What do Latvian Pineapple and Hockey Celebrations have in Common?

A major part of my time here in Latvia has been teaching a graduate level course on Intangible Heritage and Community Engagement at the Latvian Academy of Culture.  My students were all working, mostly in museums, and brought loads of experience to our discussions.  We focused on thinking about intangible heritage and community engagement globally, learning a great deal about practices in many parts of the world--but I also asked students to write short papers on an intangible heritage here in Latvia that meant something personal to each of them. Latvia is a small country so these traditions are key to building a sense of identity despite (or perhaps because of) the country's complex history. Here are a few excerpts from those student essays--how happy I am to learn all these traditions!  You can see all the students and me together at the end of the post.

Hockey Celebrations

This unique fan culture developed after Latvia regained independence and returned to ice hockey’s top division in the 1990s. A major turning point came in 2000, when Latvia defeated Russia on Russian soil, sparking hockey euphoria across the country. Support for the national team became a form of national self-expression…The Bauska flag drive was initiated by local fan Guntars Simanovičs in 2007. Since then, it has developed into a fixed ritual repeated after every Latvian victory at the Championship. Fans get into their cars, gather at the Rimi Bauska parking lot, and set off together along an established route. The procession always includes these elements: cars weave from side to side in a “snake-like” formation, drivers honk their horns, passengers wave Latvian flags, and blast Latvian songs associated with hockey... Until recently, I had never considered the flag drive as cultural heritage and I doubt others do. It is simply something we do in Bauska. Now looking at a tradition I through the lens of cultural heritage has made me understand its value and vulnerability. To my knowledge, the ritual is not being documented by the local museum or anyone else, despite having become a beloved tradition for many people in Bauska. Perhaps, once it has stood the test of time, as I am confident it will, a broader discussion about its cultural significance can begin.

Amanta Arbidane

Latvian Pineapple

“Latvian Pineapple” (ķirbju salāti), is a historic and highly active living culinary practice. It encompasses a specific body of knowledge regarding autumn harvest preservation, where a neutral taste of pumpkin is transformed into a sweet-and-sour, crisp winter delicacy using definite marinating techniques and aromatic spices...This dish holds a special place in the culinary traditions of many Latvian families, regardless of their ethnic origin. It serves simultaneously as a festive holiday appetizer and as a testament to the historical adaptability of the Latvian people, who learned to bridge local agricultural resources with global flavors brought by international trade...The process of making “Latvian pineapple” is intimately tied to family memory and the transmission of skills. Peeling the pumpkin, dicing it into precise cubes, and boiling the marinade in the autumn is a collective family ritual that spans generations. Grandmothers pass down their “measured by eye” proportions to daughters and grandchildren. This continuity fosters a strong sense of belonging and ensures that younger generations, upon establishing their own households, repeat the practice to recreate the comfort and memories of their childhood homes.

Julia Trofimova

Gathering Wreath Materials

One of the more popular and noticeable parts of the [mid-summer]celebrations probably is the making of wreath crowns. Wreath crowns are associated with traditional Latvian values also outside of Līgo and Jāņi celebrations, seen as a fitting part of the traditional garb. But during the Līgo celebrations the grasses and flowers are said to be imbued with thefull strength of the summer sun and vitality. Instead of simple plants, they become Jāņu zāles / Jāņu grāsses. Decorating houses, gates and other areas during the solstice were also said to ward off bad spirits that roam around during the shortest night. And of course, it is important to honor with wreaths those by the name of Līga and Jānis, since

Latvia also has a name day tradition…But to be able to make wreath crowns, one must be in possession of the natural materials to make them. Thus, those willing go out into the fields and meadows to gather all grasses, wildflowers, tree branches and anything else suited for crown making...But why do I like the flower gathering part most in particular? Perhaps because it demands looking at the nature around us with a more discerning eye. A small flower on the side of the road can become the central piece of a crown. Flower gathering also feels like play, even if by tradition it is garbed into ideas of vitality and often particular gendered beauty (since there are some plants considered as befitting a masculine wreath crown and others feminine). Finding a particular flower feels like a quest, albeit a low stakes and leisurely one….Besides, people recharge in nature and when perhaps other parts of the celebration take more thought-out preparations, like cooking and making fire, going out into meadows helps to add more dynamic motion and moment of respite, especially if otherwise majority of the day could be spent indoors depending on the circumstances. And perhaps Latvians, who’s folklore is so deeply tied to nature and its movements, feel that need to recharge in nature especially strongly.

                                                                                         Laura Vilka

Weaving the Midsummer Crown

When I was a little girl, my mother would wake up earlier than everyone else, weave a flower crown for me to wear during the festivities. As I grew older, I learned the skill of weaving myself. The act of weaving a crown carries symbolic meaning; by forming a circle, it represents a beginning and an end—a cycle. The choice of flowers for the crown is also significant. Typically, these flowers are gathered from meadows, and on the evening of the celebration, they are collectively referred to as Jāņu zāles (Midsummer herbs). They are believed to bring happiness and blessings to everyone who weaves them into a crown. Generally, plants are selected that are non-toxic and have stems flexible enough not to break during the weaving process. Popular choices for crowns include daisies, cornflowers, bedstraw, ox-eye daisies, and clover...Interestingly, the celebration of Midsummer was prohibited during the Soviet era; yet, it managed to retain its significance throughout the years of occupation, becoming even stronger and more enduring after Latvia regained its independence. This is likely because Midsummer lies at the very core of Latvian identity. And the traditions associated with them—including the weaving of flower crowns—are a way to return to one’s roots and feel a sense of belonging to both nature and one’s people. For me, the celebration of Jāņi is a special occasion that allows me to feel a closeness to nature and the universe. Weaving a crown is a way for me to bring order to the world around me; its symbolic meaning grants me strength and peace.

                                                                                                                 Liga Keisa

 

Pastalas

Pastalas are one of the oldest types of footwear in Latvia. They were typically crafted from a single piece of leather, with the edges folded upward and cinched together using a leather thong. While construction may appear simple, making pastalas requires specific knowledge regarding leather, cutting patterns, the shape of the foot, and the correct method of cinching. Mostly pastalas we can see at the song and dance festival, folk dance concerts, folklore events, in museums, at craft markets, and during Ligo and Jani celebrations (summer solstice). However, what I find particularly interesting is that pastalas also appear in much more unexpected, contemporary ways. A very personal example involves my own 9 year daughter Frederika. During the Ligo and Jani festivities she has paired pastalas with sportswear. While participating in a “Stirnu buks” trail run during the solstice period, she chose to wear pastalas with her athletic clothes for the post-race awards ceremony. I really like this example because it illustrates how intangible cultural heritage continues to live today. She wasn’t trying to mimic someone who living in Latvia a hundred or two hundred years and not dressed in full traditional folk costume. She was a participant in a modern sporting event, wearing athletic clothes and pastalas instead of sport shoes and tray trough her outfit feel and demonstrate to others her connection to Latvian traditions and the summer solstice season. If we were to require that pastalas be worn only in combination with a precisely reconstructed folk costume, their potential use would be very limited. If people can incorporate pastalas into their modern lives its mean we have reasons for wearing pastalas and continue keep alive the skill required to craft them.

                                                                                                                 Elina Rudevica

Sklandrausis – the “sun-shaped” pie from Courland

The sklandrausis—a rye-flour dough filled with layers of paste, made from boiled potatoes and carrots, resembling a small, round sun, is a traditional Livonian (Livonians – the Balto-Finnic people who have formed in Latvia over 1000 years ago) dish that later spread to other kitchens of Courland as well. The precursor to the contemporary sklandrausis was an unleavened rye-dough flatbread baked on a campfire. After first potatoes arrived to Courland a carrot-and-potato filling was added to these flatbreads. To hold the filling, the edges of the dough were folded up—forming a sort of fence (known in the local dialect as sklandas)—which is how the pie got its name, so if we would like to make a direct translation to English, the tittle of the dish would be fence pie...Personally, I find this renaissance of sklandrausis over the last few decades to be highly significant. It is not just a story about a small, round pastry, which many people find strange; rather, it speaks to the cultural preservation and resilience of a small communities – as Suiti—or an endangered people—the Livonians through their culinary heritage.

                                                                                        Zane Steinberga

Hieromartyr Jānis, Archbishop of Riga and All Latvia.

Painted using pigments from the Latvian land; painted by Evija Rudzīte.

Old Believer Icons

I am an icon painter, and I have always been genuinely interested in everything related to icons. That is how I came into touch with the sacred heritage of the Old Believer community in Latvia...I am interested in the Old Believer tradition and their cultural heritage because, as a representative of today’s community of icon painters in Latvia, I feel a need for continuity and a sense of inheritance—a sense of belonging to this cultural heritage. It was through the Old Believer community that the tradition of icon painting came to Latvia. This refers to the so-called Baltic School of Iconography, whose founders and representatives came directly from the Old Believer community. Beginning in the 18th century, the Old Believers established their own icon-painting workshops, where masters continued the traditions of Old Russian icon painting. The Grebenščikov Old Believer congregation in Riga became a major center of icon painting in the 1920s and 1930s, not only in Latvia but also on a European scale. My colleagues and I may not be the direct heirs of the Baltic School of Iconography,but one can trace how this tradition was passed down from master to student, from the school’s beginnings right up to the present day.

Evija Rudzīte

I'm Getting to It!

I've seen a number of wonderful exhibits here in Latvia, and I want to share them with you--but I've been slow getting to it. It's terrific that that my delay, reading British mysteries, going to markets, and more, is actually the theme of a fabulous exhibition at the Latvian National Museum of Literature and Music.  Literature and music occupy a vital place in Latvian culture--for everyone, as I've discoverd. The permanent exhibit is Procrastination and Creation.   The visitor begins with a manifesto (when was the last time you saw one of these to start an exhibit!).

I love that this manifesto is written as "We,"  putting us in the same place as these revered artists who are often only seen on a pedestal.  In our work on creativity, Rainey Tisdale and I found this procrastination phase vital, although we didn't call it that (hello, incubation time).  Each artist gets their own vignette, an installation that includes both original objects but also sometimes video and hands-on activities.  Each one is witty and engaging.

Director Iveta Ruskule taking a sniff of something that I can't remember what!

I particularly loved that the exhibit's designer even created a display of her own creative space in an upstairs hallway, showing her own process.  But the best part, the very best part, was that each artist's ways of procrastinating were highlighted!

Here are some lessons I took away:

• Re-invention is always possible!  The museum is 100 years old and took the chance to do something totally new.
• "Surrender the chronology!"  Long-ago, in a planning meeting, a renowned historian advised this--and it really worked here.  The simplest choice would have been a chronological presentation--simple but boring!
• Have fun!  It must have been great to work through all these procrastination labels.  They are funny and moving, and of course, we can all see ourselves in them.
• Mix it up!  Audio, video, hands-ons, photos, objects, created spaces, many from natural materials were all used in ways that didn't interfere with each other.

Such a pleasure!  As an additional note, virtually every exhibit I've seen here in Riga has beautifully translated English language labels that are much appreciated!

Objects May Be Closer Than They Appear

When I'm at home in the US, I think about Russian war against Ukraine every day, but safe to say, most Americans do not.  The price of fuel, the mid-term elections, and all of our family responsibilities probably take up more space in our minds.

But here in Latvia, and also in Lithuania and Estonia, the war is far from theoretical and I've been stuck both by how present the concerns are, how much they relate to past history, and how museums and other cultural institutions are preparing for the worst.

For the clearest message, the large image at the top of this post is the front of the Pauls Stradiņš Museum of the History of Medicine--located directly across from the Russian Embassy.  The director had it put up two weeks after the full-scale invasion, with the agreement of the full staff, and it has remained ever since, even becoming a more permanent installation.

Blue and yellow Ukrainian flags of support are still seen everywhere on government offices, private homes and public businesses.  In conversations, all sorts of people continue to express support for Ukrainan refugees here in the country (including telling me where to get the best Ukrainian food at a market!).

None of this is surprising.  These three tiny Baltic nations were a part of the Soviet Union from 1944-1991.  With that, of course, came deportations and control of all sorts.  You can see this in memorials like the Memorial to the Victims of the Soviet Occupation "History Tactile", below and the plaques to personages on buildings that show their death dates as due to either Soviets or Nazis.

But even more telling are the stories from everyday people.  The person whose mother was a librarian and hid books in their attic at home so they wouldn't be taken away.  The families who continued speaking their own language, rather than the mandated Russian.  The chef on a market walk who described what the Soviets had done to local food. In a workshop here in Riga about dialogic education, together we thought about the Four Truths and the 1991 barricades, showing personal truths and also understandings about the challenge, still, of reconciliation.

But what about the now?  Museumm colleagues shared that Ukraine's experience taught them that they were entirely unprepared for the threat of war--emergency plans were about floods or fire, much as they are in the United States.  New plans and regular drills are now a part of everyone's life at their museum.  I'm old enough that it reminded me somehow of all of the drills done in my school during the Cold War.

But it's not just museum people who are concerned.  At the NEMO conference in Vilnius, Lithuania, two speakers really stood out to me.  Magnus Hort from the Swedish Psychological Defense Agency, whose purpose is to safeguard democratic society, freedom and indepence spoke about how Ukraine was a special focus--they (Sweden) was suppoeting, but now they were learning a great about countering psychological warfare from Ukrainians, countering, as he said, efforts to "keep us afraid."

Lukas Alsys, Lithuanian MInister of Culture started by telling the audience that in Lithuania, museums are the second most trusted institution after firefighters and rescue workers, but reminded us that we "cannot settle for good intentions."  He shared two lessons learned from Ukraine:

• Cultural protection must begin before a crisis.
• The continuation of culture institutions is essential to society. 

I'm so proud to know folks at Ukrainian cultural institutions that are inspiring change in other places and teaching us new ways of working.  And proud also, to get to know Baltic colleagues in the same way!

A Cornucopia of Ideas (and Objects!)

I'll try to regularly report on my museum visits here in Latvia--and I'm already behind by a few museums.  I'll catch up!  I just visited Art Museum Riga Bourse specifically to see the new exhibition, Cornucopia.  We've seen so many museums that do exhibitions that highlight rarely see objects in their collections, but this approach is so fascinating.  Even the benches had labels!

The team landed on the concept of cornucopia--"boundless material and spiritual abundance,"  with some of that abundance hidden in the horn of plenty itself, much like museum collections are hidden away. But they also go a step further to raise questions such as "What is a museum today?  What kinds of displays are created and for who?  Can anything become an exhibit?"  The idea is further developed in the label you see below (apologies for more label pictures than object pictures!).

I found just one dialogic question for visitors--but it was so lovely.  "What is the object or ritual in your everyday life in which your own understanding of abundance resides?"  I only wished there had been a place for visitors to share that reflection.  Some of the objects below--and I believe that the first one was created by the exhibit installers/designers, reflecting the layers of paintwork from previous exhibits!

For me, these fairly dense text labels were vital for me--but there were other visitors, including children, who were more interested in the wide array of objects--so I think this exhibit is a success, bringing people in in varied ways--and definitely not dumbing down content for folks, but encouraging everyone to consider who controls what in museums--something that remains a critical issue here decades after independence and separation from the Soviet Union in 1991.  I've seen this self-reflection on other museums here, and wish that more museums in the US took on such work. Whose story will be told?  And who wil tell it?   A big shout-out to Deputy Director Kristine Milere and the whole team!

And a footnote:  my deep appreciation for the clever way labels were mounted, and for wonderful English translations!

Why Latvia?

I'm almost two weeks in to my four+ month time as a Fulbright Scholar in Riga, Latvia and I am hoping to return to regular blogging to share what I'm learning and experiencing here.  So I thought I might begin with a bit about Riga and Latvia.  Latvia is one of the three Baltic countries (along with Estonia and Lithuania) on the Baltic Sea--it's pretty far north!  It's not very big--about half the size of New York State--and is fairly flat, and deeply forested.  The country has a long and complex history--centuries of German, Swedish, Polish-Lithuanian and Russian rule.  It was established as an independent republic in 1918, but then of course, the 20th century brought occupation by both the Nazis and the Soviet Union (the latter which lasted 45 years).  The country became once again, an independent republic in 1991.  Latvia's a part of the EU and NATO and support for Ukraine is notable here seen both in blue and yellow flags everywhere, but also in conversation.

Riga celebrated its 825th birthday this past August and the city itself reflects all those centuries!  Remember the Hanseatic League from Western Civ classes?  Riga was a part of this trading network.  You can see medieval architecture in the old town, some of the most spectacular Art Nouveau buildings anywhere,  wooden clapboard buildings interspersed among 19th and 20th century architecture, including some Soviet blocs and the zeppelin hangars turned Central Market, and newer architecture including the mountainous National Library.  

The museum, cultural heritage and contemporary art community is vibrant, with all sorts of activities that I'll be exploring. I've already been out to the contemporary craft fair at the Ethnographic Museum and visited the Natural History Museum to see the community's display of dahlias.  

But it's complicated, of course, which is what I want to learn more about here. My interest in this part of the world goes back a long way--I'm fascinated by the way places make and remake themselves physical, emotionally and societally.  I've been lucky enough to get to know some Latvian colleagues through ICOM and the wonderful Baltic Museology School--that helped my decision to apply for a Fulbright here.  Big questions to consider:  How does 20th century history affect lives today?  How should museums address that history?  What does it mean to be Latvian or a Latvian citizen?  How can cultural organizations help build civic participation and identity?  What sorts of intangible heritage help shape that identity?  All of these questions are complicated by the residents who are non-citizens, who colonized Latvia from other Soviet republics (see label from Museum of the Occupation above.) Needless to say, the war in Ukraine has deepened concerns around Russia in every way.  Elections are in October, and I don't understand yet all the issues, but see big wall posters around the city for different parties.

Also on the learning plan?  Finding the best coffee and pastry place in the city!  Stay tuned.

Updates!

 

Just a few quick updates after a long absence...

Along with Stacey Garcia, I'll be heading to Kalmar, Sweden to facilitate the workshop Climate, Heritage, and Policy: Dialogues in Learning at Linneaus University in Kalmar. I've tacked on some extra days at the end in Copenhagen, so look forward to visiting museums there! Suggestions welcomed!

I'm also pleased to announce that I will be a U.S. Fulbright Scholar to Latvia in fall, 2026.  I'll be teaching at the Latvian Academy of Culture as well as doing workshops and other projects with colleagues there.  The city of Riga and the country of Latvia are fascinating places and I know it will be a time of great learning for me.

More to come on both!  Not the least of which Sweden, Denmark and Latvia all seem to have incredible cafes and bakeries!

Braver Together: Join Us to Build Our Collective Strength

“Relationships grow out of the realization of mutual benefit, the creation of shared value, and the commitment to a shared future." Marshall Ganz

I've recently written three blog posts about brave museums (here, here, and here) and I've had many conversations lately about how museum and cultural colleagues can be braver in support of our communities--and I don't just mean braver about advocating for our own financial support.  That's vital I know, and the past few months have been shocking as IMLS, NEA, NEH, and so many other federal supports have been kicked away.  

But we have other jobs too, as community members and citizens. Sometimes it's hard to know how to support others in the most effective way possible, at a time when our own bravery seems hard. I'm lucky enough to have two incredible colleagues, Braden Paynter and Stacey Garcia-- together we've spent a great deal of time pondering how we can be helpful.  It seems clear to us that bravery is best done as a collective effort, so we've put our collective heads together from our home bases in Maine, upstate New York and California and have come up with this webinar for all of you.

Please plan to join us for 

BRAVER TOGETHER:  Strengthening Civil and Human Rights

Tuesday, June 17 · 1:30 - 3pm EDT

Strengthening civic structures and supporting civil and human rights takes bravery. Individual acts of heroism can be inspiring, but movements and consistent change are built through collective bravery. This interactive virtual session will draw on experiences from across the country and around the world to offer tools and frameworks for cultural workers to ignite bravery around themselves and be forces for positive change.  It's a pay-what-you-can event (suggested $10) with all proceeds going to the food banks in our respective communities.

What will we do?  It's an interactive webinar--we'll build our collective bravery together, with resources and lots of opportunities, in small groups and large, to ponder questions such as:

• What's bravery to you?
• How do we create a brave space with our colleagues? 
• What change do we want most at this moment? (you have to know what you’re fighting for– something that’s bigger than yourself/your institution)
• How can we turn what we have (resources) into what we need (power) to get what we want (change)?

We'll share examples from museums and cultural heritage organizations from around the world and will follow up with some useful worksheets. It's a great chance to meet and connect with colleagues, building solidarity together. Space is limited, so register now!