What is a border? “Primarily, nothing more and nothing less than a real or imagined line, setting two things apart,” wrote the prominent Austrian philosopher Konrad P. Liessmann.1 According to him, a border is a precondition for us to be able to perceive and experience something. If everything was undifferentiated, there wouldn’t be anything to identify. Generally speaking, borders are important because that’s where two different powers always meet and can enrich each other. Thanks to the positive tension between them, the periphery allows for impulses and innovations to emerge, even if they couldn’t thrive in the center.

V čísle #05/2018 časopisu ERA21, věnovaném stému výročí založení československého státu, jsme otiskli rozhovor s „výročním starcem“ Karlem Kroupou. Pozornému čtenáři jistě neuniklo, že jeho postava je smyšlená a celý rozhovor je literárním dílem, do kterého jeho autor Rostislav Koryčánek mistrně zakomponoval zajímavé momenty uplynulých sta let, a to nejen z oblasti architektury, ale i důležité události národní historie. Životní cesta Karla Kroupy se přesto nápadně podobá osudu jiného, téměř stoletého architekta, z jehož archivu pocházejí fotografie, kterými jsme inkriminovaný rozhovor doprovodili. Kdo tedy byl Vladimír Matoušek?

Letošní léto strávil Osamu Okamura v Chicagu, kde jako stipendista Fulbright-Masarykova programu na vlastní kůži zakoušel fungování Chicagské architektonické nadace, jedné z největších a nejúspěšnějších architektonických kulturních institucí na světě. Jaké jsou jeho postřehy?

An unusual kindergarten inspired by the works of Japanese architect Takaharu Tezuka’s was built on a north‑facing, gently sloping site on the outskirts of Liberec. The limits of the site and other constraints led to the proposal of a spatial experiment that teaches children to see architecture in all of its different forms. The kindergarten is composed of two narrow wings, each with a classroom for 25 children, connected by a one-story volume containing a dining-hall, offices, locker rooms, and facilities. The three volumes define the sheltered interior courtyard space, which then continues upwards to the terrace on the roof of the dining-hall and further to the outer galleries. On the inside, with rooms of different heights combining and blending together, the building becomes a big maze enabling free movement and play. All of this is enclosed in an outer semi‑translucent fiberglass shell, adding to the intriguing transparency concept as well as the feeling of security in one’s own little world.

In Central Europe, Tallinn is known primarily as the city of free public transport, and Estonia for its e-Residency program and digital citizenship. This issue introduces a broader picture. Estonian architecture is situated on an imaginary intersection between Nordic design, emphasizing simplicity and the significance of natural context, and post-Soviet transition from often unjustly stigmatized collective housing, to the neoliberal city coopted by the real estate market.