By Elena Teslova
MOSCOW (AA) – Russia’s construction industry is witnessing an unprecedented surge, with growth accelerating year after year, and large-scale developments continuing across various sectors such as energy, transport, healthcare, and housing.
Yet, amid the modern boom, echoes of ancient customs linger, offering a glimpse into the traditions that once shaped Russian building practices.
At living history museums like the Semenkovo Architectural and Ethnographic Museum, these customs are kept alive, giving visitors a window into the life and spirit of rural Russia from centuries past.
“The task of our museum is to preserve not only the architecture and layout of these houses but also the traditions and practices of our past,” Dmitry Mukhin, head of the Exposition Department at Semenkovo, told Anadolu.
“We tell the stories of how houses were built, the challenges faced, the songs sung, and the resilience of the people who lived here.”
While the Sugorie Museum delves even further back in time, showcasing the Viking-era roots of Russian culture, both institutions emphasize the enduring spirit of tradition in the face of change.
Mukhin notes that these old customs serve as a reminder of patience, resourcefulness, and harmony with nature – qualities that modern life often overlooks.
- Sacred spaces and taboo territories
For centuries, building a house in rural Russia was not just a practical endeavor – it was a spiritual one. Every decision, from choosing a site to completing construction, was steeped in tradition and spirituality.
“Every point in space has its own energy,” Mukhin explained. “A house placed in the wrong location would bring misfortune.”
Certain places were strictly avoided. Crossroads, for instance, were believed to harbor dark forces, frequented by witches and wizards.
Building there was thought to invite constant strife, illness, and bad fortune.
Burned-down sites were equally taboo, as they were said to attract the spirits of fire, while areas where blood had been spilled were shunned for their negative energy.
Sites that once hosted bathhouses were to be avoided due “to the conflict of spirits,” Mukhin said, as a “bannik,” or bathhouse spirit, would not coexist peacefully with a “domovoy,” the spirit of the home.
Practical considerations also played a role. Swamps and flood-prone areas were avoided to prevent wooden homes from rotting, but folklore warned of malevolent non-human beings lurking in such places.
Burial sites, unsurprisingly, were completely off-limits, steeped in fears of wandering souls and ominous spirits.
- Finding the perfect spot
Amid the many prohibitions, villagers had their ways of identifying ideal locations. One method involved walking through the village on a cool day. “If you feel a warm breeze in a certain spot, that’s where you should build a house – it will be warm and secure,” Mukhin said.
Another custom was to let a cow wander freely. The spot where it lay down was deemed the best place to build, as cows were seen as a symbol of fertility and vitality. High riverbanks, sunny southern slopes, and the confluence of rivers were also popular choices, offering practicality and natural beauty.
By the late 19th century, however, new rules, including fire and building regulations, added complexity to the process.
“It was necessary to coordinate the location with the administration and negotiate with neighbors. But if the peasants believed the site was unsuitable, they kept searching,” Mukhin recounted.
- Rituals of building and community
Wooden houses remain a hallmark of rural Russian architecture, though construction methods have evolved.
In the past, timber was carefully chosen and harvested in winter, during the religious holiday of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. This was a time when the wood would have minimal sap, allowing it to dry faster and last longer, often standing for centuries if constructed with care and adherence to rituals.
In resource-scarce rural areas, homes were built with a focus on efficiency and practicality, Mukhin explained.
Villages oriented their houses to face south, maximizing sunlight and reducing the need for artificial lighting, while windows would have no shutters either.
There were no formal blueprints or construction plans, and houses were built in one of two ways: if the people were relatively well-off, they hired workers, while for the less wealthy, the entire village would come together to help out in the construction.
Importantly, houses were never truly “finished,” with the understanding that they would be rebuilt, relocated, or have elements replaced over time.
Tradition held that a home was spiritually connected to its owner and a fully completed one could symbolize the end of the owner’s life, so elements were left intentionally incomplete or designed to be replaceable.
- Celebrating milestones
The construction of a new home was marked by numerous celebrations, each tied to specific milestones. From laying the first logs to installing windows and doors, every step was accompanied by a ritual feast.
“Celebrations were mandatory for every significant step – cutting windows, installing doors, laying mats, and setting up other parts of the building,” said Mukhin.
“Missing even one celebration was believed to jeopardize the future life within the house. If you didn’t follow the steps … you might find your life devoid of joy and good fortune.”
Housewarming ceremonies were especially significant, with the belief that not doing it properly could even be a harbinger of death.
The first part of the housewarming, called “vlastny,” began before dawn when the entire village was asleep, with the family silently leaving their old home for the new one.
The belief was that if anyone were to see the family move between the houses, it could lead to a jinx and ruin chances of a peaceful life in the new home.
With a new home, it was believed that whoever steps inside first would die within a year, so animals were often the first to cross the threshold – a cat for the hut or a rooster for the yard.
“For the peasants, these rites were not merely ceremonial – they were seen as essential to shaping their reality,” said Mukhin.
While modern Russia’s construction boom is characterized by rapid development and technological innovation, it exists in stark contrast to the slow, deliberate processes of the past.
Yet, the spirit of these traditions persists in the stories and practices preserved by living history museums.
“Today, Russian villages stand as a testament to a way of life that respects the land, values community, and believes in the unseen forces that shape our world,” Mukhin reflected.
“In a time when life moves faster than ever, these customs remind us of the importance of patience, resourcefulness, and harmony with nature.”