Riga: Rain, Ruminations and Radiant Art Nouveau

Leo Pole’s Apartment House, an excellent example of Art Nouveau architecture in Riga, designed by Mikhail Eisenstein, built in 1903.

During my 2023 travels across Eastern, Central, and Northern Europe and a dash of Asia, I aimed to balance city exploration with country hikes, ideally in forests or mountains. Having been spoiled by the stunning lakes and peaks of Poland’s Tatras, Romania’s Zărnești in the Carpathians, and the Czech Beskydy Mountains, the Baltics initially felt like a bit of an anticlimax. Around Vilnius, there were plenty of forests, but the high mountains I’d been craving were nowhere to be found.

Then I arrived in Riga, Latvia. From the bus stop, the scene was pure chaos: hundreds of travellers, rain pelting down, luggage juggling in a frantic bid to find the right bus. Crossing some roads proved impossible without descending into underpasses—and there were no lifts in sight. Hauling my suitcase down and back up again, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone with mobility challenges managed; taxis must be the only solution. My suspicion was confirmed the next day on a city tour. Our guide, who seemed more frustrated than inspiring, grumbled about the underpasses’ inaccessibility and the glaring lack of bike lanes.

The Stairwell of the Art Nouveau Centre.

During the tour, held on a Saturday when it wasn’t raining (but was unseasonably cold for July) I took the opportunity to ask the guide, Richard why the city seemed so quiet. Again, in depreciating terms, he answered that most people in Riga go away for the weekend and have a holiday house somewhere. Looking around I also noticed the prevalence of food deliverers from Wolt and Bolt (no Uber though) on their bikes, probably more than I have seen in any other country. So, one could assume that people didn’t go out much in Riga or stayed indoors and ordered in. Of course, this wasn’t the case for everyone. As is the case for many European cities, the Old Town section was full of tourists and in Riga, there were plenty of British boozers taking part in Beer Bikes, gliding dangerously around town. Pubs catered to these crowds by playing cricket or ManU games on their big screens.

I had been very lucky with weather up until now with mostly fine days. Only one week ago, there was ‘heat wave’ (temperatures of above 30 in Europe) in neighbouring Vilnius. I decided to be sensible to the point of obsessively checking the weather forecast as I had aimed to visit Gauja National Park during my five-night stay in Riga. I’d planned out the hike route and bus times, but I eventually had to concede that a hike wasn’t going to happen. With rain occurring every day, I utilised the benefits of my ICOM pass and visited four museums on Sunday, soaking up views of the stunning architecture in between each stop. On Monday, with most museums closed, I visited one only, The Museum of Occupation. But adjacent to this museum, I found myself back in the Old Town District, in a major square facing one of the prettiest, most ornate (and most photographed) buildings in Riga, the House of the Blackheads.

House of the Blackheads, front entrance and side building; it was rebuilt in the 1990s.

It was still pelting down rain, so, despite the inevitability of an entry charge (I’d been benefiting from free entry to most museums with my ICOM pass) I sallied forth in the tourist queue. Although the House of the Blackheads defines itself as a museum, some traditional museum preventative conservation rules were waived. Ticket ‘packages’ included the option to have either a coffee or a glass of ‘sparkling wine’ along with your ticket for an extra 1 or 2 euros. I opted for the bubbles and was informed that I should walk upstairs with it. I was a little horrified at the idea of walking around this gorgeous palace like museum with a drink in hand but soon got used to it. Upstairs was a large ballroom decorated with crystal chandeliers and a large grand piano. Piped piano music, mostly covers of pop songs filled the room and a young couple waltzed around making the most of the ambience. In some of the rooms, games and chess sets were in use, a great way for families to install a love of chess and occupy a few hours whilst it continued to drizzle outside. I succumbed to the knowledge that this was not the usual museum experience and went with it. Next door was gallery of portraits of past rulers, mostly equestrian.

Equestrian portrait and furniture (that visitors could sit on!); chandeliers and grandeur upstairs at the Huse of the Blackheads.

After quaffing my bubbly I headed downstairs, returned my glass but then discovered that there was more to see. I learnt that the historical cellar is the only original part of the building which survived World War II and during the Soviet Occupation. Until the early 1990s it was buried underground and not visible. The cellar is one of the few places where it is possible to walk through an authentic underground of Old Riga, where the remains of wall fragments, floor and even the wooden stairs are original, and some of that is dated as far back as the 14th century. This was former storage for goods and part of it was space for a hypocaust or warm air furnace. Display cabinets showcased both historic and contemporary examples of silver, so I assumed there was a collection policy in place.

Furniture in the House of the Blackheads.

If, like me you are still wondering how the brotherhood got its name, then you may also be surprised to learn that they took their name from their patron saint, the Egyptian Christian Saint Maurice, who was seen as having dark skin. There is a figure of the saint at the front of the building but not much else. Throughout the building, dark skinned figures proliferate.

The original house was dated back to 1334. It was designed as a venue for meetings and banquets hosted by the Brotherhood of Blackheads; a guild of unmarried merchants, shipowners, and foreigners residing in Riga. The house was known for its wild parties and the Brotherhood is credited with displaying the first public Christmas tree in 1510. The House of the Blackheads was fully restored in 1999 as per the saying once written on the building’s entrance: “Should I ever crumble to dust, rebuild my walls you must”.

The House of the Blackheads Coat of Arms.

After attending an Art Nouveau themed tour, I returned the next day to one of the sites, the Pauls Stradiņš Medicine History Museum. It wasn’t so much the interior of the museum that impressed me but their audacity in displaying a gigantic anti-Putin banner directly opposite the Russian embassy.

Independent Ukraine street, the newly named street alongside the Russian embassy.

Anti Putin banner hanging from the Pauls Stradiņš Medicine History Museum, opposite the Russian embassy.

The museum, which focuses on the history of medicine’s official statement was ‘With the poster, we express our support for Ukraine and, using our location towards the Russian Embassy, express our clear position against Putin’s war in Ukraine!’

The text “What you sow, you reap it” was originally attached to the poster. The well-known director David Lynch commented on the war in Ukraine: “If I could say anything to President Vladimir Putin, it would be: ‘As human beings, we are responsible for the way we treat others.’ There is a strict and infallible law of nature that cannot be avoided. And this law is, Thou shalt sow, and reap.

The museum is the collection of the oncologist and professor Pauls Stradiņš who came up with the idea of a medical museum inspired by Scottish Surgeon John Hunter’s collection at the British Museum. Its first location in 1945 was at a German military delousing workshop. But its official date was 1957 when Stradiņš gifted his entire collection of medical objects to the Soviet Union (Latvia was under soviet occupation at the time). This was a brave move at a time when collecting cultural objects was seen as bourgeois and therefore rejected by the Communism.

The eclectic themes outlined in the permanent collection exhibition are:

· Health and wellness materials

· Siberian Shaman’s items

· Medical technologies and instruments

· Medicinal products

· Patient history

· Leprosarium

· Space

· Ilya Mechnikov’s objects

· Covid-19 (yes, it’s now a historical focus!)

Inside the museum, I was struck by the first exhibit, a painting of the Pauls Stradiņš’ eldest daughter, Irena, an artist who suffered from depression and eventually committed suicide. The intention of the display of this work was to draw attention to how mental health was treated differently to today in the former USSR. Notably, the final exhibition was a contemporary art exhibition focusing the mental health as a theme. In between those two foci, the rest was a history and collection of confronting objects collected by the doctor, from human dummy figures being subjected to amputations (without anaesthetic) to dentist chairs resembling torture chambers, reminding me of some of my painful dental experiences in the past before doctors used numbing sprays. For some reason, families thought this would be a good place to take the kids or maybe it was just something to do on a Sunday when the weather was cold.

The Museum is particularly proud of its collection of the personal effects of microbiologist and Nobel laureate Ilya Mechnikov. The progress of science also owed a great deal to animals, although most of them in the unenviable role of experimental subject. The Two-Headed Dog, sometimes known as Double-dog,  the result of a transplantation experiment by Soviet doctor Demikhov was in fact commissioned by the Museum.

At this point I stopped taking photos. I could not fathom that someone would transplant the head of one dog onto another and even more confronting, was that both dogs did live for up to a month. An image of the dogs alive and taxidermized is available here if you have a strong stomach. I did not want to be complicit in enjoying this freakshow of cruelty. 

Olga Silova’s Dolls, 2010, viewed in the exhibition Don’t Cry! Feminist Perspectives in Latvian Art: 1965–2023 at The Latvian National Museum of Art

Education wise, perhaps surprisingly, I appreciated more about history from the art museums in Riga. Perhaps it’s when you don’t expect to learn that it happens the most, like when watching a great film. The Latvian National Museum of Art was one of those museums that ticked many boxes. Despite the grand and traditional building, the interiors on the first floor were well suited to display contemporary (or at least late 20th century) art as well as the old masters. One of their collection displays focused on art between 1985-1991. Whilst this period for me was a time of university study, child raising and if there was any spare time, immersion in the 80s culture of music, I had no idea of how those in countries under soviet occupation lived. To me it was just a big slab of USSR, and a geographical mystery. The artists in Dismantling the Wall. Latvian Art 1985–1991 each expressed ideas about how they lived and felt during this period of socio-political change. The title of the exhibition refers to Kristaps Ģelzis’ video installation Dismantling the Wall in which the wall can be seen as an ideological symbol for the Iron Curtain which divided Europe for four decades.

After viewing several exhibitions on the same floor and upstairs I again found that there was more to be found in the basement. Firstly, descending down the ramp was an experience in itself. The museum has built their painting storage area so that it is viewable from outside, demystifying the whole storage idea and you can’t help but view the area as you go downhill. At that point I really wished I could transport all the Victorian Making and Exhibiting students there so that they would walk around and see it like I could. Even further downstairs was yet another exhibition, Don’t Cry! Feminist Perspectives in Latvian Art: 1965–2023. Rather than paraphrasing, the exhibition statement gives an excellent background to feminism in art and in Latvia. With so many artworks to view, I gave up photographing and just enjoyed the moment. One artwork that moved me in a surprising way was Diana Tamane’s Family Portrait. Over time, the artist has filmed herself with her mother, grandmother and great grandmother. In Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests, it showed that it can be difficult for a sitter in a film to sit still without showing any emotion, and in Family Portrait this can be the case for the viewer (no spoilers in case you get to view it!). Another photographic series showed two friends who photographed themselves together over many years, naked. Their bodies changed when one of them transitioned to becoming non-binary and another one required a mastectomy. Although created in 2010, Olga Silova’s Dolls throws another Postmodern spin on the barbie mania with a series of dolls, all of ‘colour’ and wearing black clothes varying from uniforms and aviation attire through to Muslim Hijabs. I had foolishly made a list of five museums to visit on the day and had already spent three hours in The Latvian National Museum of Art alone.

Riga was due to be hosting RIBOCA (the Riga Biennial of Contemporary Art) but decided to postpone it out of respect for Ukraine. But the Photography Biennial (which I just missed) and the 7th Riga International Textile and Fibre Art Triennial with the theme QUO VADIS? (Where are we going?) went on notwithstanding. The exhibition was held in two venues, the Great Halls of the Museum of Decorative Arts and Design (MDAD) and the Art Museum RIGA BOURSE (AMRB) and the works were grouped thematically. Common themes included topical issues such as the war in Ukraine, the global pandemic and its consequences, climate change and other social issues. Some of the images can be viewed here and here.

A great way to get to know a city is to take part in one of the many ‘Free’ (tip based) tours. Being in Riga, of course the quintessential theme is Art Nouveau. As mentioned earlier, I joined one of these tours on my first day. In two hours, it was great to learn the basics and view the Riga Art Nouveau icons, culminating in the grand finale of Alberta iela (Albert Street), which contains a row of residential buildings designed by Mikhail Eisenstein (son of the famous film maker Sergei Eisenstein). The highly ornate and crowd-pleasing buildings on this street are of the Eclectic style but are not typical of the rest of Riga’s Art Nouveau buildings.

A spectacular piece of Art Nouveau architecture in Alberta Street 2a.

Riga is one of the most interesting cities in Europe when it comes to Art Nouveau. There are more examples of the style here than in most other cities, and different categories of Art Nouveau can be distinguished here as well. These varieties are traditionally divided into four: the Eclectic, the National Romantic, the Perpendicular, and the Neoclassical Art Nouveau.

The Art Nouveau of Riga is more figurative than its European counterparts. Common decorative elements include women’s faces, depictions of mythological figures, and the sun motif. In addition to Mikhail Eisenstein, other important architects include Konstantīns Pēkšēns, Eižens Laube, and Aleksandrs Vanags.

A plethora of these buildings are in Alberta Street and a particularly ornate one is at Alberta Street 2a. Built in 1906, this is one of the city’s most iconic examples of the Eclectic Decorative Art Nouveau style, the handiwork of architect and engineer Mikhail Eisenstein. Its facade bursts with ornate details, so lavish that Eisenstein even created an “empty” fifth floor—window openings that frame the sky above, adding a whimsical touch to the building’s grandeur.

Adding a human touch to this architectural masterpiece, Alberta 2a was also the first home of the world-famous philosopher Isaiah Berlin, born just a few years after its completion. Tourists flock here not just for the soaring beauty above, but also for the playful sphinx sculptures that guard the entrance—perfect for a selfie on the pavement. Standing there, you can’t help but marvel at how ornamentation and imagination come together in this Riga gem.

Elizabeth iela 10b, designed by Mikhail Eisenstein in 1903.

It's not hard to see why the house at 10b Elizabeth Street has become the hero image for Riga’s Art Nouveau. In the Eclectic style, the Mikhail Eisenstein designed blue and white masterpiece has rhythmic designs and ornamentation but also two very large relief sculptures of heads facing outwards. The façade was developed from drawings by two German architects, Georg Wünschmann and Hans Kozel which were first published in a collection of facade drawings in Saint Petersburg. The buildings and staircase were renovated in 2000. The large faces at the top of the building are designed to ‘make one ruminate about the meaning and essence of life’. 

School on Tērbatas iela 15–17, built in 1905 for the poet, lawyer and teacher Atas Keniņš, designed by architects Konstantin Pēkšēns and Eugens Laube

The tour elucidated other perhaps less intricate but just as interesting buildings, such as a school at Tērbatas iela 15–17, showing that there many substyles to Art Nouveau. Built in 1905 for the poet, lawyer and teacher Atis Keniņš, it was designed by architects Konstantīns Pēkšēns and Eižens Laube. Apparently, the shape of the windows is meant to resemble mountains, serving as metaphors for learning, as learning is like climbing a mountain.

The Cat House, designed by architect Friedrich Schefel, built in 1909.

I came across the Cat House while wandering through Riga’s Old Town, drawn in by its fairytale turrets and the two copper cats glaring down from above. Later I learned the story behind their arched backs and raised tails, and it is as cheeky as it looks.

A wealthy trader, furious at being rejected from the Great Guild across the square, had these cats installed to quite literally turn their tails toward it. Riga’s answer to flipping the bird, preserved in metal. The feud raged until the cats were eventually turned around, but they still crouch there, ready to pounce, keeping their owner’s defiance alive.

Built in 1909 by architect Friedrich Schefel, a pioneer of Riga’s Art Nouveau movement, the Cat House mixes medieval charm with the era’s colour and humour. Today a restaurant fills the ground floor while the cats keep their silent vigil over Līvu Square, a reminder that in Riga even the architecture has attitude.

From chimney sweepers to lookout towers, there is plenty to see in Riga if you look towards the sky.