My first emotions about art belong to the 80s, when my mother took us to an art exhibition, in addition to the zoo and an ice-cream cafe, while visiting Tallinn. I remember standing, as a small child before a grand canvas with some red stripes and blotches, thinking, why is this art. The next recollection I have is from a ditch side in the middle of Estonia, observing dry cracking mud and thinking of the red striped canvas. I thought then that life is much larger than the show-cases in galleries I realised that while creating art, there is no need to add much, rather to listen and notice.
I relate to an artist as a medium between Ideas and the physical world. The clearer the manifestation of an Idea, the deeper it touches the viewer. And, the purer the channel, the better the Idea is transmitted. I have never really grasped the thought of "my idea". Ideas don't belong. The sense of possession can limit the artist. To be connected and using a method that works today, cannot be counted on tomorrow. Relying on knowledge and experience is a dead end in the long run. It is necessary to acquire techniques, only so that the material would not get in the way, nothing more.
Drawing by: Eve Arpo
I look for a state of mind in art – certain openness, energy, search, questions without answers. I am touched by the moments, when I sense the change in my perception and connection is born. Courage is a prerequisite for an artist to create – courage to look deeper and go further in the battle with one's demons. The artist has to be connected, transcending such questions as: is what I do necessary, beautiful, effective, profitable. Presence! The viewer also needs courage – courage to experience and move on from the safety zone, to let go and allow things to happen. Art is the meeting with the unknown. A constant x-factor. At the same time, there is always some recognizance in art.
It touches me, when art makes me resound with a certain frequency of the work. At the recent architecture and sound art festival Tuned City, there was a concert in Niguliste church in Tallinn that quite literally made me reverberate. An American experimental music artist Charlemagne Palestine started off resonating a wine glass with an even tone and making some primal sounds up on the church balcony. He then hurled a long array of organ whistles into the space that continued to flow into each other, connect, separate, pass by and move on. I discovered myself in a singing bowl. It was pure experience, being. The sound, the room and I. Vibration. Several dozen listeners were carried beyond the space time, into ecstasy. Some people walked around, some lay on the aisles, I was sitting like bewitched. It reminded me of these religious gatherings in the beginning of 90s, where some people fell down in ecstasy, or sang praises to the Lord in trance. The sound works directly – boooom into your subconscious! It's even scary, for one thing.
I like to experience the work of art without much mental explanation and description. Art speaks autonomously. The diploma work of Mairika Plakso from the Kanuti Gild hall has engrained itself into my memory as something pure and simple. At first sight, it was impossible to decipher, at second sight, I did not want to anymore. The dancer moved a few steps forward in space, made some leaps backward, some turns and changes in direction, and I remember it for years. I am in awe at the prospect of something so simple having such a large impact.
I am touched, when I dare to experience life in its diversity, or when I sense that the artist has dared to. I am touched by courage. And that is art.
A scene from life: I am writing this piece while sitting on the empty beach at Kalaranna in Tallinn. Two ten-year-old girls stroll by in their bathing suits. The chubbier one starts to pose on an empty tire at the water front. A symbiosis of a motherly madonna and Paris Hilton. The other takes photos: "open the towel", "look here", "yes, do more." Chubby hip movements, the bathing suit is pulled between the buttocks like a G-string and the poser turns the back to look across her shoulder at the camera. "Inga, why did you get naked?" "More, more." I can smell milk and cookies in the air.
feels drawn to the periphery of art, word and architecture. She is interested in describing the space and creating with tools that are usually not part of an architect's toolbox.
See also: www.youmustrelax.com