Čiurlionis’ 150th anniversary is resonating far and wide – just as I began writing this text, I heard on the radio the unifying slogan of this year’s events: “Deeper than the eye can see,” inviting us to immerse ourselves in Čiurlionis’ time. And indeed, we can endlessly discuss and interpret his works, dive into a virtual Čiurlionis-like reality, promote him to the world, or even name Lithuania’s airports after him. All of these are wonderful initiatives that will undoubtedly capture the attention of their intended audiences. But to truly understand the genius’ thoughts better, we would simply have to travel back to his era. I say “simply” with the understanding that I am setting myself an impossible task. How could I even begin to immerse myself in the early 20th century when I can’t seem to leave the house without my phone?
This time, however, I’m not suggesting leaving your phone behind. You’ll need it to locate a few more remote sites or simply to play Čiurlionis’ music as you walk. And, of course, to capture an unexpected side of Kaunas that will inevitably reveal itself when you take a new route. “Echoes of Čiurlionis” was sent to my mailbox by the Kaunas IN agency. Previously, they’ve delighted us with themed routes exploring Aleksotas, Šilainiai, Vilijampolė, street art, Kaunas’ wooden architecture, industrial heritage, and more. This time, the enthusiasts of tourism, sightseeing, and leisurely walks have also given in to Čiurlionization. Of course, the starting point of the idea is the M. K. Čiurlionis National Museum of Art, to which the route invites you to return several times. But it starts at…
Arrival
But really, where should the “Echoes of Čiurlionis” route begin? After all, it’s dedicated to a figure from Dzūkija who learned Lithuanian relatively late and spent very little time in this city, only visiting it a handful of times. It’s important to note that this is a new map, not a replica of the national Čiurlionis’ Route project created a few years ago, though the two inevitably intersect. The new guide directs me to Laisvės Avenue, but I imagine that Čiurlionis must have arrived in Kaunas by train. It was 1908, and he was hurrying to the first-ever Lithuanian art exhibition in Kaunas. It was based on the second Vilnius exhibition and organized in the Adamčikas Pro-Gymnasium, which was located on Laisvės Avenue.
Like Čiurlionis, we reach Kaunas from Vilnius through the same tunnel, which was opened to traffic in 1862. There is no other such tunnel in Lithuania that is actively used. However, the modern passenger does not arrive at the same historic railway station that has welcomed and seen off many historical personalities and witnessed many joyful and painful events for our nation. During the Second World War, the station was bombed by the retreating Germans, and what we see today was built by the soviets.
I leave the station and – what a coincidence – find myself on M. K. Čiurlionio Street. It was so named in 1919, a little earlier, when the Germans occupied Kaunas, it was called Hansastrasse, and during the Tsarist period, Donskaya. By the way, unlike many of the national heroes honored during the First Republic, Čiurlionis did not disappear during the Soviet occupation. When we look at the amount of attention, money, and effort that was devoted to the commemoration of his centenary in 1975, it is clear that this artist, who died early, did not willingly fall in line with the Soviet narrative.
A Different Kaunas
I might have gotten a little carried away with the titles, haven’t I? Now, it’s time to head to Adamčikas Progymnasium, which no longer exists. In its place now stands a fine example of modernist architecture: the Kaunas City Municipality building. Some intriguing details about that art exhibition have survived. For instance, after hanging the paintings, Čiurlionis decided not to stay for the opening, proving that even back then, there were people who weren’t fond of formal speeches.
From here, the story is continued by Sofija Kymantaitė:
It was decided to take the 2nd exhibition to Kaunas […] I am also going to help Konstantin with the exhibition. […] so, without a second thought that it is not at all appropriate for the Vice-Chairman to run away from the opening of the exhibition, we decide escape. The exhibition was inside the Adamčikas Progymnasium. At the end of Laisvės Avenue, a pump was emerging from the ground where villagers, having come to the market, could water their horses – a wonderful thing! One pumps, and the other one washes up. After washing up, we walked through the Old Town, holding hands, across the bridge to the Aleksotas hills…
(From S. Čiurlionienė’s memoirs)
The current Vytautas the Great Bridge over the Nemunas did not exist back then; it only recently celebrated its 95th birthday. Back in the Kaunas of 1908, there wasn’t even a whiff of the architecture of optimism and such masterpieces of technology as funiculars. And Kaunas in general, did not smell that good, after all, the Nikolay Avenue at the time (although Čiurlionienė mentions Laisvės Avenue, the name has only been used since February 1919) was used by a horse-drawn tram, and Steponas Kairys was not yet engaged in designing the sewage systems of Kaunas at that time either.
Speaking of the bridge that the lovers crossed, it is also important to remember that there really was no such thing as we have today. Here is what Kęstas Vasilevskis, a representative of the Vytautas the Great War Museum, wrote earlier this year, “In the days of the Russian Empire, there was this anecdote circulating among Kaunas residents, that the seasonal Aleksotas Bridge, which took you from Kaunas to Užnemunė, was the longest in the world and the journey through it took up to two weeks. This was because the Orthodox Julian calendar was in force on this side of the Nemunas, and the Catholic Gregorian calendar on the other side. The difference between the calendars was thirteen days.”
Works
After admiring the panorama of Kaunas Old Town, which has changed little in over a hundred years (though the skyline tells a different story), it’s time to head back to the centre and climb another – Owl – hill. Let’s take Maironio Street, named in 1919. Before that, it was known as New Street in both Russian and German. A house stands here, and today, you will see a white poodle and its owner’s contemporary fresco on it. It is they who own the building, which is important for the history of the city and the country. Pending the construction of the temporary Čiurlionis Gallery, the works of the artist, brought from Russia (where the paintings had been hidden since the First World War) and acquired from a young widow, were stored here.
Read more about the history of this building on the route “Echoes of Čiurlionis” route; and we rush to Žaliakalnis, back then, the outskirts of the city, given to establish the much-needed Kaunas Art School. The creative aura was perfect for building a gallery with the bricks of – how clever! – a bombed-out Kaunas fortress. The gallery, which was built as a temporary structure, is still standing today. It belongs to the Academy of Arts of Kaunas College, and the analogue photography centre is to be opened here soon. Before that, however, one of the exhibitions of the Kaunas Biennial will be held there this autumn. Čiurlionis, I hope, would like that; after all, he was a contemporary and also an interdisciplinary artist at the time.
The most intriguing question is what he would think of Kaunas’ modernist “crown” – the museum bearing his name, which is of interest to fine arts, architecture, music, and other art lovers from Lithuania and all over the world. Osvaldas Daugelis, the long-time director of the museum, told our magazine about an Italian professor who, while studying in Moscow, was smuggled into then-closed-off Kaunas by her friends – dressed in a warm cotton wool-padded jacket – just to see Čiurlionis’ work. Would Konstantinas settle in the Osvaldas Daugelis Library, filled with the most fascinating art publications? Or perhaps he would put on a VR headset and soar through the Angel Paths (Angelų takų) worlds inspired by himself. The premiere of the new virtual reality project Creation of Worlds (Pasaulių sutvėrimas) by Kristina Buožytė and Vitalijus Žukas has already taken place. The creators of these VR experiences claim that working with Čiurlionis is easy!
Departure
The graves of O. Daugelis and other former directors of the M. K. Čiurlionis National Museum of Art, including Paulius Galaunė and Petras Stauskas, are located in Petrašiūnai Cemetery. Here also rests Sofija Čiurlionienė, who lived as a widow for 47 years until her passing in 1958. It was likely a family decision to bury her in Kaunas, yet Čiurlionis himself is laid to rest in Rasos Cemetery in Vilnius. Hm… that’s a topic for another text.
Kaunas has an equally interesting, very old Eiguliai Cemetery, which is another stop along the“Echoes of Čiurlionis” route. After all, Konstantinas had four brothers and four sisters. The fates of the large Čiurlionis family took many different turns, with some of them unfolding in Kaunas.
Valerija Čiurlionytė was a cultural activist and a museum worker. In 1915 she accompanied her brother’s paintings to Moscow on the authority of the Lithuanian Art Society, evacuating them from the war, and in 1919, she took care of their return. Later, she worked for many years in the above-mentioned museum and fostered Čiurlionis’ remembrance together with her sister Jadvyga. Like her brothers Stasys, a politician and public figure, and Povilas, a musician and architect, Valerija is buried in the Eiguliai Cemetery. Guide Laimonas Užomeckis gives excellent tours of Eiguliai and Petrašiūnai Cemetery. I recommend that you follow his page, Kauno detalės, and sign up for the next such walk.
“Echoes of Čiurlionis” is a map with neither a clear beginning nor an end. But, as you can see, it raises many thoughts. Starting with architecture and the objects that we can actually visit (or at least see in old photographs), it invites us to move to another experiential level. Bridges, forests, panoramas, horizons – it seems that Čiurlionis’ code is forever inscribed in the DNA of Kaunas, a city that did not manage to become his own. So, I resolve to continue my walks this summer and to draw new parallels in my own and Čiurlionis’ microcosms.
