Searching Sources: Exemplary Buildings in Three Acts

Searching Sources:

Exemplary Buildings in Three Acts

ACT 1: A Three-Layered Home Between Rural Roots and the Emancipating City

Architect’s Own House

Erika Nõva, 1937–1938

After completing her architectural studies at the Tallinn Higher Technical School in 1931, Nõva undertook a construction internship in Finland. She had, in fact, visited Finland earlier on a study trip.

In 1929, an excursion to Helsinki was organised through the Finnish–Estonian Student Friendship Association, attended by students from the University of Tartu and the Tallinn Higher Technical School. “I will remember those days for the rest of my life,” Nõva recalled. “The journey there was arduous: a heavy storm left many of us seasick. Yet, as we approached Helsinki, the magnificent panorama of rocky islands captivated us. Finnish students were there to meet us, and we attended a reception hosted by the President of Finland at the Presidential Palace. The president and his wife shook hands with each of us and delivered a brief welcome speech.” (Nõva 2006)

“This trip to Helsinki was my first journey abroad and immensely interesting,” Nõva later wrote. Her participation proved especially successful because she already had a fair command of Finnish. When shown the coursework of the Finnish architecture students, she had to admit that their work surpassed her own. Together with fellow student Dora Tõnurist, she requested permission to attend a lecture on architectural history by architect Yrjö Laine. “I felt a sense of pride that I was able to understand it completely,” she recalled. The lecture focused on the old wooden architecture of Finland and Karelia, with examples drawn from the wooden churches on Kizhi Island in Eastern Karelia.

Further in her memoirs, Nõva recalls her work at the construction site of the Red Cross Hospital in Töölö:

“As the only woman, I took part in all the men’s work. Most of the work involved pouring concrete, which was then transported to the floors in wheelbarrows and tamped down by hand with rammers—my task. Although the work was hard—my arm muscles grew so strong that my blouse sleeves became too tight—it was still quite interesting. Every lunchtime, I went to the office to look at the drawings.

I mainly worked in the evenings, and the work had a romantic quality of its own. From the upper floors, there was a magnificent view of the sea, dotted with islands. Construction was very precise, and the quality was high.

It was in the midst of the economic crisis. I was unable to find an office internship in Finland—architects showed me their empty offices with only a few employees—and I could not gain access to the architecture department of the Technical University, where I had applied as an auditor. The cost of living in Finland was higher than in Estonia, and I could barely get by on my female worker’s wage—I think it was sixty pennies an hour. The 100 kroons I had brought from home, earned in a competition in Lithuania with Kusti, went towards buying equipment. With little money, I tried to see everything I could without spending: churches, the zoo, open-air museums, and exhibitions. I was particularly interested in agricultural buildings and their interiors, which provided a wealth of useful information for my future work.

In November, I traveled back to Tallinn at the invitation of Kusti, who needed my help with the Palace of the Soviets competition project he was developing with architect Velbri. During my internship, my sister Hilda once wrote in a letter: ‘It must be hard for you there. But you will fully understand how useful it is later on.’ And indeed, it was. Finland has always been a benchmark for me, both professionally and personally. The summer after my internship, I visited Finland four more times, acting as an interpreter for family and friends. Later, I joined another interesting tour with home economics instructors, mainly in eastern Finland, where I saw the beautiful city of Viipuri, several Finnish farms, and a home economics school, from which I learned a great deal.” (Nõva 2006)

The experiences Nõva gained in Helsinki had a lasting impact on her and accompanied her throughout her life. One notable aspect was the feminist and emancipatory experience of working in Finland. While architecture remained largely a male domain elsewhere in Europe, by the early 1930s nearly thirty women were already practising as architects in Finland (Lass 2006). Although Nõva still encountered gender discrimination there, she was inspired by the thriving women’s movement and the progressive Finnish press, which addressed women’s emancipation and the modernisation of society through both theoretical and practical topics.

Upon returning to Estonia, when work opportunities were scarce, Nõva found an outlet in writing, contributing to the magazine Taluperenaine [Farmhouse Lady]. Her articles and projects reveal a strong social empathy and a desire to make modern, rational homes accessible to all. They were accompanied by detailed drawings and practical instructions, demonstrating how people could achieve similar solutions at home using simple means (Parbus, Ruudi 2014).

When Estonia became an authoritarian state in 1934, and the president launched a nationwide campaign to beautify homes aimed at improving the appearance of cities, towns, and villages, Nõva proposed a shift in focus. She advocated for a “home organisation movement,” prioritising the functionality of rooms to simplify the work of housewives. In terms of furniture, she cited Finnish modern designs as exemplary for their simple forms, honest use of materials, and practical spatial harmony (Parbus, Ruudi 2014).

It is unclear to what extent Nõva had encountered the latest architectural innovations in Finland, but she seems to have drawn inspiration both from functionalist principles and from the Finnish approach of combining the simplicity of folk architecture with modern design. Her own practical house designs and minimalist furniture were guided by the principle of “easy to build and easy to use” (Lass 2006).

Nõva worked as a designer at the Settlement Board under the Ministry of Agriculture. This office was responsible for planning and establishing new settlements on state reserve lands, a measure intended to alleviate rising unemployment. Nõva drew up plans for several settlements, as well as numerous village schoolhouses and standard and specialised farm designs.

In 1936, she was tasked with planning the Mustamäe settlement near Tallinn. These were not strictly agricultural buildings but rather urban dwellings, where residents could also keep animals and cultivate vegetable gardens if they wished – a practice encouraged by the state, which had provided loans. Construction began in the spring of 1937 on the first six houses, one of which became the home of Erika Nõva, her artist husband, and their twins, born in 1935.

Nõva’s private house is a compelling synthesis of practical farm architecture and modern townhouse design, reflecting several principles she had absorbed in Finland. The building’s construction was inspired by Finnish techniques: the walls were built in three layers, leaving an empty outer air gap and filling the inner layer with peat. Concrete blocks the size of bricks were cast on site. During construction, Nõva felt that the house in the valley was too low, so she raised the walls by one and a half metres to create more usable space under the roof – a strategy reminiscent of Finnish practice, signalling the influence of her studies abroad (Parbus, Ruudi 2014).

The house also incorporates several modern architectural features, such as circular and corner windows. While it is difficult to determine whether these elements were directly inspired by Finnish examples or by the broader currents of European modernism, they nonetheless reflect contemporary debates about hygiene, functionality, and the modern home – issues central to architectural discourse at the time.

Bibliography:

Lass A. (2006). “Saateks” [Foreword]. In A. Lass (editor), Arhitekt Erika Nõva. Minu töö ja elu. [Architect Erika Nõva. My work and life]. Estonian Museum of Architecture, Tallinn.

Nõva E. (2006) “Minu töö ja elu” [My work and life]. In A. Lass (editor), Arhitekt Erika Nõva. Minu töö ja elu. [Architect Erika Nõva. My work and life]. Estonian Museum of Architecture, Tallinn.

Parbus T, Ruudi I. (2014). “Emancipating architecture. Erika Nõva and the modernist architecture discourse from a gender-critical perspective”. In Proceedings of the Art Museum of Estonia, 4 (9), 231–254.

ACT 2: Houses Grow into Homes

Architect’s Own House

Vello Asi, 1963–1970

A house is nothing in itself, and a room even less.

Home lies elsewhere.

Houses grow into homes gradually.

(Niit 1977)

Chapter 1: Do you know what a pergola is?

“This all started with the house being designed on the western side of the plot, as you can see in the plans. In the northeast corner, I placed the garage. Between the wall running along the northern edge of the plot and the garage, a shady courtyard opens up to the south. The terrace of this courtyard, covered with a roof, connects to a rock garden and a pergola. Pergolas had become very fashionable at the time. You know what a pergola is? It came from Germany – a little touch of cozy home, one of those modern memories. Yes, the roofed terrace of the courtyard links directly to the rock garden and pergola, and the design of the garage itself is really subordinated to the pergola motif. The whole garden was conceived as an ornamental space; I deliberately avoided planting productive crops, except for one or two fruit trees. The entrance to the house is from Kõivu Road, while the garage is accessed from the side street. I had to raise the ground level slightly in the northwest part of the plot, and also partially in the courtyard.

This was the first version of the plan which met all the requirements that small houses were expected to fulfill at the time.

When I first designed the house, I worked within the regulations at the time, and I deliberately made it like the famous Volberg and Velbri and Nõva.” (Asi 2015)

Chapter 2: Anniversary Issue

“Earlier I mentioned the year 1967, a major anniversary of the revolution. For this occasion, the magazine Domov from Prague sent a correspondent to the Soviet Union to prepare a jubilee issue celebrating the 50th anniversary of the October Revolution. They sent a journalist, Zdena Glavova, to Moscow, and for some reason, she requested to visit the Baltic states as well. There was no objection in Moscow.

At that time, it was the season when snow had partially melted, and I was building something in the garden—a simple fence, the first one. Around midday, while working, a taxi suddenly pulled up to the end of Kõivu Road. A young woman jumped out, wearing a white jacket; spring had just begun. I realised she probably wasn’t from Moscow.

She came to see and learn about Estonian architecture and applied arts because she wanted to create a jubilee issue for the Soviet Union. She stayed for a few days. She brought a photographer, but she herself went through all the sites, arranged the articles, and someone had suggested giving her my address at Kõivu tee 12.” (Asi 2016a)

Chapter 3: Pallasmaa. Have you heard of him?

“When Tuljak opened, strong friendships formed with Helsinki, and Finnish architects came to inaugurate an exhibition at the Kunstihoone hall. Juhani Pallasmaa was one of the initiators, a real driving mind behind it. Toivo Kallas represented our side from the Union of Architects. One evening, Toivo came to find me: “We’re coming over with Pallasmaa—are you home?” I said, “Of course, come by.”

Pallasmaa and Toivo arrived. The exhibition installers were there, plenty of vodka on hand. We sat around the table; Pallasmaa, a tall man, sat on the couch, knees up, back against the wall. They were lively, curious, and engaging, talking and exploring ideas late into the night. After a while, they asked if the buses were running; I said, “Half an hour more.” Then they left.

He played a significant role in the unfolding of modernism—vital, intense, unpredictable. For me, he left a lasting impression. I became the “garage man” for them, preparing the building’s foundation.” (Asi 2016a)

Chapter 4: Until Then, We’ll Live in the Garage

In Domov No. 5 (1967), Vello’s home was presented as a good idea already in use in Estonia: a young man without an apartment builds a single-room dwelling on his plot, which then serves as a garage, workshop, storage, etc. It can be independent or part of a larger building. Three photos were published: the living space in the garage, a plan and perspective view of the temporary dwelling as it evolved over several years, and a vision of the completed house.

“I built it in 1957—not that I owned a car, but I also didn’t have a place to live. It was to become, first and foremost, the beginning of my future home. The plot is 10 km from Tallinn’s centre, a few hundred meters from the sea, in a block of family houses.

I am glad today that I didn’t have money to continue building at the time. There were strict requirements for the region: all houses had to be single-storey, with a specific plinth height and a roof pitch of 48–52°. The goal was to create a unified architectural style expressing national character. To justify “true nationalism,” high roofs were used, as seen in Tallinn’s oldest districts. Predictably, the result was monotonous and uninspiring, and eventually, these regulations were abandoned.

By 1963, I could design the house as it appears today: a spacious living room with an adjoining studio, open on three sides, featuring a seven-meter southern window, a terrace, and a small garden. The fireplace is freely located in the centre of the room. The other part of the building contains the hallway, bathroom, WC, and kitchen, connected by a corridor. The third section includes the garage and workshop.” (Asi 1967)

Chapter 5: Sense of Japan and Scandinavia, Not to Forget the Estonian Open Air Museum

“From my first encounter with Japanese history, architectural history, and journalism, I learned the characteristics of Japanese houses: what is rationally correct and pleasing to the gods. Immediately, some kind of roof must be above the windows—so you don’t look directly at God without a barrier or visor. This creates a protective and ordered space.

This wide-eaves motif is not only Japanese; you can see it in Estonian architecture too, for example during walks in the Estonian Open Air Museum. When we played with village boys in Võru County in summer or winter, this extended eaves motif was practical—you didn’t have to rush indoors when it rained.

Here, one can also feel a Scandinavian sensibility: a low roof, concentration of light in a large space, but with an emphasized rhythm, so the façade does not become a powerless wall. I wasted an entire tree between two panes to create window mullions. Fully constructive, yet emphasized, because rhythm is essential: without it, the house and its large space would be meaningless. I aimed to make the house powerful, even in its simplicity; the rhythm is the central element of the space.

I used triple glazing and additional inner window frames, creating substantial thickness and a strong, coherent tone in the room. I sought visual contact with the outdoor silicate wall; the courtyard is framed as a modern layering of rhythms, dominant yet restrained, where only a picture on the wall is needed for decoration.” (Asi 2015)

Chapter 6: Rhythm

“I know what it is!” she said on the phone one November afternoon. “This was our introduction to Finland; it was television that took us to another level!” When we reached the topic of language learning, she aptly remarked: “You have to hit the rhythm.”

Suddenly, everything became clear—rhythm. Villa Mairea in Noormarkku serves as an example: designed by Alvar Aalto for a friend whose father was Finland’s largest forest industrialist. Previously, furniture sets were rigid: table, chairs, sideboard. Now, freedom prevailed: large living spaces, furniture chosen according to personal needs. Vello’s house reflects this: large, freely furnished, functional, and responsive to the inhabitant. (Pärtelpoeg 2020)

Chapter 7: Adaptability

“If we take this little house as it is now, with its plan and scheme… It isn’t suitable for any family. Although it can be adapted in a very simple way.” (Asi 2016b)

Chapter 8: Artistic Research on Vello Asi’s Home

In the fall semester of 2025, the first-year master’s course Artistic Research (supervised by Gregor Taul and Merilin Tee) tasked ten students with exploring Vello Asi’s legacy. Five pairs studied specific aspects: his home, graphic design, teaching, artifacts, and interiors/exhibition designs.

Lauri Eltermaa and Maarja Varkki focused on Asi’s house at Kõivu tee 12. Their concept emerged from a note on one of Asi’s home plans: “a poorer version.” This sparked a discussion of what a better, or even ideal, house could be. Their project culminated in an archival folder containing 30+ fictional drawings, photos, expert opinions, and official resolutions, depicting dialogues between Asi and Soviet officials about the ideal design.

Houses take root, and rooms sprout shoots.

Houses also bloom and scatter seeds

once they have grown into homes.

(Niit 1977)

Bibliography:

Asi V. (1967) – “Zatím bydlím v garáži” [For now, I live in the garage]. – Domov, 5, pp. 24–25.

Asi V. (2015) – Conversation with Merilin Tee on 9 November. Audio recording in the possession of the author.

Asi V. (2016a) – Conversation with Merilin Tee on 5 February. Audio recording in the possession of the author.

Asi V. (2016b) – Conversation with Merilin Tee on 28 April. Audio recording in the possession of the author.

Niit E. (1977) – Vee peal käija. Luuletusi 1970–1975 [Walker on Water. Poems 1970–1975]. Illustrated by Vello Asi. Eesti Raamat, Tallinn.

Pärtelpoeg L. (2020). Conversations with Merilin Tee on 21 and 24 November. Written notes in the possession of the author.

ACT 3: Alvar Aalto—no question

Pärnu KEK terraced housing complex Kuldne Kodu (Golden Home)

Toomas Rein, 1972–1987

When asked about his favourites in world architecture, Toomas Rein has given a strikingly unambiguous answer: “Undoubtedly Alvar Aalto—no question. The most brilliant person. I have studied him so much and thought about him so much. Frank Lloyd Wright as well, and Le Corbusier, Louis Kahn too, but if I have to make a choice, then definitely Aalto.” (Kodres 2000)

Rein had the opportunity to experience buildings by Aaltos first-hand, yet, as was common among intellectuals in the Soviet period, he was already deeply familiar with the work of his role models long before encountering their architecture in person. Through Finnish colleagues, Rein had access to architectural literature that reached Estonia despite political restrictions. It can be said that before embarking on his own major works, Rein had thoroughly absorbed the entire canon of modernist architecture and grasped its underlying currents—from strict functionalism to Aaltos’ organicism. (Väljas 2010)

At first glance, the KEK row houses in Pärnu may appear difficult to compare directly with Aalto’s work. Yet these influences are likely embedded in the deeper principles guiding the project, such as the building’s sensitive integration with the landscape and the use of light to articulate spatial form. It is admirable how Rein transformed Aalto’s example into his own internal standard for spatial quality within the constraints of the Soviet system and, despite the dictates of an otherwise rigid rationalisation, consistently produced architecture of remarkable quality.

An episode from Rein’s catalogue, in which he recounts the making of a watercolour inspired by Venice, is particularly revealing in this respect. It illustrates both his deep aversion to the absurdities of the Soviet system and his unwavering commitment to his own (architectural) principles:

“Once, deep in the Soviet era, I had the opportunity to travel to Italy with a large all-Union tourist group. For some reason, however, Venice was not included in the itinerary. I declined this unique opportunity for that reason alone, and I am still proud of my youthful radicalism. Because what is Italy without Venice! Later heartfelt encounters with this fantastic city compensated for the disappointment of that time a thousandfold.” (Rein & Väljas 2010)

Bibliography:

Kodres K. (2000) – “Juubelijutt Toomas Reinuga. Intervjueerinud Krista Kodres” [Anniversary interview with Toomas Rein. Interviewed by Krista Kodres]. In Maja, 2 (9).

Rein T. & Väljas M. (editors) (2010) – Arhitekt Toomas Rein [Architect Toomas Rein]. Estonian Museum of Architecture, Tallinn.

Väljas M. (2010) – “Modernist Rein” [Rein the Modernist]. In T. Rein & M. Väljas (editors). Arhitekt Toomas Rein [Architect Toomas Rein]. Estonian Museum of Architecture, Tallinn, 45-48.