Working with memory as the main source of inspiration, ‘atminties atmintis’ (eng: a memory of a memory) approaches Soviet-era architectural objects in Lithuania with the aim to transform the ‘waste’ of these sites and the memories contained within them into new sculptural artworks, workshops and performances that recycle memories by recycling materials.
National
Lithuania
Kaunas, Vilnius
Mainly urban
It refers to other types of transformations (soft investment)
The core of my concept is the idea of ‘recycling memories’, using them as the main source of inspiration to create new sculptural artworks, workshops and performances. Working within architectural sites of Lithuania’s Soviet past that are facing renovation, demolition or are stuck in bureaucratic limbo whilst their future is decided, the materials I work with are mainly sourced from the ‘waste’ of these sites. Focusing on working with paper and ink, I recycle old documents to make sheets of paper or pulp that is used to create sculptures. I also create ink from natural dyes or by oxidising scrapyard copper.
My project, ‘atminties atmintis’ (eng: a memory of a memory) consists of 20 such sculptures, 3 of which have already been created and exhibited in Vilnius. ‘atminties atmintis’ uses the memories of my 20-day performance ‘Speak Lietuviškai’ as its source of inspiration, whose core themes were collective memory and belonging.
Going forward, my concept is two-fold. Firstly, I will continue creating these sculptures until the series of 20 is complete. I will continue working with ‘waste’ material from various Soviet architectural relics in Vilnius that are facing renovation, demolition or are stuck in bureaucratic limbo while their future is decided, like the Palace of Culture, Entertainment and Sport. Once complete, they will form the scenography of future performances.
Secondly, I will facilitate a number of workshops with local communities that have relationships to these architectural objects, with a particular focus on (national) minority groups, giving them the opportunity to work with my methodology of ‘recycling memories’ by utilising ‘waste’ materials from these sites to create their own sculptural artworks, fostering opportunities for transformative community-building experiences that engage with the complex histories of these places in a wholly unique way, and simultaneously developing my methodology.
memory
community
transformation
tension
waste
Excluding materials such as PVA glue (required to stiffen paper pulp) and wire, the entirety of the sculptural works I create are made from discarded materials, paper (which I create by blending used paper with rainwater/water from nearby sources such as rivers or lakes) and ink (which I create using natural dyes or scrapyard copper). In the workshops, participants will work with the same materials.
The key objective of my concept is to engage with the transformational potential of material deemed as ‘waste’, highlighting sustainability not just as a goal-meeting strategy but as something that is crucial to the meaning of the work. This thematic exploration of memory is enriched by the presence of the memories of the materials, whether the memory of river water that flows through complicated borders (the river Neris in Vilnius, that is next to the Palace of Culture, Entertainment and Sport begins in Belarus and finishes in Kaunas, where it merges with the Nemunas river) or the paper that is blended into pulp and pressed into new sheets. It reaffirms that artists can work with what already is available to us, without creating new ‘waste’ by seeking out exclusively new materials or allowing existing ‘waste’ to enter landfills. New purpose can be found for any object, given a creative outlook.
The second objective in relation to sustainability is a re-affirmation the role of an artist as a community-leader, who can encourage this creative outlook towards objects using their unique skills. This is highlighted through the workshops where local community members will partake in my methodology and train the same perspective. Facing the existential threat of climate change and heading towards a future where wastefulness will continue to get rightfully stigmatised, artists can be examples of ‘recyclers’, giving new purpose and life to discarded material. This is what I’m doing through my project, as a way of exemplifying the kind of future I believe in.
There are inherent prejudices when comparing new materials with those deemed ‘waste’, that are usually tinged with elitism. Through my work, I want to destigmatise and normalise the appearance of ‘roughness’ that can pervade in works created using recycled materials and embrace their beauty; akin to finding beauty in patched-up clothing or the Japanese practice of Kintsugi. As we move towards a future where resources will inevitably become scarcer, these kinds of aesthetics need to become commonplace and accepted within culture, to combat feelings of classist shame that may arise from these ‘imperfections’.
Through this approach to the aesthetics of my work, I highlight that a sustainable approach towards materials and making is something that is additive to the work and that the work would suffer with any other approach. I incorporate not only mine or other people’s memories, but also the memories of the ‘waste’ materials that live their own lives in ways we cannot truly fathom.
The cultural benefits of engaging with these architectural relics of Soviet times through workshops with communities and national minority groups that have relationships to these buildings are immense. In Lithuania, we have a complicated relationship to our history, and often choose to cover up or remove uncomfortable elements of the Soviet past in favour of Western European visions of modernity. This applies heavily to the field of architecture, as proven by the numerous demolition projects of Soviet-era buildings in post-Soviet countries, including Lithuania.
However, I offer a different option beyond destruction or preservation dictated by governmental bodies—community-led reclamation and transformation. Beyond the brutality of our history, there are the lives and memories of the people that inhabited (or still inhabit) these spaces and have relationships with the objects within them. To wipe all traces of these places is equivalent to removing parts of them—their memories.
The workshops will be free and open to anyone with an interest in creating sculptural works using recycled materials. As the materials used in the workshops and the creation of my sculptures will be ‘waste’ from the architectural sites, there will be no cost there. The cost of other necessary materials like PVA glue will be offset by me.
In terms of language accessibility, the workshops will feature a DIY learning approach, consisting mostly of demonstrations and silent exercises where the participants will be asked to reflect in writing using whatever language feels most comfortable; the reflections will be part of their personal process and not to be shared. Necessary instructions will be printed in multiple languages (Lithuanian, Polish, Russian, English).
In the post-Soviet context of Lithuania, fluency in Lithuanian is one of the deciding factors in determining someone’s belonging in the national context. There has been much public debate about Russian and Polish-speaking minority groups and they are seen negatively by a large portion of Lithuanian society for their use of language. For obvious historical reasons, Lithuanian identity evolved post-independence as very insular; we are one of few countries in the world that don’t allow for dual citizenship, except in very rare cases.
As a Lithuanian person who grew up in England from the age of 10, when I came back in 2019 with my broken Lithuanian, in many ways, I was a foreigner in my home country. Through my inclusive use of written language in workshops and the fact they’ll be largely silent, the workshops can be points of convergence for all these communities and propose a more inclusive vision of a Lithuanian citizen.
Some barriers to full inclusion cannot be overcome as participation in the workshops to create sculptural works will require participants to have certain levels of mobility and physical strength. However, approaches such as working in pairs may help alleviate some of these obstacles.
The position of non-Lithuanian speaking groups within Lithuanian society is contentious. Their use of language is perceived as a refusal to integrate, but that erases any historical nuance and the richness of the multiculturism within Lithuania. My concept decidedly moves away from a homogenised image of a Lithuanian citizen and works to counteract the friction and prejudices that exist between Lithuanian and non-Lithuanian speaking groups (I simultaneously belong to both). This is of great value to civil society, especially in the wake of Russia’s war in Ukraine when national unity is a matter of national security.
My concept utilises Alejandro Jodorowsky’s ideas of psychomagic, which posits that our memories contain images of our ego at the time they were created. His approach of psychomagic works with painful memories to elicit changes in them and resolve the tension within them. Put simply, his approach is to project a memory we wish to resolve (and the version of our ego it contains) onto an object that is a representation of that memory and then fulfil our unresolved emotions on that object, allowing us to resolve the emotions within the memory and integrate this fractured past-ego into our present-ego. Imagine a group of Lithuanian citizens pushing a sculpture of Stalin over the Lithuanian border and back into Russia (i.e. Kaliningrad).
This idea ties into my larger research of post-Soviet intergenerational trauma, which is largely unacknowledged (at least consciously) in Lithuanian society. These workshops create spaces for citizens to create physical manifestations of their memories tied to Lithuania’s Soviet past (sculptures) and then enact actions on them as ways of resolving tensions from past memories. This is one of the ways in which I see that the workshops will involve and be of great benefit to civil society, as a way to address and resolve the past, without devolving into the over-simplified us/them mentality.
This concept builds on years of experience that I’ve accumulated after returning to Lithuania in 2019. Through various projects, I’ve gained the expertise and contacts to envision and realise a project of this scale.
In 2021, I published and co-edited the book ‘Regeneration [and its discontents]’ through Architektūros fondas, a Vilnius-based ‘non-governmental, non-profit organization established in 2004, operating in the fields of architecture, culture and education’ and the Lithuanian Union of Architects.
This was my first foray into the field of architecture, and it sparked a continuing interest which I developed further through my participation in ‘Interpreting modernism through design and visual arts’, a workshop part of Kaunas 2022 Capital of Culture, led by Kolektiv Cité Radieuse, a curatorial group based in Marseille. In this workshop, I created a proposal for the ‘remolishing’ of a demolished Soviet-era shopping centre in Kaunas through wide-scale analysis of Kaunas residents’ photographs containing the building, using this collective memory to develop a choreography that would be performed by Kaunas residents on the demolished site to re-enliven the building once more. This clearly connects to my current exploration of collective memory and complicated (architectural) heritage.
In addition, my work with the Kaunas Cultural Centre of Various Nations (KITKC), part of the Department of National Minorities, gave me insight into existing initiatives that involve various national minorities in Lithuania by giving them space, resources and opportunities to have their voice heard through art. Although the projects I’m managing there are related to international youth exchanges, I’m in close proximity to other activities of the centre and my relationships with the other staff there broadened my perspective on the rich, cultural variety of Lithuania and its complicated positioning in Lithuania’s modern political landscape.
This concept was developed entirely by me. The experience I’ve mentioned before nurtured my curiosity and led me to connect different fields, but the research and work has thus far been carried out solely by me.
In this concept, the artistic disciplines of performance art, writing, architecture and sculpture converge in my work, and my practice is inherently transdisciplinary. ‘atminties atmintis’ uses the memories of my performance ‘Speak Lietuviškai’ as its source of inspiration. I invoke these memories through movement, composition and writing to arrive at an image that then becomes the sculpture. Once the series of 20 sculptures is finished, they will form the scenography of future performances.
The workshops will largely utilise disciplines of writing and sculpture: writing as a generative tool to arrive at a form, and sculpture as a way to realise that form. Once the sculptures have been completed, there will be an opportunity for participants to create a public performance, based on Alejandro Jodorowsky’s ideas of psychomagic that I’ve outlined in my previous answer.
This transdisciplinarity is framed by research on individual/collective memory, nationalism and intergenerational trauma; combining knowledge fields of sociology, psychology, parapsychology, neurology/biology and anthropology with art. The value of combining these various fields is a nuanced and deep understanding of the themes I’m researching, which allows me to step into this complex discourse with consideration and understanding of myself and the people I’ll be working with.
Mainstream actions on the topic of Soviet architectural heritage prioritise the voices of architects, and such discourse happens within the walls of institutions and often leads to aesthetic interventions. My concept takes this conversation back into the public sphere and hands it to the community that is directly negotiating their relationship with these architectural objects. It foregoes the sole voice of an author in favour of a multiplicity of voices that can present a far more complex portrait of the situation.
Other works on the topic of intergenerational trauma in Lithuania also rely on the familial experience of an individual. This can be relatable for a lot of people; however, I’m more interested in widening the scope of this discussion to the community level. My concept also stands out because I offer a transcultural/outsider’s perspective on these themes.
The inherent transdisciplinarity of my practice is unique in the way and which disciplines are combined. Performance art is a growing field in Lithuania, so my concept advocates for the transformational potential of performance, both for the performer and the spectator. The themes that are explored in my concept are personal and live within the bodies of the people involved; that’s what makes performance, a field where the material is the body itself, best suited to tackle these themes.
As an artist, I work in public spaces as much as possible. This direct interaction with and involvement of the local community in contemporary art is very unique, as my work often interacts with those who would never come to a gallery in the first place; as with ‘Speak Lietuviškai’, my performance on the trolleybuses of Kaunas. I refuse to preach to the choir and challenge myself by working with an audience that most of the time doesn’t understand or really respect what I do. Yet, these public spaces are where my richest work has emerged, in that friction that other artists are largely afraid to face.
The work I am pursuing is relevant to all post-Soviet countries as the work surrounding the national trauma of Soviet occupation is largely ignored in public discourse not just in Lithuania. The methodology that will be developed through the workshops can be implemented in these countries to great benefit.
During my workshop with Kolektiv Cité Radieuse, we had presentations from architects and researchers from the Czech Republic and Ukraine, outlining the complex community relations to Soviet architectural relics that often led to their demolition and in some cases exacerbated existing tensions between societal groups for whom those architectural objects represented different things. It’s clear those tensions don’t exist only in Lithuania, so the workshop methodology I’m developing can have a far-ranging impact in various countries.
One of the main challenges my concept addresses is that of complicated, colonial history, and the ways in which our past dictates our future, should the trauma within the citizens of a place be left unaddressed. It can be a shadow that becomes inescapable. Through my concept, I offer a way to approach these histories, lingering in the collective memory of citizens, by working directly with the local communities affected. If we expand this to the field of epigenetics, which posits changes in DNA can occur between generations due to trauma, something local in an increasingly globalised world can spread beyond national borders.
Another challenge is the role of the artist in the community and the growing disconnect between those who feel welcome in gallery spaces and those who don’t. I wish to take art outside the gallery space and back into the community, highlighting the role of the artist as a community-leader, equipped with a very unique set of skills that can be used to address problems others cannot. This counteracts the global sentiment of elitism that gallery spaces and artists can evoke for certain people, moving away from classist sentiments and towards greater community cohesion.
In terms of sustainability, my concept also establishes the artist as a recycler, demonstrating new approaches to ‘waste’ and a more considerate relationship to objects, taking into account their impact on our environment and exemplifying a more conscious approach to the value of all objects.
