On the bright side, at least no pesky kids have been popping litter into the frame or some other such vandalism. It’s located near ton the PoCo Pop And Contemporary Art Museum, but I can’t establish whether it’s linked to them or not. And I hope it is a hare and not a rabbit.

And apologies to my two loyal blog readers that I have no idea on who sculpted this, but I doubt it’ll keep either of them awake at night worrying.

This magnificent metal beast, gracing the streets of Tallinn with its imposing presence, is all about raw power. He’s like the Gordon (a mutual friend who didn’t come on this trip) of the animal kingdom, sculpted entirely out of bicycle chains or something similar. I’m not sure what the locals think, but who needs a Lamborghini when you can have this bad boy parked outside your office?

But perhaps the most exciting aspect of this sculpture is its placement in the heart of Tallinn. Amidst the cobblestone streets and medieval architecture, this metallic bull stands as a symbol of… well, I’m not quite sure what. Financial markets? Industrial strength? The Estonian dairy industry? Probably more likely that it is linked to the nearby art museum, but I like the whimsical addition to the area. I like it, even though I don’t know who sculpted it, nor indeed anything more about it but it shows there’s more to Tallinn than medieval spires and cobblestones.

The evening meal of choice was Beer and Barrel, selected as part of my usual kind “I’ll provide three restaurants that I like the sound of, but you lot can pick which one” offer. I managed to get us to the venue without any issues, which is fortunate because it was pouring with rain and I don’t think there would have been much tolerance for any incompetence on my behalf.

Thinking about the menu options, although I had obviously decided what I was having from the on-line menus before leaving the hotel. Bev prefers to wait until we get there and then ask 28 questions about the menu, but Steve and I rarely mention how she’s holding us up.

My first beer was the Reloaded from Tanker Brewery, taste of stonefruit and it was hoppy and rich.

My starter of the boar jerky, not the most exciting of dishes to be fair in terms of the taste and we thought that Ross had gone for the best option with the calamari.

The main course of chicken schnitzel with coleslaw salad, fries and a honey mustard mayonnaise was much better, with tender chicken and creamy coleslaw. It’s had to go wrong with breaded chicken, or at least, not without a degree of incompetence. This was a filling dish and I liked the crispiness of the coating.

The dessert of apple pie with ice cream and a caramel sauce was also suitably delicious with the crumble element giving some extra texture.

My second beer was the 10.5% ABV Black Pearl Tatakoto Bourbon Barrel Aged Black Barleywine which was boozy, chocolatey, Bourbony, rich and delicious. It’s not the lightest of beers of course, but it proved a rather lovely sipping drink.

It’s not the largest of venues, but the staff member was kind enough to give us the large central table which was handy for our group size. The service was attentive and polite, with the ladies in a group being delighted that they were served first. They’re like ravenous pigeons those two and, fortunately, Bev didn’t dither too much with the ordering on this occasion. The prices were reasonable and I liked the selection of craft beers which were available, something which had drawn me to the venue in the first place. It’s no real surprise that this establishment basks in a constellation of five-star online reviews, I’d merrily go back here again.

I’ve finished my series of artwork posts for the moment, so just one to tie them all together and bring this exploration of the visual realm to a temporary end. We got in this art gallery free of charge because we had the Tallinn Card, something that proved to be excellent value during our few days in the city.

The Kadriorg Art Museum, a rather lovely specimen of Baroque architecture nestled within Tallinn’s equally splendid Kadriorg Park. Although an art gallery now, it was originally a palace built for a Tsar, Peter the Great, to be precise, a man not known for his minimalist tastes. Peter the Great believed that Russia’s future lay as a European country, but I’d better not get further entangled with that little debate.

Constructed in the early 18th century, this palace is something of a delightful confection of pastel colours, ornate details, and enough columns to satisfy even the most ardent Greco-Roman enthusiast. It boasts a rather impressive collection of European and Russian art, spanning from the 16th to the 20th century, including Flemish masters, Italian virtuosos and some Russian talent as well.

Designed by the renowned architect Nicola Michetti, the palace is certainly opulent, but the Russian Royal family showed little interest in it after Peter the Great had died. Its façade is grand and adorned with intricate stuccowork, whilst the palace’s interior is equally impressive, featuring a grand hall with soaring ceilings, ornate plasterwork and allegorical paintings inspired by the French court of Louis XIV. It’s not really the sort of place that I’d fancy living in, those high ceilings would be a bit much for me I think. I can imagine that Richard, who I don’t think is reading this, would rather fancy himself in here though holding his soirees. As a gallery, I thought it was a useful place to meander around.

As for our little group, Steve and I walked to get the bus back to the hotel, whilst Bev and Susanna spent more hours than are healthy meandering around it for a little longer before they powered up CityMapper and wandered around a bit lost. Ross had long since gone back to the hotel, his interest in galleries had waned much earlier on. Anyway, that’s my series of artworks posts finished (treat them as something of a palate cleanser), at least for the moment. I think this blog needs a bit more food, so that can be the next post. Always willing to put in a bit of anticipation for my two loyal blog followers.

Definitely nearly there with these artwork posts…..

I puzzled over the concept of this artwork, there are beautiful hues of the sky, a finely painted seascape, a rather nice statue and then a bloody great volcano erupting. Maybe it’s a profound statement about finding inner peace amidst the chaos of existence, or maybe Aivazovsky (1817-1900) just had a surplus of grey paint. But, I wouldn’t want to put an artwork up on my wall which foretold a great disaster where thousands of people died.

The artist, Ivan Aivazovksy, is something of an icon in Russia to this day, he painted numerous battle scenes as well as seascapes. Perhaps he just likes a bit of disaster, who knows. He’s become rather controversial recently, some people and institutions (including the Metropolitan Museum of Art) called him a Ukrainian painter and some cities in the country have removed street names he was honoured with. And the Russian army have stolen some of his artworks from Ukrainian institutions. Controversy continues on the matter as can be seen at https://artlyst.com/art_market_news/looted-ukrainian-painting-sells-1-million-russian-auction-house/.

I really will get bored of writing about artworks soon, I’ve got a whole trip about Tallinn to finish, let alone my riveting thoughts about other places I’ve since visited. I’m currently in Faro, it’s confusing my mind just a little to be thinking about Portugal, Tallinn and Norwich all at the same time. But, I will persist with my ‘profound’ insights whilst trying to calm my wanderlust which has been a little out of control recently, although I think it’s probably good for my soul.

Our star player here, looking all regal and whatnot, is Johann Friedrich the Magnanimous, Elector of Saxony. I’d like to be called the Julian the Magnanimous I think, although it’s not a word that my friends have used before about me, so it’s not looking likely at the current rate. Let’s not forget the fashion statement. Johann’s rocking that velvet robe like it’s nobody’s business. It’s so richly detailed, you can practically hear the artist complaining about carpal tunnel. But hey, when you’re an Elector, comfort comes second to looking fabulous. It was painted in around 1550 by the workshop of Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553). There must be some political intrigue here as to why this was painted, but I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to understand Saxony politics in the mid-sixteenth century but he clearly wanted to look like a man of status.