Estonian poets Kaija Kängsepp and Joanna Ellmann at the LCCA

The LCCA invites you to attend the poetry evening by Estonian poets Kaija Kängsepp and Joanna Ellmann! The event will take place at the Office Gallery on Friday, 16 May, at 6.30 pm. The poems will be read in English.

The poetry evening by Estonian poets Kaija Kängsepp and Joanna Ellmann is a satellite event of Margit Lõhmus exhibition "The Room of Love". It is held in order to introduce and broaden the context from which the theme and tone of the exhibition raises. Indrek Grigor, the curator of the exhibition, writes that "Kaija Kängsepp and Joanna Ellmann could be both introduced as young poets who carry and reinvent the traditions of Tartu poetry scene. This means strong and broad academic background coined with classically bohemian life style. Their poetry is characterized by a symbolism that carries a very personal approach. At one side they seems to humanize the "dead end" intellectualism ruling Tartu, but by not reflecting on the problem and instead turning into themselves, they also feed the prejudicial idea about Tartu being the city of provincial bohemians. A conception that totally ignores the social strength that underlies the dynamics of the community that is expressed through this rather brutal self imagery."

The exhibition "The Room of Love" by Margit Lõhmus, a part of Riga Photomonth 2014, is on view until 30th May. The LCCA Office Gallery is open on working days from 12 midday till 6pm; entry to exhibitions is free. Address: Alberta Street 13 (7th floor), Rīga, LV-1010.


Kaija Kängsepp

The large red-covered self-searchers’
defuncting book is sold out before the presentation.

Buyers tie the strings
made of shoelaces to be ready for tomorrow once
the book is published. Buyers iron mosquito leather shirts, adjust
green ties, powder their untouched soul - with lithium.
They are ready to pick the greed from underneath their nails. Wash
their hands clean of yesterday. Thereby, by the way,
becoming self-seekers, but later.


Joanna Ellmann


I am an open door, whence the passers-by
walk in.
Here comes a lot of people - a hunchbacked old man,
hundred headless women
They all drink  spirits
with their skin.
Prying each other strangely
and meanwhile go home.
My room is a pony glass
in which each evening
I blow myself in a little bit.
They are sniffing.

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