Kreenholm Textile Manufacture was
established in 1857 by Baron Knoop
on the Narva river, which marks today
the boundary between Russia and Europe.


The factory is a unique example of
19th century industrial architecture
with water-powered complexes to
either side of a waterfall.

The manufacture handled the entire
chain from processing raw materials
to design and product development
and on to the finished product.

When Estonia regained independence in
1991, the factory was privatised.
In 1994, the Swedish company Borås
Wäfveri became the main shareholder.

In 2008, Kreenholm shut down its
spinning and weaving units. It faced
bankruptcy, and there was growing
unemployment throughout the whole Narva region.

Matti Haarajoki, a Finnish businessman
known for closing factories, led the firm
until Igor Poleschuk was appointed as
chief executive officer of Kreenholm
in December 2008.

Poleschuk had been working in Kreenholm
and knew the factory, the workers and
the market well enough to raise high expectations.

Although it was alleged that many of the
purchasing and sales contracts were dubious,
Igor Poleschuk stated that Kreenholm
was perfectly able to turn a profit.

In April 2009, the Swedish owners dismissed
Igor Poleschuk. He was replaced by Kenneth Udd
from Sweden and Tônu Luman from Estonia.

In summer 2009, the workers are just a few hundred
in bleaching, colouring, printing and sewing units,
producing home textiles.
and importing textiles from Pakistan, India and Turkey.

Relying on its flexibility compared to Asan firms, Kreenholm
plans to continue with home textiles clients

The slow decline of Kreenholm
reflects a sharp turn in philosophy in
textile production and in leadership,
from technocracy to brandmaking.

There are two major reasons for the
way that Kreenholm has evolved, says
Oleg Klushin, Kreenholm's ex-director.
In Soviet times there was a closed
market and all Kreenholm production
was intended for the Soviet Union.

This enormous market was lost
immediately in the early 1990's
with the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Then, after privatisation, the policy
was that Kreenholm should sell itself
as a brand, a devastating decision.

It turned out impossible to compete
with Asia for good markets
while remaining cost efficient.

The chosen path has proved ineffective
and operating at a loss Kreenholm will
hold out for a while, but not forever.

THEY WERE EIGHT

A series of black and white portraits of young people who were eight years old during Perestroika. How big was the world then?
And what are the limits today?
Dasha, Elnara, Olga, Sergei and Danis were eight years old when Perestroika started.
What memories does she have of the end of the Soviet Union? How did they perceive the changes? Have these changes broadened their young teenage world?

Dasha - Elnara - Sergei - Danis

THEY WERE EIGHT

DASHA was 8
20 min / language: English / Saint-Petersburg, with Dasha Belova / images : Vika Ilyushkina

Dasha lives in Saint Petersburg, she was eight years old when Perestroika started, where were the borders of her world then? What memories does she have of the end of the Soviet Union? Have these changes broadened her young teenage world? And today, when Russia is considered to be a constitutionally democratic and open country, what borders confront her?

ELNARA was 8
12 min 40 / language: English / Tallinn, with Elnara Taidre
Elnara was living on the Estonian border city of Narva when Perestroïka started. Elnara is of Russian origin with an Estonian surname. She tells about the very first feelings she had when she got an Estonian passport while living in a Russian speaking milieu.

SERGEI was 8
8 min. / Tallinn / language: English, with Sergei Pogoreltsev
Sergei is a Russian speaker, he lives and studies in Tallinn, Estonia.

DANIS was 8
20 min. / Kazan-Berlin / language: Russian, with Danis Aliaskarov
Danis decided to leave his home town of Kazan –Russia- where he had studied aeronautics and go West, to Europe. He randomly chose Germany. When he arrived in Berlin, 2 years ago, he could not speak German, he managed to survive with low paid job, within the Russian community. Today he is trying to get to a German university and spend a few more years in Europe before he could go back with a positive experience and more money than he had left with.

Dasha was eight

with Dasha Belova
in Saint Petersburg
images: Vika Ilyushkina
2008
black and white
English

"Once we went out with my mother, I crossed the street and she showed me across the street, there was a kind of factory with big gates. It looked a bit strange, the whole factory. And she said that they made salt there out of children who were running away, and she said they would catch me, because under the gate, there was a big space, a kind of hole, and she said that if children pass by, then they just take the children and take them to the gate.

My parents had a friend from America, Randy, he was from America and he was fascinated by Russia
And once, we went with those friends to a shop called Berjozka, there were several of those Berjozkas across all Russia, especially in Moskow and Saint Petersburg. It was like a paradise, there were alcohols and things you could not buy in the city. Then the guard of the shop came to me: “Hey girl, you are Russian aren’t you?” And that was the first time when I realised there are some borders even inside the city, that there are some places you are not allowed to enter, just because you are Russian you are not good enough, and if you were American you would be quite good to enter it!

With Perestroïka, new schools or schools with strange orientations appeared: gymnasiums with English language or French, also in the suburbs appeared a girls’ gymnasium. It was some sort of cosmic event, because you have to imagine the suburbs: children are fighting everywhere! My parents wanted me to become a bit more girlish and they sent me to this school. We were studying English and there started to be some exchanges, we were writing letters to girls in America and they were writing letters back to us. I remember we sent presents to them and they sent us about ten boxes of Barbies and that was really amazing because there were no Barbies before and at that moment we did not even know about it.

My parents wanted to send me to an English college when I was about 15. We even went there with… I can’t remember his name, a very rich guy; an oligarch, small one - Saint Petersburg-type - and his son had been studying there for two years. And we came there and there were lots of Russian children of families who somehow had gotten rich and could send their children to English colleges. And it was very strange, because the children were missing Russia very much. I noticed that they knew quite a lot of English but they did not know the Russian translation of it. It was like: “What? You forgot the Russian words because you have studied there, and you have only studied in English, you loose your traditions and your own culture and own language! “ That is why I decided not to go there and to make English college and English way of life."

Elnara

With Elnara Taidre
Tallinn, février 2007
N&b
14 minutes

music: a remix by PX-Band of
Мой адрес Советский союз
(my address is the Soviet Union)
by the group Samotsvety


"As I was a Soviet child, I knew that somewhere there was Moscow.
Also when I learned to say my address, in case I got lost, I knew the house, the street, the city and I also knew I was from the Soviet Union. So it was like a conceptual size of the world or conceptual limits or borders. The border between West and East didn’t exist for me, because I wasn’t thinking of travelling at all, I thought it would happen when I grow up. But I had a friend who was talking about having been to Finland, finally she told me that it was a secret, that she was lying! Her mother had been to Finland and had told her in details how it was and my friend felt that she had been there herself. It was a rather strange feeling that you needed to tell that you had been abroad, it was very important.

I was seven when my mother was talking to my aunt and mentioned that there was no more Soviet Union but a kind of consolidation of the sovereign or independent republics. It meant nothing to me though, because I didn’t learn history. I was in the first or second grade and I just understood that everything or something had changed: we didn’t have our school uniforms anymore, we started to learn Estonian and teachers were talking about citizenship. I understood that I needed a passport. We were told that if we didn’t know Estonian we wouldn’t get citizenship nor a passport. And I remember that I made a passport for myself when I was about eight years old. As I knew that in Soviet times the passports were red, I also painted it that colour, but actually the new Estonian passport was blue! My mother tongue was Russian and at home we spoke Russian, then I discovered that my surname was actually of Estonian origin. At school we had a kind of register where they put down our nationalities. When the parents of a pupil had not said his nationality, the teacher would put down that the pupil is Russian. And I told the teacher “Well! I am Estonian!” and –amazingly though- she changed the data.

I am from Narva, and Narva is situated close to the border with Russia. Accross the river there is another city: Ivangorod. In the Soviet time, Narva and Ivangorod were like one city, we were just used to get over the bridge to see friends, acquaintances, relatives, and we also had graves at the graveyard there. I know that they have more simple visas or they practice double citizenship for some people who have relatives in Ivangorod, in Russia, but as we do not, we have to buy visas and wait in queues. This border situation in Narva is quite unpleasant but on the other hand, for what concerns Europe, it is amazingly pleasant: since we have joined European Union, we are just showing our passport and there is no need to buy a visa.

When I was a little girl we used to go to Leningrad as it was called, now Saint Petersburg, quite often, and I knew that I could go to Hermitage or the Russian State Museum. Now, I feel that I can’t go easily anymore, because for Russians we became like aliens, we are separated and we are from Estonia.

I remember once, it was in Soviet Time in Leningrad, we went with the school to a market to buy music records, because there were extremely cheap in Russia. And a man asked us: “Are you from Estonia? You are not like people from here. Although you are talking Russian, you are smiling, you are more open, you are happy, you are definitely not from Russia!” We did not know whether he wanted to sell more of his music records to us or if he was sincere!"

Sergei

8 min. / Tallinn / language: English
with Sergei Pogoreltsev

Sergei lives and studies in Tallinn, Estonia.

I remember the funniest thing relating to the Soviet period – I didn’t know any of the details of the regime, the Soviets, the Bolsheviks and so on – and the funniest thing was when I went with my mum and my little brother to the shops, to buy bread: all three of us had to go if we wanted to buy three loaves of bread. And of course when I was in kindergarten Lenin was my hero and following perestroika my first shock came when my grandpa told me the truth. I think during the Soviet period he wasn’t brave enough to tell me. Then I began to read history and started to realize the nuances and details of it all. Around 1989-1990 we liked to go to the Caucasus, to Sotchi, with my grandfather, grandmother and cousin; and it was very easy, because it was all one big Union. We went there, we had a very nice time, we swam, and we stayed at a summer resort, but suddenly in 1992 we were told, Anastasia and me, that no, we can’t go there anymore! My initial feeling about perestroika was different, my world became smaller and I could go there.
I did not have many problems with Estonian citizenship because my mother had a blue passport, and so I got it, let us say, by default. Some of my friends had to take the Estonian exam and the exam on the Constitution, but I was free of all those exams. As time went on, after perestroika, we as Russians started to feel, let us say, pressure from our Estonian neighbours. More and more I saw Estonians oppressing Russians, and in Estonia the apogee of all this was the conflict about the monuments. I can understand those Estonian people who think of Russians as occupiers. I think sometimes they don’t understand the distinction I make between Russians and communists. A lot of Russian people also suffered because of the regime, the Soviet communist regime. But now they have decided to inflict all of their grief – for their parents and their ancestors who suffered under the regime – on us, the Russian youth. At first I did not notice anything, but the more I go through life, the more I notice the dirty looks, especially at university – at school there were no problems because it was a Russian school. When I am with Estonians, I try to make myself more comfortable, I try to feel less oppressed, and if the Estonians don’t give me any reason to feel nervous, then I just don’t feel nervous and I feel fine.

Danis

"Меня зовут Данис. Я приехал из города Казань.
Мне 25 лет, учился я в Казани в Казанском авиационном институте.
Приехал с другом в Берлин, уже вот два с половиной года назад.
Мы вот с другом как-то решили, что хотим уехать заграницу.
Каждый день я работаю с 10 часов до 19, но часто бывает, что на час, на полтора больше приходится работать.
Но у русских это нормально здесь в Берлине, немножко, получается, перерабатываешь.
- Здесь у меня, получается, 30-35 евро в день получаю. Но это очень мало считается. Ну, так пока.
- И ты знал, когда ты был в России, ты знал, что…?
- Нет, конечно, в России мы с другом думали, что сюда приедем, и у нас все сразу станет хорошо, сейчас, я уже чувствую себя в Берлине свободно.

Я тогда был еще маленьким, но, в принципе, я жил уже во времена перестройки, конечно. И по рассказам слышал, что раньше нельзя было из СССР просто так выезжать заграницу.
Сейчас граница более или менее открыта, но все равно какой-то есть в России недостаток информации о мире.
Много говорят о свободе слова, ну отсюда, если вот жить в Европе и смотреть на какую-то ситуацию в мире из Европы, и посмотреть, как смотрят на эту же ситуацию из России, то можно увидеть отличие.
Я был слишком маленький, меня конкретно сильно это не коснулось. Потому что мы ходили в школу, мы были сперва октябрятами, пионерами, и потом пионеры кончились, мы до комсомола не дошли. Ну вот, как бы вот так…

Надеюсь, что мои родители гордятся мной, потому что мы с другом уехали в другую страну просто, в никуда, где нас никто не ждет… И там выжили… Мне кажется, это, в принципе, большой такой шаг был, наверное. Ну, иногда везло, конечно, тоже. Везение, наверное, тоже повлияло на то, что у нас в Берлине жизнь такая появилась.
То, как мы с другом уехали в Европу, это было немножко… Мы были не совсем готовы."


"My name is Danis. I’m from Kazan. I’m 25 years old. I studied at Kazan Aviation Institute in Kazan.
I came to Berlin with my friend already two and a half years ago. We decided once that we wanted to go abroad, to foreign countries. Every day I work from 10 o’clock till 19 o’clock. But very often I have to work overtime, sometimes it makes an hour and sometimes even an hour and a half. But it is normal for the Russians here, in Berlin, so you exceed a bit the fixed hours of work. Here I earn 30-35 euros a day. But it is considered too little. Well, it is this way for the time being.

And you knew when you were in Russia, you knew that...?
Of course not, in Russia I and my friend we though that we would go to Berlin and everything would be OK immediately, at least now I feel free here.

I was too little then, but, generally I lived at the time of perestroika. And the story goes that it was impossible to go abroad from the USSR for no special reason. I heard it. Now state borders are more or less open, but though in Russia there is the lack of information about the world. They talk freedom of speech, but if you live in Europe and you watch a situation in the world from Europe, and if you watch the same situation from Russia, it will be different. I was too little then, that is why this didn’t touch me a lot. We attended school, at first we were "October Children", then Young Pioneers, and then Young Pioneers have gone with the wind, we didn’t become members of Komsomol. So like this.

I hope my parents are proud of me, because we went to other country, simply to nowhere, where nobody waited for us… And we survived there. It seems to me, it was a great step, a stride maybe.
Sometimes we were lucky, of course. Our luck also influenced our life in Berlin.
When we left for Europe, we were not ready."

KEEL - language -

KEEL
-the language-
video
20 minutes
2009
black and white
original languages: Russian and Estonian



images: Eléonore de Montesquiou and Sillamäe archives
music: Liis Jürgens
Participants:
Anastasia Neuimina
Riina Salak
Sergei Pogoreltsev



Anastasia Neuimina and Sergei Pogoreltsev are young Russian-Estonians who were born and educated in Tallinn, they tell about their experience with Estonian language and integration issues.

Riina Salak is an Estonian language teacher in a Russian kindergarten in A Russian area of Tallinn.
She explains how she teaches Estonian language to the Russian kids, or tries to teach them in one hour a week course.
She tells about language issues in Estonia, language being an integration tool or handicap was always highly socially and politically loaded in Estonia; the country having been occupied by Germans, then Russians who imposed their language on the population.
In my film are raised fundamental issues of displacement, integration into a new environment and education through relatively simple means if they are respected in childhood.

Anastasia - Riina - Sergei

Анастасиа Неуимина
Anastasia Neuimina

original in Russian (see below)


My first contact with Estonian language was in kindergarden. My parents sent me to an Estonian kindergarten for me to learn the language. Later my parents wanted to send me to an Estonian school, but it was the end of the 1980’s, and they were scared to put me in an Estonian school, they thought it would be tough for me; it was those times! And they sent me to a Russian school. I forgot my Estonian a little; we had only a few hours of language lessons. Therefore whoever studied Estonian only at school and did not learn it either before, nor in extra courses, could not manage to speak it well enough and had difficulties at university, since education is in Estonian in State Universities.

Most of my friends can speak Estonian, because all the Russians who wish to stay in Estonia, at least the young people whom I have in mind, who have decided to stay in Estonia, and understand that without Estonian language they could not work nor go on studying, they all studied Estonian. However many Russians don’t speak the language.
I think that Estonians can understand that I am Russian. If they know my name they get it immediately, but also, within a conversation, they can hear that I am Russian.

Я впервые встретилась с эстонским языком в детском садике, меня родители отдали в эстонский детский сад, чтобы я выучила эстонский язык. Потом родители хотели отдать меня в эстонскую школу, но так как это был конец 80-х годов, мои родители побоялись отдать меня в эстонскую школу, подумали, что мне будет тяжело, было такое время. отдали всё-таки в русскую школу, там я немного забыла, у нас было очень мало часов эстонского языка. Те, кто учили эстонский только в школе, никогда не учили ни раньше, не дополнительно на каких-либо курсах, они этот язык знали не очень хорошо, потом в университете им было тяжело, потому что все государственные университеты на эстонском.
Большинство моих друзей всё-таки говорит, потому что те русские, которые всё-таки хотели остаться в Эстонии, молодёжь я имею в виду, которые хотели остаться в Эстонии, понимали, без эстонского они не смогут ни работать, ни учиться дальше в высших учебных заведениях, они всё-таки выучили эстонский. Но многие и не говорят.
Я думаю, всё равно эстонцы могут понять, что я – русская; естественно, если они знают моё имя, то они сразу же могут понять, даже по разговору, я думаю, они поймут, что я – русская.




Riina Salak
original in Estonian (see below)

Behind language immersion there is not only language but also culture.
I mean, when there are only two lessons of Estonian in the first year, is it really possible to learn language like this? So that in fifth year they can study humanities in Estonian?
If our aim was to take children and integrate them, then the timetables would be set up for that. … A great deal is demanded from teachers, and who wants to take on extra tasks? Nobody wants to. Nobody because they are not paid for it, and salaries are small.

If they were from a totally sterile environment, I mean if they had never heard Estonian, they would just sit and look at me and understand nothing at all. They have to get the idea, understand, and pronounce.
We have a voice machine, some vocabulary some phrases. And when I talk to them about something within a context given by pictures then they understand what I am talking about. But actively they use what I do with them in role-plays, in a certain framework. But it is not really free speaking of course. It is not possible; we have half an hour 3 times a week.
We do a lot of role-plays, they have to talk all the time, and because there is so few of them then everybody gets the chance to speak. We have here bags with presents, we sit in a circle, then we see what presents are in there, and every child gets a chance to talk. They just need to talk, they are not forced, or only gently, they just start to do it themselves.

When I was a little child, in kindergarden, then such things as national identity did not exist for me. Because actually we teach kids traditions and the roots of national culture but in fact the national identity, the feeling of belonging, comes later.
In language immersion it is pointed out that parents have to teach their children these roots.
Lets say that in music school I got the feeling that I am an Estonian. I was about 17 or 18, which is when the feeling develops of where a person belongs. Why I started to tell all this long story is that in language immersion, everything is in Estonian. When I look at textbooks, they are based on Estonian culture. The question is, who will these children be when they grow up? They see themselves as Estonian. They feel they belong somewhere. But at the same time they are not of Estonian nationality, their roots are different.



See keelekümblus, seal pole ju ainult keel, seal on ka kultuur taga.
Tähendab, kui ikkagi esimeses klassis on ainult kaks eesti keele tundi, kas on siis võimalik mingis 5. klassis õpetada inimeseõpetust eesti keeles?

Kui see oleks eesmärkides, et me võtame ja integreerime, siis on vastavalt sellele õppekavad, koolitus. … Väga palju nõutakse õpetajalt ja kes tahab endale lisakoormust? Mitte keegi! Sest seda ei tasustata, palgad on väikesed.
Kui nad oleksid täiesti steriilsest keskkonnast, tähendab üldse eesti keelt pole kuulnud, nad istuksid, vaataksid mulle niimoodi otsa. Mitte millestki ei saaks aru. Nad peavad taipama, aru saama ja hääldus. hääleaparaat. Teatud sõnad, käibefraasid. Ja kui ma räägin nendele pildi järgi konteksti, kontekstuaalselt, siis nad saavad aru, millest ma räägin. Aga aktiivselt niipalju, kui ma teen neile rollimänge, teatud programmides. Aga rääkima on nad sunnitud kogu aeg. Räägivad nad palju. Aga niisugust vaba rääkimist loomulikult ei ole. Ei saa, meil on pool tundi kolm korda nädalas. Kahe aastaga ma ei õpeta neid ära.
Meil on palju rollimänge. Nad peavad palju rääkima. Kuna neid on vähe, kõik saavad sõna. Mul on siin kingikott, me oleme siin ringis. Me vaatame, mis kingitused siin on, kõik lapsed räägivad. Ta lihtsalt peab rääkima. Sundida ei tohi, aga vaikselt. Siis ta lihtsalt hakkab seda tegema.

Kui mina olin väike, siis oli minu jaoks, lasteaialaps, selline tunne nagu rahvustunne ei eksisteerinud. Sest tegelikult me õpetame lastele traditsioone ja rahvuskultuuri algeid. Aga tegelikult rahvustunne, kuuluvustunne tuleb hiljem.
Rõhutatakse keelekümbluse puhul, et vanemad peavad siis oma lastele neid juuri õpetama…ja siis muusikakoolis saigi niisugune sügavuti tunnetus, et ma olen eestlane. Kui vanalt? See ongi 17-18 aasta, siis kui inimesel arenebki konkreetselt välja, kuhu ta kuulub, aga kui rääkida väikestest lastest, et kuhu nad kuuluvad. Et miks ma hakkasin seda nii pikka juttu rääkima, et keelekümblus, seal on kõik eestikeelne. Ma vaatan õpikuid, ta on ikkagi Eesti kultuuri baasil. Küsimus on selles, kes ikkagi need lapsed on, kui nad suureks kasvavad?




Sergei Pogoreltsev
original in Estonian (see below)


What do you think about teaching methods in Estonian language?
At school, if I were to compare English and Estonian languages teachings, they were very much the same. But my English is much better, because I read a lot in English, I watch films and so on. I suppose that my English is more fluent due to what I learned from everyday life, sentences that people use in the streets for example, not from lessons at school. And I never had such a good practice of Estonian language. I had it only at school, at university, with the teachers. We did not speak much Estonian amongst the pupils. Today, if I speak it at work, then also only about work.

And about integration processes? They always go one way, that the Russians must integrate, what is your opinion?
I thought about it a lot, that integration would only be possible if both sides –Russian and Estonian- understand that it is necessary to love their own (culture) and to have….what is the word in Estonian? …respect….

It is interesting that it is that word that you precisely don’t remember!
Hmmm…well, I don’t know that word, so, what I meant was, to have respect for other people. What I don’t like in Estonia at the moment, is that there are often attempts to…..to give it with force, that the Russians must study Estonian language, and they are controlling how they master the language, what they know or don’t know, and they are given sanctions.
I believe that the Russians should be able to decide for themselves whether they need or don’t need Estonian language. However if they can speak Estonian, it will be easier for them to live here, which is logical. And they have to decide for themselves whether they want to study it or not. If they manage to live here without knowing the language, then let them be. But if they need help, for example in the street, if they ask Estonians how to do something, and if they don't know a word in Estonian, they ask in Russian, it is of course their own fault if the Estonian cannot help. It is important to consider that each of us decides what is important for him or her. However today, language inspection and so on are in my opinion silly and there is no need for this.

What do you think about the topic of integration? Are you integrated?
I hope so, I know many nice Estonian people who would never point at me, that I am Russian and they would not look at me badly. I feel very comfortable with them and with them I feel that yes, I am integrated. But sadly enough, it is not the case of everyone here, I remember some people from university who were… quite…well, it was a difficult to communicate with them, they were, so to say, Estonian patriots who did not want to relate to Russians…it depends on the people.

Do you believe you will manage to keep your Russian culture? Can you keep those roots, or do you have the feeling that you are losing them?
I try to save them, though I don’t really know how to do this. I read a lot, Russian books, and I hope therefore to keep it somehow. However I am not a great Russian patriot, I am rather against patriotism, I don’t believe that one nation is better than the other.
Do you speak Estonian with an accent? How do you felt at university? Could you speak freely?
I cannot say for myself, but my friends and parents think that I have a Russian accent. I have more technical, specific vocabulary in Estonian than in Russian now, and I use it for my work, but if I am hanging out with Estonians and I want to make a joke it is difficult, I would not know what to say! I can speak, I can express what I want to, but I have difficulties in being grammatically accurate.


Kas sa arvad, et ka keeleõpetamise meetodid ei olnud piisavalt head?
Noh, koolis, ma mõtlen probleem on selles, et kui ma võrdlen ütleme eesti keelt ja inglise keelt - õppimine oli enam vähem sarnane, ingliskeelne ja eestikeelne õppimine koolis. Aga ma tean inglise keelt, vähemalt minu meelest, palju paremini. Kõigepealt sellepärast, et ma väga palju inglise keeles lugesin, vaatasin igasuguseid filme jne jne, aga vot miskipärast eesti keeles nii palju ei teinud. Ma mõtlen, et ma tean inglise keelt hästi sellepärast, et ma sain kätte kõik need, mitte õpetajalt, vaid elust - kõik igasugused spetsiaalsed fraasid, kuidas inimesed räägivad õues jne. Aga eesti keeles nii head praktikat mul ei olnud. Ainult koolis, ülikoolis, õpetajatega. Klassikaaslastega nii palju ei rääkinud. Ja praegu tööl, tööl ka, kui ma räägin kellegagi eesti keeles, siis ainult tööst.
Mida sa arvad integreerimisideedest? Sest see on alati kuidagi ühes suunas - venelased peaksid integreeruma. Mida sina sellest arvad?
Ma mõtlesin väga palju sellest. Ja minu meelest kõige suurem nagu värk on selles, et integratsioon on võimalik ainult siis, kui mõlemad pooled, tähendab nii venelased kui eestlased, saavad aru, et on vaja muidugi armastada oma, aga on vaja......kuidas öelda respect (austama)eesti keeles - vot seda sõna ei tea... mm...

… (naerdes) Jah see on huvitav, et sa just seda sõna ei tea.
Emm…(naerdes) vot ei tea seda sõna. Et respect, teiste inimeste suhtes ja ...ka on väga..., vot mulle natuke ei meeldi, et praegu Eestimaal mõnikord, eesti keelt proovitakse kuidagi ... anda venelastele koos jõuga, et nad peavad seda õppima ja nad kontrollivad kuidas nad seda teavad kui nad seda ei tea, mingil tasandil, ...nad annavad trahve jne. Ma mõtlen, et venelane peab ise aru saama, kas tal on vaja eesti keelt või ei ole vaja. Muidugi, kui ta teab eesti keelt, kui ta saab rääkida, siis tal on lihtsam siin elada, see on loogiline. Ja ta peab ise otsustama - kas ma tahan õppida või ei taha. Kui tal on kõik korras, kui ta saab elada siin ilma eesti keeleta, siis las ta elab, aga kui ütleme tal on vaja abi, näiteks õues, ja ta küsib eestlastelt kuidas midagi teha - kas nii või nii ja ta ei saa eesti keeles rääkida ja ta küsib vene keeles, siis on juba muidugi tema enda süü, kui eestlane ei saa teda aidata. Vot seda on vaja kaaluda, igaüks otsustab seda enda jaoks ise, kas tal on vaja või ei ole. Aga vot see kõik praegu, keeleinspektsioonid jne - see on minu meelest juba rumalus. Pole vaja seda teha.

Mida sa arvad integratsiooni teemast? Kas sa pead ennast integreerunuks? Mida sa arvad sellest sõnast?
Kui ma räägin endast? Ma loodan, et jah, tähendab, ma tean palju eestlaseid, kes on väga head inimesed ja nad nagu ei näita minule sõrmega, et ta on venelane ja ei vaata kuidagi halvasti. Ma tunnen end väga mugavalt nendega, ja sel ajal ma tunnen, et jah ma olen integreeritud. Aga kahjuks mitte kõik inimesed pole sellised, ma mäletan paari inimest ülikoolist, kes olid üsna...noh, nendega oli natuke raske suhelda, nad olid niiöelda patriootilised eestlased, kes ei taha üldse venelastega suhelda ....see sõltub inimestest.

Kuidas sulle tundub, kas sul õnnestub hoida oma vene kultuuri? Kas sul on tunne, et saad sellega hakkama, või on sul pigem tunne, et oled oma juurte tunnetuse kaotanud?
Ma proovin muidugi seda hoida, ma ei tea täpselt kuidas ma saan seda teha. Ma loen palju, muidugi vene kirjandust, ja ma loodan, et nii ma saan seda kuidagi hoida. Sest ma ei ole nagu väga suur Vene patrioot ka...ma üldse olen natukene patriotismi vastu, sest ma mõtlen, et kõik peavad olema...kõik peavad elama - ma ei usu, et mingi riik on parem kui teine....

Kas sa arvad, et sul on eesti keeles rääkides aktsent? Kuidas sul on näiteks ülikoolis ja nii? Kas sa tunned, et see on sulle takistuseks, kui vabalt sa ennast keele suhtes tunned?
Ma ise ei saa täpselt öelda, aga noh, minu sõbrad ja minu vanemad ütlevad, et ikkagi on olemas.
Noh, vene aktsent muidugi on olemas. Üldse keel, asi on selles, et kui ma räägin nagu ...sellest...ülikoolis see ei olnud väga suur probleem, sest tehnilisest keelest mul on rääkida isegi natuke lihtsam, kui üldse näiteks sõpradega või inimestega, sest ma tean palju eesti sõnu, mis ma ei tea täpselt kuidas vene keeles on juba, mis on seotud minu tööga, mingid spetsiifilised sõnad. Aga vot kui ütleme ma olen, eestlastega istun, ja tahan mingeid nalju teha või midagi veel - siis on probleemid, ma ei saa midagi öelda, natuke raske. Ma saan öelda, mis ma tahan, aga vot seda grammatiliselt õigesti kirjutada - see on raske.

NAINE - the woman -

NAINE
- a woman -


the film


a film by Eléonore de Montesquiou
music: Tatjana Kozlova and Malle Maltis
with Olga Tüvi
15 minutes
black and white
original language: Russian
English/French or Estonian subtitles





















Images: archive images of women bathing and today’s images of women bathing in the river Narva, border between Estonia and Russia. / Sound: monolog by Olga, a woman with both Russian and Estonian passports, making a living by crossing the border daily. Olga was born in the fifties in the Soviet city of Narva-Ivangorod now split between Estonia and Russia.










Olga is in her fifties. She has both Estonian and Russian passports, by nationality she is Russian, and she speaks only Russian. She was born in Narva (now Estonia) and lives in Ivangorod (now Russia), two cities facing each other on either side of the river Narva. Olga speaks about herself as a woman of Perestroika. In this film she talks about going through these times with two children. She raises the issue of living on the very edge of Europe and tells about her relationship to work then and today.
Olga used to work in a factory, the factory closed in the mid-eighties, she then got a job in a hospital in the city of Narva. However, since she had been given a flat in the (now) Russian part of the city, she lost her job when Estonia became independent. After having worked on markets for some years, she now crosses the border twice a day to earn a living. She is the leader of a little group who uses the limits of the system –authorised amounts of goods- to carry various commodities in their bags from Russia to Estonia.
The images were made with a video camera during summer 2008. I filmed Olga and her friend, another Olga, bathing in the border river Narva. Their bodies reflect the strength and resistance they have needed till now.
The film is edited on the sound track, a mix of Olga’s voice and sound composed by Tanja Kozlova, an Estonian-Russian composer I have worked with before (see enclosed the film “SILLAMÄE”, 2006).
I dissociate image and sound, I also let Olga talk alone, therefore not shaping it as an interview, but as a monologue. More than a personal portrait, in this film, her voice speaks for numerous women of her generation, living in between the former Eastern-Soviet States and Europe, imagining day to day solutions to survive in this precarious and constantly changing status.

NAINE - Russian presentation -

NAINE
-Женщина-

Фильм Элеонор де Монтескье/ Музыка Татьяна Козлова
С Ольгой Туви (?)/ продолжительность 14 минут/ черно-белый

Изображение: женщина купается в реке Нарве на границе между Эстонией и Россией и архивные кадры советских времен, на которых женщины участвуют в спортивных мероприятиях.
Звук: монолог Ольги, женщины с двойным русско-эстонским гражданством, которая, зарабатывая на жизнь, ежедневно пересекает границу. Ольга родилась в пятидесятые в советском городе Нарве-Ивангороде, сейчас он расколот между Эстонией и Россией.
Музыка: композитор Татьяна Козлова (Современный эстонский композитор. Родилась на российской части границы и сейчас живет в Таллине).

Ольга в свои пятьдесят. Она имеет двойное российско-эстонское гражданство, по национальности она русская, и говорит она только по-русски. Она родилась в Нарве (ныне территория Эстонии) и живет в Ивангороде (Россия), два города расположены на противоположных берегах реки Нарвы. Ольга говорит о себе как о женщине времен Перестройки. В этом фильме она рассказывает как вместе с двумя детьми прошла через это время. Она поднимает проблему жизни на самом краю Европы и взаимоотношения с работой тогда и сейчас.
Ольга работала на заводе, завод закрылся в середине восьмидесятых, после этого она пошла работать в городскую больницу Нарвы. Однако, так как ей дали квартиру в российской части города, она потеряла работу, когда Эстония стала независимой. После нескольких лет работы на рынках сейчас она пересекает границу дважды в день. Она – лидер небольшой группы людей, которые пользуются лимитами системы – разрешенное количество товара – разрешенное проносить в сумках из России в Эстонию.

Съемки были сделаны на видеокамеру летом 2008 года. Я снимала Ольгу и ее подругу Ольгу, купающимися в пограничной реке Нарве. Их тела отражают силу и сопротивление, в которой они нуждались до сих пор.
Черно-белое изображение необходимо для связи настоящих съемок с архивными.

Фильм наложен на саундтрек из микса голоса Ольги и музыки Татьяны Козловой. Татьяна – это русско-эстонский композитор. Я с ней работала до этого над фильмом «SILLAMÄE» в 2006 году.

Я отделила изображение и звук, позволила звучать голосу Ольги отдельно, и поэтому я не формирую этот фильм как интервью, но как монолог. Больше, чем индивидуальный портрет, в этом фильме ее голос говорит за множество женщин ее поколения, живущих между прежними восточно-советскими государствами и Россией, решая каждый день проблему как выжить в этом сомнительном и постоянно меняющемся положении.

KALAMEES – Russian presentation -

KALAMEES – Рыбак –

Фильм Элеонор де Монтескье / звук: Татьяна Козлова
С участием Саши и Насти Калядиных / Продолжительность: 30 минут
Фильм KALAMEES является частью проекта «На грани»


Саша – рыбак. Зимой с другими рыбаками он уходит на целый день на рыбалку на замерзшие озера и реки. Некоторые из них делают отверстие во льду и сидят, иногда весь день, на холоде в ожидании клева. Две общие страсти рыбаков: уходить вместе на ежедневные приключения и очень уединенно сидеть отдельно друг от друга, едва общаясь.
Саша вырос в Ивангороде, его родители отдали ему квартиру в самом высоком здании города. Сейчас Саша (ему почти 30 лет) работает на заводе Krenholm в Нарве (Эстония). Он переходит русско-эстонскую границу ежедневно.
«Мой фильм – это портрет Саши, его тихой рыбалки, история о том, как он сопротивляется холоду. Через его портрет, его слова поднимается проблема специфической ситуации Ивангорода: что значит жить прямо на границе? На границе между Россией и Эстонией, на самом крае Европы, на границе, которой не существовало, когда Саша родился. Сашина мама – Ольга сказала мне однажды, что она уже не знает откуда она, к какой стране она принадлежит: эстонка живущая в России, говорящая только на русском, или русская, живущая почти в Эстонии, замужем за эстонцем и чьи дети оба работают в Эстонии».

KALAMEES - the fisherman -

KALAMEES
-the fisherman-




the film:
part 1
part 2

images: Eléonore de Montesquiou
original music: Tatjana Kozlova
with Sasha Kaliadine and Nastia Kaliadina
length: 24 minutes
2009
original language: Russian
text in English, Estonian orFrench


Sasha is a fisherman. In the winter, he goes out with others for one day, on the frozen lakes and rivers. Each of them makes a hole in the ice and stays sometimes all day long, in the cold, waiting for the fish. It is both a common passion the fishermen share, leaving together for the daily adventure, and a very solitary one, they all sit apart from each other and hardly communicate.
Sasha grew up in Ivangorod, his parents were given an apartment in the highest building of the city, overlooking the river, the bridge, in a word the border. Now Sasha is in his late twenties, he works in Krenholm’s fabric, in Narva –Estonia- he walks the Russian-Estonian border daily, he goes out at night in Saint Petersburg and doesn’t speak a word of Estonian
My film is a portrait of Sasha, of his silent fishing, how he is organized to resist the cold. Through this individual portrait, his words raise the issue of Ivangorod’s particular situation: what does it mean to live right on a border? On the border between Russia and Estonia, on the very edge of Europe, a border which did not exist when Sasha was born. Sasha’s mother, Olga, told me once that she did not know where she came from anymore, where she belongs to, in between: Estonian, living in Russia, speaking only Russian or Russian living almost in Estonia, married to an Estonian man and whose children both work in Estonia.

MOST - the bridge - le pont -

MOST
Narva-Ivangorod

video
7 min. 30, 2009
color
images: Eléonore de Montesquiou
music from: „tribute to sun ra“
francois robert lloyd & gregoire garrigues






texts: english / français / eesti / rus



__________________________________________________________________

The bridge


The bridge “Friendship” on the Narva river marks the border between Europe (the Estonian city of Narva) and Russia (the city of Ivangorod). In the aftermath of the collapse of the Russian Empire, the newly independent Republic of Estonia gained control over the whole town of Narva, including Ivangorod, in January 1919, and it was subsequently recognized by Soviet Russia in the 1920 Treaty of Tartu. Having reoccupied Estonia during World War II in 1944, the Soviet authorities separated Ivangorod administratively from the rest of Narva, and transferred the territory to the Leningrad Oblast of the Russian SFSR in January 1945. Ivangorod received the status of town in 1954.

Until 1991, Narva and Ivangorod lived one life despite being located in different Soviet republics. Many residents of Ivangorod worked in Narva, and vice versa.
The local economy was so intertwined that some enterprises provided their staff with apartments on the other side of the river - a phenomenon that would later lead to the separation of many families. The bridge is crossed daily by inhabitants of Narva or Ivangorod, who go shopping in Russia where goods are cheaper and use the border situation to make some money by crossing with commodities.

Economic ties between the two cities were cut when the international border appeared along the Narva River. After Estonia regained independence in 1991, the border as per 1920 Treaty of Tartu was considered by Russia legally superseded by an administrative border between two former Soviet republics drawn later by the Soviet authorities. Ivangorod thus remained a part of Russia. Due to political tensions, a new border treaty between Estonia and Russia has not yet come into force. On the edge of Europe, this zone is a strong border with a severe visa policy though it is also a bridge between two parts of one city.

I filmed people crossing the bridge, they were on the other side of the fence, it was an unbearable sensation of how easily a harsh geopolitical situation can dictate everyday moves.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Le pont

Le pont sur le fleuve Narva marque la frontière entre l'Europe (la ville estonienne de Narva) et la Russie (la ville d'Ivangorod).
En janvier 1919, à la suite de l'effondrement de l'Empire russe, la nouvelle république indépendante d'Estonie établit sa souveraineté sur toute la ville de Narva, y compris Ivangorod. Cette situation fut reconnue par le traité de Tartu, signé en 1920 entre la Russie soviétique et l'Estonie.

Ayant réoccupé l'Estonie en 1944, les autorités soviétiques séparèrent administrativement Ivangorod du reste de Narva et la rattachèrent au territoire de l'oblast de Léningrad.
Narva et Ivangorod formaient néanmoins une ville entre deux républiques soviétiques. Les résidants d'Ivangorod travaillaient à Narva, et vice versa si bien que les habitants se virent attribuer des appartements de part et d’autre du fleuve - un phénomène qui mènera ensuite à la séparation de nombreuses familles.

Après l'indépendance de l'Estonie, en 1991, la frontière internationale définie par le Traité de Tartu en 1920 fut juridiquement remplacée par la limite administrative séparant les deux ex-républiques soviétiques d'Estonie et de Russie. Ivangorod resta donc à la Russie. En raison des tensions politiques, un nouveau traitéfrontalier entre l'Estonie et la Russie n'est pas encore entré en vigueur.

J'ai filmé des piétons traversant le pont au quotidien: une sensation d’insupportable d’impuissance face à cette contrainte journalière imposée par l’environnement géopolitique de la région.

___________________________________________________________________

Sild

Sild "Sõprus" üle Narva jõe tähistab piiiri Euroopa (Eesti linn Narva) ja Venemaa (Vene linn Ivangorod) vahel.

Kuni 1991. aastani olid Narva ja Ivangorod omavahel tihedalt seotud, hoolimata sellest, et nad kuulusid erinevate Nõukogude Liidu Vabariikide alla. Paljud Ivangorodi elanikud töötasid Narvas ja vastupidi. Linnade kohalik majandus oli omavahel niivõrd seotud, et osad ettevõtted andsid oma töötajatele korterid teisel pool jõge - see fenomen põhjustas hiljem mitmete perekondade lahutamise.


Majanduslikud sidemed kahe linna vahel katkesid, kui riigipiir kehtestati piki Narva jõge. Pärast Eesti taasiseseisvumist 1991. aastal, luges Venemaa 1920 aasta Tartu Rahulepinguga määratud riigipiiri asemel kehtivaks kahe Nõukogude Vabariigi vahelise administratiivpiiri, mis oli Nõukogude võimu poolt hiljem määratud. Nii jäi Ivangorod Venemaa linnaks. Poliitiliste pingete tõttu ei ole uus piirileping Eesti ja Venemaa vahel jõustunud.

Filmisin üle silla kõndivaid inimesi, nad olid teiselpool tara. Tunne, mis mind valdas mõistes, kui kergesti võib keeruline geopoliitiline olukord muuta igapäevast liikumist, oli väljakannatamatu.

__________________________________________________________________

Мост


Мост «Дружба» на реке Нарва обозначает границу между Европой (эстонский город Нарва) и Россией (г. Ивангород).

В январе 1919г. в результате развала Российской Империи новая независимая республика Эстония установила свое господство над всем городом Нарва, включая Ивангород. Эта ситуация была признана Тартуским мирным договором, подписанным в 1920 г. между РСФСР (Советской Россией) и Эстонией.
Прежде чем оккупировать Эстонию в 1944 г. советские власти административно отделили Ивангород от остальной Нарвы и присоединили его к территории Ленинградской области. С тех пор Нарва и Ивангород образовали город между двумя советскими республиками. Жители Ивангорода работали в Нарве и наоборот, горожане получали также квартиры то с этой, то с другой стороны реки – феномен, который впоследствии приведёт к разделению множества семей.

После признания независимости Эстонии в 1991 г. международная граница, определённая по Тартуским мирным договором 1920 года, юридически заменилась административной границей, разделяющей две бывшие советские республики – Эстонию и Россию. Таким образом, Ивангород остался в России. Из-за напряжённости политических отношений новое соглашение о границе между Эстонией и Россией ещё не вступило в силу.

В фильме сняты пешеходы, переходящие этот мост каждый день: чувство невыносимой беспомощности перед этим ежедневным бременем, навязанным геополитической обстановкой в регионе.

KAAR, technical drawing by Taavi Tulev

KAAR - the arch -

The technical drawing of an playground arch was made by Taavi Tulev, an architect based in Tallinn, as though we were intending to build a new this type of structure which was spread all other children’s playgrounds during Soviet Time.
Anachronic proposition in itself, the model draws a bridge between past and present in post soviet countries (the playgrounds are now replaced by installations due to E.U. norms) and both the Russian and Estonian communities (the old playgrounds are still to be found in areas inhabited mostly by Russians).

PALJASSAARE, recent developments, photographies, 2008

Paljassaare – A Void in Tallinn, english translation

Paljassaare – A Void in Tallinn

The Paljassaare peninsula has for most of its history existed as an enclave within the rest of the city's texture – uninhabited, wild, dangerous, lucrative... Paljassaare is an anti-city of its own, a void in space, from whose shores another forest can clearly be seen – the 21st century cluster of skyscrapers built in Tallinn city centre during the construction boom.

Once there were two islands instead of a peninsula, and they have been inhabited by the army since the 18th century. When the construction of the Peter the Great sea fortress began in 1912, the soil excavated in the deepening of the port was used to join the two islands into a peninsula, leaving an element of nature designed by man. The military nostalgia is today strengthened by the surviving ruins of the battery of the sea fortress, the railway dyke and the Katariina pier. As a military zone Paljassaare has always been devoid of people; in the 1930s a few hundred people lived here, away from civilisation, travelling to the town by sea as the road was so bad.

To get a full picture of Paljassaare, it should also be remembered that the peninsula lies in Kopli, the industrial backyard of modern Tallinn, in a district with beautiful hundred-year-old factory buildings and dry-rotting wooden houses, where from each lot the sea is visible, but where no-one sees it. The virginal untouched body of Paljassaare is flanked on both sides by commercial and military ports, transiting vehicles, factories, a water treatment plant, an illegal Soviet-era area of garages, a similarly illegal landfill and a whole row of incomprehensible “tough” structures. Tallinn is not a very logical and evenly developed city, it has its own voids, unexpected strata that have not been wiped out by the cleansing force of history, and that sneer at you in the face from around every corner.

Today's Paljassaare is not quite a town of people. Scientists say it has incredibly rich flora, and ornithologists are fascinated by the variety of species on the peninsula, which lies on the route for migratory birds, and have created an officially protected area for birds here. Untamed nature in the centre of the city, a potential theme park, whose beauty and value have started to be discovered by the property boom flowing out of the city centre. The ports move out, the factories close down, and ecologically balanced activities even allow the construction of residential houses next to the water treatment plant. Tallinn colonises its voids.

Today's Paljassaare is a strange example of self-organising urbanism, a public space born wildly with a plurality of temporary opportunities for use. The old Katariina pier with its beach was a secret superbeach for many years that could not be reached by any kind of public transport, and the road was disgraced by abandoned houses. A place for fishermen, hikers, metal collectors, fortune hunters and artistic souls looking for a void. Only since the year before last have the signs of civilisation denoting the “officialness” of the beach arrived here: lifeguards, toilets and a cheap hamburger kiosk. The rest is pretty much the same, even the view of the Tallinn panorama striving powerfully upwards from the shrubbery has the same distant and detached effect it had before.

Triin Ojari
Translation Robin Hazlehurst

Paljassaare, Tallinna tühik, Triin Ojari, 2007

Paljassaare – Tallinna tühik
Paljassaare – Void of Tallinn

Paljassaare poolsaar on suurema osa oma ajaloost eksisteerinud omaette saarena muus linnakoes – asustamata, metsik, ohtlik, ligitõmbav... Paljasaare on omamoodi anti-linn, ruumiline tühik, mille metsistunud kaldailt paistab imehästi kätte teine mets – Tallinna kesklinna ehituspalavikus kerkinud 21. sajandi pilvelõhkujakobar.

Kunagi oli siin poolsaare asemel kaks saart, sõjavägi on neid asustanud alates 18. sajandist. Kui 1912. aastal hakati Peeter Suure nimelist merekindlust ehitama, siis sadama süvendamise käigus sai täitepinnase abil kahest saarest üks poolsaar – puhtalt inimjõul ümber kujundatud looduselement. Militaarnostalgiat süvendavad kaasajal merekindlusest alles jäänud patarei varemed, raudteetamm ja Katariina kai. Sõjaväeobjektina on Paljassaare alati inimtühi olnud – 1930. aastail elas siin mõnisada inimest –, ja tsiviliseerimata – näiteks linna liiguti viletsa tee tõttu toona peamiselt meritsi.

Et Paljassaare kontekstist täit pilti saada, tasuks veel öelda, et poolsaar asub Koplis – moodsa Tallinna industriaalaegses tagahoovis, saja-aastaste ilusate tehasehoonete ja kõdunenud puumajadega linnaosas, kus pea igalt krundilt võiks näha merd, ent kus seda kuskilt ikkagi ei näe. Paljassaar neitsilikku puutumatust ääristavad kummastki küljest kauba- ja sõjasadamad, transiitveod, tehased, veepuhastusjaam, illegaalne nõukogudeaegne garaažikooperatiiv, sama illegaalne prügila ja veel loendamatu rida arusaamatuid ning „karme“ struktuure. Tallinn ei ole väga mõistuspärane ja ühtlaselt arenenud linn, siin on omad tühikud, ootamatud kihistused, mida korrastav ajalugu pole miskipärast ära jõudnud pühkida ja mis nüüd iga nurga tagant näkku irvitavad.

Tänane Paljassaare polegi nagu päris inimeste linn. Teadlaste meelest on siin erakordselt mitmekesine taimestik, ornitoloogid vaimustuvad lindude rändeteedele jääva poolsaare liigirikkusest ja on siia ametliku linnuriigi, kaitseala rajanud. Metsik loodus keset linna, potentsiaalne teemapark, mille võlusid ja väärtust on kesklinnast välja valguv kinnisvarabuum hakanud avastama. Sadamad kolivad välja, tehased pannakse kinni, ökoloogiliselt tasakaalukas tegutsemine muudab võimalikuks isegi elamute rajamise veepuhastusjaama kõrvale. Tallinn koloniseerib oma tühikuid.

Tänane Paljassaare on veel veider näide iseorganiseeruvast urbanismist, metsikult sündinud avalikust ruumist ning ajutiste kasutusvõimaluste paljususest. Vana Katariina sadamakai koos liivarannaga oli aastaid salajane superbeach, mitteametlik linna rand, kuhu ei viinud ükski ühistransport ning teed palistasid mahajäetud majad. Kalamehed, loodusmatkajad, metallikorjajad, õnneotsijad, tühjust igatsevad kunstnikuhinged. Alates möödunud aastast on siin ranna „ametlikkust“ kinnitavad tsivilisatsiooni märgid: rannavalve, tualetid ja odav hamburgeriputka. Kõik muu aga enam-vähem sama, ka siit võsa vahelt avanev vaade Tallinna jõuliselt ülespoole pürgivale siluetile mõjub sama kaugelt ja eemalolevalt, kui enne.

Triin Ojari

PALJASSAARE -the video -

PALJASSAARE

the film

6 min. 20
color
Estonia
sound: Lembe Lokk

During soviet Time, the peninsula of Paljassaare was a military base. Today's Paljassaare is a strange example of self-organising urbanism. From 1991 to 2006, this area was used by Russian people living in the rough area of Kopli, a part of Tallinn. Since 2006, various real estate developers are fighting around the plots of land there. The place is gradually being organised. Shot in 2005 and 2006, my film is a testimony of these in-between spaces and times already disappearing.