The Singing Neighbour / 2009-2011
series of 49 photographs in two editions, 41cm x 50cm (ed. 10+2ap),
pigment print on aluminium, 82cm x 100cm (ed.6+2ap), digital c-print on aluminium,
frame
The Estonians are singing people and the song festival held in Tallinn every fifth year has been added to the UNESCO list of world heritage. In almost every city and village there is a song stage, which was built mostly during the middle of the last century. The singing was born from the need to feel national solidarity, especially during foreign rule. The singing was the people's chance to feel like Estonians. The need and the song festivals didn't disappear when Estonia first declared independence, nor did it disappear during the Soviet occupation, but it led to the singing revolution that culminated in the song festival in Tallinn 1988 with 30 000 participating singers. This eventually became the key of Estonia gaining independency, peacefully, in 1991.
Knowing this story, led me to these creations. I'm interested in this tradition because of the empowering role it has had on the national identity. These constructions are widely spread and even if they all look different, they all serve the same purpose; they are built for singing. These song stages are specifically typical for Estonia and also the other Baltic States, but the phenomena is universal. We need to feel solidarity during rough times, let it then be war or an economical crisis.
I see my pictures as portraits; in my work the song has been given space, in and outside the frames of the picture. The stages stand there alone, ready to perform for an empty audience. I suggest that I have photographed the singing neighbour, but where is the song? There lies the paradox that rules over my whole work. I see my pictures also as documentations of landscapes; when this tradition seas to exist, so does these views and the infrastructure of the environment will be altered forever. These pictures are also showing exceptional architecture, which balances somewhere between urban and rural.
No description of this theme this wide has been done before. Even if many of the stages are alive and well and still in use today, it is a sad truth that many are being demolished every year, due to lack of maintenance. To preserve traditions and to know your own cultural heritage is, to me, of high importance.
Activists / 2011
series of 16 photographs, 50cm x 50cm, pigment print on aluminium
When dealing with activism, the focus often lies on the cause. In my images, I wanted to bring out the persons behind the actions. The word activist is often combined with something negative, even violent or illegal and the media has teached us to consider activists like they were terrorists. Most of us might share the same conception of what an activist looks like and it is this stereotype I want to act against. What is often forgotten is that activism in it self is a positive thing. The society is in big parts held together by these marginal volunteer organisations. Without a small hint of civil disobedience once in a while, our progress would decline and new ways of thinking would not evolve. The same opinions and a shared ideology and the will to work for a common cause is what brings people together all over the world. Organisations, unions and groups are founded and put down each day. In my work I focus on these activists who work amongst us wherever we are. I want to show that categorisation is not needed here either, the activist might stand next to us on the bus, sit at the next workstation, teach our kids at school or sell us milk over the counter in the neighborhood store. He could also be looking straight back at you in the mirror.
The persons I have portrayed in my series Activists, are active citizens of our society who give their time and energy for different movements and causes.
From Zero to a Hundred / 2010
triptych, 83cm x 100cm, pigment print on aluminium, pigment marker, edition of 1
Translation of the texts:
1. The roof is leaking
and the birds are screaming
go
2. Cars are driving and a cat is in mind. Behind there's a peach tree
cold and wet
a little bit warmer, an old man
smiled. Coryza and no paper.
The clock is ticking
To be something, I don't know why and I don't know what.
3. The mittens are yellow and warm. Wind and an old church
Mister Religion is chirping in the ear and the noise won't stop unless I sing
the white has cleaved and it won't heal
I don't know why
The metal is hard and cold
my eyes are running and I can't see to write and a car is running by and I don't believe
A small child with father, bored, but the day is young but cold
Still green but soon it will end and the white comes healed
Gray. Fingers. Ring. Blue are the stars in eyes.
The paper runs out
soon, I still need to
Older Works
