Soviet Bus Stops in Armenia

Earlier, I wrote about the iconic Chayka monument and the story of how, during his 1961 visit, Nikita Khrushchev was shown this monument and became angry, referring to Resolution No. 1871, which harshly criticized prevailing architectural practices and accused designers of wastefulness and an obsession with decorative forms at the expense of function and economy.

In this article, dedicated to Soviet bus stops in Armenia, I want to refer back to that episode and ask how, after this incident, architects and designers across the entire Soviet Union continued creating bus stops that can hardly be called humble or practical, but instead were extravagant, eye-catching, and striking.

The "Chayka" monument today

On 4 November 1955, the Soviet government issued Resolution No. 1871, officially titled “On the Elimination of Excesses in Design and Construction” (Об устранении излишеств в проектировании и строительстве).

The decree was officially issued and signed by Nikita S. Khrushchev, Secretary of the Central Committee of the CPSU, and Nikolai A. Bulganin, Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the USSR.

This landmark document marked a sharp break with Stalin-era monumental architecture, calling for a focus on functionality over form. The most famous result of this decree was the Khrushchyovka—the ubiquitous four- and five-story gray apartment blocks seen across Eastern Europe today. Millions of families received their own private apartments with indoor plumbing and kitchens for the first time.

Since bus stops were considered Minor Architectural Forms (малые архитектурные формы), they fell into a regulatory loophole.

According to Soviet architectural handbooks (such as Svidersky’s Small Architectural Forms, 1953), MAFs were divided into two categories:

• Utilitarian: benches, trash cans, street lamps, and bus pavilions (автобусные павильоны)

• Decorative: sculptures, fountains, and flower vases

  
  

Because bus stops were classified as “pavilions” rather than “buildings,” they were governed by less stringent aesthetic regulations. While a five-story apartment block had to be approved by central housing authorities to ensure that no money was “wasted” on decoration, a bus stop was often handled by the Ministry of Transport or regional road departments.

Methodological Recommendations for the Design of Bus Stops. Moscow, 1975

Moreover, most Soviet-era bus stops we see today were built during Leonid Brezhnev’s reign (1964–1982). It was during this period that government-issued design handbooks were released—the first in 1975, followed by another in 1988.

Clause 3.18 from Methodological Recommendations for the Design of Bus Stops (Moscow, 1975) states the following:

When designing bus stops, special attention should be given to contemporary architectural solutions that reflect the climatic, local, and national characteristics of the area.

Bus stops should serve as the compositional focal point of the road’s architectural ensemble.

The planning layout of the bus stop, pavilion structures, exterior finishes of stop elements, minor architectural forms, landscaping, and lighting should be compositionally integrated with the surrounding environment.

The walls of enclosed and semi-enclosed pavilions should preferably be made of transparent materials on the side facing the approaching bus and the roadway, to ensure good visibility.

Bright coloring of pavilion details, the construction of boarding platforms, sidewalks, and pedestrian paths using slabs and materials of varying size, shape, and color, as well as minor architectural forms reflecting national and local character—all of these should be employed in the artistic design of bus stop areas.

This is a truly unique bus stop. It not only functions as a bus stop but also conceals an underground passage beneath it

Ursula Schulz-Dornburg and the enduring photographs she created

The first foreigner to pay serious attention to Soviet-era bus stops in Armenia after the collapse of the Soviet Union was that Düsseldorf-based Ursula Schulz-Dornburg.

Her photography project, widely known as “Transit Sites, Armenia” or “Bus Stops in Armenia,” produced between 1997 and 2004, possesses an enigmatic power that far exceeds its time and place of origin. The Museum Ludwig in Cologne has since acquired this series.

A Soviet-era bus stop in Armenia, photo by Ursula Schulz-Dornburg

Here is an excerpt from her interview.

 “I was on a trip that was actually supposed to take me to all the ancient monasteries and convents in Armenia, from north to south and east to west. Then, to my complete astonishment, I saw one of these bus stops in the middle of nowhere. With the woman waiting there, it looked exactly like a Visconti movie. This became my most reproduced motif. The strange, oversized canopy echoes the traditional shape of Armenian church roofs. In the Soviet era, it was not possible to build new churches, so perhaps this form was an ironic response to Soviet restrictions.”

Christopher Herwig: The Hunter of Soviet Bus Stops

While Ursula Schulz-Dornburg was the first to view these structures through a “metaphysical” and almost spiritual lens in the late 1990s, Christopher Herwig is the one who transformed Soviet bus stops into a global phenomenon. His journeys across the Soviet Union, including Armenia, were extensive, resulting in two books that document the bus stop explorations he dedicated around 15 years to.

A bus stop in Vanadzor, year 2016, photo by Cristopher Herwig

Today, these books serve as records of a bygone era, living witnesses of the past, especially considering that some of the bus stops have already been destroyed.

Christopher Herwig (2002–2017)

• Soviet Bus Stops (2015)

• Soviet Bus Stops: Volume II (2017)

My Quest

The documentary Soviet Bus Stops (2022), dedicated to Christopher Herwig’s quest to document Soviet bus stops, ends with the following quote by Osip Mandelstam:“My turn shall also come; I sense the spreading of a wing.”

Only three or four bus stops in Armenia still feature mosaics. This is one of them.

As a local urbexer familiar with Armenia, I’ve taken on the task of documenting all the Soviet bus stops in my country. What may seem like an easy job is actually quite challenging. Hundreds of kilometers must be traveled to reach them, and people waiting for a bus aren’t always eager to appear in photos. The sun may be in the wrong position, or a poorly parked car can ruin the shot. Then comes the painstaking selection process—dozens of photos must be taken just to find one that satisfies me. In my case, I’m rarely satisfied, often returning multiple times to capture the perfect image.

I’m always asking myself whether a person should appear in the image—a question I still don’t have a clear answer to. Then I try it both ways. Sometimes, to emphasize the size of a monument or a bus stop, it’s helpful to include a person standing nearby.

The bus stops that survive in Armenia today were built from concrete or metal, sometimes incorporating wooden elements such as cladding or benches. While much of the USSR relied on poured concrete, Armenia in some cases used its local volcanic stone—tuff.

My quest continues, and this year I plan to finally document all the bus stops in Armenia.  As Osip Mandelstam said: “My turn shall also come; I sense the spreading of a wing.”