David Plaisant visits a Soviet-era concert hall that has been disused for the best part of 15 years and is loved and loathed by the city’s residents in equal measure. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Hidden away in the Estonian capital of Tallinn is an amazing late Soviet era concert hall which has been disused for the best part of 15 years.
It's too vast to demolish and is protected in any case.
But as this technology and property hub of the Baltic reaches near saturation, what will they do with this urban planning dilemma?
You're listening to Tall Stories, a monocle production brought to you by the team behind the Urbanist.
I'm Andrew Tuck.
In this episode, David Pleasant visits this hall which locals love and loathe in equal measure.
As you approach the linahalle, just a 10 minute walk from the centre of Tallinn, the building's structure is totally baffling.
What appears is a very wide set of stairs equipped with now rusting metal handrails.
Once climbed, the stairs reveal a vast concrete clad expanse, this time equipped with dozens of rather elegant, although again rusting lampposts.
More ascending and then descending stairs and terraces follow until you reach the sea.
You have to be careful not to miss the vital signs that make this a piece of architecture rather than a dystopian, almost post apocalyptic landscape.
It's an enormous building spread across a quite large area.
The overall floor area is around 38,000 square meters.
It was built in time for the 1980 Moscow Olympics, when the Soviet capital far inland relied on the coast of Estonia for sailing and maritime events.
Those mysterious stairs to nowhere in fact lead to a staggered platform which sits on top of an enormous 5,000 seat concert hall and adjoining ice rink.
Originally named the Lenin palace of Culture and Sports, today the Linnahalla's future is uncertain as debates about its preservation and redevelopment abound.
However, more than just a brutalist relic to be fetishized over, this building encapsulates the shifting political, cultural and social landscape of Estonia and its capital.
Designed by local architect Rainer Karp, Line's construction represented a unique mix of Soviet ambition and local design sensibilities.
Karp envisioned a building that could host large gatherings.
He believed that the auditorium's classical amphitheatre design provided the best acoustics and visibility available.