Lee Ell

A section, a scultprue from a fragile dark land -

Made of charcoal, residues, soot,
clay, and bitumen, the work poses a
question about the possibility of life,
about beauty and the sublime on
darkened ground.

The piece regards
the sooted environment as someone’s home—something that cannot
be approached through denial, but
rather in the light of a new situation.

The work has been exhibited as part
of Taavi Suisalu’s Arctic Embassy, which was shown both at the
Ars Art House in Tallinn and in the
Monumental Gallery of the Tartu Art
House.

Finalist of the curatorial competition for the Estonian Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale, together with material scientist Deepak Sundar Mohan

What is oil shale?
Oil shale is also a symbol. A symbol of stalled climate agreements, of tensions between industry and environmental advocates, of unemployment in small towns, of sustainability, and of risks to both the environment and human health.

The proposal puts forward a material-centered narrative aimed at deconstructing oil shale as a symbol and at formulating an exit strategy from the oil shale industry—one that seeks solutions within the material itself.

The exhibition is a collaborative project between architecture and materials science. Its outcome and spatial expression will be an environment constructed from various oil-shale-based materials, processing residues, and newly developed composite materials. Structurally, the pavilion consists of two parts: a monolithic volume, like a cross-section of a landscape, composed of and functioning as an accumulation of material experiments.

The second part is a dim, flue-like space into which visitors step for a brief moment of coolness. Within the material, different temporal scales converge. The material’s deep history confronts the apparent impasse of the present moment, allowing movement in other directions—grounded in the awareness that such movement is possible.

A periodical publication of architecture and movement.

One could say that space remains still while people do not. One might also say that space both opens and closes according to how—and whether—a person moves within it. Choreography, as a creative practice of movement free to exist beyond designed pathways and agreed conventions, helps reveal how space operates. Dance, neither in service of space nor seeking to dominate it, instead looks for partnership in unfolding the context that surrounds it.

The more saturated a space becomes, the greater its potential to invite stillness and distant observation. The first issue, Heritage, centers on a space where movement seems no longer possible—a place overgrown with expectation and decay, one that feels almost unwilling to be entered. Yet how can decisions about a place’s future be made from a distance?

Publisher – Lee Ell · Director, text – Helmi Marie Langsepp · Choreography – Saile Johanna Langsepp · Editor – Maarja Helena Meriste · Translator – Ragne Schults · Translation editor – Mirjam Parve · Designers – Laura Merendi, Aimur Takk, Andree Paat · Typefaces – Trajektoor, Ladna (Tüpokompanii)

The second issue of Space Choreography explores the unique space of motorways through three travelers on the road. The journey spans from early hours of the morning well into the night and is divided into 15 chapters, in which time, space and the movement therein tell a story of repetition and barriers, gathering speed, and coming to a stop.

Publisher – Lee Ell · Director, graphics – Helmi Marie Langsepp · Dancers – Saile Johanna Langsepp, Madli Paves, William Ruddock Primett · Text – Anna Liisa Saavaste· Editor – Maarja Helena Meriste · Translator – Ragne Schults · Translation editor – Mirjam Parve · Designer – Andree Paat · Typefaces – Trajektoor, Ladna (Tüpokompanii)

The design of the waiting room is connected with the demolition of the hippodrome and the sorting of its residual materials, and their use in building the pavilion. Thus, the diversity of variations also becomes a question of material memory. To create a waiting room that does not necessarily evoke the feeling that it is new. But how old?

Instead of assigning culpability to construction, each construction and its chosen method can be regarded as a pursuit for reconciliation. This is an architectural excursion into Jaak
Tomberg’s doctoral thesis “The Conciliatory Purpose of Literature,” which asserts that the diversity of literature mitigates the inevitability of a single story’s realization in the present. In the realm of construction, one can articulate this line of thought as follows: every structure offers a place of reconciliation between the existing world and the desire as an imagination.

The master’s thesis project simultaneously engages with both a mountain village and the Greater Caucasus mountain range. An architectural approach navigates between these two different scales, treating building and non-building as equal strategies. At the core of the work are five design interventions in the mountain village—addressing what to build—and the other side of each intervention—what, as a result, does not need to be built in the mountains. In this way, the project addresses themes such as the sense of safety, intactness as a value, and human responsibility when moving through nature, as well as the mountain village as the memory of the mountains and the invaluable knowledge held by local inhabitants.

During an art residency in Longyearbyen, Svalbard, I explored the
points of contact between the town
and the surrounding nature in the
midst of the polar night. Focusing
specifically on infrastructure, I developed six solutions that addressed
the accumulation of soot in harbours, the melting of glaciers, and
energy consumption in isolated locations. All six solutions were modular, using only water, moulds, and
sub-zero temperatures as materials.
The residency offered an opportunity to engage with spatial questions
on the thresholds of possibility and
feasibility. The six solutions were
installed site-specifically throughout
Longyearbyen.
2024

The world of newborns is delicate
and fragile. Spatially, it calls for
places that are soft, flowing, and
protective—yet even at the very
beginning of life, there is a strong
impulse to explore and to sense.

This outdoor gallery is designed specifically with the needs of newborns
in mind, needs that differ profoundly from those of adults. It offers a
space where infants can feel the
presence of other babies, and where
new mothers can share a gentle,
shared experience of something unfamiliar and inspiring.

Participating artists: Kai Kaljo, Mihkel Maripuu; construction: KampKit

The gallery was part of the main
programme of the European Capital
of Culture Tartu.