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.

At the Venice Architecture Biennale 2016, for the first time in history, the three Baltic States were represented by a joint exhibition that explored the common issues of dealing with the infrastructural heritage of the Soviet Union while also searching for ways of uniting the region, or all of Europe. The European Union has a basic principle, to connect everyone with infrastructure and to circulate resources in such a way that conflicts are impossible. The exhibition in the Venice Palasport outlines a similar approach. It presents meticulously arranged analyses of the geological layers of today’s natural and built environment and looks for ways to build and maintain upon these foundations functional infrastructural networks.

In Estonian architectural history, a strong connection with statehood and a search for national identity has always prevailed. At the symbolic level, architecture has been regarded as extremely important. Estonia is one of those nation states whose independence, in 1918, was born in a Europe that had been reorganized after World War I. Therefore, Estonian national-professional architectural history is also limited to the 20^th century.

Not far from the medieval Old Town of Tallinn there lies an almost windowless grey concrete and limestone structure that from street level would be easy to miss or mistake for a bunker or a depot. This is the Linnahall concert hall, a cultural megastructure from the late-Soviet years that has gained much admiration among the architects’ professional circles, but has also been at the center of heated public discussion around issues of memory, politics and nostalgia. How to approach and explain the logic of socialist architecture and the socialist city today, going beyond the usual impression of grim and grey, ugly or weird architecture and the city that still prevails in public accounts of East-Europe? Is it possible to imagine a future for the Linnahall that would bring together its past hopes, embodied in a grand yet complex form, and the present desires of the users of the city?

Traditionally fire stations in small towns and villages have been in the center of different community activities. Usually they were simple wooden buildings. A rescue station prototype, following the same form, was built in the town of Vastseliina, but it can be easily adapted for different sites around Estonia. The building has a square shape of approximately 26 × 26 m and it accommodates spaces to store and maintain equipment needed for rescue operations (fire trucks, boats, etc.) as well as learning and resting places for the team. The layout is well-organized and highly functional. It follows the one minute rule; the rescue team has one minute maximum to leave the building after the alarm. The station works 24/7, therefore the interior is designed to provide a comfortable working environment for everyday activities.

In 2016, Estonia completed the new building to showcase the historical collections of the Estonian National Museum. The monumental structure, designed by DGT studio, was built on the site of the former Soviet airfield near Tartu; its stark linear character reflected in the architectural form and the concept of the permanent exhibition, Encounters. The exhibition focuses primarily on folk culture, the long central hall presents it in the form of a timeline starting from the present day and going back towards the past. Nevertheless, the architectural concept allows for detours, parallel routes and shortcuts, so one can arbitrarily move through the story. The present is given the opportunity to further add to the story; the museum is meant to be a place of meeting, dialogue, and creativity.

Urbanism and urban studies are intrinsically international and interdisciplinary fields, it seems initially counterintuitive to look for themes characteristic to Estonian urbanism. It would also be quite difficult to talk about something that deals with only Estonian urban environments – the capital of Estonia, Tallinn, has a population of less than half a million, the population of all other Estonian towns remains under 100,000, in terms of diversity and complexity there are hardly cases to discuss. What makes these kind of generalisations slightly more palatable is exploring the way Estonian urbanists, policy makers, architects and planners define and understand specific processes in Estonian context. When looking at the recent decade and the post-economic crisis in Estonia, certain topics, such as opening up to the concept of post-socialism, redefining urban ambitions and the emergence of a more democratic city planning can be identified. The opening text in the section on Estonian urbanism is by Keiti Kljavin and Kaija-Luisa Kurik, issues of selected cities or neighbourhoods will be presented in case studies by local architects, researchers and activists.

Tallinn is in many ways a neo-liberal city. Market-orientation, freedom for developers, and the rights of private property owners are firmly embedded in urban practices. However, instead of seeing such neoliberalism as merely a spread of a global trend, policies, and ideas moving around the globe and settling also in Tallinn, the neo-liberal developments are related to the local past.

Advocating participation through a digital platform, the Estonian government has made some of the biggest advancements in the area of e-governance within the European Union. However, the question is why the concept of participation in the Estonian Digital Agenda is largely referred to as the process by which personal data is collected and accumulated? The limits of so-called citizen participation begin to reveal themselves when looking closer at the actual measures taken to expand national infrastructure into the cloud.

This hot summer brought the Estonian Academy of Arts (EKA) back home. Having spent almost ten vulnerable years in temporary premises, all four faculties (Faculties of Architecture, Design, Fine Arts, and Art and Culture) settled in a former textile factory encompassing eleven different stages of construction, layered over the past one hundred years. Another spatial transformation, the twelfth in the sequence, had taken place.

In August, The Estonian Academy of Arts (EKA) in Tallinn – the only public university in Estonia offering higher education in architecture, design, fine arts, visual studies, conservation and art culture – opened the doors of its new building. Due to increasing shortage of space, the Academy has long been seeking new premises. But the original intention to build a brand new building in the central district had to be abandoned and the school settled in a remodelled, former Rauaniidi textile factory in the Kalamaja district. This marks the first time in history when the whole academy has come together under one roof. The project by Joel Kopli, Koit Ojaliiv and Juhan Rohtla of KUU Architects, in collaboration with Eik Hermann, has already received favourable reviews and its first award nominations. Besides the understandable excitement surrounding the EKA’s new building, it should also be stressed that the story can be read as emblematic of its time, of the urban planning and design practices and of the change in architectural values.

The rich history of the former Rauaniidi textile factory complex had a new layer added this year. The restoration and the new building for the arts academy both respect and expose the raw quality of the interior spaces, while inserting a liveable program. The aim of the restoration was to reconnect the individual departments and to regenerate the synergy between them. A slice was cut out of the old complex and replaced with a contemporary volume – a new heart of the school providing common lecture rooms and access to the building and its branches: administration, studios and workshops. These are connected both vertically and horizontally, while at the center there is a common courtyard space with a concrete scaffold-like gallery that can be used creatively or as an extension of the studio rooms.

More than a half of Estonia is covered by forests, which in itself is an important asset in today’s overpopulated world. Forests are an important part of the national identity. Their significance can be illustrated by the number of special words the Estonian language has for describing various types of forest. Timber also has economic value in Estonia. Besides its role as a commercial export, it is also a renewable resource used to heat, as well as build houses. And right in the middle of the deep woods is where the annual Summer and Winter Schools of Architecture take place. Organized by b210 studio and invited instructors, they teach students craft in situ. The resulting small-scale architecture is based on the symbiosis of man and nature. Designing shelters, sheds, or bird observatories helps students understand how contemporary architecture, in harmonious dialogue with its surroundings, might look.

The installation is inspired by the intriguing story of the historical Baltic Exchange building in London. In 1992, the building was heavily damaged by an Irish Republican Army bomb attack. After the attack, the building was dismantled stone by stone and the valuable parts were put in storage with the intention of restoring the building to its historical form. However, instead of undergoing renovation, it was replaced by a new architectural landmark building – the office building known as the “Gherkin”, designed by Norman Foster. Efforts have been made to give new life to the Baltic Exchange building in Estonia and combine its facade with several new real estate developments. An intervention by two Estonian businessmen, who found an advertisement for the components of the building on SalvoWEB, finally saved the dismantled structure from its demise. In 2007, the sizeable delivery of 49 shipping containers arrived in Estonia.

Třetí, závěrečný díl seriálu o metodice BIM se zabývá nejzásadnější etapou fáze životního cyklu stavby. V této etapě budova spotřebovává nejvíce finančních prostředků a zároveň se v této fázi ocitá výrazně déle než v předchozích etapách projektování a výstavby. Třetí fázi nazýváme správou, neboť budovu investor nebo jím pověřená firma či osoba spravují z jediného důvodu: aby ji mohli užívat. Správa budovy by tedy měla zajišťovat její bezproblémové užívání.

Cílem článku je ukázat možnosti optimalizace procesu návrhu energeticky velmi úsporných budov, které mohou ve velké míře napomoci ke zvýšení hospodárnosti projektu, funkčnosti a nakonec i životnosti staveb.

A new seven-story office building was erected recently on the corner of a busy street-crossing near Holešovice metro station. It should just be the first stage of an entire city block development confirmed in this location by several urban design projects for the adjacent brownfield Prague-Bubny. The building consists of two parallel volumes connected by a perpendicular section with the entrance lobby, so that the floorplan resembles the letter H. Catwalks accessible from the second through the sixth floors bridge the gap between the main volumes and complete the compact appearance of the street façades. A grid of white cornices and vertical glass slats articulates the shell of the building, refining and adding depth to the façade.