La Nina

Cat thinks people not living life to the full

2011-12-05T16:34:00.002+01:00

Cat thinks people not living life to the full: but I think we still need each other.
Publication: C: International Contemporary Art
Publication Date: 22-JUN-08
Author: Wren, Jacob

COPYRIGHT 2008 C The Visual Arts Foundation
  In the book Recording Conceptual Art (University of California Press, 2001), a series of interviews with key conceptual artists all conducted in 1961 but unpublished until 2001, Robert Barry speaks about his now well-known projects involving telepathy--works that attempted to bypass "any kind of material, even words or language," explaining that  

The best telepathic transmission sort of takes place
unconsciously, where you don't even know you're
doing it. So that the latest of the telepathic pieces,
we just assume that the ideas will be transmitted
telepathically, instead of consciously trying to
do it. [...] We just simply don't deal with that problem
of what it is that's being communicated. We just
say that something is communicated and that's all
there is to it. Now, I'm communicating it. Whether
anybody picks it up or not is something else. In
other words, I wouldn't say I'm communicating it;
I'd say I'm transmitting it. If someone picks it up,
then that's communication. Someone might pick it
up rive minutes before I've thought about it. You see,
because that sort of transcends time and space, and
these things sort of exist for all time, so to speak.
  
It's difficult to imagine anyone trying to pull off such an audaciously flaky idea today. The fact that the artist actually doesn't do anything, transmits something without making any effort, and yet the work of art in some sense still exists, seems to verge dangerously close to a style of charlatanism much too obvious for out post-ironic times. Nonetheless, the specific manner in which this historically important work lathers up my scepticism suggests that he may well have been on to something, that this might be a radical gesture with a bit of spark still left in it. If we allow ourselves to be open enough, might a genuine belief in the paranormal--so far away from social norms but believed in by so many--be a strategy for refreshing the often too predictable contemporary artistic context?   [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]   In her video Tele-pets (2006), Gothenburg-based Finnish artist Nina Lassila takes a different approach to telepathy. The video begins with the artist speaking in voiceover:  

As other people, I also like to talk to animals.
Sometimes I feel that they are responding. I
wonder what they are thinking ... I have heard
that there are people who can communicate with
pets and other animals. Obviously many animals
have a lot to say. I want to find out what ...
  
The voiceover goes on to document a variety of instances, stories the artist has gathered, of people's telepathic experiences with their pets. Underneath the sporadic but steady narration run images of these pets. (They could just be images of random dogs, birds, cats, horses and goldfish; there is no way to know for sure.) It could almost be a late-night infomercial advertising the possibility of a true telepathic encounter with your pet. But it couldn't be an infomercial, the tone is all wrong: the imagery too fragile, too elegant, too poetic.   But then, what is the tone exactly? It is tempting to suspect that irony is at work here, that we are meant to slyly laugh at these lonely people who have nothing better to do than recount what messages their parrot or dog sends through the air and into their thoughts. However, upon repeated viewing, I gradually came to the counterintuitive conclusion that there is in fact little irony to be round here, only a generous sense of humour flowing out from an even more genuine sense of curiosity.  

A woman is watching a picture of a purple car. A
moment later her parrot who is in another room
says: what a beautiful purple. The same parrot
wakes her up in the middle of the night, saying:
you gotta push the button! (The woman
was dreaming about editing.)
  
  In its way, its very different way, Tele-pets is just as earnest and funny as Robert Barry's purely conceptual telepathy experiments from 1961. Because, just as Robert Barry's work encapsulated one extreme edge of a very dry first generation conceptualism, Nina Lassila's video equally pushes towards a similar edge, a similar breaking point, for the post-conceptualism of our time. This is an art that desires to stop talking about art, that doesn't take itself too seriously but nonetheless wants to let in a greater sense of the world, and scratch away at its strange, unexpected corners. I suspect it is also a type of art that would not be possible without the legacy of conceptualism. This makes for an unlikely mix: this work still possesses the distance associated with the conceptual legacy, while at the same rime it attempts to forge a much greater intimacy with its subjects, the people whose stories if recounts, and with the viewer. In a similar manner to that in which much first generation conceptual art asked, "what is art and how far can we go with it?" Tele-pets asks, "how can I use art to forge a greater sense of engagement with the world around me?"   In the same 1961 interview, Robert Barry says that his work with telepathy "raises a lot of fundamental problems as far as the existence of a work of art is concerned: just how much is needed, and how much has to be known about a work of art, before it does exist. I think it questions the very being of any work of art"   At first I was tempted to write that Tele-pets refuses to play such games and doesn't particularly care for fundamental problems of the "existence of a work of art." But upon further consideration, I think that it is only a matter of questioning art from another angle: not reducing art to its bare minimum and waiting to see what's left, but instead, with humour and a very light touch, placing art alongside these intimate, very human stories from daily life, and then taking art and life together and viewing them within the larger scale of the natural world.  

An animal therapist writes about Tuatara lizards.
The species is very old. The lizards feel very uncomfortable
around humans. We move too fast.
For them time goes much slower. From the same
source I hear about a cat who can explain the
phenomenon of time. Time exists in layers, like
the pages of a book. The cat also thinks people
are not living life to the full...
  

Of course, Nina Lassila isn't nearly as famous as Robert Barry and most likely never will be. (She is still young, so anything is possible, but times have definitely changed.) This is another aspect of the kind of work I am writing about here, of which I believe Tele-pets is only one example. Radical artistic gestures feel played out; they will no longer make or break careers and maybe art careers themselves no longer feel so important, some flashes in the pan simply last longer than others. Robert Barry was interested in telepathy as a radical gesture in and of itself; Nina Lassila is interested in telepathy as a way to hear what the animals have to say. It may or may not be a generational divide, but these are clearly very different impulses. To discover something meaningful within the artistic context I wonder if it is now necessary to turn away from purely artistic questions, to look elsewhere, out into the greater world.   Tele-pets ends with a final thought from the artist:  

Our culture is based on the superiority of human
beings. The need to control is too big ... but I think
we still need each other.

  As the video makes clear, it is people and animals that still need other. I suppose it is a sentimental thought, maybe pithy, possibly naive, but one certainly doesn't have to be receiving telepathic messages from the animal kingdom in order to sense its inherent truth.   * Jacob Wren is a writer and maker of eccentric performances. His recent books include Unrehearsed Beauty (Coach House Books), Families Are Formed Through Copulation (Pedlar Press), Le genie des autres (Le Quartanier) and the upcoming novel Revenge Fantasies of the Politically Dispossessed.

more greek memoires

2011-11-19T20:48:00.001+01:00

"Virginity, virginity, where have you gone, leaving me abandoned?
No longer I will come to you, no longer will I come"

Sapfo

being here now all by myself the 4th day i realize I do not want to go and see or meet people.
I do not wish to speak about money.
I read the news every morning. I read about Greece and its debts.
I read about the protests. In Athens, on Wall street.
I know I should do something. Take action. At least react.
But now I rather see the ants getting drunk from spilt Ouzo on the terrace floor.
I rather spend time with the cats than think of money.
A sleeping cat in a country of economic crisis. Life has to go on...
The old bent down ladies in black going on with their daily routine.

I watch a leave fall.
Smell the fresh laundry.

I was never rich.
I never had a pool.
I never knew anyone with a pool.
I never wished to have one.

Being rich, that is what I am now.
Sitting here writing in the greek mountains.
Watching a cat sleep.
Smoking and drinking Ouzo before lunch.

Is it a privilege?

a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people.

Well, tomorrow I will wear a bikini and make a nasty piece about a woman who does not care about banks, national debts, BNP and the IMF.

2011-11-19T20:34:00.001+01:00

who loves the female artist?
another female artist.
sometimes a male artist who just loves this female artist (as a person and/or as an artist)

but look at the rest of the system.

the art bitches, sorry, the art women who work within arts, curators, gallerists, museumpeople ..they like male artists, gay male artists and hetero male artists because they love them back.

the female artist can be tricky. difficult. make difficult statements. be uncomfortable somehow. talk about periods or about annoying feminism.

the male curator etc then…they favor male artists because they are buddies. and often they are gay so they favor other gay artists…

so what is left for the female artists?

hm

memoires from a greek residency

2011-11-19T20:30:00.002+01:00

yes, imagine how people lived without electricity.
they did not stay up in the late hours. they went to sleep when it got dark.

Im sitting here in candlelight. Alone. In the greek mountains. There is thunderstorm.
I can not see the mountains - they are covered in mist.

But I have my MacBook Pro - thanks Steve Jobs.

It's giving me a little light. I just hope the 77% of battery will last for a while.

I hope my 6 candles will last.

I hope the dear electricity comes back soon.

What if I need to have a shit?

I can't find the toilet in the dark.

I will poo in a pot.

what is this whole glamour stuff? I mean in the art scene?
are artists glamourous or are the hang arounds the glam ones?

I mean…artists who often deal with tough issues, concern their work about serious things, reveal themselves almost to the bone etc - how could they in the end be glamorous?

I mean yes, in one sense probably, in their leisure time…

or perhaps there are the different ones…the glam artists and the serious ones.
And what about shyness? I always find artists to be quite shy. If they are not drunk or on drugs. Quite introverted actually. Not wanting to be the center of attention…

I am 36. an artist. currently sitting alone in a house in the mountains of Lefkada, Greece. I am working. This is not glamorous.

2011-11-19T20:28:00.001+01:00

"Το αύριο, θα είναι καλύτερο."

Tomorrow will be better.

2011-10-07T22:32:00.003+02:00

being here now all by myself the 4th day i realize I do not want to go and see or meet people.
I do not wish to speak about money.
I read the news every morning. I read about Greece and its debts.
I read about the protests. In Athens, on Wall street.
I know I should do something. Take action. At least react.
But now I rather see the ants getting drunk from spilt Ouzo on the terrace floor.
I rather spend time with the cats than think of money.
A sleeping cat in a country of economic crisis. Life has to go on...
The old bent down ladies in black going on with their daily routine.

I watch a leave fall.
Smell the fresh laundry.

I was never rich.
I never had a pool.
I never knew anyone with a pool.
I never wished to have one.

Being rich, that is what I am now.
Sitting here writing in the greek mountains.
Watching a cat sleep.
Smoking and drinking Ouzo before lunch.

Is it a privilege?

a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people.

Well, tomorrow I will wear a bikini and make a nasty piece about a woman who does not care about banks, national debts, BNP and the IMF.

2011-10-07T22:31:00.000+02:00

"Virginity, virginity, where have you gone, leaving me abandoned?
No longer I will come to you, no longer will I come"

Sapfo

starting the writing...

2011-10-05T20:47:00.001+02:00

images of Chernobyl, Fukushima, Nuke bombs

I will never forget April 26th 1986.
I am 11
We have just moved here.

for several years we are not allowed to pick mushrooms.
there were rabbits born with 5 legs and 3 ears.

the winds were northwestern.

but it's all going to get worse. much worse.

26 years later it's still hovering over the town.
It is still a major threat all over the world.

It is a ticking bomb. It will never go away.

I still fear it.

Lets go back to 1764..?
the town is a stopover for the king & his entourage. They would stop here and dine.
The restaurant is still there. The ceilings are very low. The king was a short man.
In 1786 ??? the town gets a new name, a name of a Queen.

It becomes a famous spa & health resort for wealthy people.
the town boasts with casinos, hotels, tennis courts & cultural events.

The health well also referred to as the radium (180Bq/l) well is said to bring health to everyone who drinks from it. It was somewhere close to my school.

there were enemies and wars fought. fortresses built.

What happened to the radium well?

For a long while the town is unimportant. Nothing happens here. A seaside town proud over the fact that the famous composer spent some summers there.

then in the 1970ies it is decided. It will be built here, outside the town by the seaside. The big plant.

I move here after a divorce. I'm quite a happy child.
Until I learn to read and think for myself. Until I find out about the plant.

My life is changed. For good.

The plant is still here. Now owned by another big company who have nice informative PDFs for downloading on their webpage. They clearly state that they measure the level of radiation in the local community. Everybody is healthy,safe and happy.

the locals are radiant.

we used to joke about that.

the name of the company that owns the plant is visible all over. It supports the local sports teams. kids work there during summer holidays. people have bags and clothes with the company name on it. Everybody's parents work there. Nobody is afraid of it.
My mothers boyfriend is a fireman. He works there. We argue a lot. I never like him.

On the schools field day we cycle to the plant. We are given buns & lemonade outside the gates.

We learn to recognize the alarm. We learn to not think about it.

We learn how to move quickly and safely to buses in case of emergency.

I learn that no pets are allowed to company in case of an evacuation.
I try to figure out what to do with my dog Brutus if ever the horror happens.

In the basements there are concrete bomb shelters with heavy armed doors.

Its always cold there. My grandmother keeps potatoes in the basement.
My brothers heavy-metal band practices in the bunkers.

(this town could be anywhere, I could be anyone. This could be a manuscript for a TV drama. But this is all true and nobody seems to care about the dangers).

Go Back to all the places. the familiar and the unfamiliar. Re-enact childhood.
Find a 12year old. a 14year old. a 16 your old. a 19 year old.

Joan, another Karen...

2011-09-21T13:25:00.002+02:00

always liked to like something well said.
i should have written this story in another way. I should have made a story. I should have used names. made up names.

It could have been brilliant.

well, from one thing to another - like in weird dreams…today I started reading that book by Joan Didion that I bought in a bookshop on Bergmanstr yesterday. it was a tuesday. I had had lunch with Guergana.

i found these books by Didion. I should have bought them all. I suddenly remembered this interview with her - how much I felt with her. She talked about writing about the loss of her husband - or was it her son...anyway, I had never heard of her before. well I bought 1 book. and after reading 10 sentences I knew I liked her. a lot. after 1 page I knew we were related. and wow, wasn't that a great feeling?

(like when I got the strong urge to go and see Karen Blixens grave in Denmark. She was buried next to her beloved dog. what a woman she must have been. She always wondered if it was raining over Ngono...)

to know somehow that you did find home?

it's all there. the language, the references…amazing. i love that I found her.
I feel so lonely sometimes.

wishing for that grasping feeling of a story that you want to hear but that is not being told as you wish to. and because the storyteller knows better than you what you need and want….but who writes it? who is the storyteller? how do we read a story?

i want to create that story. or a story.

nyskapande kanske lite kul

2011-08-30T20:42:00.001+02:00

men varför då? vad då?

vad vill man? hur ska man komma över den där överväldigande känslan att man inget kan göra?
man skriver lite på någon debattsida. man sprider information o bilder mm via diverse kanaler såsom Facebook. Man läser artiklar. man ser web tv. man ser videoklipp från olika tv stationer, nyhetsbyråer - oberoende och statliga.

man talar med nära över en bordsskiva.

men mer då? och hur ska man orka då dumheten och själviskheten känns så fet och tryckande runtom en.

man går in i sig själv. går ut o handlar bara det man behöver. gläds inte över att shoppa onödiga trendiga t-shirts. Inser att man klarar sig fint med dom 2 koftorna man har hemma. Vad ska man se cool ut för i en sketen värld?

Hjälper det dom som har det ruttet? hjälper det dom som torteras? hjälper det djur som dör ut? hjälper det grisarna som lever för att dö?

Och senn då, ska man sitta hemma med sitt vinglas och skriva lite i textredigeraren?

hjälper det?

kan man kanske översätta texten man tangerat till engelska med hjälp av google translate och överföra den till en video som man försöker få in i ett konstgalleri eller en festival i ev kategorin experimentell dokumentär? för det finns ingen kategori för panikartad världsförbättring?

ska man kanske orka ordna en utställning som heter "a better world" eller "give us a chanse to be nice" eller nått annat supersliskigt alltså avsiktligt sliskigt, nästan på gränsen till sarkastiskt.
Bjuda in konstnärer som helt ärligt är inne på att se på världen o dess problem istället för att fiffla med ett material o göra snärtiga prylar som är helt onödiga men kanske småkul. Inte heller bjuda in konstnärer som jobbar med sina trauman eller målar tavlor som är kulörta ytor i olika former.

kanske det. det skulle vara ett kombinerat ställningstagande. kombinerat för att man mått illa över att man gett upp all sin ork för ett aktivt ställningstagande och för att man inte gått in i sin konstvärld o sagt till att det här saknar jag för fucks sakes.

nu blev dethär ju riktigt bra. bra skrivet och sakligt. nyskapande kanske lite kul.

4 new folders.

2011-07-11T20:30:00.004+02:00

well. ok 1 is sort of old. already in process. but it's now nicely wrapped inside a blank A4 with the HEADLINE: Lovisa project 2011.

but then 3 new folders. great. feeling releaved. there it is again. creativity. the ideas. the unconscious words appearing on white paper from somewhere far inside the mind. or brain if u prefer. naah. dont think so. not the brain. well.

one folder is called "Panther & Freud". A possible script. and what is all that post colonial stuff anyway.

another folder: 1 week diary. July 10-18th 2011. Script material.

last folder:
Another possible script:
frustration
thoughts
panther
post-colonialism
ready mades

PROMISE: tomorrow I might take my camera out and film something. or buy the panther.

last week I ate a grape fruit laying down on the floor on that plastic table cloth. It was very messy and I made ugly noises. It was not pretty. And yes I did film it. But I do not know what for. But I am sure it was for some higher purpose. As always.

As I am the priestess of remote viewing.

rrrrrrrrrrrr

vad är svenskhet?

2011-07-11T12:49:00.001+02:00

Jasenko Selimovic (FP): Vi behöver en diskussion om svensk identitet. Vad är det som förenar oss, vilket är samhällskittet? Sverigedemokraterna och andra nationalister har lagt sitt bud: det som håller ihop oss är de tjocka banden av etnicitet och kultur. Om vi andra vill bemöta nationalister måste vi formulera vårt svar. Genom att diskutera vad ett svenskt medborgarskap ska vara, genom att prata om vilka värderingar som bör utgöra grunden för ett samhälle kan vi definiera svenskheten på ett mer inkluderande sätt. Så att invandrare och människor med andra kulturer och religioner också ryms i den. Hellre preciserade krav på medborgarskapet än otydliga och livslånga krav på kärlek till sill och potatis, skriver Jasenko Selimovic.

jag kan också på samma gång fundera på frågan vad är finländskt?

ja, eftersom jag är född i Finland, har bott i Sverige i nästan 10 år och nu bor i Tyskland och snart kanske i Belgien. Länder där vi har liknande problem i olika proportioner.

Plötsligt känns det ändå dumt - vad finländskt, svenskhet, tyskhet…jag är ju en människa. Vad är mänsklighet då?

Det är väl det vi bör svara på för att kunna leva ihop. Eller?

Men då för att återgå till frågan svenskhet. mmm…hur skall det fungera? Gör inte det till en grad redan? Nu kan jag bara återgå till egna erfarenheter och minnen. Ja, vänner och bekantas.
Har aldrig bott i Hammarkullen. Och jag är ju finsk har jag förstått. Jag blev nog mer finsk i Sverige. Hemma i Finland upplevde jag det inte så mycket - detta kanske är svaret - de hemmavarande, "hemma stannarna" vet inte vem dom är.
Och då man rör på sig o bosätter sig någon annanstans med "andra" blir man allt oftare påmind om sin olikhet. Trots att den kanske inte ens är särskilt märkbar. Det kan man inte ändra på. Och det kanske inte är något fel i det egentligen, så länge det inte är diskriminerande. Eller sårar. Det gör det ofta tyvärr. Man kan bli trött på att känna sig tvungen att "stå upp" för ens rötter - det vore ju lätt att säga, ja, fan, Finland är ett djävligt skitland. Men det är det inte. Det finns en massa gott och fint där. Samma i Sverige.

Vad ska vi då definiera som svenskhet…sill och potatis är gott. Men kanske det borde främst handla om demokratiska frågor som; yttrande frihet, jämställdhet, miljö frågor.
Säg tex att man ger ett paket åt folk som kommer; detta paket kan innehålla en kurs om dessa frågor. En svenska kurs som folk kan få göra i egen takt. Och se till att det finns ordentligt med svenskar på plats för att skapa kontakter med ny anlända.

Hm, jag behöver ju kanske inte detta…jag är rätt lik. Och jag behöver inte ändra min svenska.
Men varför upplevde jag mig fortfarande diskriminerad i Sverige? Kanske för att jag inte var en "head hunted" super power for the Swedish office…utan bara en liten finne som studerat i Sverige och flera gånger lovat att lämna landet efter avslutad examen. Nu gjorde jag ju inte det, utan blev kvar och lyckades sist och slutligen få ett jobb och bostad, tack vare mina finska kunskaper. Så i slutänden lyckades jag haffa åt mig det som alla i Sverige vill ha - men enbart pga kontakter med andra finsk talande eller just pga det. Luktar skit.

Jag blev liksom inte riktigt integrerad någonsin. Kände mig aldrig riktigt välkommen. Det var t.om lättare att gå hos tandläkaren i Helsingfors. Men nu tillbaks till mej idag. Nu bor jag i Tyskland och nu saknar jag Sverige. hahaha. Nu ser jag vad svenskhet är.

det är hjälpsamhet. godhet. bra seder. hederlighet. kanske t.om blåögdhet - men det hör inte hit.

I Sverige kan man ha det djävligt bra och tryggt. Kanske inte så värst spännande men det är ett bra land att känna sig trygg i. Visserligen klagar många på att svenskar är trista, inte ler eller ser andra i ögonen. Jag vet inte om jag kan stämma in där - undrar varför - nu står jag här på Sonnenallé och försvara Sverige….kanske jag integrerades trots allt? Kanske jag blev svensk?

Utan att jag märkte det? Kanske var jag tvungen att lämna även Sverige för att förstå vad det är att vara del av svenskhet?

Måste ändå påpeka att det är spännena att bo i Neukölln Berlin - vi är en rejäl soppa av folk från jordens alla hörn - och fan i helvete - det fungerar rätt bra. Hur gick det så? Varför är det så svårt "up there in the North" eller "In der Nord" som numera är mitt ursprung….

2011-06-29T21:45:00.001+02:00

memories of her.

typing on the typewriter. all these A4s. Font: courier. funny paper smell.

blue berry muffins.

lace.

wases.

plants: Red geraniums and st. paulias.

apple juice

beautiful coffee cups

never really tea

flowery dress. was it violet, sort of blue? a white hat. the golden neckless. that i now have. with the little watch in it. I never wear it. afraid of losing it.

old paper scissors.

always lost reading glasses.

red medicine boxes.

a radio always on.

I never saw her use the vinyl player. perhaps the tape rack. was there ever tapes?

later on Vikingarna in the car with her second husband.

earlier on live accordion and a dog called Sami.

that fool dress, with the funny little hard green hat. tiny black shoes. a very old looking brooch holding the scarf together.

never make up. not even lip stick.

tiger balm in the bedside table drawer.

colored felt pens in a jug on the bedside table.

cross word puzzles. always.

books. magazines.

white lace table cloth on the dining room table. a big was on top.
simple table cloth on the kitchen table. thats where we eat.

white plates with painted flowers on them. in a nuance of fragrant light violett.

home made carpets on all floors. except in the living room, was there an oriental carpet? and plastic ones in the bathroom? or?

the evil looking blond russian dolls in their silky dresses.

the white dog with a red collar, Emil. He is in Sweden now, in my cellar.

a little was with a picture of a 1700 century couple on it. the man is playing an instrument perhaps?

an orange telephone. on the telephone table. the old huge black heavy telephone.

plastic bags filled with sea shells, boxes with pearls. Fruitdrops candy cans with treasures in them.

Van Houten cocoa powder, never o'boy.

to be continued….

the fox

2011-06-22T12:33:00.006+02:00

what makes us happy?
what is happiness?
how do we pursue it?

is it that moment feeling wonderful after a nice dinner with friends?
is it a good feeling going to a well deserved holiday?

It is definitely there when feeling loved by someone. In those moments when you lie beside someone and feel love strongly. Or feeling it through a distance.

But is that enough?

We say happiness exists in small things. In simple slow moments. Like looking out on a field. Or on a lake. Or at the horizon.
Watching butterflies, birds, animals…children.

But this makes me sad. Because I feel we do not appreciate these things enough and to be honest this is all is something we are destroying. We are destructive in our nature. It's like we do not really care because we are to selfish.

Did I feel happiness when I saw that fox lurking on the dark street last night?
What was the fox thinking?

I realized he was becoming more like us, streetwise. He decided based on previous experience that I was cool. At some point he stopped his running to sit down and scratch himself for a while. a couple of minutes and he saw that I was watching. But what was he thinking?
I do not know.

I can only make assumptions. Assumptions based on my education, experience, background and personal thoughts.

And I am afraid that nobody is interested in my personal thoughts about the fox. Or about anything else.

Isn't it sad that I think this way?

And why did I even start thinking about happiness in the first place?

It's an existential "thinkdoodle" of course. I was thinking about leaving a trace behind me. Something about myself so that I would be remembered when I'm gone. And why again am I wasting my time on thoughts like that? Wy is it important to me, to us, to leave something behind us?

We know that most things will be destroyed. I know that I am a nobody really.
To be big crowd at least.

I wont be remembered. And to be honest that does not really bother me at all.

It's this art thing. That I am creating things…for what? for whom?

Am I doing this to entertain someone? I am obviously not doing things that people want to have close to them in their homes, things that would help them go on every day - because all my works are still here at home, nobody asked for them. Nobody bought them anyway. Would that make me happy, to have some well deserved stash in my pocket...no, it would not, just for a short moment. Is happiness only there for short moments, or is it so that we can't really recognize happiness and that is why we seek it and see only short glimpses of it, sometimes false things?

And I wonder how well do we really know ourselves? How honest are we really with ourselves? And do we even care?

Will we just be gone not knowing who we really were deep down inside?

So what makes us happy, to get back to the first question. Knowing ourselves? appreciating ourselves? Or knowing the other, the unknown, like the fox I met?

it is the same thing - a meeting with a stranger. The stranger being myself or the fox.

perhaps something happens in between that meeting.

Or is it that simple that happiness comes from making someone else happy? By i.e creating an art work that makes somebody else happy, closer to himself/herself? Or even baking a simple cake.

Is that possible? ( cakes are easy, perhaps I am wishing to make the whole fucking mankind happy...then I guess I should show them my tits or what?)

I know I talk to much. I know I ask to much. But in this moment writing this made me feel happier. I felt a honest real moment with the real Nina. I got again a bit closer to her. Hi there…nice to get know you. Happy it was not just another small talk to kill time.

And after this I can walk down to the post office with the other me. And mail another video to another video festival where another possible audience will become happy after seeing my piece.

a cow called Nina

2011-06-09T13:35:00.003+02:00

...suddenly remembering those days back in 1995 when I was cleaning hotelrooms in Hotel Arkipelag in Mariehamn.I still know the tricks...
That summer I was 20 and met a white cow called Nina. what a summer.

Now I am 36. And not so much has changed.

I might even meet another cow called Nina. WHo knows.

I might even get myself my own cow. Cow's are very much like people. They follow leaders quite blindly. Some of them get of the path and roam wildly for a while. I remember Nina did that. That's how we met. We were on a mission to check out that the cows were ok on the meadow. There was a little forrest with dangerous ditches so we needed to see that nobody had fallen in there. So there we were walking with big sticks in our hands to protect us from wild cows when there's a loud sound of twigs breaking in the forrest.
And out comes a white cow running madly straight at us. That was Nina...

Am I like her?

Am I roaming madly in life? I don't seem to want to stay with the herd...even if I like the herd. Perhaps I don't know who is the leader of the pack? Or do I want to be the leader and start a new pack?

If I can recall correctly Nina had a buddy with her. So she was not alone.

I'm not alone either. I know loads of cows...

Bonne weekend!

in the arse of a dog - i hundreven

2011-06-07T13:49:00.005+02:00

yeah, now its Venice. Its Basel. Its Based in Berlin.. .all sorts arts cat christening events...

No, I'm not jealous or bitter beacuse I'm not there with the jetset. This all just makes me sad. And to be honest this whole market & wanna be so fucking something else constantly (than a creative artist) has been pissing me of for years.

There is constant proof of how artist are being used, dumped, pissed on and to be frank objectifyed. And this all just keeps going on because we, artists, just want to make a buck and show our stuff. We HAVE to play the ugly game - otherwise we'll play it in a barn somewhere in Utsijoki* and nobody will care.

So what to do.

I dont even know where to start.

I read a very good text on a blog last night. It managed to capture the same things I have been annoyed of in just a few words. I will copy it here, it's so brilliant.

the artist's statement:"An Artist’s Statement is a batch of required thinking which purports to be about the inspired doing of something, but which replaces it. The art-schooled art world is mad for intellectual hooks. These leapfrog from an idea, sail clear over the sweat and bother of actual creation, and land in forensic analysis, which some dismal pictures or objects have been devised to illustrate. A hook may get you into the art game. It will also digest you. You will then be excreted out, at best as fertilizer for next year’s crop of Artists’ Statements. More likely, you will have been just another silly fart, dispersed on the breeze."

the clichés in art criticism today:" It’s a reflex to characterize, and even to congratulate, new art in terms of what it is ‘responding to’, ‘being interested in themes of’, ‘reflecting on’, ‘being concerned with’ – and I would add, ‘interrogating’, ‘challenging’, ‘subverting’ and so on: mental monkey tricks. "

artists and their practice:"Then there’s that horrible word – I wince every time I read it, and I read it a lot lately – ‘practice’. Artists don’t make works any longer. They maintain practices. Like dentists, only less honourably. Or like musicians trying to get to Carnegie Hall. When do you stop practicing something and do it?"

A reprinted lecture he delivered at SVA, the article also includes a full version of the great "modernist warhorse of a poem" Wallace Steven's "The Idea of Order at Key West."

yes, I will try to go on writing about these things that piss me of, but first I have to fix my web page so that I will be elected for residencies, festivals, exhibitions etc. Ironic isn't it....But I must go on...What else can I do? Then hopefully I can fight this bullshit from the inside. Crush the fancy fucking specs of the people who dont care about art and important values but are in it just because of the fancy champagne & money & probably something they call cultural richness = elitist snobism to me...

I want to end this blabbering with some nice optimistic words but feel drained.

what about a good old classic: FIGHT THE POWER!!!!!!!

*my grand mother would call these remote places being "behind the back of God, Jumalan selän takana", or in "the arse of a dog, i hundreven" .

Slippery Terrain at the Nordic House Reykjavik

2011-05-11T12:38:00.002+02:00

May 7th - May 29th 2011

Artists:
Nina Lassila
Diana Storåsen
Johanna Willenfelt
Thora Gunnarsdottir
Elín Anna Þórisdóttir
Juliana España Keller

Nature and natural vision tends to be dreamlike and romanticized in art. The interplay of light and color that ignites impressions within the viewer. The personification of nature as the nurturing woman who tends to her creations and is therefore dubbed "the mother". But is there romance in Mother Nature? In Iceland her face is more often that of an angry woman, thundering on with noise and destruction in her wake, a woman which should not be angered or defied in any way. There is nothing romantic about natural catastrophes and their influence on our surroundings. Destruction and death. Nor has mankind shown much romance or kindness in it's dealings with Nature. Mankind wants to tame the land, cultivate and use it and cares little or nothing about how it affects the Earth, let alone it's other inhabitants, the animals.

This is exactly what has been done to the wetland reserve in Vatnsmýri. It has been encroached upon from every direction and has now reached a critical state. The contract between The Nordic House, City of Reykjavík and The University of Iceland entails a plan which will improve the condition of the area and make life a bit easier for it's inhabitants. When the contract was signed, Reykjavík's mayor, Jón Gnarr, called it a small step for mankind but a huge step for the ducks.

Nature and our surroundings is the root of our image and through it we sense ourselves. Our attitude towards it is based on our background, upbringing and the habits we have learned from our ancestors. The Reykjavík pond area is impregnated with the cultural image of the citizens. We see it more as a place for the family to feed the ducks and a postcard image of the past than a wild area. The pond as a cultural thing and the pond as a natural habitat have different needs. The latter is in a crisis and the contract is meant to meet it's needs while the first, in it's present state, preserves the cultural heritage in our minds. But those needs do not cancel out one another.

The role of the artist is to explore, research, experience and ask about the significant issue. He should capture the influence of his surroundings and then impose in his art, thereby giving the viewer a change to see the subject from as many perspectives as possible and at the same time broadening his own. A modern artist's vision of nature has changed from being solely romantic to including the problems of man cohabiting with Nature as well.

It is from this context the Slippery Terrain artists tackle the task of observing the wetland reserve in Vatnsmýri, the Reykjavík Pond and in general, peoples attitude towards nature, animal life and the never ending search for Mother Nature.

The show opens on the day of Vatnsmýri, May 7th, 2011

Shitting out new stuff like cannonballs...

2011-04-21T19:08:00.000+02:00

ask somebody to write about your art...aaaah. WANT IT!!! DO IT!!!

my artist practice evolve a lot around my own persona, current events and things I discover and learn about. I tend to connect things together in a poetic, funny and in my belief a smart way.

It's all a reflection - a personal reflection of our times.

I create actions. I write. I combine. And I mostly see connections. It's not difficult. I believe that my artist practice/work is an ever growing organism - I've seen red threads, I have seen different parts grow into each other…and I have no idea at the moment what the future will bring- but I'm exited. I know my abilities are limitless…

I try to break my own boundaries. I try to find new ways of expression and perceiving things.

Constantly. Continuously.

But I guess I should pause and breathe for a while. Give things a thought or blast away like a bulldozer?
Shitting out new stuff like cannonballs...

french love the finns

2011-04-20T21:51:00.002+02:00

in this messy aftermath of the finnish elections one sits here and wonders what will happen.

discovered that the Pepinieres pour les jeunes artistes have published my work "the great lake" on the ARTE CREATIVE website.
Wonderful! Makes me happy that they like it.
The french seem to like the strangeness in finns. Or something. Dont know.

I hope they will like us still even if 18% of the population are now officially idiots. Well well.

And then the Truefinns idiotic hatred of contemporary art, oh, no they use the word postmodern art. Postmodern fake art. I guess all I do belongs to that category. or who knows perhaps they'd love me ? I made a piece about a great lake in the north of finland.
I'm dressed as a proper little finn, in an old sport jacket and I'm drunk as a normal Finn mostly is. What a pity I wasn't eating sausage. Or killing a bear. hm...

well well, here is my video

http://creative.arte.tv/fr/space/Pepinieres_europeennes_pour_jeunes_artistes/message/2239/The_Great_lake/

«UNE CHAMBRE À SOI»

2011-04-20T21:37:00.000+02:00

CLAUDE CAHUN
KATARZYNA KOZYRA
HELENE DELPRAT
NINA LASSILA
ANA MENDIETA
VANINA SCHMITT
VERONIQUE BOUDIER
VALIE EXPORT
PAULINE CURNIER-JARDIN
SEULGI LEE
ANNA BLUME

«UNE CHAMBRE À SOI»

E x p o s i t i o n d u 2 8 A v r i l a u 4 J u i n 2 0 1 1

V E R N I S S A G E L E 2 8 A V R I L 2 0 1 0 à p a r t i r d e 1 8 h

«Ent re t i en ave c Ul r i ke Ot t ing e r» r é a l i s é pa r Ma r gue r i t e Vappe re au e t Paul ine Curni e r- J a rdin 2011
Le film sera présenté par Ma r gue r i t e Vappe re au e t Paul ine Curni e r- J a rdin
«Dé d é d ’Ar c » d e Paul ine Curni e r- J a rdin 2008
.
« S i r i n a t u » d e S e u l g i L e e 2003
.
«S .C.U.M Mani fe s to» de Ca rol e Rous sopoulos e t De lphine S ey r i g 1976
19 Mai 2011 Project ion à 19.30 / réservat ion indispensable 01 42 78 49 16
Galerie Christophe Gaillard
12 rue de Thorigny 75003 Paris
01 42 78 49 16
contact@galerie-gaillard.com
www.galerie-gaillard.com

Peter Land och Palle Nielsen; ifrågasätter samhället och den individuella existensen i en meningslös värld…

2011-04-15T01:17:00.000+02:00

Såg en utställning en gång som hette ”what is important” och det kändes verkligen som en enormt STOR titel. Ibland känns mycket inom konst meningslöst, speciellt om man tycker att den är innehållslös , tråkig, ytlig eller enbart estetisk.

Man funderar på hur man skall kunna göra någon skillnad och kanske påverka någon eller några med det man gör. Det talas om att verket skall kommunicera, ha något att komma med. Det är viktigt. På alla plan, i alla verk.

Därför tänkte jag undersöka och diskutera två konstnärers skapande ur detta perspektiv. Jag har valt dessa två, Palle Nielsen och Peter Land, för att jag tycker att de lyckas med sina verk skapa en kommunikation och diskussion.
Konstnärerna har olika inriktningar men någonstans finns samma frågeställning om vad som är viktigt” för individen och hela samhället, hela vår existens.

Palle Nielsen är i grunden grafiker och verkar ha en rätt stor produktion bakom sig. Jag känner tyvärr rätt dåligt till hela hans produktion. Projektet jag främst fokuserat på nämns inte i hans biografier och det skapar en del förvirrning. Är det verkligen samma person? Eller kan det finnas två Palle Nielsen? En förklaring till att några av hans i mitt tycke intressantaste projekt inte nämns i biografierna kan vara att de inte har setts som konst eller konstutställningar som de skulle ses idag.
Jag kom i kontakt med Palle Nielsen genom av att se en dokumentär på tv om ett arbete han utförde på Moderna Museet 1968. Det kändes otroligt fräscht och inspirerande! Verket, eller projektet, hette ”a model for a qualitative society”. I folkmun kallades den oftast bara ”modellen”. Det var en stor arbetsgrupp, av vilka en stor del var Vietnam aktivister, som låg bakom verket. Palle Nielsen gjorde en liknande aktion (utan tillstånd) i ett s a s sämre bostadsområde, Nörrebro, i Köpenhamn, på våren 1968 innan ”modellen” på moderna museet i Stockholm.
Modellen i Stockholm utgår ifrån barnens behov och som jag ser det handlar det till en stor del om hur en kommande generation vuxna uppfostras för att sedan med sin bakgrund skapa ett bra samhälle där kommunikation och allt det vi ofta saknar existerar och är möjligt. Modellen diskuterar också konstens och institutionens roll. Det var speciellt viktigt att modellen visades just på en stor konst institution som Moderna Museet, för att påpeka att sk elitistisk konst inte är det viktigaste.
I förordet säger man:
Leken är utställningen.
Utställningen är barnens eget verk.
Det finns ingen utställning.
Det är bara en utställning för att barnen leker på ett konstmuseum.
Det är bara en utställning för dom som inte leker.

Och det är därför gruppen kallar utställningen för en modell, en modell av ett samhälle skapat av oförstörda människor, barn. Och utställning kan man kalla det för att projektet utförs i en konstinstitution. Och kanske är det just därför modellen har utelämnats i Nielsens biografi.

I praktiken gick modellen ut på att moderna museet förvandlades till en enorm kreativ lekplats för barn. Man hade fått ”leksaker” som allehanda verktyg, byggmaterial, teaterkostymer, vinylskivor, mål färger mm. I lokalens alla hörn fanns högtalare som plockade upp stojet av de skapande barnen. I restaurangen fanns tv monitorer i vilka föräldrar och andra vuxna kunde följa med barnens lek. Inträdet kostade 5 kronor för vuxna och var givetvis helt gratis för barnen, som på sätt och vis VAR själva utställningen.
Ur Palle Nielsens förord i katalogen för modellen; ofta står vi och ser på barn som leker. Och vi intresserar oss mycket för deras lek. Samtidigt har vi en förnimmelse av att de ser på oss – på vår lek. Vi märker att de försöker leka sådant de lärt från oss. När vi ser dem leka är det som om vi känner igen något av oss själva. Det är som om vi såg hur de genom sin lek försöker att förstå den värld som omger dem. De leker också våra handlingar, för vi har gett dem en bild av den värld som omger dem. Och det skrämmer oss, för vi ville gärna att de kunde förstå den värld som omger dem. Men det kräver att vi själva förstår dem.
Vi blir skrämda eftersom vi själva uppfattar samhället som någonting som står ovanför oss, utanför oss.

Palle Nielsens projekt är på sätt och vis ett utopistiskt verk. Det kvalitativa samhället är ett alternativ till det auktoritära samhället. Det är en dröm (önskan?) om ett bättre samhälle där man verkligen lever kollektivt och sköter saker gemensamt. Ett samhälle där man kommunicerar med varandra, har tid med varandra och allra viktigast ett samhälle skapat av dem som skall och vill leva i det. Vackert.
”Modellen” är mer lik en politisk aktion men i och med att projektet genomfördes på Moderna Museet blev det legitimt, synliggjort och accepterat. Ja, och så blev det ju konst också…i varje fall ser vi det så idag.
Premisserna för den vita kuben kan ibland ha sina fördelar om den utnyttjas på ett lämpligt sätt.

På 60 och 70talet var det kollektiva och opponeringen mot samhälleliga institutioner vanligt överlag, och detta syntes även i konsten. Enligt tidens anda och ideologier skulle varje människa vara fri och ha rätt att uttrycka sina tankar, sin kreativitet mm. Man var en del av en stor rörelse. B l a ställde en grupp fram grafiska tryckpressar på Kongens Nytorv i Köpenhamn för allmänhetens förfogande – detta som en möjlighet för att uttrycka alienerad kreativitet. (”questioning the social” Lars Bang Larsen)

Detta var mycket lyckat och sett ur dagens perspektiv tycker jag att Palle Nielsens verk var före sin tid. Med sin ”modell” utnyttjade och ifrågasatte han institutionens möjligheter och det sociala rummet. Att samtidigt ”ge” något, ifrågasätta och skapa diskussion är inte den lättaste uppgiften och speciellt inte på en ”institution” där konst mest ses som objekt med värde som skall beundras, köpas och säljas. Nielsen visade dem (oss) ett alternativ, kanske bara en utopi men hans tro om möjligheterna för framtiden var ändå inte helt pessimistisk (han utförde ju verket!). Som helhet känns modellen som en tagg i min vuxna hjärna – som att allting är förbi och försent, för hur ska barn bli vettiga stora människor om de enda modeller som finns är stressade idioter?

Modelllen och Nielsen andra aktioner kan jämföras med nutida sociala projekt, t ex med den danska gruppen N55 som arbetar mycket med att ”ge oss” alternativa modeller av välkända och bekanta social fenomen och produkter. Tex ställde de ut N55 spaceframe i hamnen i Köpenhamn under sommaren 1999 för allmänhetens förfogande. N55 Spaceframe är en konstruktion lämpad för boende. Konstruktionen på ”huset” är mycket lätt och designen som består främst av moduler av stålrör gjordes i samarbete med en arkitekt. Mer om själva konstruktionen nedan. Konstruktionen är inte en skulptur (enbart) utan kan verkligen användas. Har för mig att den t om hade kök och andra mer eller mindre nödvändiga faciliteter. Konstnärer, författare, musiker, arkitekter och curatorer har med sina projekt inom Spaceframe visat verkets olika sociala möjligheter.

Om N55 spaceframe:

The N55 SPACEFRAME is a low-cost, movable lightweight construction that can easily be transformed. It is dimensioned as a living unit for 3-4 persons and demands practically no maintenance. The construction can be erected by anybody in a short time.
The N55 SPACEFRAME is configured as a truncated tetrahedron with an indoor ground floor of approx. 20 m˜. According to needs and economy, the size and configuration may be changed, and extra floors and rooms may be included: it is easy to add to the construction in stages.
The entire unit is constructed from small lightweight components which all can be handled without the use of cranes or other heavy machinery. All components are materially minimised, have a low degree of manufacturing and are produced by a few simple machines, which anybody can operate. When stacked, the components take up very little space. The construction is assembled by hand. It can be erected directly onto the ground, since a cast foundation is not necessary. The structure can be dismantled and rebuilt many times over without damaging any of the components. The construction can be moved either fully assembled, or partly dismantled.

Mer information på www.n55.dk.

Den andra konstnären jag tar upp är Peter Land, några generationer yngre än Palle Nielsen, dansk och mycket intressant men på ett annat sätt. Peter Lands verk är ofta videobaserade och inspirerade av slapstick komedi (Buster Keaton, Laurel & Hardy, Chaplin) och det absurda (the theatre of absurd, Samuel Beckett). Han utsätter sig själv i olika iscensatta roller & situationer, ofta misslyckade, groteska, och tragikomiska karikatyrer. Med hjälp av dessa situationer undersöker han vad som finns kvar då allt det inlärda och förväntade tas bort. Vem är man egentligen? Vad är meningen med ens existens? Vad finns kvar då det man själv trott på inte stämmer? Kan man genom att exponera det meningslösa ge mening åt det meningslösa? Generellt kan man säga att hans flesta verk rör sig kring det individuella och behandlar tematiken jag nämnt ovan.
Att Land tidigare blivit avrådd från att behandla existentiella frågor bekymrar honom inte. Vad som är viktigt för individen måste också vara viktigt för konstnären är Peter Lands enkla konklusion. (Anders Olofsson ” möte med Lars bang Larsen och Peter Land”)

”what is left when all culturally and socially learned values has been exposed, invalidated and dispensed with?” (Peter Land)

Denna frågeställning är speciellt framkommande I videoverket Peter Land 5 May 1994. Innan detta verk gjorde han sin första video Peter Land 6 february 1994, där han kontaktar några strippor för att medverka i en video. I videon strippar tjejerna och Land går ibland förbi kameran (fullt påklädd) för att ”bevisa” sin närvaro. Det här arbetet säger han själv var en slags utväg ur en kreativ och även existentiell kris. Han hade precis kommit fram till att video kanske var hans media istället för måleri men visste inte exakt vad han skulle filma. Så det fick bli någonting som skulle sätta hans moraliska värderingar på prov.

Peter Land 5 may 1994 är ett liknande arbete men kom delvis till p g a dåligt samvete. Land säger i sina kommentarer i boken Peter Land att han ville ta upp en personlig känsla han hade under den perioden, en känsla om att konsten ofta kändes ytlig och ”cool” istället för att genuint försöka säga något ärligt. Konst skall kommunicera och utåt och inte bara spegla en yta. Han kände också att medians bild av kroppen och dess skönhet var värt att kommentera med hjälpa av sin långt ifrån perfekta kropp. I videon dansar och strippar Land till sin favoritmusik Och det känns verkligen utelämnade och naket. Men visst, även komiskt, en lönnfet medelålders kille som strippar är komisk – undrar om en kvinna är lika komisk i samma situation?

Han hade trott att det skulle vara lätt att filma videon men märkte efter att ha sett igenom den första tagningen att han var alldeles för medveten om sig själv och sin kropp. Han kände att något måste göras åt hans blyghet. Så följande gång besökte han kvarterskrogen och hällde i sig ett par drinkar innan han började sin ”strip dance”. Det hjälpte inte heller men efter 7 dagars hårt supande blev han äntligen klar
och nöjd trots att han inte kunde minnas själva tagningen…(Peter Land)

I sina kommentarer säger Land också att konst är en ”vulnerable business”, en sårbar sysselsättning och den som inte klarar av det medförda ”priset som bör betalas” inte borde ge sig in i konst överlag. Och det ligger ju en gnutta sanning i vad han säger trots att all konst inte är lika extremt utlämnade som Lands men det mesta inom konst utförs av levande personer med känslor och skiftande personligheter så, jovars…

”Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fall again. Fail better” (Samuel Beckett)

Det upprepade och repeterade är viktiga element i Peter Lands arbeten, det skapar det tragiska i situationen; ser man en man få en tårta kastad i ansiktet en gång är det roligt men händer det om och om igen blir det mer sorgligt. Faller en man av en stege en gång är det kanske ett misstag men sker det konstant är det något fel på antingen mannen eller stegen.

Om ”joie de vivre” (1998) säger Peter Land att det är det mest öppna verk han har gjort. Öppet i det avseendet att åskådaren själv kan dra sina egna slutsatser om vad som pågår i verket.
Videon är en dubbelprojektion där man ser två huvuden (bägge Peter Lands) som skrattar konstant utan avbrott. Ingen tydlig källa för skrattet anges. Skrattet förblir ett mysterium. Vad skrattar personen åt? Eller är han kanske galen?

I arbetet ”The Lake” från 1999 bearbetar Peter Land åter igen (sin vana trogen) förhållandet och relationen mellan den enskilda individen och resten av världen. Men fokus läggs också på den svåra tanken & fantasin om att världen fortgår och lever lyckligt vidare trots att man själv är borta.
”the idea that the world will continue also after I’m dead: A thought that alwasy scared me, but which I guess I should find reassuring” (Peter Land i boken Peter Land)

I videon konfronteras åskådaren av en jägare med geväret slängt över axeln. Jägaren (Peter Land) går med bestämda steg genom skogen mot en liten sjö där han hoppar i en liten roddbåt och ror ut till mittpunkten av sjön. I bakgrunden hörs Beethovens 6 symfoni, även känd som ”pastoralen”.
Ute på sjön förtöjer jägaren båten i en påle. Han stiger upp och ”löser haken” (?) på geväret, som om han hade avsikten att skjuta en stackars and eller annan fågel. Istället riktar han geväret mot bottnen av båten och skjuter ett hål. Musiken tystnar och det enda som hörs är fågelkvitter. Jägaren sitter ned i den sjunkande båten och så småningom ser man bara hatten som flyter på vattenytan ackompanjerad av fågelkvittret. Skogen lever vidare utan människans närvaro.
Land gjorde även ett billboard projekt av ”the Lake” till Wiener Secession år 2000. Ett antal internationella konstnärer inbjöds till att kommentera den politiska situationen i Österrike. Den politiska händelsen man fokuserade på var den rätt så nya formationen av koalitions regeringen bestående av det högerextrema Frihetspartiet och det konservativa partiet. Sjunkande skepp…

Jag tror att det som är viktigt i konst är att på ett sätt eller annat ge sig i kast med att lösa ett problem. Hur man löser det kan variera stort – och det är just där det blir intressant. Problemet kan i princip vara vad som helst och själva lösandet kan vara undersökande, berättande eller genom att ge eller påvisa ett alternativ mm.
Peter Land undersöker sin egen plats, mening och existens genom sina verk. Han bryter ner det inlärda vuxenbeteendet och de moraliska och konventionella normer som vi väntas leva efter. Han visar sig själv och sin publik en karikatyr som man kan skratta åt och kanske tycker är en aning äcklig men ändå känner man igen något. Det tycker jag är oerhört intressant. Att man grips av den där känslan av total nakenhet och uppgivenhet. Jag kan nästan känna mig litet avundsjuk på hur totalt han lämnar ut sig…det kanske låter oförståeligt men så känns det. Kommunikationen fungerar! Han vågar SERIÖST klä sig i en patetisk roll som de flesta bara leker med i smyg.
Det seriösa, ärliga och s a s ”sjuka” rollspelet känns ofantligt friskt. Det är bättre än någon form av terapi och friskvård. ”make a fool out of yourself and get well”…

Palle Nielsen har igen valt ett annat sätt att lösa problemet med ”mänskligheten”. Genom modellen för det kvalitativa samhället ger han ett alternativ till ett kapitalistisk och individ centrerat samhälle. Han visar ett alternativ av hur det kan bli, kanske kan man kalla det utopistiskt men det beror ju fullständigt på vilken hållning och tro man har beträffande människan. Nielsens alternativ är sofistikerat och psykologiskt. Man kan gott dra paralleller till Steinerskolan och dess ideologi men själv föredrar jag att se modellen som en tankeställare om mänskligheten i sin helhet. Att ge utlopp för sin energi och kreativitet och att i det längsta vara öppen och uppriktig och FRI är framtiden!

just bla bla bla

2011-04-14T00:14:00.001+02:00

its raining. still at the studio. did some editing for the new piece. feels scary to look at. its a mess. Perhaps I'm a messy artist always trying to look for order and control and all those things? and asking myself why? why not just let go and be messy...but oooutch...it still needs a framing. now its just a collage of words / concepts & video. And I know I want to get somewhere with it and I almost know what Im searching for but its not really there yet. huh...
must just force myself to go on and on with it.that's the only way.

wow. I really wish sometimes that I could build something. A smart beautiful structure - instead of making things complicated. Perhaps our artwork portray our personas? or perhaps, no shit Sherlock! of course they do...

yeah.

so then I'm a wacko who tries to be smart & beautiful.

a life struggle.

but as I have always said - as long as it is fun & meaningful - just go on. dont quit. And life is not supposed to be easy. Otherwise there would be no creation. If it was easy it was just IKEA. uf, I'm bad. I always refer to Ikea.

They might sue me some day.

1 step ahead

2011-04-12T14:46:00.003+02:00

April 12 th

dreamt about water falls. lots of water coming in from different sides. lots of water.
I said: "it looks like a woman"

I realize my work is getting into my dreams.

Perhaps its good.

Yesterday I was thinking of buying carrots. As I want to reduce my smoking. But as I am a horribly oral person I seem to have the need to chew, eat, inhale or whatever - constantly. It's sad. Well, back to the carrots.
I also thought that eating carrots this time of year would be good for the skin. And a possible tan. Even if a tan on me mostly looks ridiculous. You know, very red.

In todays news there is an article about an American study claiming that eating in particular carrots (also other yellow & green vegetables) seems to prolong our life expectancy.

Great. Always 1 step ahead. What's next?

I already predicted Knuts death. Well, not really - but I dreamt about him 1 week before he passed away. And I dont think its correct to stuff him up. He was not a teddy bear. He was a real bear. A fucking real Bear.

Would you take your mother to a Taxidermist?

No way Pumpkin.

2011-03-30T18:51:00.003+02:00

gone to the Marsh…
video, 6.12min 2011

A voice over is describing the work of an artist while she is trying to create a topic specific artwork for an exhibition. The topic is endangered wetlands, human versus Nature.

During the process the artist is feeling both artistic and sexual frustration and has difficulties in channeling her work in a satisfying direction.

She keeps referring to Nature and sex. Back and forth. She finds connections that at first glance seem far fetched - natural wetlands, marshlands and female genitalia. Somewhere the myth of the water spirit sneaks in. Topped with Japanese cars and famous paintings.

In the end she finds a closure, where the circle closes and everything seems connected.

In my work I often combine different works, I make connections and use parts of texts that I write on daily basis. I often ponder with the question "what is important" - and this pondering mostly leads to a immense feeling of frustration. And the only way of getting rid of this feeling is allowing myself to act out the feeling. These moments often result in performances and texts.

For the exhibition Slippery Terrain in the Nordic House I have created 2 new pieces, 1 photograph and 1 video.
Both works are connected to each other. Both of them incapsulate a perhaps subtle wish of a better world. As the artist in the video, who does not like giving orders nor finger pointing, I also don't like making conclusions about a place or a topic I do not now well enough.
As an artist I try to figure out what to do or say to reformulate concepts, ideas and beliefs and to become conscious of things.

I do wish that we would all pull ourselves together…

"when artist meet they talk about money. When bankers meet they talk about art"

2011-03-23T20:49:00.003+01:00

springer hit. springer dit. gör det ena och det andra och så mycket som möjligt på en och samma gång. plus kaffe o cigg.

bör tilläggas att jag arbetar med en serie events som alltid börjar med RELAX.

haha. det är så kul. knäppt.

Arbetar i en stor ateljé för tillfället. Önskar att det alltid var så här. Dethär är bara lyx för tillfället. Ett residens stipendium jag har fått av Västra Götalands kulturnämnd. Ett stort tack till dom. Får vara här i 3 månader. Breda ut mig. kladda, måla, rita, spela musik skithögt, spela in video, audio, dansa, vila, laga mat, kissa, supa, flina...you name it. Och det bästa: jag behöver inte städa upp efter mig varje dag. Det är lyx, mina vänner.

Ingen vardagsmat för en fattig konstnär. Fattig men privilegierad, känner jag allt som oftast. Tja, man jobbar ju hårt för nothing egentligen. Men fet lön och ett fett bank konto är inte det som räknas, inte för mig. Det är underbart att visa sitt arbete och få kommentarer, komma in i diskussioner, kanske få någon att tänka om, på nytt, vända på steken. Senn tja, visst skulle det vara angenämt om inte rent sagt satans häftigt om någon skulle köpa ett verk. Låt oss säga ett museum eller en samlare. I bästa fall kunde det innebära att någon någonstans skulle faktiskt tro att den Nina Lassila, henne kommer man att snacka om i framtiden. Följ upp dendär Lassila, hennes verk kommer att bli värdefulla någon dag. Hennes namn kommer att stå i konstböcker för all framtid.

luftslott....

tss.

Men honestly. hade jag velat tjäna storkovan i livet hade jag studerat ekonomi och startat ett företag och säkert fixat det galant. men nu har jag valt en annan valuta...

"when artist meet they talk about money. When bankers meet they talk about art"

the rose of the water spirit...

2011-03-15T10:17:00.005+01:00

working on this site specific thing about wetlands, marshlands what ever it's called. Swamps?

It's quite familiar to me - since my childhood. The paths down to the lake were surrounded by this wet muschy dark green swampy terrain. The path was long and sometimes muddy and slippery. So I should feel comfortable with the exhibition title Slippery Terrain?

I do recall all the plants that were growing there. This troll like small pine tree looking plants, the straws with a cotton little soft white hairy ball on the top (my favourite) and the lower down to the lake as you'd get you'd find the yellow Näckrosor - Waterlilys in english. Interesting name that in swedish. Näck, from Näcken - an ancient spirit of waters - quite an evil one and male, sometimes seen naked playing the violin in a creek or some sort of water - tempting people to come closer and then drown them or something else. In Finland he is believed to live in a castle under the water and he gets to his castle by diving into the bottomless lakes of Finland. Sometimes in the dusk he is seen on dry land...

so the rose of the water spirit...

yes, I'm getting somewhere. That's it - I'm going to find Näcken/Näkki, buy him an icelandic violin or instrument and take him to the Nordic House and play for the people. Good one?

Or perhaps the icelanders have their own water spirit?

see, this is how art is made. By strange connections, google & Wikipedia.

Näck, Nøkk
The Scandinavian näck, näkki, nøkk, nøkken, strömkarl,[5] Grim or Fosse-Grim were male water spirits who played enchanted songs on the violin, luring women and children to drown in lakes or streams. However, not all of these spirits were necessarily malevolent; in fact, many stories exist that indicate at the very least that Fossegrim were entirely harmless to their audience and attracted not only women and children, but men as well with their sweet songs. Stories also exist wherein the Fossegrim agreed to live with a human who had fallen in love with him, but many of these stories ended with the Fossegrim returning to his home, usually a nearby waterfall or brook. Fossegrim are said to grow despondent if they do not have free, regular contact with a water source.
If properly approached, he will teach a musician to play so adeptly "that the trees dance and waterfalls stop at his music."[6]
It is difficult to describe the actual appearance of the nix, as one of his central attributes was thought to be shapeshifting. Perhaps he did not have any true shape. He could show himself as a man playing the violin in brooks and waterfalls (though often imagined as fair and naked today, in actual folklore he was more frequently wearing more or less elegant clothing) but also could appear to be treasure or various floating objects or as an animal—most commonly in the form of a "brook horse" (see below). The modern Scandinavian names are derived from an Old Norse nykr, meaning "river horse." Thus, likely the brook horse preceded the personification of the nix as the "man in the rapids". Fossegrim and derivatives were almost always portrayed as especially beautiful young men, whose clothing (or lack thereof) varied widely from story to story.
The enthralling music of the nix was most dangerous to women and children, especially pregnant women and unbaptised children. He was thought to be most active during Midsummer's Night, on Christmas Eve and on Thursdays. However, these superstitions do not necessarily relate to all the versions listed here, and many if not all of them were developed after the Christianizing of the Northern countries, as were similar stories of faeries and other entities in other areas.
When malicious nix attempted to carry off people, they could be defeated by calling their name; this, in fact, would be the death of them.[7]
If you brought the nix a treat of three drops of blood, a black animal, some brännvin (Scandinavian vodka) or snus (wet snuff) dropped into the water, he would teach you his enchanting form of music.
The nix was also an omen for drowning accidents. He would scream at a particular spot in a lake or river, in a way reminiscent of the loon, and on that spot a fatality would later take place.
In the later Romantic folklore and folklore-inspired stories of the 19th century, the nix sings about his loneliness and his longing for salvation, which he purportedly never shall receive, as he is not "a child of God." In a poem by Swedish poet E. J. Stagnelius, a little boy pities the fate of the nix, and so saves his own life. In the poem, arguably Stagnelius' most famous, the boy says that the Näck will never be a "child of God" which brings "tears to his face" as he "never plays again in the silvery brook."
In Scandinavia, water lilies are called "nix roses" (näckrosor/nøkkeroser). A tale from the forest of Tiveden relates of how the forest had its unique red water lilies through the intervention of the nix:
At the lake of Fagertärn, there was once a poor fisherman who had a beautiful daughter. The small lake gave little fish and the fisherman had difficulties providing for his little family. One day, as the fisherman was fishing in his little dugout of oak, he met the Nix, who offered him great catches of fish on the condition that the fisherman gave him his beautiful daughter the day she was eighteen years old. The desperate fisherman agreed and promised the Nix his daughter. The day the girl was eighteen she went down to the shore to meet the Nix. The Nix gladly asked her to walk down to his watery abode, but the girl took forth a knife and said that he would never have her alive, then stuck the knife into her heart and fell down into the lake, dead. Then, her blood coloured the water lilies red, and from that day the water lilies of some of the lake's forests are red (Karlsson 1970:86).

Kätzchen

2011-03-08T14:33:00.001+01:00

soft kitty
warm kitty
little ball of fur

happy kitty
sleepy kitty
purr purr purr

"Pull yourselves together"

2011-03-08T14:21:00.006+01:00

How did I find her...? by random somehow. Hm. Well woke up last night from a weird dream (was eating pizza with my family after a long drive in a restaurant which was packed with embarrassing finnish people, seemed to own lots of strange masks and was proud of them, saw Knut the Berlin polar bear swimming in a pool - he looked a bit like a huge bat - then he came up from the pool and came towards us like a big dog. His fur was very wet, he walked with me holding his head next to my waist. He was really nice. At some point I loudly insisted to be referred to as Frau Lassila.) . So yeah, I was awake for about 3 hours after that, reading about women's lives in different parts of the world in the Guardian, which I must say is an exceptionally good newspaper - the website also. Compared to the Guardian most of the nordic newspapers suck big time. Well, then I found Bobby Baker, ah, perhaps because I saw this title : "Pull yourselves together", and felt immediately that THIS IS MY TITLE...can I use it anyway, perhaps change it a bit?
Furthermore "Bobby" is a funny co-incidence - as I have a photograph of myself making a funny face to Bobby the Gorilla at the Museum of Natural History in Berlin.

BOBBY BAKER

  Bobby Baker is a woman and an artist. She lives in London, England. In her career of over 35 years she has, among other things, danced with meringue ladies, made a life-size edible and tasty cake version of her family to be eaten by visitors, opened her kitchen to the public and subsequently many kitchens around the world, driven around the streets of London strapped to the back of a truck screaming at passers-by through a megaphone to “pull yourselves together” and cured thousands of her pea patients with their many ‘unreasonable’ psychological and behavioural problems with her Therapy Empire in How to Live.   Bobby Baker’s company, Daily Life Ltd, is a charity, regularly funded by Arts Council England, which aims to produce artworks that explore the value in this world of ambiguity, altruism, awareness, arithmetic, agony, accessibility, attention to detail, arduous application…oh and, of course, art – in a (dis)arming, amusing and occasionally alliterative way.

Exceptionally funny, Bobby Baker is a performance artist of rare quality and distinction.  Daily Telegraph

bobbybakersdailylife.com

2011-03-08T14:21:00.001+01:00

looks like we butchered a pig and no-one wanted bacon.

2011-03-02T21:20:00.001+01:00

all yesterday I was reading about small tits (yes I have small tits) and other relating topics ("if women would know what men are like they would not need implants or have to worry" I learnt).
Today it continued - all I could see while going shopping was perfect waists and luscious tits.
I felt stupid. I'm ashamed of myself.

Today thoughts have been passing like tornados, coming and going faster than the speed of light.
2 min ago my bum was sort of ok. 3 min ago life was like Tetris, with a new text idea included.

*****
7min ago I was into filming a dirty clown taking a shower. 12min ago I was reading about female hysteria. Before that it was melancholia. It all got started with me typing in optimism in Google search.
Don't ask me where that came from.

*****

oh, somewhere there between 2 and 3 min, I was coming to the conclusion that 2 yoghurts, a bit of salad and a plate of pasta was perfectly enough of food for a woman my size.

life is truly an adventure.

an effort to see what's bugging me around the issue of the nude

2011-03-01T21:45:00.002+01:00

I have always found "the nude" problematic, in my personal work but quite often also in other work that I have seen. I have some how found it to be an easy method, an easy way to gain attraction. Well, at least when the issue has not been about been about gender, sexuality, erotic issues or so on.

Especially early photography and performance has been the IKEA of the nude…

There are lots of good great exceptions of course.

This essay is about my difficulties and my need to create something around the nude.

Yes, perhaps it's not such a biggie after all.

But there is something naive and disturbing in the use of a nude - in the same way as I can see what I was doing in my very early photographic work. I made beautiful but quite grotesque portraits with food all around them. And in hindsight it is easy to say why I did it: I was obsessed with food and my self image. I had a severe eating disorder for years. And my self image sucked big time. So no, wonder I did those images. It was pure therapy - even if I did not recognize my problem in what I was creating. I thought I was making cool images. Well, they were cool - but nevertheless they were the images made by a sick girl.

So making a nude would have been out of the question for me. A nude perfect body would have driven me to suicide probably…

But now - now I'm a healthy super woman - so why is it still an issue?

So, to provoke myself I throw myself in the saddle of Panasonic 567 and get undressed…in front of my video camera. I decide first to shoot beautiful classy nude stills. But with the quirky idea of using the in between posing material. Tom ake it all a bit funny.

After shooting I look at the footage. I scrutinize myself - as I knew I would do. I do have very small tits, and my belly is bulging in a quite ugly way. My face is only nice in profile shots (knowing this I have tried to avoid looking into the camera). Legs, back & hair is nice, sometimes even fabulous.

Conclusion: I'm a fucking pussy!

I need to go on with this. Perhaps not for arts sake, but for my own sake. As a hobby. As a final procedure. Perhaps I will find out what is bothering me around the nude issue. Perhaps I will find the right words and this all might hopefully even be of some significance to a greater audience. Perhaps it will be even somewhat important. Or what. Is it a gender issue again?

then it follows the red thread of my work.

Bon.

ambivalence & Ennio Morricone

2011-02-28T22:24:00.001+01:00

I find myself in this extremely ambivalent situation - where Im working on a topic, something I really enjoy and then day by day find myself criticizing it all.

Example: I do LOVE dogs, I really like them. But I see a problem with having pets. I do not accept objectification of any species. So therefor having a dog is now not an option anymore. And now I feel I need to use my standpoint somehow in my art.

But what about all those nice pets, all those puppies born out there?
And not to mention of all cats, hamster, guinea pigs, parrots etc?

Well, I do not even want to go into the topic of pigs and cows.

Slaughterhouses. I do not eat meat. I must probably soon stop eating dairy products to.

Another issue is the supernatural. I have done artworks about telepathy for some years now. Today I read something interesting about this.
And I found it disturbing somehow for my work. But I realize I need to somehow process this.
Question: Why are especially women so highly involved and fascinated by i.e horoscopes ? The text I read claimed it is because of historical reasons - women in general did not have the right to rule over their own lives so they wanted to believe in destiny -that what ever happened it was meant not be like that. So they were powerless. And this is not the ace anymore, at least not for me and my fellow sisters in general (of course there are exceptions…)

My work I believe is more about the option this all could give us…perhaps also an idea about a larger mind - I do somehow believe there are large parts of our minds that are not used. There is so much that goes on and happens - that we say is unexplainable.

hm

btw, this music by Ennio Morricone - jesus it's beautiful. I think I'm fainting.

the tradition of the nude

2011-02-25T12:19:00.001+01:00

Usually she'd never do nude things.
But that friday she decided to give the nude a chance.

All her life she'd been surrounded by a tremendous tradition of the nude...

A classic nude pose would surely be seen as something quite valuable.

It would not be funny.

And the clock was ticking.

It was the right time.

As in now or never.

As in live or let go.

No, that was not correct.

Never mind.

Posing nude all over a white space might be just what she had been searching for.
The right touch.
Even classy.

Well, she would call it an experiment.
Or untitled nude 1-3

And of course secretly admire her still kind of smooth skin.

the urge to be a real artist

2011-02-25T12:13:00.002+01:00

yes, C. was right.

Why would we force our selves to become real artists when we were given the chance to work in a large white empty space.

Suddenly we'd feel obliged to use colors (well at least black acrylic) and create paintings and drawings.

Even build things, like sculpting.

Why could we not just accept that writing, research and making story boards at a clean table was arty enough (not to forget video editing, shooting video, making photographs)?

Perhaps it was the space, the tradition of the artists studio? The bohemian...

That it had to be packed with stuff. Overloaded by things that proved work was taking place here.

All the things we saved on our hard drives were obviously not visible enough.

Quite so.

And me to, spreading papers all over. Feeling the need to stick things on to the wall so that it would at least look a bit more arty. I also bought a clue gun just in case.

Wondering now wether I will use it…

yes, fucking hell, I will glue something. I will even use a saw. Nail stuff all over. Spray paint it all and then yes, glue some more.

(coming up: some sort of piece of destruction. Promise you. And it will be video.)

personal bubble

2011-02-23T11:02:00.000+01:00

The universe, she said, is such a strange place. So difficult to be in sometimes.
And all those things that are difficult to understand.

Like all these conspiracy things. things hidden.undercover stuff. ugly things.
And space. With the string theory and all. Did they even go to space at all?
Nothing could be trusted.
They were secretly poisoning us. Planting viruses in our bodies - making us feel it was our fault.

She sighed and had another cup of coffee and a Pall Mall. Cause what the hell - she'd eventually die so what was there to worry about.

She thought about that secret place - which if it was in an american bestseller would have been a fancy mansion with a pool, bunny girls and cocktails - but as it was hers, it did not have this resemblance at all.
Anyway her secret place, her bubble - was a place she'd go to every now and then.

Not on normal days when she'd be doing normal stuff - laundry, poo, pee, eat, drink, sleep, work and if lucky kissing.

Every now and then drifting of…Closing her eyes. Stroking her arm. Holding her arm. Leaving on a jetplane.

One might ask why? and reply simply, Why not.
Why not have your own secret place, your own personal bubble.

Surviving was hard as it was in that place of brutality, string theories and dark forecasts.

Dear Nina,

2011-02-23T10:53:00.004+01:00

Again something inspiring and entertaining coming in the mail, except from the fun Viagra & loose weight while you sleep mails in the junkmail. Yes, I read these occasionally. I sort of feel sorry for them, nobody else reads them. They dont even bother me anymore in the normal mail as they end up straight in the junk. Poor mails...

Yes, tell me about it. I'm so out of my element. But it's ok.

Oh my God, what am I do doing, killing time like this, with this crap? What's wrong with me?

Yes, I just wanna vanish, somewhere calm and nice. Where there is no scheisse around... or do I ?

Isn't it quite calm and nice now. Perhaps it's to calm and nice?

Ok, I've had it. I'm going to the park and run with my imaginary dog.

wau wau (german dogs say wau...)

Dear Nina,

If it's felt the last few weeks as if there's been an argument brewing - or perhaps you've already even dealt with some full-fledged fights - it's time to breathe a sigh of relief: Mars is moving out of Aquarius and into Pisces on February 23, a transit that will usher in a sense of calm!

You'd think Mars and Pisces would oppose each other, given how polar their forces are from one another. After all, Mars is fiery and aggressive, while Pisces is watery and non-confrontational. Yet, these two are able to work quite well together. Pisces acts to mellow Mars' combative influence, while Mars simply prompts Pisces to act.

Your duty now is to recognize that your tactics for success will have to change. Rather than charging in like a bull before cowering away at the first sign of conflict, try a subtler, more roundabout approach. Talk - and listen - to people. The more you can help and work with others, the easier it will be for you to convince people to see things from your perspective as well.

You may notice old, forgotten memories coming back to haunt you when they should remain buried; you'd do well to put these into perspective and let them go. Don't burden others with your troubles, and try to keep your friends from weighing you down too heavily with their own issues. Instead, focus on the artistic energies bubbling up inside you. Pursue creative activities: a dance class, ice skating or even just moving to the rhythms of your favorite songs in the privacy of your own home. Anything that inspires you and gets you moving will be a great outlet right now!

As Mars and all the other planets travel across the sky, they impact us not only as a whole, but also individually. Will Mars in Pisces rock your world? Or will it cause only the tiniest flutter?

2011-02-10T19:15:00.002+01:00

winter. tired. colds. people sick.

hanging on with a smile in the new hippie residency.

life is good whatever.

and to have a worried mum is worth more gold and diamonds that exist in the world.

2011-01-26T14:08:00.002+01:00

at Atelierhof Kreuzberg, opening Friday January 28th 2011 at 18:00
exhibition runs till February 6th 2011

With:
Agathe Fleury
Nina Lassila
Robert Quint
Sara Bomans

Schleiermacherstr. 31-37, Berlin, Germany 10961

http://www.atelierhof-kreuzberg.de/

In many of my previous short sketch like video works I have found myself portraying different efforts of doing something well followed by a frustration that comes with this effort of reaching perfection. Perhaps also a frustration of not being able to express so called negative feelings. This I believe is quite common for women if I allow my self to generalize…
Even if these works are short and quite simple - they contain quite much; notion about the female as evil, monstrous, the comparison girl-woman, naturally all sorts of feminist issues but also more of a queer ideology - the idea of the body being defined by its gender.
What am I then aiming at? Is it just plain portraying? Could I say that I'm coming in with a perspective - not perhaps the most fresh one, but don't we need to be reminded over and over again about the importance of seeing each other as humans, persons in the first place - let each of us then define how we want to live our lives, look like and act as, without being categorized, at least not to early.

I have my own personal memories where I derive my ideas from. I believe they are not so important in this context but I bet they are not uncommon - and that is why I keep doing these things. To remind us.

"Nina"

"onko tuo tyttö ulukolainen"

2010-12-14T10:43:00.002+01:00

Wallin anser att slopandet av den obligatoriska svenskan i förlängningen skulle leda till att kravet på tjänstesvenskan slopas och att svenskans ställning som nationalspråk skulle försvinna.

HBL 14.12 2010

Skulle vara intressant att höra vad lärare och elever har att säga om svenskundervisningen.

Börjar själv tänka mer och mer radikalt efter att ha varit inne på goda "låt dom slippa då linjen". Tänk om man istället intensifierade svensk undervisningen, med språkbad och undervisning redan dagis och från första klass.
Plus att elever kunde välja ryska också som tilläggs språk. Kanske istället för franska eller tyska. Ta in spanska och arabiska också.

En hel del finländare flyttar till Sverige och lär sig svenska. Det måste ju vara en aningens lättare om man har en grund, må den vara hur torftig som helst.
Har själv stött på detta fenomen i Sverige.

Har själv pratat med otaliga intelligenta finsk talande finländare om saken och de flesta tycker att det var synd att de inte lärde sig ordentlig svenska. Har också uppfattat att de aldrig haft möjlighet att ens öva upp sin svenska i Finland. Och detta beror ju enbart på att vi svensk talande är för snabba och duktiga på att byta till finska. Eller byter vi p g a rädsla? Skam?

Känner vi skam för att vi tvingar våra vänner lära sig ett språk som man inte ens hör så mycket i i Finland, speciellt södra Finland? Tja, om man inte går till Aktia banken eller Stockmanns.

Satt själv i soffan hemma hos kära pappa på jungfrustigen inte så länge sedan och följde med en av de tydligen otaliga* spårkdebatterna på TV.
Kände mig olustig. Nästan ledsen. Och smått förvirrad. Min pappa som är helt finskspråkig och hans helt finskspråkiga sambo tyckte tydligen att den påtvingade svenskundervisningen bara är skit och ska bort. Jag har alltid känt mig lite kluven till detta, varit inne mer på en lojal ta bort den då linje.
Men nu måste jag säga ifrån, banne mej. Tar in lite punkter:/frågor

A. det är aldrig fel att lära sig något nytt, det kallas allmänbildning
B. en skolelev kan inte välja själv, och skall inte ens ställas inför valet
C. svenska är en bra grund för tex tyska
D. har alltid varit stolt över att Finland är ett tvåspråkigt land, skulle gärna se att vi var ett 3 eller 4 språkligt land officiellt.
E. min bror som är finskspråkig har inte tagit någon skada av svenskan, varför skulle någon annan göra det
F. var har denna debatt sin grund? varför nu?
G. kanske det är sant som Wallin säger: ger vi upp nu försvinner vi så småningom
H. borde inte vi själva, vi svenskspråkiga bli mer öppna och utåtriktade med vårt språk?
I. svenska språket är en stor del av Finland. Om kunskapen om oss försvinner vad gör vi då? Vilka är vi då? det har ju redan skett till en viss del (2006 var jag i ett badhus i nordöstra Finland med min mamma. Vi försökte kränga på mig en baddräkt och diskuterade på svenska hur axelbanden skulle ligga osv. Efter en stund frågade en tant inne i bastun min mor om flickan var utländsk - "onko tuo tyttö ulukolainen". Kära mamma skrattade stort och förklarade att vi pratar svenska med varandra.

Känner att jag måste förtydliga, gå in via ett sidospår: jag känner mig superfinsk trots att jag även pratar svenska. Ibland känner jag mig dock som något av vikande då mina finska vänner utomlands ofta påpekar åt andra att jag är en sånn där som pratar svenska. För det mesta anses det mycket intressant...upplever jag då att jag skulle vara annorlunda än min familj? nehee...men jag upplever ett speciellt starkt band till min mamma - som är min starkaste länk till mitt modersmål. Det är ju hon som har sjungit videvisan åt mig senn jag var liten. Trots att mitt första ord tydligen var ett finskt "mamma", äittä. Se så. Frågar mig själv om jag kommer att känna mig än mer som en främling i mitt hemland pga mitt modersmål om folk inte lär sig svenska i skolor? Undrar vidare om inte kunskapen om oss försvinner så och respekten om "tvånget" försvinner? Vad gör vi då? Blir vi en än mer tystare minoritet? Som i våra hem försiktigt firar Lucia och sjunger modersmålet sång osv osv...

jag återkommer. skall skriva lite på engelska nu. Och sedan lite finska. Kanske prata lite tyska. Jag är nämligen allmänbildad. : )

* har inte bott hemma i Finland sedan år 2000, där av denna okunskap om vad som exakt sker på hemmaplan.

snow blizzard outside, can't sleep. so I think a bit.

2010-11-25T01:24:00.001+01:00

can not sleep even if tired.

am thinking about that power point presentation I have been joking about.

perhaps I should make one. it makes sense. it might explain things even to myself. not just to my father and other people who might see it.

like the fact why I left this super job as a photographer.

how things lead to other things and events. how & why one moves, finds herself in new places surrounded by new people and still feeling at home.

as I do.

also thinking about the new work I have done, the great lake.
One friend seemed to appreciate it. as if he recognized something in it. he even laughed a bit at some point.

Another friend said she had watched it several times and that she still felt uncomfortable watching it. that it is so personal. so intimate.
beginning with being pretentious. yes, I agree. that's the meaning somehow.

is it?

where does it exactly become personal?

I mean Im not naked in the footage. And Im not being super sensitive or so.
I am just being quite natural but still aware of the camera at times.

Is it the fact that Im slagging of myself in the voiceover. Saying those things about, ego artist etc. Is that where it becomes personal, even uncomfortable?

well, hell, then its brilliant…

2010-11-23T15:35:00.002+01:00

Generation 2:0...

or

Generation 1:0...

which one do I belong to?

I have just read the article "Generation Why?" by Zadie Smith in The New York Review of Books. I feel a bit bad.
She is hitting a sore spot.

Am I living my life on internet? Is my life formed and shaped to fit in? Do I want to create an image of myself for the WWW...
Is it degrading to myself?

Don't I sometimes after meeting a new person go and have a look what I seem like on the internet? my pictures on Facebook, my profile? My web page. Wondering what they might think of me. Wonder if he is ever going to call me...

How fucked up is that?

In the olden days I would have just sat by the telephone...

Women are their own worst enemies

2010-11-18T20:16:00.003+01:00

Girls can be mean to other girls, but it is adult women who wish to destroy each other, according to a new book hitting the headlines in America.

Kelly Valen's The Twisted Sisterhood, soon to be published in the UK, reveals that almost 90% of the 3,000-plus women who took part in her survey frequently felt "currents of meanness and negativity emanating from other females".

hmmm....girls. Can this really be the case?

and the most distressing part comes here:

"These secret, social battles are waged, in many cases, by the very same women singing the praises of girl power, feminism, and female friendship in their lives."

Isn't that the ultimate hypocracy? The worst betrayal ever? Or is this also just another way of stopping us from being truly free human beings? As in the Julian Assange case?

Always some ugly capitalist evil powers breathing in our neck?

Anyone?

read article on: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/nov/18/women-own-worst-enemies-study

2010-11-09T13:57:00.004+01:00

THE GREAT LAKE video 7.14min 2010

Synopsis: we are walking down a path towards a lake in northern Finland. It's midnight. We hear a voice mumbling something in the background. A voiceover describes the situation, over and over again - because she has difficulties doing it correctly. We hear about a persons effort to connect to this place. Later on the camera turns to the slightly drunk protagonist and the voiceover criticizes the action. In the end the subtitles tells us that "she now knows it is not such a big deal". That "she" has learnt to fly.

In The Great Lake I use a private video footage to scrutinize my effort and wish to sense a feeling of belonging.
By creating new voice overs and adding text I re-tell the situation of walking to a familiar lake. I sort of create another narrative of the original material. And as usual I never really come to a logic point where I would have an answer to my hypothesis.
Instead the work changes into a floating state - I give it a poetic ending - which also functions as a political one.
She has learnt to fly. It's a subtle but poetic ending. What do we mean with that? A person who learns to fly is a person who is free. In this case free of boundaries? Free of a past? Or just free of mind?

in my work I draw conclusions. I see connections. I oppose ideas.
I offer more or less strange references.
I explain phenomena. At least I try.
I hand out own theories. Sometimes they are quite naive and banal.
I create visuals, mostly video footage.
I start looking into my mind and the surrounding world that spins around me. I look for clues and create something resembling a script.
I mix up things, I confuse, I recreate my own actions and words.

Sometimes I use games and play as a method. And I try to be funny.
It's often frustrating. But I keep on trying and let the effort become my work. As I see it the outcome is more of a happy ending - it's the process that counts.

At some point the work is done and I look at it and don't know if it's good or bad.

push the button

2010-11-04T11:47:00.001+01:00

this idea about thoughts moving as rapidly as the ubahn passing by.

Imagine placing sensors on your head and being able to record the thoughts that way. ¨¨

YOU NEED TO WRITE DOWN ALL SORTS OF EXAMPLES OF THESE THOUGHTS. JUST TRY IT.

also the thing about criticism (w.benjamin about the cannibal). or the thing about that nobody calls themselves intellectuals anymore.

and that criticism always needs a personal starting point.

that you can learn to criticize anything these days, but if its not personal its no good.

more thoughts:

after last nights seminar I came to think that I really wish to have a critical debate.
I.e about this film that I saw recently. Its a film by a good friend. The thing is I did not really like it to be honest. I saw some potential - and I know this person is smart & brilliant . But it was just like a bad tv-show.

Perhaps it was the actors. They were lame sort of TV theater characters. It could have been more weird, more arty somehow.
The scenes were nicely shot. sound was good…but still no.
And the story, sorry it did not feel realistic. And I guess that was not the point but then it was not clear. If it was not supposed to have a realistic feeling it should have been more weird in its visuals and acting performance.

Well, I guess its a first film - and it can only get better. I wish it will!

And so yes, my point was, I wish to talk more. Not just with myself.
(well I do that anyway)

yes, clone me - I could enjoy my own company fully. perhaps even re-produce me without worries, stress and addictions.

just some idea nibbles

2010-11-04T11:44:00.000+01:00

in my work I draw conclusions. I see connections. I oppose ideas.
I offer more or less strange references.
I explain phenomena. At least I try.
I hand out own theories. Sometimes they are quite naive and banal.
I create visuals, mostly video footage.
I start looking into my mind and the surrounding world that spins around me. I look for clues and create something resembling a script.
I mix up things, I confuse, I recreate my own actions and words.

At some point the work is done and I look at it and don't know if it's good or bad.

And mostly I think everything is just pointless.

But as W.Allen said in an interview: if you start thinking to much about the meaning of life you wont get anywhere. Or wont have anything done. So instead of thinking I do these things I call artwork. tssss

*Chemical brothers on full volume.

script; today, tomorrow it might change. Again.

2010-11-02T11:35:00.001+01:00

i tried to reach Dirk but he did not reply to my question.

Instead I discussed the issue with some other random people. And did my Google research.

I came to the conclusion that in order to even start thinking about roots and belonging one has to migrate. Leave the safe bosom of family.

I am not sure.

Was my effort to connect just another meaningless conservative construction?

(But still; why did I feel the need to connect to this lake in the first place?)
Did I believe I was born from the dark water of the lake or what?

Was it important at all?

Rushdie on Roots, Rootlessness, Migration, on Being Between

"I, too, know something of this immigrant business. I am an emigrant from one country (India) and a newcomer in two (England, where I live, and Pakistan, to which my family moved against my will). And I have a theory that the resentments we mohajirs engender have something to do with our conquest of the force of gravity. We have performed the act of which all men anciently dream, the thing for which they envy the birds; that is to say, we have flown.
"I am comparing gravity with belonging. Both phenomena observably exist: my feet stay on the ground, and I have never been angrier than on the day my father told me he had sold my childhood home in Bombay. But neither is understood. We know the force of gravity, but not its origins; and to explain why we become attached to our birthplaces we pretend that we are trees and speak of roots. Look under your feet. You will not find gnarled growths spouting through the soles. Roots, I sometimes think, are a conservative myth, designed to keep us in our places.
"When individuals come unstuck from their native land, they are called migrants. When nations do the same (Bangladesh), the act is called secession. What is the best thing about migrant peoples are seceded nations? I think it is their hopefulness. . . . And what's the worst thing? It is the emptiness of one's luggage. I'm speaking of invisible suitcases, not the physical, perhaps cardboard, variety containing a few meaning-drained mementoes: we have come unstuck from more than land. We have floated upwards from history from memory, from Time."

looking up in the skies and seeing that,

2010-10-20T13:45:00.001+02:00

the clouds move as there'd be some frames missing.

dream 20.10 2010

2010-10-20T13:40:00.000+02:00

(uuuh)
have done s.thing bad by mistake. s.thing stupid like breaking s.thing and now will end up in prison for 12months. am preparing for that, packing things, have heard that the prison beds smell bad so I'm looking for my sleeping bag. There is a prison ward around me, he is nice and understanding. everybody around me is nice and understanding. But the strange thing is that I have told this only to 1-2 friends but suddenly everybody is there to console me which pisses me of. I even get text messages wishing me luck.
Well, we arrive to the prison. And I'm told that I cannot bring my dog with me. My dog who is behaving really badly btw. I apologize for my lack of dog training. He is not really an Alpha Male. Im in tears because I know he will now forget me. I'm walking in the prison garden (which is full of trees and plants) when another inmate confronts me and says I'm being treated differently than the others and that I will suffer because of that. I tell her to calm down and take her in my arms and hug her. Telling her that we should be friends.she softens.
Then I get the news that I only need to stay for 1-3 months. I'm really happy for that but its a bit bad as I was going to a residency for these months and am wondering if I can postpone the residency. then I realize that the prison time will be sort of like a residency and I ask my mother to bring all my sketch books, pencils and other books. I'm gathering a huge pile of materials to bring with me.
It does not feel as a such a bad place anymore. And I'm already joking around in the cafeteria. My mother says she'll come around with my dog every other day. He wont forget me. And my mother says that she is not angry with me - the same thing could have happened to her.

After all this not a bad dream even if it has its stressful moments.

hoppas det är bra med dig.

2010-10-17T19:37:00.000+02:00

Får frågan : hoppas det är bra med dig.
(den får man ju ofta, men hur svarar man. oftast. allt väl. inget o klaga på. Har varit bättre mm. själv då?)

vad svarar man då?

när är det inte bra? hur är det när det inte är bra?
lite halvbra. halvdåligt. halvskit. riktigt skit.

då det inte är bra är typ då man är riktigt sjuk och har bara 20€ kvar på kontot och inget jobb i sikte.

så, tja nu är väl allt egentligen skitbra.

om jag bortser från en rejäl begynnande alkoholism.

Men alla tror ju bara att jag skämtar. Även jag själv.

Men tänk om det inte är så. Tänk om jag om ett år är helt nerdekad och hänger på Hermanplatz med hundgubbarna.

Då har jag i varje fall en hund.

attention span on mosquito level

2010-10-14T16:49:00.002+02:00

what can I do?

here we are trying to figure things out about our lives?
and in the meantime taking time to also worry about the bigger picture - and realizing time after time that we are not doing enough. that we are doing nothing.

Bonus thought: World war III coming up. Nice one. 10 points extra if it's a nuclear war.

Think about this word then: community. local community.

what can I do about or within my local community

(this dyslexia is killing me - I feel worthless - again turning at your self…)

I left my local community. I decided to give a fuck about it.

or?

to be honest I don't know if anyone cares but I did do something, I worked with a gallery project for 3 years. I worked really hard. I thought it was huge. Back then. Now I just say I contributed to my local art scene. But that's just art. Culture. What good does that do? It's not clinging to nuclear buildings shouting your lungs out. Not standing in front of masses of scray soldiers how are about to invade an innocent village. It's just a bunch of exhibitions...openings and wine.

Now I have a new local art scene in Berlin. It's so much bigger. Actually it's huge. There's so much going on that I can't even sometimes bother. Do I need to contribute? Do I want to contribute?

What is the option? What am I doing otherwise?

Ok. What am I doing? Be honest now.

- I'm a lot at home by my computer. I write. I have a blog. Some of my texts become voiceovers for videowork. Video which I don't really even know if I should call videowork as it's mostly quite simple footage shot in 1 shot.Irrelevant narratives.

- listen to music. of course on my computer.

FUCK. Now I lost it. My attention span is shorter than a mosquitos.

What did I want to say again? what was my point? Did I have a point?

I was standing smoking in the kitchen talking out loud. I believed I said something brilliant. And I remembered I had totally forgotten about Chris Isaak.
I returned to my room and sat down to write down my thoughts and got carried away. Starting the usual whining. Self blame. Self criticism. Pity.

And then zero. Nill. Nothing.

This is sort of a big issue. It might mean I have some sort of a disorder. ADHD.

I can not focus. as I said already my attention span is on mosquito level.

I guess the point is that I need to solve this issue of contribution.

What do others do about it?

Do they?

something old something new

2010-10-14T14:25:00.002+02:00

poler man slits emellan. poler jag slits emellan.

jag säger ofta HÖGT: vad fan håller jag på med?

Varför i helvete kan jag inte vara som dom andra o bara nöja mig med att bo i mitt hem, hitta nån bra karl få kids osv.

- Nina, vad fan är det för fel i det?

Nej, det är inget fel i det.

Men jag är inte redo. Jag är rädd. Jag är rädd för att få panik o dra o skada alla runtom mej.

Jag har en underlig nomad i mig. Eller nej - kanske nomad, men så här är det:

när jag var ung - då bestämde jag mig för att åka runt. jag skulle inte bli som dom andra barnen. jag skulle ut i världen. Jag svor en ed på att jag skulle göra så.

senn fastnade jag i Sverige. i nästan 10 år.

Inget fel i det. det har varit underbara 10 år. med underbara människor runtom mig. människor som finns kvar.

Men, detdär jag lovade mig själv...jag har känt mig besviken på mej själv. Att jag inte gjort som jag lovade mig själv.

och när jag åkte till Montreal 2009 vaknade nåt till liv i mej. Jag började förstå saker som jag längtat efter att få vara med om:
egentligen spelar det ingen roll var man är.

"efter samtalet med Juliana om Europa versus USA och speciellt européers nedlåtande syn på USA blev jag berörd. touched.

någon knut öppnades. i varje fall lite.

there was something unlocking in my head. an old stubborn way of thinking had to give away - and that's great. Everybody should celebrate that.

See, I think I've been secretly thinking stupid things about the European greatness.

But that's not right. not at all. that way of rationalizing is shit. complete shite.

Well, yeah there are great things, people, traditions, foods here but so is there all over.

Borders suck. At least mental ones."

ja, och sedan Paris samma år:
funny, it's like from time to time I don't feel I'm in Paris. Or to be more correct I don't feel away from home. And when I hear the tourist boat pass I look at it with amazement: thinking, wow, where am I? Am I in Paris???? what, you must be joking.

It's a similar feeling I had in New Foundland. While being there I'd constantly believe I'm somewhere in Ireland , Scotland or northern England. And when I'd see the logo "american standard" on the bathroom sink I'd be a bit perplexed - thinking - weird, why would they have that here?
And after a second remember - oh, yes, this is Northern America...

Today I almost told Pauline that I thoght this city is very French - uh, well of course- it's fucking Paris!

What is going on in my mind?

Somehow this makes me feel even more sane, I'd dare to say, even healthy.
All places are home to me.
Good.

Och nu är jag i Berlin...fortfarande på min grande tour eller letar jag efter en plats som känns som hemma (såklart jag ofta tänker på HEMMA, Helsingfors...)

there I was walking on the streeet of a unfamilar city,
but feeling quite nice
smiling to myself
I was happy

i had left all safety. but i was not uneasy at all.
I felt quite free.

I was going to all these openings. parties. meeting all kinds of new people
and not feeling strange about it at all

but still. or still, I was feeling somewhat tied up.

But just realizing that made me a bit more free. I hope.

Because perhaps its the idea of that so called fulfilled life that was holding on to me . and it was exactly that that is tying me up/down. making me feel empty. that my life is not perfect, that I'm missing out on something. That I can not fully enjoy my new experiences. like a needle pushing into me...

our lives on internet

2010-10-11T14:05:00.003+02:00

this is something I've been predicting alreay before Facebook Twitter etc. I knew that I would be spending my life for a great deal by the computer & internet.
But I did not know that all my issues would be solved & dealt with there.
Like all these astrology mails...I must have signed up for something by mistake. Its not really annoying mostly amusing.
And as I love seeing patterns and strange connections with most things that happend and surround me, well, then even these funny mails fit in.

How on earth can they ask the questions I'm asking myself?

and yes, please, its the right time to laugh. I'm such a silly Sex & the city woman. Of course not in posh New York. Rather crack whore chic Berlin.

anyways, this is a littel example of the stuff that amuses me every day:

Dear Nina,
Still clinging to a relationship that's over? Sometimes it seems you can't let go of someone, no matter how hard you try. Find out what he's really thinking -- and if you should wait for him or move on -- with a free psychic love reading. New customers, choose your special offer: Get the first 3 minutes free, or enjoy 10 minutes for only $1.99!

would anybody pay for that?

ANNAN

2010-10-03T15:07:00.002+02:00

SD har fått mycket röster för att folket är missnöjda i Sverige. Och det är dom för att vi har haft en moderat höger regering som påstår sig vilja fixa allt men i verkligheten har gjort det svårare för låginkomsttagare att klara sig.

Så allt har blivit jättefel. Missnöjet har lett till att SD fick så mycket röster. Dom missnöjda borde ha röstat på tex miljöpartiet eller socialdemokraterna istället.

Men varför blev det inte så?

Antagligen just for att dessa partier inte har vågat diskutera problem som finns. Men å andra sidan vet jag att Mona Sahlin har talat väldigt mycket om segregationen. Men den finns inte ute på landsbygden. Och det är där SD fått mest röster…

Så, en klassiker, då rätt väl bemedlade folk får det sämre skyller de allting på invandrare. Invandrare som inget hellre vill än att få jobba och smälta in just som det är. Få svenska vänner, integreras, dela med sig av sina erfarenheter och ta del av andras. Men så har det inte blivit för att Svergie är segregerat och det är svårt att få "bra" jobb om man har ett lustigt efternamn. Det är nog att heta Lassila.

Det är också svårt att få en bostad med ett lustigt namn. Och ännu svårare om man inte har en fast tjänst i kombination med ett lustigt namn. Och så ser det ju ut för alla oss med lustiga namn. Det är svårt för oss att få någonting över huvudtaget hur mycket vi än kämpar. Även om man "bara" heter Lassila. Efter 9 år har jag ändå lyckats få ett deltidsjobb och en hyreslägenhet, men allt tack vare mer eller mindre skumma faktorer. Arbete för att jag kan finska. Bostad för att jag är en bildkonstnär.
Otaliga gånger har jag sökt arbeten där man speciellt efterfrågat ansökningar av folk med annan etnisk bakgrund än svensk. Kopij, Carillo, Sederowsky, Lassila….vi har alla sökt samma jobb och alltid fick Anna Lundgren jobbet.

Det är inte Annas fel men man blir sur på henne.

Dethär är verklighet och jag ljuger inte. Inte ett ord.

trots att jag inte är den "värsta" sortens invandrare, jag är ju bara en liten finne. en acne plump i Sverige.

Men jag gillar ju ändå Sverige. och det gör Kopij och Carillo också. Jätte mycket!

Men vi förblir alltid där med stämpeln "annan" i pannan.

and then this Kafka story...

2010-09-16T01:17:00.001+02:00

An Imperial Message
by Franz Kafka
Translation by Ian Johnston

The Emperor—so they say—has sent a message, directly from his death bed, to you alone, his pathetic subject, a tiny shadow which has taken refuge at the furthest distance from the imperial sun. He ordered the herald to kneel down beside his bed and whispered the message in his ear. He thought it was so important that he had the herald speak it back to him. He confirmed the accuracy of verbal message by nodding his head. And in front of the entire crowd of those witnessing his death—all the obstructing walls have been broken down, and all the great ones of his empire are standing in a circle on the broad and high soaring flights of stairs—in front of all of them he dispatched his herald. The messenger started off at once, a powerful, tireless man. Sticking one arm out and then another, he makes his way through the crowd. If he runs into resistance, he points to his breast where there is a sign of the sun. So he moves forwards easily, unlike anyone else. But the crowd is so huge; its dwelling places are infinite. If there were an open field, how he would fly along, and soon you would hear the marvellous pounding of his fist on your door. But instead of that, how futile are all his efforts. He is still forcing his way through the private rooms of the innermost palace. Never will he win his way through. And if he did manage that, nothing would have been achieved. He would have to fight his way down the steps, and, if he managed to do that, nothing would have been achieved. He would have to stride through the courtyards, and after the courtyards through the second palace encircling the first, and, then again, through stairs and courtyards, and then, once again, a palace, and so on for thousands of years. And if he finally burst through the outermost door—but that can never, never happen—the royal capital city, the centre of the world, is still there in front of him, piled high and full of sediment. No one pushes his way through here, certainly not someone with a message from a dead man. But you sit at your window and dream of that message when evening comes.

http://www.kafka-online.info/an-imperial-message.html

just as I was feeling better I receive this email...

2010-09-16T00:58:00.000+02:00

Dear Nina,

What is your purpose for this lifetime? Are you on the right path? Are you making the right decisions? Did you know that the placement of the Moon in your birth chart indicates karmic tendencies that you carry over from your past lives, and that the Sun in your chart reveals your life purpose and the lessons you need to learn? Let your complete Destiny Reading show you how to keep in harmony with your life's purpose. Order through this email and you'll save 20%! Try a free sample reading before you purchase, for a preview of this powerful reading.

pointless. what should I do. blablahblah. eating in bed.

2010-09-16T00:50:00.000+02:00

reading about artcollectors made me depressed. left me empty.
i got to think about my own work - realizing its pointless. I've said it before. many times. it's old news. but I also felt that most of the images of art in this little berlin art magazine also was fucking pointless.

I looked up at my Berlin ceiling and sighed. There must be something else I could do. Something more valuable. I got up and smoked a cigarette while I toasted some bread. Comfort eating. WHat the hell if I end up fat. Nobody cares about me anyway. I sat down and smoked and hoped I would remember my thoughts about this art magazine situation. I lay down in bed with my old laptop and started typing.

What else could I do? I typed. Arial. 12p.

What else? Or if I would start by looking critically at my own work. What was it all about? Really. Was there anything of importance in them. Because I like that sentence or question. What is important. or. What is important?

I recalled something I said out loud back in the kitchen by the table while smoking.
I did not start making art because I thought I would sell stuff. I was never interested in selling or buying things. If that would have been the case I would have studied finance. I would have started my own business. A company.

Yes, someone in this magazine said: When bankers meet they talk about art. And when artists meet they talk about money.

If you dont have it you talk about it. As with dreams. If you dont have it you dream about it. And talk about it. What you would do if you had it.

if Im hungry I think about what I'd like to eat. If I dont have money I think about what I would buy if I had some. If I dont have a man in my life I make up fantazies about them. I dont have a dog - so I envy people who have one.

thoughts sorted. Feeling better. more important.

Surprise - I'm angry!

2010-08-31T19:54:00.003+02:00

yep. sure.

it's one of those days when things just fuck up. at least seem to fuck up. But after a while when its getting darker, after a glass of wine it all seems better. Why wince over higher rents, expensive dentist bills, disappointing love affairs when a family of bears will be killed just because they are talking a walk somewhere in the woods, but a bit to close to another species.
That fucking species that invented nuclear power,weapons - that spreads disease, pollution, hatred and evil. That is by 80% full of evil and himself.

that's all for today

(and by the way a friend of mine once said, something really smart - a disappointing affair is like a classic cold, it hits you bad, you suffer but you'll always get over it in a couple of days. With swollen runny eyes, yes.)

(and for the record: my teeth are fucking perfect!)

SURVIVAL KIT

2010-08-27T15:36:00.001+02:00

SURVIVAL KIT FILM PROGRAMM
September 4, Dirty Deal Cafe
19:30 – 24:00 Films by Isabell Spengler in RIGA WHITE NIGHT program
Screenings: 19:30 A, 20:15 B, 21:00 A, 21:45 B, 22:30 A, 23:15 B/ Entrance free
September 5, Cinema Riga
19:30 Isabell Spengler’s Talk "Surviving Hollywood" & selected films
September 6
16:30 Tanja Ostojić’s Talk “Crossing Borders: Development of Diverse Artistic Strategies”
In EU House
19:30 Cinema Riga
Open Studio of New Belgrade Chronicle: Gazela Settlement
Tanja Ostojić, 2006, 6’
Naine - a woman
Eléonore de Montesquiou, D/ EST 2009, 15’10
Our Pride and Glory
Meggie Schneider, D 2009, 13’
Critical Review on Icelandic Power Structures
Nina Lassila, 2009, 15’
September 7, Cinema Riga Picture from “Our Pride and Glory”, M. Schneider
19:30 Rien ne vaut que la vie, mais la vie même ne vaut rien
Brigitta Kuster & Moise Merlin Mabouna, D 2003, 24’
Sans Papiers
Tanja Ostojić / David Rych, 2004, 14’
Shedding Details
Laura Horelli / Gerhard Friedl, 2009, 25’
September 8, Cinema Riga
19:30 Passing Drama
Angela Melitopoulos, D 1999, 66’
September 9, Cinema Riga
19:30 I Will Arrange Everything. It Will Be The Best Film Ever.
Gitte Villesen, D 2010, 45’
September 10, Cinema Riga
19:30 New York Memories
Rosa von Praunheim, D 2010, 89’
September 11, Cinema Riga
19:30 I Will Arrange Everything. It Will Be The Best Film Ever. (Repeated)
Gitte Villesen, D 2010, 45’
Installation s in EU House (September 6-10, from 10:00 – 18:00)
Kreenholm (part 1-3)
Eléonore de Montesquiou, D/EE 2009
Metal
Eléonore de Montesquiou, D/EE 2009, 6’30

true love will find you in the end...Daniel Johnston...

2010-08-27T12:22:00.003+02:00

what a beautiful song, and I enjoy it without weed (for the fucking record, I'm not on weed I'm watching Weeds on tv).

...wonder why I bother getting into debates with silly people.
about different topics. Probably because the topics are important.
But why are there so many stupid jealous evil bastards on these forums?

What's bugging them?

How can we change them?

Jag menar. Jösses flickor! Vad är det för fel på vissa?

Var kommer all dendär negativa energin ifrån. varför vill man inte se lösningar. varför bara tjata och skuld belägga. Varför alltid insistera på att finna en syndabock? Varför inte rotera och lufta till lite?

Nu ska jag inte påstå att jag är fröken idel sunshine.

nej, jag är cynsisk djävel till kärring ibland.

Men, inte när det gäller viktiga ting.

What does the heart say? Why not follow?

and about licking...

2010-08-24T20:27:00.001+02:00

Now when your dog tries to lick your face, you should have a better idea of what he's trying to communicate. He may simply be hungry and asking for a snack. Obviously, you won't regurgitate some food at that signal, but you might respond affectionately and perhaps give him a treat, such as a dog biscuit. He may be communicating submission and pacification-the adult version of goodwill in puppies. Basically, he is saying, "Look, I'm just like a puppy who is dependent on big adults like you. I need your acceptance and help." Alternatively, he may be showing respect and deference to you as a more dominant dog in his pack..."

Excerpted from How to Speak Dog
© Stanley Coren All rights reserved
Reprinted by permission
Dr. Stanley Coren is a professor of Psychology.
He has written 6 books on dogs and is the host
of the television show Good Dog!

Wagging tails - dog tails - why dogs wag their tails

2010-08-24T20:23:00.001+02:00

Wagging tails - dog tails - why dogs wag their tails
(Excerpt from How to Speak Dog)
Dr. Stanley Coren

"....In some ways, tail-wagging serves the same functions as our human smile, polite greeting, or nod of recognition. Smiles are social signals, and human beings seem to reserve most of their smiles for social situations, where somebody is around to see them. Sometimes, vicarious social situations, as when watching television or occasionally when thinking about somebody special, can trigger a smile. For dogs, the tail wag seems to have the same properties. A dog will wag its tail for a person or another dog. It may wag its tail for a cat, horse, mouse, or perhaps even a butterfly. But when the dog is by itself, it will not wag its tail to any lifeless thing. If you put a bowl of food down, the dog will wag its tail to express its gratitude to you. In contrast, when the dog walks into a room and finds its bowl full, it will approach and eat the food just as happily, but with no tail-wagging other than perhaps a slight excitement tremor. This is one indication that tail-wagging is meant as communication or language. In the same way that we don't talk to walls, dogs don't wag their tails to things that are not apparently alive and socially responsive.

A dog's tail speaks volumes about his mental state, his social position, and his intentions. How the tail came to be a communication device is an interesting story.

The dog's tail was originally designed to assist the dog in its balance. When a dog is running and has to turn quickly, it throws the front part of its body in the direction it wants to go. Its back then bends, but its forward velocity is such that the hindquarters will tend to continue in the original direction. Left unchecked, this movement might result in the dog's rear swinging widely, which could greatly slow its rate of movement or even cause the dog to topple over as it tries to make a high-speed turn. The dog's tail helps to prevent this. Throwing the tail in the same direction that the body is turning serves as a sort of counterweight, which reduces the tendency to spin off course. Dogs will also use their tails when walking along narrow surfaces. By deliberately swinging the tail to one side or the other in the direction opposite to any tilt in the body, the dog helps maintain its balance, much the same way a circus tightrope walker uses a balance bar. Quite obviously, then, the tail has important uses associated with specific movements. However, the tail is not particularly important on flat surfaces, when a dog is simply standing around or walking at normal speeds. At these times, it becomes available for other uses. Evolution again seized an opportunity and now adapted the tail for communication purposes.

It is something of a surprise to many people to learn that puppies don't wag their tails when they are very young. The youngest puppy I ever saw systematically wagging its tail was eighteen days old, and both the breeder and I agreed that this was quite unusual. Although there are some differences among the various breeds, the scientific data suggests that, on average, by thirty days of age, about half of all puppies are tail wagging, and the behavior is usually fully established by around forty nine days of age.

Why does it take so long for the puppy to start wagging its tail? The answer comes from the fact that puppies begin wagging their tails when it is necessary for purposes of social communication. Until they are about three weeks of age, puppies mostly eat and sleep. They are not interacting significantly with their littermates other than curling up together to keep warm as they sleep or crowding together to nurse. They are physically capable of wagging their tails at this time, but they don't.

By the age of six or seven weeks (when we start to see tail-wagging behaviors on a regular basis), the puppies are socially interacting with one another. Most of the social interactions in puppies consist of what psychologists call "play behaviors." It is through playing that puppies learn about their own abilities, how they can interact with their environment, and most important, how to get along with other individuals. A puppy learns that if it bites a littermate, it is apt to be bitten back, and perhaps the game it was playing might be terminated by its now angry playmate. It is at this point that the puppy also starts to learn dog language. It is not clear to what degree these emerging social communications are prewired, but learning is clearly needed to refine the use and interpretation of these signals. The pups learn to connect their own signals and the signals provided by their mother and their siblings with the behaviors that come next. They also begin to learn that they can use signals to indicate their intentions and to circumvent any conflicts. This is where and when the tail-wagging behavior begins.

One place where conflicts are likely to occur is during feeding. When a puppy wants to suckle its mother, it must come very close to its littermates as it crowds in to find her teats. Remember that this puppy is now coming close to the very same individuals that might have been nipping, jostling, or chasing him a few minutes earlier. To indicate that this is a peaceful situation, and to calm any fearful or aggressive response by the other puppies when they too are pushing toward the mother's teat, the puppy begins to wag its tail. Tail-wagging in the puppy then serves as a truce flag to its littermates. Later on, puppies will begin to wag their tails when they are begging food from the adult animals in their pack or family. The puppies come close, to lick the face of the adult, and they signal their peaceful intentions by tail-wagging. It thus becomes clear that the reason that very young puppies don't wag their tails is that they don't yet need to send appeasement signals to other dogs. When communication between dogs is needed, they rapidly learn the appropriate tail signals.

Tail language actually has three different channels of information: position, shape, and movement. Movement is a very important aspect of the signal, since dog's eyes are much more sensitive to movement than they are to details or colors. This makes a waving or wagging tail very visible to other dogs.

Evolution has used a few additional tricks to make the tails even more visible. Wild canines, like wolves, often have great bushy tails, which are easily seen at a distance. In addition, many tails are specially colored to facilitate recognition of tail signals. Often, the underside of the tail is lighter, to make the high-tailed signals quite visibly different from signals involving the tucking of tails into a lower position. Many canines will also have distinctive markings to make the tail tip more visible. Usually, there is a lightening toward the tail tip, or perhaps simply a white mark which defines the tip of the tail. In other canines, the tail tip is noticeably darker. Either of these two color contrasts helps to make the end of the tail more visible, and this make movement and position cues easier to recognize...."

fortsättning om skelning mm

2010-08-24T19:56:00.003+02:00

tänker fortfarande på detdär med min skelning.
att folk nog missuppfattar mig ofta. när jag tex tittar på deras hund(ar) så tror dom att jag ser på dem. hm. men det är lättare med hundar. det har alltid känts som att hundar fattar vem jag är. Ibland undrar jag om dom ser mig som en i gänget - som en hund. we chew the same bones.

har gått in på dethär ämnet förr. skrev en text som hette "why I like dogs", nehe, jag kom ihåg fel där. här är den

When are sad people happy? Or what makes sad people happy?

I always feel good when I see a dog. Dogs are good. Generally their minds are not fucked up like ours. That's why they make me feel good. They just wag their tails, sniff around and bark occasionally. I might be wrong but the feeling I get by seeing a dog is good and calm so what else can I think? People make me nervous. I can't trust them. You never know what's going on in their minds.

Usually I don't get good vibes when watching "happy families". I don't believe their happiness is true or then the sight of them just bores me, or even worse, sometimes it scares the shit out of me. This is obviously an age problem. What else could it be? Everything is explained with something, the fear of getting old, fear or dying, fear of vanishing.

I'm not extremely sad but I can be very melancholic from time to time. I also feel that I'm afraid of a lot of things. I never feel empty or tired. I feel restless and angry. Full of thoughts, ideas bursting inside me. I feel that this world steals my freedom, it steals my precious time. I feel I'm taking part in a long game of monopoly and that I can't get out or quit. And if I would quit I wouldn't know where to go, except heaven if there is one. This "not knowing situation" makes me sad. I understand the situation very well but I don't know the solution nor do I have an explanation. It's like understanding eternity. It's impossible, but you still try and when you get tired you get sad, some people call this melancholia. Some philosophers even divided people into four categories according to their personalities. One of them was the melancholic one. Saturn influenced these people strongly.

You could say they are nostalgic dreamers but I believe it's more complex than that.

I don't have any explanations yet, nor am I a professor in psychology, astronomy or philosophy. I'm simply a curious artist. I'm not looking for a remedy or trying to get cured, because the feelings I have make my life exiting and even worth living.

ok. nu handlade den texten inte så värst mycket om hundar. Plus att jag nog har förändrats lite på vissa punkter. Som det med lyckliga familjer, numera avundas jag dom mer eller mindre. det beror på. Om dom är sånadär Latte familjer - då blir jag mer avskräckt. Men om dom har en tatuering eller en hund eller bara ser så där lämpligt coolt trashiga ut. om dom dricker en öl. om dom inte tramsar för mycket.

ok. satan också. om dom ser ut som att en av dom kunde vara jag.

där kom det. nu har jag sagt det. ja, ja. jag vill ju också. vadå? uppleva lycka med ett gäng folk man kallar familj.

det var ju lite nära här ett tag men kortslottet rasade. tack och lov får jag väl säga nu i efterhand. ridå liksom. ridå for the fucking madman. han som var allt det där fantastiska man trodde men som sedermera och rätt kvickt faktiskt började droppa ned sina aggressiva bomber på mig. som tur skrek jag senn NEJ.

efter det tänkte jag länge att hund får det bli.

just some thoughts on everyday stuff

2010-08-23T23:47:00.008+02:00

when reading about Fransesca Woodmans "Some Disordered Interior Geometries" I do get the feeling that I understand her. I also get the feeling that I'm a liar. A coward. Not doing the work I'd want to. More sort of doing the work I'm expected to.
I have got to take time, relax and think things over. What was important again?

Also reading a book I must have started reading years ago, but at that point found it dull or something. It's Immortality by Milan Kundera.
This time I got into it quickly. But during the first chapter I got angry with the writer. What a fucking chauvinist. Asshole. Writing these dreadful comments about the older woman by the pool. I felt tired and a bit disappointed. Betrayed.
But after some days I decided to go on reading. Trying to neglect the chauvinism. And well, I've got to say that this book contains some interesting thoughts. For example this thought about the beauty of cities. wait. I've got to take the book out and find the exact words: (Avenarius) there isn't a single angle of view from which cars wont be visible from the back, from the front, on both sides. Their omnipresent noise corrodes every moment of contemplation like an acid. Cars have made the former beauty of cities invisible.

well. that was a quite simple thing I fell for. There is more. Like the section where Goethe and Hemingway meet after death and discuss their positions. And their image. It's nice. It's a wonderful tempting idea. And yes, I do enjoy the book now.

I should read so much more instead of watching i.e Weeds. It just makes me want to start smoking weed.

Another thing that buggs me, or bugged me for some hours was that a friend that I consider a friend told me that my eyes or my glance is horrible. It's a traumatic thing. Yes, I do squint. And yes, I have even been to see a doctor about it. Because somebody in my past thought it was difficult to speak to me. I guess he sought perfection...well,the doctor said "Nina, you wont go blind. No need to worry. This operation can be done - but in 95% of the cases the squinting comes back."

So I'm a fucking squinter. And soon making a squinters united T-shirt.

So bugger of those who have a problem with it.

B245-DES185
Review Of Immortality, by Milan Kundera
Copyright © by Dan Schneider, 10/7/05

Immortality is probably the last novel by Kundera that shows him at his best. This book, translated by Peter Kussi, released in 1990, is the last of a trilogy that includes the great The Book Of Laughter And Forgetting, and The Unbearable Lightness Of Being. While Immortality is not a great book, and not in the class of those other two books, it is certainly a good book that continues Kundera’s metafictional ride through the 20th Century.
The nuts and bolts plot is about two French sisters, Agnes and Laura, and the man they are involved with- Paul. Except that none of them are real- they are the fictive inventions of the metafictional Milan Kundera who, after an old lady motions to a swimming instructor at a Paris spa, somehow becomes infatuated with the name Agnes, and decides to write a novel called Immortality. He says, ‘At the time, that gesture aroused in me immense, inexplicable nostalgia, and this nostalgia gave birth to the woman I call Agnes.’ Of course, there are detours- whole sections of the book that are philosophic musings between literary figures like Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Ernest Hemingway. Also along for the ride is Professor Avenarius, a possibly real character who has been metafictionalized, who consults with Kundera on the progress of his novel, and whom Kundera rewards with a copy of his earlier novel Life Is Elsewhere. If this seems convolutes it is, and a bit unnecessary, although the more straight-forward passages in which literary and real world heroes come and go are better, and the philosophizing is first rate.
In many ways Kundera has taken what started with Vonnegut- the metafictive realm- and moved it to its next level. However, this book is not on a par with his two earlier masterworks, and the utter narrative convolutions are the book’s undoing, what separates it from them. Where they are fresh and playful this novel, at times, seems on the verge of collapsing upon its own cutesiness. Also, the lives of the four ‘real fictive’ characters never grabs ahold of the reader like those in the earlier books. Yet, overall, this is balanced by the great ideas put into life, death, art, and immortality.
But, this is not a book for the would be Kunderaphile to start with. Its convolutions may put them off from reading other of his works, and this book also marked the last gasp of greatness, as Kundera, since then, seems to merely be aping his former greatness, as his polypersonaic skills have faltered and he’s become much more generic and predictable in both forms and ideas. Where once Kundera’s interruptions of story were whimsical and refreshing, even by this novel, they seem more affective than effective, and his characters less individuals than personifications of themes. Agnes is not really Agnes, but a symbol of the human yearn for deathlessness, which then is rehashed by Goethe and his lover Bettina von Arnim- a woman who would nowadays be classified as a groupie of the rich and famous. Here is the symbolized Agnes:
She walked around the pool toward the exit. She passed the lifeguard, and after she had gone some three or four steps beyond him, she turned her head, smiled, and waved to him. At that instant I felt a pang in my heart! That smile and that gesture belonged to a twenty-year-old girl! Her arm rose with bewitching ease. It was as if she were playfully tossing a brightly colored ball to her lover. That smile and that gesture had charm and elegance, while the face and the body no longer had any charm. It was the charm of a gesture drowning in the charmlessness of the body. But the woman, though she must of course have realized that she was no longer beautiful, forgot that for the moment. There is a certain part of all of us that lives outside of time. Perhaps we become aware of our age only at exceptional moments and most of the time we are ageless. In any case, the instant she turned, smiled, and waved to the young lifeguard (who couldn’t control himself and burst out laughing), she was unaware of her age. The essence of her charm, independent of time, revealed itself for a second in that gesture and dazzled me. I was strangely moved. And then the word Agnes entered my mind. Agnes. I had never known a woman by that name.

Professor Avenarius, to use another example, is not a professor- even if he really exists- so much as Kundera’s own rebellious streak, for this man’s great joy is puncturing automobile tires, which are seen as enablers to the destruction of the real by the phony- i.e.- modern civilization.
Of course, these merely symbolic characters are not symbols in their realm, and when the Professor puncture’s Agnes’s husband’s, Paul’s, tires he is delayed in getting to a hospital after Agnes has been in a car accident, after swerving to avoid a would-be suicide. She dies minutes before Paul’s arrival. She joins the already dead, like Goethe and Hemingway, who moan on about the curse of their immortality, for, as Hemingway bitches, ‘Instead of reading my books, they're writing books about me.’ Yet, it’s these more overt declamations, that are so rare in The Book Of Laughter And Forgetting and The Unbearable Lightness Of Being, which infest Immortality with too much didactic preening. Part 6, the Rubens chapter, which stands alone and apart from the rest of the book, does not work, and is an example of where Kundera starts going wrong. It is a tangent without necessity- in short, it’s excess for the sake of filling out a novel that, at 345 pages, is too long, and was in need of trimming, not padding. Too much of the book never fully coalesces. In his two great novels they do, even though that coalescence is not necessary.
And while I reiterate the fact that this is Kundera’s best book, after his two masterworks, there is only so much breaking of the fourth wall that is needed to convey the metafictive nature of tales, in general, and this one specifically. Sometimes walls are not only necessary, but enough.

greg. gregorius

2010-08-06T21:59:00.000+02:00

greg. gregorius

min älskade vän. min vän i över 16 år.
min vän som minns hur svårt jag har haft det. min vän som alltid slickat mig på kinden.
Min älskade Gregorius von Leavenworth. Grand Old Man.

Jag visste att du är gammal. Jag har vetat det länge. Men du har alltid varit en del av mej. Min familj. Nu är du borta. Din fysiska fina lurviga kropp är borta.

Du har alltid vartit den finaste fina hund som finns. Efter min Brutus.

Så om jag får lov. Det känns rätt nu, kan jag. Kan jag kanske få en vän.
En liten Bertha Gorgeus? Efter dig o Brutus. Mina fina herrar. Dom bästa djävla terriers som finns. Dom bästa finaste vänner en Nina kan ha.

jag sa att jag inte skulle gråta.

Men jag gör det.

Jag har gråtit hela dagen. Jag vet att jag kommer att sakna dig så. dendär gården kommer inte att vara samma nu när du är borta. Jag minns ditt skall. Din bossighet.
Nu är du borta.

dom säger att du bara är en hund.

men för mig är du mer än det.

ja, jag vet att du hade ett bra liv. det var nog så. Jag vet det.

life

2010-08-06T21:58:00.000+02:00

I say: life is like tetris...at the end the colorful pieces start coming way to fast and there's a huge chaos of disorganized piles of stuff...and then you just give up...saying fuck it...or?

2010-05-24T18:22:00.001+02:00

AT THE MOMENT IN SEVERE CHOCK FROM THE NEWS THAT A CITY IN SWEDEN IS GOING TO CLOSE DOWN ITS ONLY MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART.

jag vill kallas nordisk...

2010-05-24T18:19:00.000+02:00

min sk nationella identitet börjar mer o mer kännas som ett dilemma för mig. jag har vridit o vänt på det och har nog kommit på en lösning men frågan kvarstår; varför ska det vara så stort? eller är det ens det? är det jag som förstorar upp något?

ok. bakgrund till frågan.

jag är finsk en medborgare. år 2000 flyttade jag till Sverige, mer eller mindre på heltid. jag är en bildkonstnär. i många sammanhang beskrivs jag som finsk och i rätt många också som svensk konstnär. själv föredrar jag att beskriva mig som nordisk. Bla för att jag har varit verksam i hela norden på ett sätt eller annat. ja, även baltikum. jag har vänner från hela norden och baltikum.
2009 åkte jag till Berlin, nu är det 2010 och jag känner att jag inte vill bo kvar i Sverige. Men jag vill inte förlora min svenska identitet. har jag rätt till den efter alla dessa år som jag varit verksam där? har jag rätt att få vara lite svensk?

det tynger mig.

jag vill kunna bo i tex Berlin och ändå känna mig helt nordisk. även på papper. dethär är ju också en ekonomisk fråga. jag har varit verksam både i finland och sverige. Och fått erkännande och stipendier i bägge länder. Det borde ju inte vara en knivig fråga. Eller? är det det?

Jag känner ju tex skotska människor som bor här i berlin, de stöds av både brittiska och tyska fonder numera.

En tid man investerart någonstans borde inte gå till spillo.

Således ansöker jag om svenskt medborgarskap och blir en finsk svensk medborgare. det är egentligen rätt naturligt då jag är född i Finland men har svenska som modersmål.

Och efter denna passning kan jag bo och verka var jag vill.

EXPERIMENT 5:10

2010-05-19T14:20:00.000+02:00

Raumerweiterungshalle April 29th 2010 Berlin

All participants were asked to bring a picture of someone (alive & kicking) they have an empathic relationship with.

After a a relaxation exercise the participants were given instructions on how to proceed with focusing on and connecting to the person on the picture that they had brought along.

The idea is simple. By focusing and connecting to a person on a photograph there might be an incoming telephone call or another way of connection. If this does not happend one can also make contact to the person on the picture by calling them to check wether the target person was thinking of them.

After the event the participants were asked to let me know if their focusing had proved to work. Here are two results from the event:

hallo nina,
i was in your performance last night, short dark hair, red shirt....
so...it really happened to me, it worked! the woman on my picture
wrote me an email directly after the ceremony in the halle, i just
received it. we didnt have contact for lets say one week, so its
really a bit funny....

S got a "sign" from the person she was focusing on. They had not been in touch for months. The person wrote something to S on Facebook.

I also brought a photograph with me, and tried to connect to my brother Jussi in Finland. After the exercises I made a telephone call to him, but he had not been thinking about me at all. He was more surprised that I called. So perhaps I'm not such a good sender, more of a receiver.

TheMobileBox - "privatarkiv 08/05 2009 - 17/05 2010"

2010-05-19T14:19:00.001+02:00

TSSK Reality Check Trondheim Norge

Med utgångspunkter i Trondheims statsarkiv söker konstnärskollektivet
upp platser i det offentliga rummet. Genom interventioner konfronterar
de nuet med historiska dokument och i samtal med förbipasserande
aktiveras utsagor från historieskrivningen. När förbipasseraren
ögonblicket senare bes återberätta om mötet med de tre konstnärerna
inför en videokamera uppstår en förvirring. Positionerna blir
otydliga. Från att ha varit en medpart i ett samtal förskjutst
förbipasserarens roll till historieförmedlarens.
Dokumentationen från interventionerna i stadsrummet sammanställs med
utdrag från statsarkivet i kollektivets egna privatarkiv som sedan
doneras till Statsarkivet. På så sätt invaderas tidsdokumenten av
nutiden och återförs i en hermeneutisk spiral.
Det donerade privatarkivet innehåller även annat material från
projektet; epost, inbjudningar, biljetter, kvitton, ansökningar och
projektbeskrivningar utgör en grund för att kunna göra sig en bild av
konstnärers arbetsvillkor inom fältet för socialt engagerad konst på
2010-talet. Genom att upplåta sig själva som objekt för framtida
forskning hoppas konstnärkollektivet bidra till att belysa de
strukturer som annars ofta förbises.

2010-04-27T12:37:00.002+02:00

ja men great.

solen skiner. det är vår. känslor svallar. och mer jobb trillar fram - så ja, Samsonite artist minnsann.

Klart det är ju just så jag vill ha det. En massa jobb. Projekt. nya verk. nya kontakter. nya nätverk. nya erfarenheter. ny kunskap. bygga på allt gammalt liksom.

Det är väl det vi s a s eftersträvar? Eller?

Det är ju vackert. Men varför låter det alltid så fult? att skapa kontakter, nätverka?
Det låter så business aktigt. Men det är ju inte det.

Ser ju framemot nya samtal. nya möten. nya vänner.

Och senn då, varför låter det lite sorgligt med nya?
Som om det gamla försvann, blir ersatt av nytt?

Fastnar för gamla ord. Sentiments.

tja.

men sådär generellt sagt: Fuck! jag är skitnöjd!

(trots att dom mörka tunga molnen nu skymmer solen)

2010-04-14T01:41:00.002+02:00

ok!

good try. never did this before. yes, blog virgin. never wrote like this.
what to I want to express today? something brilliant or just foolish?

rrr.

read loads of things about Kurt Cobain today. How did I get into that? aah. of course, because of spotify. And then again Kurt made me think of this lover I had. WOW!!!!
Naah, not to get to exited here. This man is not really like Kurt. There might be some similarities though. And dont dare calling me Courtney. heh.

Noh, just thinking of these syndromes. And how we treat that. I know he has a fucking issue - FUCK!!!!!!

Well, what else. Been watching Sex & the City way to much. Realized I might be Mr Big! Nasty. Not a good thing. Needs re-evalution? i can't be that big or bad? No way.
Am I a bully?

yep, I am a terrible woman! I smoke. I drink. to much of both.

And I'm happy.

Know what?

My best friend?
I love him.

want to know more; coming later....

2010-04-03T04:12:00.002+02:00

så mycket att säga. som vanligt. men samtidigt så tom

tänker på det där med gammal hund. Kristina Lugn.

och optimistisk människa som blir besviken för ofta.

men, vad gör man?

man borstar tänderna.

lite tvål och så blir allt bra.

och så är det väl en ny dag som kommer.

ingen räds nåt här.

Nej. inget ont här.

bara litet.

2010-04-02T12:22:00.001+02:00

PERKELE.

MEN FINT ÄNDÅ ATT DET SKER EN DEBATT I HEMLANDET OM INVANDRING. ÄNTLIGEN!

INTE BARA SKYGG TYSTNAD.

NU MÅSTE VI BARA HJÄLPAS ÅT ATT BULTA NED DOM KALLA HÅRDA MÅLA FAN PÅ VÄGGEN TYPERNA.

ELLER NEJ, INTE BULTA NED, OMVÄNDA!

GO!

2010-04-02T12:14:00.001+02:00

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.

--Emily Dickinson--

while painting papier mache crow, remembered this story.

2010-04-02T12:01:00.003+02:00

have had some funny bird encounters this spring.
a month ago I AM SOOOOOO sure I had something going on with a huge crow (kråka?) in Slottskogen. I stopped on my bike to write somehting I just remembered and I happend to have crisps with me, and when I looked up there was this huge crow with a damaged wing watching me at about a 2m distance. And I said: vill du ha ett chips? (do you want a crisp?) and Christ ....it "hopped" towards me and kept staring at me. so I threw a crisp and it ate and came closer....I threw another and kept on talking to it....and it was about 40cm from my feet. Then another crow came and both of them were scared away by some people. But when they had left my limping crow was still there and I said "ok nu ska jag gå" (ok, I've gotta go) and it came even closer and I said "nähä, ska du ha mera" (naah, you want some more?) and it hopped closer and I got a bit scared because I thought it might come ON me....so I just threw some crips, said goodbye and cycled away...weird...... I'm pretty sure we had something going on there.

MORE STORIES ON http://www.ninalassila.com/storiesfromfriends.htm

I WOULD NEVER JOIN A CLUB THAT WOULD ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER

2010-04-02T12:01:00.001+02:00

"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer.
To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down."
-Woody Allen

when things come true

2010-03-31T12:18:00.000+02:00

So, my aim is to continue and develop the project further as the field of telepathy is quite large. There is quite much research about this, i.e biologist & scientist Rupert Sheldrake has a lot of theories that try to explain telepathy and to prove that there is a something called the morphic field, similar to the sixth sense. The work and theories by Sheldrake inspire me and I'm intersted to conduct some research and experiments myself within an art context.

"Sheldrake argues for a new concept of the mind -- one not bounded by the brain, but operating through fields of influence that he believes are present throughout nature.
He suggests these "morphic fields" organize the development and behavior of animals, plants, social groups and mental activity, from human and animal telepathy to such everyday mysteries as the synchronized swooping of flocks of birds.
"I don't claim to explain all these things or to understand them," Sheldrake said. "I say, here's what seems to be going on."

EXPERIMENT 2:10
Avenue d'Italie 85 Paris May 16th 2009
Most people have had the experience of turning round feeling that someone is looking at them from behind, and finding that this is the case. Most people have also had the converse experience.This experiment was done with a group of friends in a appartment in Paris. The outcome was quite surprising and fascinating.We all agree this is something quite normal. Could this be something we could improve and have use of in life?

2010-03-31T12:16:00.001+02:00

NOTE TO SELF

GÅ I KLOSTER

GÅ IN I DIG SJÄLV

SOM TRINI SA.

KRAM.

1 och 1/2 timme

2010-03-31T11:51:00.000+02:00

går ut 1 1/2 h. tar U7 från Rathaus Neukölln, byter på Hermanplatz till U8. Går av vid Rosenthaler Platz, upp mot Kastanienalle 57. Hämtar nyckel åt Eeva Liisa.

ett finskt par pratar på U8. dom pratar om att vi finnar är skogsmänniskor och lite råa sådär. att det inte är underligt att svenskar inte gillar oss. Kvinnans telefon ringer o jag tänker att jag ska fråga om jag ska hålla i hennes kaffekopp medans hon pratar. Men vet inte om jag ska fråga på finska eller svenska. Vilket blir bättre?
Den finska mannens plastpåse har ett hål i botten. När dom stigit av vid Alexanderplatz rullar en ensam apelsin iväg längs vagnens golv.

Det är plötsligt vår. Känner mig varm och lite fånig i min vinterkappa o ryska scarf.
Men glad ändå. Väldigt fri. Som om jag bara kunde lyfta och flyga.

En söt pojke, kanske t om man, ser på mej o ler, jag ler tillbaks. Ett av mina större leenden.

På hemvägen i U8 får jag ögonkontakt med en äldre man som ser turkisk och trött ut. Folk läser och löser korsord och sudoku. En amerikansk cockerspaniel sitter nervöst i en inva vagn.

På Elbestrasse ser jag en pudel (Putte Lassila lookalike). Hans människa, 60+ tanten, har exakt samma frisyr som han. Dom går nog till samma salong.

Det fungerar att isolera sig i 2 dygn och sedan gå ut. Det är så mycket mer man observerar.

Hillevi Wahl skriver i DN och Nina tänker...

2010-03-30T13:10:00.003+02:00

oh! läser om Hillevi Wahls bok om ätstörningar.

Det är ju något jag levde med länge.

och jag blir så glad när jag läser följande:
Om jag ska hårdra det, tror jag att många anorektiker har ett stort kontrollbehov, medan bulimiker är äventyrliga spänningssökare. Jag är en sådan som alltid varit lite för mycket, älskat för mycket, velat för mycket. Jag har haft ett behov av att tas i bruk, att all min potential utnyttjas. Därför passar det mig bra att ha tre barn eftersom de kan använda all min energi, suga i sig av min kärlek, säger Hillevi.

Och jag håller med henne så in i helvete när hon skriver:
Nu är jag otroligt lycklig, jag får ibland höra att jag är äckligt glad. Men när du haft det som jag är det lite som att du gått omkring med kronisk värk, och så plötsligt en dag är smärtan borta. Det går nästan inte att förstå känslan, det är så skönt, som att kasta av sig en tung ryggsäck, man flyger.

Jag känner ju exakt så. Jag har haft lite problem med definitionen om kontroll. har inte riktigt känt igen mig på den punkten. Har ju känt att jag kanske är raka motsatsen. Har flytit omkring och sökt mig spänning. Och på nåt tokigt sätt vetat att jag kan finna spänning genom att vara snygg (spänning= kärlek, uppmärksamhet, äventyr). Men sedan har det visat sig att mitt friska fina leende och min varma person har varit ett ännu bättre sätt att få spänning. Och fan vad jag har upplevt!!!!

Ibland går ju jag in i ett mörker då jag minns all skit och all ångest och egentligen mest hat mot mig själv. Det började ju nog som barn. Att jag var annorlunda. Att jag inte var söt. Att jag såg ut som en pojke. Minns något fint dock, min morbror som alltid skrattade åt mina skämt, även när jag var liten. och så sa han en gång att jag kommer att bli en bra diplomat. Det lät fint. Så jag snodde det och skrev överallt att jag skulle bli diplomat.
Men jag ville ju inte vara en söt tjej i rosa tutu. Jag tyckte ju på riktigt ÄRLIGT att det var löjligt. Jag ville ju hellre leka med grannpojken i dendär båten som stod o övervintrade i en trädgård vid vårdhemmet i Veikkola.
jag ville hellre cykla i sandtaget än göra plié. Och det var och är inget fel i det. Det var mitt val. Jag ville ha spänning redan då. Jag ville vara fysiskt aktiv. Och jag minns hur ledsen och besviken jag blev då jag inte fick vara med och bygga trädkoja i Manamansalo med männen och pojkarna utan tvingades bli kvar i stugan med kvinnorna och flickkusinerna.

Senare valde jag träslöjd i skolan. Min (enda) vän Ingela hade lovat att också välja det. men hennes mamma tillät inte det. Så i flera år var jag den enda flickan i träslöjden. Men det var ok. Jag gillade lövsågen. och grabbarna var snälla. Henrik Larsson svetsade en bit åt mig på pilken för att jag tyckte det var otäckt.

Sedermera skulle man ju i något skede bli attraktiv för att man var "kvinna". Det första minnet jag har av detta är hur tjejerna i klassen (vi var nog omkring 12) vill frisera om mig. Jag skall ha håret löst - inte på svans. Jag blir generad. Dom har alla läppglans. Jag vill ju bara ha det så enkelt och praktiskt som möjligt.

Senn får jag mens. Det är äckligt. Jag hatar mens o sex o sånt.
jag ska aldrig röka cigg eller dricka alkohol.

På sjuans klassbild har jag blont långt hår som hänger fritt och rosa läppglans. jag börjar röka. Och senare dricker jag väl nåt. I samma veva börjar jag bli mer o mer fixerad vid min kropp. På julen ser jag ett program om en engelsk flicka som har bulimi. hon kräks upp sin mat. och så dör hon. jag har ätit en massa konfekt och tänker: shit, det där kan jag ju testa en gång. Så jag kräks upp konfekten. jag minns att jag tänker att det bara är en engångsföreteelse. Men så fel jag har då.

Det kommer att ta ännu ca 10 år tills jag är helt friskförklarad. med många upp och ned gångar. och ett år som i princip är helt borta.
Det är för djävligt. Exakt som Hillevi Wahl säger. Ingen större skillnad på mig och missbrukarna på Sergels Torg.

Dream 11-12.3 2010

2010-03-29T21:20:00.000+02:00

I'm in a house that looks a bit like our summerhouse in Manamansalo Finland. But its in Lusaka, Zambia - its the house I grew up in on Lufubu road 111 (number is not correct). I'm alone in there. I'm perhaps singing, behaving a bit funny. There are lots of colorful flowers in there. I say to myself: "aah! Now I understand why older women make such a fuss about different vases - when you're older you get your own flowers - you're not anymore waiting to get them from someone else."
There are some dried white roses that I'm fingering and looking at. Suddenly there's a knock on the door just next to me. I hide on the floor and creep to the bathroom. There I take of my stupid KING outfit (a big velvet coat and a sort of a hat/crown) and throw it in to a closet. I'm feeling embarrased, a bit frightened and ashamed. I check my reflection in the mirror and discover that I'm wearing tons of makeup, red cheeks and red lipstick - but I have a young mans face (a bit like freddie mercury) with a thin moustache. I seem to bit around 30. That's strange I think as I believed I was a woman.
I keep thinking about calling 112 (911) and repeat my address Lufubu road 111. I sneak back in to the room and see a man in a grey suit looking in through the window. He can't see me. he leaves. its silent again.

story written by 2 people on Skype chat.

2010-03-29T21:16:00.003+02:00

Dusty Tom was born on a rainy day, sometime in Autumn in a small town. It might have been October.

Dusty Tom was born in small house in the small town
that was so small that she never got a name.

Dusty Tom lived alone with his mother.

Dusty Toms father died by leaving, nobody knows where.

Dusty Tom believed, that his father was an undercover agent.
His father had just done the step to protect his family.
For Dustys mother he was dead

The days of Dustys youth were lonely.
and he never made plans.
For anything.

Dusty Tom was the classical breath in and out guy. He drifted along like a piece of wood in a river.
No one could help him

it was the trip of his life.

Later Dusty Tom worked in a restaurant.

The audience:
- so, he did not do anything? was he boring? silent?
-the girls didn't like him?
- not even Nasty Nina?

Nina was different.

like Dusty Tom.

They were rebellious, punk by nature.

The audience:
-but they met?
-and what did they do?
-did they find his father?
- and get arrested?

- put in jail for years?

First they gave their town a name, Soulless city.

And then they left. They escaped together on the river that took them to another town. This town had a name. It was called Pygmahhan.

In this town no body knew Dusty and Nina. So they did not need to change names. But they did it any way - because they had dreamed of new names since the day they were born. Especailly Nina. Dusty did not really care, as usual. But he did it to please Nina. And to be honest he was a bit afraid of her to.

2010-03-28T14:05:00.001+02:00

Jag utgår själv ifrån ett väldigt öppet sinne och ser att min främsta uppgift är att skapa plats för tankar om ett nytt sätt att se vår värld, kanske även tankar om ett utopia. Jag anser också att det är viktigt att som konstnär röra sig i olika fält inom tex vetenskap. Och det är något vi verkligen kan göra, terrängen är fri och möjligheterna många. Den skotske konstnären Pavel Büchler har beskrivit denna möjlighet enligt följande:
"The artistic licence is a kind of a passport. The artist is always an itinireant, a messenger, an explorer, who operates in or among others territories. The artist comes and goes, takes away and brings back. As a temporary resident the artist still remains a stranger...but the presence of a stranger may be just what it takes for the rest of us to feel at home.
The concept of research rather than production, and the spirit of enquiry and speculation rather than executive desicion making may be a good place to look for a common ground."

2010-03-28T13:49:00.003+02:00

går på damernas på Mikrobryggeriet i Trondheim. det slår mig plötsligt att jag är en dam i blå skjorta och örhängen. Som går på damernas i ett främmande land. Långt bort från mamma o pappa. Det känns bra att vara konstnär tänker jag. Gillar mina vänner. Det blir bra samtal. Trots att jag är smått korkad. Och lite full.

minns ingen anledning men det låter bra

2010-02-23T14:15:00.001+01:00

avuton hjälplös helpless

inför generationer av män . som bestämt alllt.
även hur hon skulle vara.

därför är hon arg. hon kokar*. för att hon inser sin litenhet inför dem.
hon inser sin hjälplöshet. sin oförmåga att skapa någon som helst skillnad här.
hon ser hur fel allt är. hon ser t om hur man kan rätta till saker men hennes oförmåga att tala ut hindrar ju henne.

hur fan i helvete ska vi hjälpa henne.

det finns många som försökt genom att glida in genom att ta an samma roll som opponenten. det har inte fungerat i längden.
de som gjort det genom smicker o stora bröst har till slut slagits ner o skrattats ut.

var finns det rätta vapnet?

detta är ett krig.

* kokar inombords, kokar i stora kastruller

Om it-girls i DN feb 2010- något jag hetsade upp mig över

2010-02-22T13:31:00.002+01:00

Om it-girls som har det DN på Stan februari 2010
Kvinnor fångar i högre utsträckning än män ”zeitgeisten” genom hur de klär sig, konsumerar och agerar. Det blir så eftersom manlighet är normen, och därmed varierar mindre över tid (precis som manligt mode är en fråga om ”stil”, kvinnligt om ”trender”).

jag vet inte varför jag skriver dethär. Jag vet inte varför jag reagerar. Samma dag har jag läst Lena Endres svar om anklagelserna mot teaterns sex trakasserier. Endre har helt rätt. Och jag tycker att vi istället borde diskutera varför unga människor vill bli "it-girls". varför det är viktigt med ytliga värden. Varför det är så viktigt att vara trendig i Sverige.
Faktum är att Sverige är skit tråkigt. På grund av denhär trendhetsen. På grund av att folk inte vågar vara sig själva. På grund av dendär oron att inte vara "rätt" och passa in. Det säger hur många som helst jag träffar i Europa. Det säger många svenskar själv också. Visst är det är vackert folk men...Jag vill inte ens försöka förstå varför man har velat diskutera dethär ur nåt slags genus perspektiv. Dethär handlar ju fortfarande om objektifiering. Domhär sk it-tjejerna kommer också atr bli gamla och rynkiga trots skönhets operationer. Hur ska de då se på sig själva? Tror de att de kan minnas sin ungdom som nåt slags mata hari tillvaro, Marilyn Monroe? Vad strävar de efter? Har de mål i livet? Varför pratar vi inte om det? Ja just det, någon designade ju skor. Gjorde ett Varumärke av sitt namn. Klokt...gjorde alltså ett objekt av sig själv. utan att egentligen säga någonting. Utan att tillägga någonting utom lite skor, parfym och lukter som någon stackars ängslig fjortis suktar efter. Paris Hilton parfymerna reas alltid ut i tax free butiken. Undrar varför?
– När man talar om it-girls är det just kopplingen till vad man under den speciella tidsperioden uppfattar som förfining, som blir status, som är avgörande. Det är också tydligt att om man ska bli stilikon så gäller det att förhålla sig till den rådande sexualmoralen. Det finns ett absolut samband mellan manifesterad sexualitet och låg status och vad som uppfattas som sensualitet och hög status, säger Katarina Rosengren Falk.
Förfining och it-girls. Oh, please, koppla inte ihop dessa två ord. Jag känner en riktig diva. Hon har personlig stil, hon kan sjunga och spela en massa instrument. Hon gör låtar, video, fotografi, kabaré. Hon har studerat på universitet i Riga. Hon studerar i Berlin. Hon gör shower på opera barer och sunkiga hak. Hon klär sig i svart nät och bjuder publiken på burlesk, visor, kyssar och vodka. Det är förfining. För mig är hon en förfinad girl who has it. Men hon konsumerar inte som svenska it-girls, hennes pengar går till studier, hyra och nya instrument.
Hon glider inte omkring Stureplan med en skitdyr string i sitt vaxade anus. Hon tjänar inte i alla fall pengar på det som dessa svenska it'girls gör. Nej, nu låter det som att jag är sur. Nej, jag är inte sur, jag är förbannad. Och jag är ledsen för att få barn, hjälp kanske en dotter som vill bli it-girl på Stureplan, i ett samhälle där man tycker att zeitgeist handlar om förfining handlar om hur man klär sig, konsumerar och agerar. Jag tycker att ordet status är kul på Facebook, men annars tar jag nog inte ordet i mun. kanske om jag pratar om marital status.

Det är måndag på Södermalm, stan är tanter och tragik, och jag skriver det här i tidningen: Allt är grått. Glamouren lyser med sin frånvaro även när Michaela Forni kommer till Rivals lunchstimmiga kafé, direkt från läkaren med konstaterad halsfluss (”jag hostade blod i helgen”).
Ok, ja såklart. här har vi det igen. Tanter=tragik. Det 'är det här vi borde diskutera. Det är här genus problamtiken gäller. Alla hatar för satan äldre kvinnor. Speciellt om dom blir tanter, för då har dom tappat DET. För numera är det förfining att ha höga stövlar (och säkert nån äcklig string) o klänga i dj-bås o dricka champagne o åka taxi och skapa varumärken av sig själv. Och glömma att man kanske blir tant nån dag och inte får vara med i dj-båset. Bara hoppas på att man har lyckjats haffa åt sig nån status karl så man kan ha råd med skönhetsoperationer med vilka man kan dölja tantspåren.
Ah, Lena Endre exponera din tant kropp mer! please! det kanske behövs.Fan, jag ställer upp, jag kan komma med och exponera min smått sjaviga medelålders ölmage kropp! jaaa!

– Vi går ut jämt, fast vi har noll på kontot. Det spelar ingen roll om vi har det eller flera tusen – vi dricker alltid champagne, vi åker alltid taxi, vi går på minst fem premiärer, events, fester i veckan. Men sedan sitter vi hemma och äter nudlar.
detdär är precis som människor i forna östblocket. det spelar ingen roll hur man bor eller vem man egentligen är så länge ytan skiner. Minns att jag satt och kände mig skitledsen över unga kvinnors livsval, då jag satt på caféér i tallinn 2004 och observerade unga damer på gatorna. Det såg ut som att det enda de höll på med var manikyr och pedikyr. Vad vet jag, kanske de läste medicin vid sidan av. Tyvärr hörde jag av pålitliga källor att majoriteten av de unga kvinnorna drillades redan från barn att bli perfekta vackra varelser vars mål är att hitta en rik man. Jag har aldirg heller sett lika många Armani kostymer i gatubilden som sommaren 2004 i Tallinn. I Estland, ett land som varit del av det mörka Sovjet hur länge som helst. I ett land där man fortfrande spelar upp nationalhymnen varje morgon från kyrktornet i Toompeanmäki.

inlägg i debatt om invandring till Finland

2010-02-22T13:30:00.001+01:00

Sverige är inte på ruinens brant. Kriminaliteten i Sverige är väl inte högre än på andra ställen i Europa. Tror att det bara anmäls fler fall än i andra länder. Bör även påpekas att våldsbrott mot tex kvinnor i Norden i majoritet begås av nordiska män inte män med utländsk bakgrund. Det stora problemet i Sverige är integrationspolitiken. Den finns ju inte. Man vill så gärna vara goda och snälla men systemet fungerar inte.
Invandrare i Sverige har ofta normal eller hög utbildning men får inte jobb pga sitt namn. Har själv bott i Sverige i 10 år och upplevt detta, det enda jobb jag fick var anknytet till mitt finska språk. Att uppnå en fungerande integration tar nog mycket längre tid än vi tror. Människan är inte så snabb. Vi måste säkert vänta ännu länge innan vi har ett fungerande mångkulturellt samhälle med rätt till olika tankegångar. Och medans vi väntar så lider nog inte vi svenskar och finnar någon nöd. Tro mej.
Sudda bort nationella gränser och blanda er gott folk - det är framtids receptet!

2010-01-26T19:34:00.003+01:00

sure

there are things I dont like doing.
And things I like doing.
I'm depressed. I do not know. But look at this shit.
I mean. Seriously.
What is it? Are you feeling bad about yourself? Not happy?

Its not really that.

I never wished to stand on a huge stage in front of an audience. It scares me.
All those looks. The expectation.

I'm not in for earning loads of money and prizes.

I do not know. perhaps I'm depressed.

See, I like doing nothing. I like talking. Having real conversations. I like laying down somewhere nice thinking to myself. I like seeing friends and talking with them. I like talking to strangers too.

And I really hate going shopping if there is not anything else to do. People do that. I try to avoid it as much as I can. Of course I fall into that bate too. Most things are just so meaningless. And actually bad. And they sicken me.
I hate having jobs earning money. Especially dumb jobs that just promote a consumerist society. I do not like the musts. I want to choose my own time to do things, when I want to lay down, when i want to go for a walk. When I want to write. When I want to eat. When I want to water my plants.

I want a garden. I like seeing things grow.

I guess I'm in for the so called simpler things. If that's what you want to call it.
Yesterday I saw that a plant that I got from a friend had something new and red on it. Perhaps a flower! So I have made difference. To that plant. It made me happy. It still makes me happy.
And today, it is a cold day, I heard this cat mewing. So I ran downstairs and let it in.
That also made a difference. To the cat. Its not cold anymore. Somebody heard it.

We should listen more.

I'm not saying that I'm totally unambitious. But I dont want any bonuses. I dont fancy going to the moon either. I'm afraid of space. I'm happy here. Seeing things grow.

Its all about this dumbass stupid competing. Winners and loosers. I'm not into winning. Actually I could win a prize for being a good looser.

I just want to be. To chill. See things grow. See the spring. See the birds on the sky. Swans on the lake.

I guess you say I sound somewhat depressed. lacking of energy. But I think I'm perfectly energetic. I'm writing this. I'm capable of forming words and sentences.
I'm even going to have a sauna tonight. That's nice. It will be warm and there might be a good conversation about lets say sustainability.

One of my absolute favourite things to do is sleeping. My dreams are extremely entertaining.
I love eating nice things. I like smoking and drinking good wines. I like reading. And hearing beautiful music. Sometimes even energetic crazy music.

And seeing things grow of course.

What about your art work?

Well. it is also sort of growing. I guess. Right now I think I must accept the way things are. And grow. If I wont grow my art wont grow. There would be a standstill.

But see, this silly game of winning and loosing, this dumb game of consumerist monopoly spreads its long ugly arms all around me and drags me into the plastic dungeon. My growing stops because there is to much shit around me. I can not breathe because the air is dirty. I can not see because nothing is real.

Somebody or something prevents me growing.

Well, I know there is not such thing called THE SYSTEM but all these slimy things I need to do to EARN my freedom is just killing me. If not killing - at least saddening.

I have tried to see the positive sides - but now that I have tried and tried I know it is not good. It is the same bullshit I expected it to be.
I am not saying the people are dumb or so. They just enjoy winning to much and besides they do not seem to have the energy to relax and think things over.
They might also be lacking of courage.
Because it is scary of course. Because it is enormously depressing.

Yeah, if I get a grant form foundation BLABLA I will for sure know where the money came from in the first place. From some freaking plastic cellphone sales obviously.

Everything is about merchandise.

Sell. Buy. Sell. Buy. Sell. Buy. Sell. Buy
Pay. Earn. Pay. Earn. Pay. Earn. Pay.

debatt inlägg nu igen

2010-01-22T18:02:00.001+01:00

Kyllä Ruotsalaiset ymmärtävät ja jotkut jopa rakastavat suomenruotsia! Hello!!!!Suomenruotsalaisethan ovat muumeja. Niin, tietysti suomalaisen ääntämä ruotsi ei ole sama asia, vaikka usein saavatkin "muumi" nimikkeen Ruotsissa.
Ruotsissa on monia eri murteita, esim Skånen murre, jota on aluksi aika vaikea ymmärtää. Mutta kunhan ihmisiä lähestyy niin kielivaikeudet katoavat. Kysymys on ehkä enemmänkin sosiaalisesta kanssakäymisestä. Tämä on ehkä (perusjuntti)suomalaisen suurin ongelma...
Itselläni on tuttuja ympäri pohjoismaita - yritämme kaikki puhua omaa kieltämme (suomi ja islanti ovat sen verran erilaisia että silloin vaihdetaan yleensä englantiin) ääntämäällä sitä "skandinaaviksi".
Anyway: haluan vaan sanoa että ei englantia ole pakko käyttää, ei ainakaan koko ajan. On hienoa jos ainakin yrittää oppia naapurien kieltä. Tässähän meillä suomenruotsalaisilla on etu! Ja tack för det! Ikävä että meidän veljet ja sisarukset eivät halua liittyä tähän joukkoon.
Sitä paitsi Finlandssvenska on aivan ihana murre! Islantilaiset puhuvat ruotsia melko samalla murteella!sitä et tainnut tietääkään!

dream again strange of course what else

2010-01-22T17:59:00.001+01:00

I'm somewhere on a plaza walking, but its also a big house. there's quite many people of different age. There is something wrong with my feet: they are dirty and sore, I'm walking in a strange way, not really stepping on my heels. I need to wash my feet and find socks/sandals. But I can't find any help. I'm standing somewhere counting chopsticks. It's difficult because I want to arrange them in a certain order. they are quite different from eachother.
Then I'm in Cité des arts in a studio. there are about 4 artists there. And F. I'm asking people how long their residencies are. Then I tell them laughing that 6 months is the max how long a residency should be. That over that time is like moving. and that in 4 months a artist should be able to create a huge master piece. F looks a bit angry, and I try to smooth it down by saying that the size of an art piece doens't really indicate its master piece quality.

then I'm watching a shooting that happend behind cité des art on a monitor. there are lots of people trying to find cover, running. and bullets flying in the air. I'm not sure if I find this amusing ...?

then I'm suddenly talking to jepa and Joski about horseback riding. that I could swap my mamya 7 lens for riding on their horses. They are impresed by my lens. There is a horse muffling my hair. I like it.
I tell Jepa and Joski that I don't think it would take me a long time to remember how to ride a horse.

blessed

2010-01-22T17:57:00.000+01:00

you are all stars on my personal sky.

I HAVE A SKY ABOVE ME. AROUND ME.

ITS FULL OF SHINING STARS. MY FRIENDS.

I AM A BLESSED GIRL.

krondill

2010-01-22T17:56:00.002+01:00

en av trädtopparna där utanför liknar krondill.
måste klippa den, den har växt till sig för mycket.

I min dröm springer jag uppför en spiraltrappa till en fest. Jag är väldigt snygg.

Jag flyger förbi hus och över parker hållandes en lustig 5 fingrig ballong.
det går så fort.

Krondillen i Berlin svajar i grått januari ljus.

Han låg mittemot mig och jag har ingen aning om han tycker om mig mera, som han påstått sig göra tidigare.

kort notis

2009-11-02T15:02:00.002+01:00

har läst en till Siri Hustvedt roman. The sorrows of an american hette denhär, det är nog hennes senaste.
Väldigt fin. Som vanligt.
Men Blindfold är fortfarande number 1.

Annars inget nytt. Sover gott. Äter gott. Jobbar lite. läser.

a room in my head

2009-10-30T11:37:00.001+01:00

in my dreams I enter rooms frequently.

sometimes they are distorted. and often I find secret entrances to other rooms I did not know about. According to some dreamtheories a room represents sexuality. Rooms in dreams can also signyfie emotions.

I have met people that I don't know in these rooms.

But in my concious room I find media. All sorts of media represented.
News papers, Magazines, Books, illustrations, comics, tvs, radios, internet.
You just name it.

It's all there. New and old.

On one hand it reminds me of the old cellars in our house that I used to go to in my childhood. In the cellar I'd find tons of old newspaper, over 100 years old, yellow and dirty, full of dust and cobweb. And the cellar door had warning signs indicating rat poison. So I almost never touched things there. It did happend though.

My todays room is somewhat similar to the memory of the cellars. They also have red crooked brickwalls, sand on the floor and old wooden furniture.
The difference is the light and the smell. It doesn't smell bad and the light is quite strong.

My analysiz is that this room is a reflection on both the past, the now and the future.
It's a room where no choises have been made. Nobody has curated the show.
It's full of lies, rumors and perhaps also thruth. But who knows what is what?
The girl of the cellar?

The mind as a room

Mind is an interesting word - in my mothertongue we use the word "medvetande". Transalated into english that would be something like co-knower.

Where is the mind located? In the head many people claim. But the mind isn't really anythign "real". So is it all over or a room in the head?

stereotyp dröm...

2009-10-30T11:22:00.000+01:00

inatt vaknade jag av min dröm o låg o analyserade den. det var två slags typer i den. en kvinna (jag) och en man (en blandning av några män jag känner...).
Vi visste båda att något underligt skulle ske. Vi var i ett stort hus med trappor o korridorer. vi sprang i någon korridor och sparkade sönder nånslags små objekt, vi tyckte båda det var skitkul. Hursomhelst så hade "han", dne manlige figuren sett nånslags vision, ett pelarlikt ljus som sken, och han trodde att han skulle ev. dö. Jag, kvinnan, var väldigt rädd och ängslig men han var rätt lugn och tröstande och pratade om förändring osv.

när jag sedan vaknade tänkte jag att enligt Jungs analys står ofta kvinna o man för Anima och Animus i oss själva. så dessa två karaktärer är bara delar av en själv. Av vilka den ena är ängslig och den andra mer modig inför förändring...
så där låg jag mitt i natten, o tänkte: kämpa på Nina. Var inte så ängslig nu...

Men tänk hur skit stereotypt man drömmer då, att den som står för modet är man och ängslan kvinna. Usch, feministen i mig skäms. >Eller kanske en del av mig håller på o dör, förändras? och något i mig ängslas för det?

i ett senare skede satt jag på en buss på någon resa. det satt ett gäng människor runt mig jag inte kände. en blond man bredvid mig. han hade starka fina armar. vi pratade lite och jag kände mig trygg med honom. jag ville stanna där med honom. plötsligt vaknade jag av att hans armar var kring mig iett hårt men mjukt grepp. fint. men när jag såg på honom hade han tagit av sig hatten och liknade lite F, men var magrare och hade svart långt risigt lite lockigt hår. han hade en son också. en söt pojke som satt vid fönstret.

dröm 3:
några tjejer på en konstskola? vill ha ett porträtt/foto på mej för att vi skall skiljas åt eller jag ska flytta. jag rotar o letar bland lådor o album. tittar på negativ men hittar inget bra. på alla bilder ser jag konstig ut. på en serie har jag ritat mustach och stora långa ögonbryn på mej. på ett foto från 6an är mina läppar vansinnigt stora och min näsa ser lite missbildad ut. hittar ett som är bra om man klipper det men det är helt suddigt. kanske var det tom ett negativ och det finns ingen tid att kopiera...

focus on work

2009-10-30T11:21:00.000+01:00

focus on work

do work

write a sentence

a little line here.another there.

think about a budget.
MONEY.

how to get it.
how to spend it.

applications.

editing.

subtitles.

new storyboards.

new pretty stories.
to film.
to edit.
to fade in. to fade out
to cut.

where to cut what.

cut the crap.

Focus for fucks sakes.

egentligen spelar det ingen roll var man är.

2009-04-23T23:25:00.001+02:00

egentligen spelar det ingen roll var man är.

efter samtalet med Juliana om Europa versus USA och speciellt europeers nedlåtande syn på USA blev jag berörd. touched.

någon knut öppnades. i varje fall lite.

there was something unlocking in my head. an old stubborn way of thinking had to give away - and that's great. Everybody should celebrate that.

See, I think I've been secretly thinking stupid things about the European greatness.

But that's not right. not at all. that way of rationalizing is shit. complete shite.

Well, yeah there are great things, people, traditions, foods here but so is there all over.

Borders suck. At least mental ones.

Nina in Paris

2009-04-23T23:23:00.001+02:00

funny, it's like a from time to time don't feel I'm in Paris. Or to be more correct I don't feel away from home. And when I hear the tourist boat pass I look at with amazment: thinking, wow where am I? Am I Paris???? what, you must be joking.

It's a similar feeling I had in New Foundland. While being there I'd constantly believe I'm somewhere in Ireland , Scotland or northern England. And when I'd see the logo "american standard" on the bathroom sink I'd be a bit perplexed - thinking - hm, weird, why would they have that here?
And after a second remember - oh, yes, this is Northern America...

Today I alomost told Pauline that I thoght this city is very French - uh, well of course- it's f.king Paris!

What is going on in my mind?

Somehow this makes me feel even more sane, I'd dare to say, even healthy.
All places are home to me.
Good.

Slippery Terrain at Eastern Edge Gallery in St.Johns Canada March 7th - April 16th 2009

2009-02-19T12:38:00.003+01:00

I'll be showing the "old" Tele-Pets video in a monitor. Tele-Pets is a video about telepathic experiences between humanbeings and animals. I do have more text on this but I guess most of us know this piece already....
In case of space etc I will also show another new sound work about an ageing dog. In the video a person gives a speech to a dog. The speech is a poetic stroy about how the two met.
Furthermore, during the opening I will conduct/create a telepathic experiment with the audience. The event will at first appear as a quite meditative relaxation (slightly "crystalballish" - can I say so in english?) but in the end turn out to be a scientific experiment.

1. PLEASE FIND YOURSELVES A COMFORTABLE PLACE PLACE TO BE IN AND CLOSE YOUR EYES.
2. RELAX AND BREATHE DEEPLY AND SLOWLY.

3. RELAX YOUR BODY. LET YOUR ARMS AND HANDS FALL DOWN. KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED. BREATHE SLOWLY.
IMAGINE WAVES OF RELAXATION RUNNING DOWN YOUR BODY - FROM YOUR SCALP DOWN TO YOUR TOES.
WASHING OUT ALL STRESS, ALL TENSION AND ALL THOUGHTS.
RELAX ALL MUSCLES IN YOUR BODY.
EMPTY YOUR MIND.
THERE ARE NO THOUGHTS IN YOUR HEAD.

FEEL HOW HEAVY YOUR BODY BECOMES.
YOUR EYES ARE HEAVY. ALL MUSCLES IN YOUR FACE GET HEAVY.
YOUR HEAD IS SO HEAVY IT FALLS DOWN.
YOUR ARMS WEIGH TONS. AS YOUR HANDS AND FINGERS .
YOUR UPPER BODY IS HEAVY. BELLY.
YOUR BOTTOM. YOUR THIGHS. YOUR LEGS.
YOUR FEET BECOME HEAVY. AND YOUR TOES.

PAUSE.

3. TAKE A DEEP BREATHE AND INHALE OUT.
NOW YOU ARE TOTALLY CALM AND RELAXED.

4. YOUR MIND IS STABLE. YOU HAVE FULL CONTROL OVER IT.
YOUR MIND IS CLEAR AND FOCUSED.

5. STILL KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED. BREATHE CALMLY.

NOW IMAGINE A VERY IMPORTANT PERSON (WHO IS ALIVE) IS IN FRONT OF YOU.
KEEP ALL OTHER THOUGHTS AWAY.

PAUSE

FOCUS ON THIS PERSON. TRY TO SEE VERY DETAIL OF YOUR FRIEND. NOSE. MOUTH. EYES. EYELIDS. LIPS. CHEEKS. SKIN. HAIR.
HANDS. CLOTHES.
SEE ALL SHAPES AND FORMS. VISUALIZE. DON'T THINK IN WORDS.

PAUSE

NOW HEAR THE PERSONS VOICE. TALK. LAUGHTER. WHISPER. YELLING.

PAUSE

SEE YOUR FRIEND MOVE AROUND. IN HER HOUSE. YARD. STREET. FOCUS ON THIS PERSONS EXISTENCE.

PAUSE

THINK OF A SPECIFIC MEMORY OF THIS PERSON. YOU CAN SAY HER NAME.

PAUSE

FEEL HER TOUCH ON YOU. FEEL HER PRESENCE CLOSE TO YOU.

LONG PAUSE

TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND INHALE OUT. WIGGLE YOUR TOES AND SLOWLY WAKE UP AND OPEN YOUR EYES.
THANK YOU.

2009-02-19T12:32:00.003+01:00

I am at a concert.
The music is beautiful. The ligths are dimmed.
I see myself floating, wavering in the room, raising up towards the ceiling.

I'm so relaxed and comfotable I don't fear anything.

arbetar för närvarande med en performance idé inför grupputställning i Kanada.
Det kommer att bli ett telepatiskt telefon experiment. En stor grupp fokusering. men först skall gruppen slappna av o senn först fokusera. O så ringer förhoppningsvis telefonerna.
Detta har då lett till att jag har lärt mig slappna av.!!!!
Äntligen.
34 o avslappnad mellan varven.

Konserten på Konsthallen blev en speciell upplevelse. En milstolpe i mitt liv som avslappnad.
Jag fantiserar faktiskt om att skapa en liten film om upplevelsen. Säg inget om NewAge.
Det är liksom OVAN om det. Värre. haha.

Det är religiöst. men skit skönt.