Anna Aurelia Minev, who defended her thesis "Normal Environments for the Normal Person" at the Estonian Academy of Arts (EKA), examined how public spaces accommodate — or fail to accommodate — disabled people.

Speaking on Vikerraadio's "Huvitaja," she explained that a "normal" space is one people find ordinary and can use independently, which in turn supports maintaining dignity.

"When you start really looking at our public spaces and institutions, unfortunately, not everyone feels dignified everywhere on a daily basis," Minev said.

She noted that our perception of what constitutes a "normal" environment is historically based on a very specific type: a healthy, youthful man around 180 centimeters tall. As a result, not everyone can use various spaces equally.

She expected poor results going in — but was still surprised by just how lacking most spaces were in terms of accessibility.

The EKA student hoped to find good examples to highlight as reference points — along with bad examples, "which are usually easier to find anyway" — but quickly found that even the best spaces in Tallinn had shortcomings.

"Even when something brilliant had been done that you don't see elsewhere," she said, it still often wasn't fully accessible.

One positive example was Ülemiste Center, where Minev praised the clever use of tactile paths and varied-height surfaces in the restrooms. However, she still found obstacles that disrupted smooth and safe movement.

Other better examples included an Estonian state real estate manager Riigi Kinnisvara AS (RKAS) building and Viimsi Artium, where room names were marked in Braille.

Viimsi Artium also features smooth transitions between spaces, but even there, accessibility was often limited to central spaces, and venturing beyond them, things quickly went south.

"Over the course of an entire year, I wasn't able to find a single ideal example [of an accessible space] anywhere in Tallinn," Minev noted.

Tammsaare Park in Central Tallinn, for instance, features a tactile loop for blind and low-vision visitors — but no clear way to enter or leave the park. Worse still, the tactile paving runs between the sidewalk and a bike lane.

"This guides people onto a collision course," she said, pointing out that it's an uncomfortable solution for both pedestrians and cyclists.

Just entering buildings still a barrier

Many buildings in the Estonian capital still aren't accessible without assistance either.

Minev visited the Tallinn Music and Ballet School (MUBA) with Maarja Haaamer, a member of the Estonian Blind Union (EPL). On arrival, Haamer had no idea how to find the main entrance, and Minev, who had gone inside to wait, had to head back outside to help her companion in.

She also criticized the tendency to place ramps near back entrances. At the Baltic Film, Media and Arts School (BFM) building at Tallinn University (TLÜ), she noted that a broad staircase in a spacious courtyard could have easily accommodated a safe ramp — but instead, the ramp was hidden off to the side.

"Accessibility isn't just about mobility aids," the author noted. "It also matters when it comes to things like strollers or suitcases. There are plenty of times in life we need easy access."

Rotermann Quarter, meanwhile, is challenging to navigate even for people without mobility issues thanks to the presence of both uniform textures and steep, uneven surfaces.

"Many people I know avoid that area entirely," she added.

Laws exist — but don't always help

Estonia's legislative framework for accessibility is in place, Minev said.

Initially, she assumed problems with accessibility stemmed from legislative gaps, but concluded that the laws actually say most of what needs to be said.

Instead, she explained, the issue is that buildings and public spaces differ so much that each one really needs an individual approach, "But laws can't be written if they won't apply universally, so the requirements often end up being vague."

For example, legislation calls for there to be a smooth path leading to building entrances — using a ramp or similar feature — but doesn't define how long that path should be or exactly where it should begin.

"I want to appeal to designers' consciences — it's our responsibility to ensure accessibility," Minev emphasized. "Regulations can't dictate every single step."

According to the thesis author, accessibility is often treated as a checklist item — "ramp installed, job done" — but many of these solutions end up falling short because they haven't been carefully considered or undergone real-life testing in practical situations. She stressed the need to involve more diverse users in the design process.

At Tallinn's Cruise Terminal, which Minev visited on a tip from an EPL member, a new tactile path leads to the main entrance — but no further.

"A blind person can't get to the promenade," she said. The tactile path also leads to an accessible restroom, but not a regular one — which is problematic, as low-vision and blind users often find accessible toilets more difficult to navigate due to unfamiliar layouts and the extra space.

Minev also examined crosswalks and intersections in the Estonian capital, which are vital for independent mobility. Good crosswalks, she said, should feature contrasting textures or visual lines to signal approaching hazards, plus tactile paths that guide users to safety islands and bus stops.

Freedom Square provides a perfect example of superficial accessibility solutions: small tactile paths mark the curb, but once a user reaches the safety island, there's nothing more. "There are multiple possible directions, and you're left to figure it out on your own," she said.

Tallinn's growing network of bike lanes isn't marked for low-vision users, making things more dangerous, especially around bus stops.

"It used to be that when a low-vision user heard the bus approaching, they could get ready to board," Minev explained. "Now, a bike might zip by between them and the door of the bus — and cause a bad collision."

Accessibility is for everyone

Minev emphasized that accessibility benefits everyone, not just disabled people.

At crosswalks, for example, many people look down at their phones, and Minev admitted she has noticed how she responds to audio signals at intersections.

"We all actually use accessibility features without realizing it," she pointed out.

There still aren't many audio traffic signals in Tallinn — even in busy areas like around Freedom Square. Allegedly, she noted, the issue is that they may disturb guests at a nearby hotel.

On the positive side, Minev welcomed the increasing number of city buses and trams with voice announcements.

"If your eyesight isn't great, it's impossible to tell what bus just pulled up," she said. "I know people who've completely rerouted their daily commutes just to avoid those awful areas."

Pirita offered another example of good design: a tactile path connecting the bus stop to a crosswalk, creating a smooth, continuous route.

Minev suggested that when new stops are built, designers should consider marking where the front door of the bus will stop. Even if not perfectly precise, it would still be helpful.

"We all age, and we all need user-friendly spaces," she underscored. "We need to shift the mindset — it's not about designing for 'them,' it's about designing good spaces for all of us."

Minev encouraged people to walk around and reconsider spaces they visit from a new perspective. "Watch where the tactile paths lead — and where they don't," she said. "Once you start paying attention, you'll see it's really all quite patchy."

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