
<p><strong>Keiu Krikmann</strong> is the editor of A Shade Colder.</p>


Keiu Krikmann


<p>The 2025 spring issue, Uncertain Territories, looks at how both physical and mental territories around us are in constant flux – be it due to political or economic uncertainty, both of which often have dire consequences for art and culture, not to mention the well-being of people forced to navigate these circumstances.</p>



<p>The issue opens with <strong>Maria Kapajeva</strong>’s poems, written during the months after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, detailing the difficulties of seeing both physical and mental realities shift during the war. Approaching the less-explored terrain of art history, <strong>Katrin Kivimaa</strong> writes about the artist <strong>Terje Ojaver</strong>, whose sculptural work spanning decades and often featuring the themes of feminism and animalist female figures, is long-deserving of renewed perspectives and audiences.</p>



<p>In a similar vein, <strong>Sten Ojavee</strong> looks into the history of the network of Soros Centers for Contemporary Art that were established throughout the former Eastern Bloc in the 1990s and have now provoked a re-evaluation of their legacy even involving conspiracy theories. Ojavee’s research is expanded on by three artists, <strong>Jaan Toomik</strong>, <strong>Kai Kaljo</strong> and <strong>Anu Juurak</strong>, who were actively reshaping their practices around the time the centres were created – they share their memories of how the art scene in Estonia changed in the 1990s and 2000s.</p>



<p>Exploring tensions in contemporary landscapes, <strong>Johanna Rannula</strong> writes about the joys and struggles at NART residency, located in the city of Narva at the border between Estonia and Russia. Addressing territorial struggles on a different scale, <strong>Cathrin Mayer</strong> interviews <strong>Flo Kasearu</strong> on how the current political climate has shaped the Estonian landscape through new energy policies, real estate developments and people’s understanding of the public and private space.</p>



<p>The borders of young Estonian fashion are also in a process of being redefined – <strong>Olivia Soans</strong> speaks to five young designers to get an insight into the Estonian fashion scene in 2025.</p>



<p>Last but not least, <strong>Kaarin Kivirähk</strong> asked six art professionals from the Nordic and Baltic region how they would like to see language re-map the territory of contemporary art – and which words they never want to see circulating again.</p>



<p>As always, our Events Guide highlights the most fascinating art events in the Baltics and the Nordics in the coming months.</p>



<p>The sticker sheet for this print issue has been created by <strong>Bohdan Bunchak</strong>, a Ukrainian artist, who after being wounded on the frontline is now actively advocating for veterans’ needs. A Shade Colder continues to donate to the Ukrainian Emergency Art Fund.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-300x211.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-1024x722.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-1118x788.jpg 1118w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-1437x1013.jpg 1437w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-1596x1125.jpg 1596w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-1916x1350.jpg 1916w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-2554x1800.jpg 2554w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-2794x1969.jpg 2794w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/illu-veeb-copy-scaled.jpg 2560w" data-sizes="auto" width="2560" height="1804" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman,<em> Uncertain Territories</em>, 2025</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


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Uncertain Territories

Editorial. Uncertain Territories


<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-291x300.jpg 291w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-992x1024.jpg 992w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-763x788.jpg 763w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-981x1013.jpg 981w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-1090x1125.jpg 1090w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-1308x1350.jpg 1308w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem-1744x1800.jpg 1744w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/Illukas-vaiksem.jpg 1800w" data-sizes="auto" width="1800" height="1858" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm,<em> Looking for Localities</em>, 2024</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>The eighth issue of A Shade Colder, <em>Looking for Localities</em>, focuses on different ways of understanding the notion of locality in art practice within the context of contemporary art. Focusing on the local is often a very conscious choice meant to anchor us to our roots, communities and land in the face of adversity and uncertainty. Our histories, heritage and the places we come from undoubtedly shape who we are. But we, too, have the ability to shape what our histories, heritage and our very selves become and how we are seen by others who might not share our localities. For smaller and more marginalised cultures and peoples, art can be an especially crucial tool for reshaping and redefining these perceptions at a time when imperialism and colonialism still loom large, despite continuous efforts of the latter to reinvent themselves.</p>



<p><br>Most commonly, locality is understood through the notion of <strong>place</strong>. <strong>Maarin Ektermann</strong> and <strong>Mary Ann Talvistu</strong> share their experience of bringing together contemporary art and small museums in Estonia through a residency and exhibition programme that very consciously set out to work locally. <strong>Ann Mirjam Vaikla</strong> and <strong>Hanna Laura Kaljo</strong> approach the impact a place can have from another angle. They explore the work of Kalaaleq-Danish artist <strong>Pia Arke</strong>, whose work draws a strong connection between two localities – the <strong>body</strong> and the land, especially the long-term effects of colonialism on the bodies of those who have been colonised. Locality can also manifest in <strong>practice</strong> – it is often through the interpretation of heritage that new perspectives emerge. <strong>Juss Heinsalu</strong> writes about how in-betweenness and queerness manifest in recent Estonian contemporary craft practices that interpret local heritage. However, heritage has sometimes been left with no physical place to exist and flourish. <strong>Intizor Otaniyozova’s</strong> poem <em>Journey to Nowhere</em> stems from a sense of belonging to a culture that has been stripped of the right to exist in a physical location and the feeling of <strong>placelessness</strong>. To conclude the issue, we offer an Events Guide for winter 2025, highlighting local and/or international exhibitions in a variety of places in Estonia and in the near region.</p>


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Looking for Localities

Editorial. Looking for Localities


<p>The seventh issue of A Shade Colder takes a closer look at our many faces, around and within. The face is a marker of identity, supposedly one that helps others to recognise us throughout our lives, yet a face is subject to considerable change throughout a person’s life, and we all wear several. For better or worse, some of our faces are only revealed in private, while others are crafted for various public encounters.</p>



<p>The cover of this issue features a gallery of faces, created as part of <strong>Edith Karlson</strong>’s latest work to be exhibited at the 60th Venice Biennale. Ahead of the opening, Karlson was interviewed by <strong>Cecilia Alemani</strong> – they discuss her practice, often inspired by impulses hidden just beneath the surface. <strong>Johanna Hedva</strong>’s short story also looks at the more devious side of life and the joy and horror that placing yourself outside social norms evokes. The piece is illustrated by <strong>Pire Sova</strong>.</p>



<p><strong>Mētra Saberova</strong> writes about putting on a different face quite literally, or developments in the art of drag in the Baltics. Drag as a craft was born in a very different context, yet it is now flourishing in the queer scenes of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. The faces we see at drag shows are often developed to empower the performers and their audiences, combat marginalisation, and for queer people to come together. Yet sometimes, people struggle with finding solidarity when the face of another is very different from theirs. The question of cultivating solidarity is addressed in the commentary section – art professionals share their experiences with what it means to nurture and show solidarity from within the art world. The relevance of politics in art is also discussed in an interview with artist <strong>Tai Shani</strong> by <strong>Lilian Hiob</strong>.</p>



<p>Alongside our regular events guide, this issue turns its gaze towards the Southern region of Estonia – <strong>Kaarin Kivirähk</strong> takes a deeper look at art outside the capital, as 2024 marks the year Tartu, the second largest city in Estonia, located in the south of the country, bears the title of European Capital of Culture. We also introduce two artists with a strong connection to Tartu. First being <strong>Jevgeni Zolotko</strong>, an artist whose unique practice and voice is explored in an interview by <strong>Anti Saar</strong>. And secondly, <strong>Ülo Sooster, </strong>a notable surrealist and abstract artist, originally from Tartu, but imprisoned and deported by the Soviet regime in the 1940s. Later, he made a life for himself among Moscow dissident artists, and <strong>Elnara Taidre</strong> introduces his legacy and questions of identity and belonging so relevant in the eastern part of Europe today. Showing a different face in late Soviet life, one where despite the drab everyday, people were dreaming big and actively working towards a more inspiring life, <strong>Triin Reidla</strong> writes about postmodern private houses, spectacular both visually and due to the context they were born in.<br>As A Shade Colder continues supporting Ukrainian art, we are glad to present a special edition of stickers by <strong>Lucy Ivanova</strong> and will also continue donating 50% of the proceeds of our sales to the Ukrainian Emergency Art Fund.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-1024x682.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-1184x788.jpg 1184w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-1522x1013.jpg 1522w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-1690x1125.jpg 1690w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy-2028x1350.jpg 2028w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/joonistus-copy3-scaled-copy.jpg 2560w" data-sizes="auto" width="2560" height="1704" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm,<em> The Many Faces of You</em>, 2024</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


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The Many Faces of You

Editorial. The Many Faces of You


<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-1519x1013.jpg 1519w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-1687x1125.jpg 1687w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-2025x1350.jpg 2025w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-2700x1800.jpg 2700w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-2953x1969.jpg 2953w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Cecilia-Alemani-giving-a-talk-at-the-Estonian-Academy-of-Arts-2023-Photo-Ott-Kattel-copy-scaled.jpg 2560w" data-sizes="auto" width="2560" height="1707" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Cecilia Alemani giving a talk at the Estonian Academy of Arts, 2023. Photo by Ott Kattel</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>Although text is a crucial element in the process of exhibition making, especially for curators, it often seems to compete with the more visually appealing artworks. In recent years, a hunger for poetry and (narrative) fiction in exhibition environments has become evident. If done well, featuring multifaceted texts can provide an enriching experience for the viewer; if not, the visitor can easily get overwhelmed and annoyed in the accompanying word soup. It is not an easy task to welcome a variety of texts into art exhibitions and create texts that are accessible to viewers as well.<br>With <em>Milk of Dreams</em>, however, the main exhibition for the 59th Venice Biennale, the curator Cecilia Alemani managed to do both. The exhibition, borrowing its title from a short story by the painter and writer Leonora Carrington, was a remarkable exhibition in many ways, not least in its exploration of links between visual arts, literary works and poetry. So, when Alemani visited Tallinn in September, we sat down to speak about text and language in her work – the role of text, how to show it in an exhibition setting but also how (not) to read and write as a curator.</p>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>Keiu Krikmann:</strong> You have said that you live with books – you have a lot of books in your flat, and you appreciate books as physical printed matter. So, I’m wondering, what do you like to read, when do you like to read, and how do you like to read?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>Cecilia Alemani:</strong> I live surrounded by books because my husband and I are both book collectors, and as part of our jobs, we receive an incredible number of books, which we love. For work, I mostly read art books, such as catalogues and theory books that I receive or buy; I also try to read every magazine that comes my way. I unfortunately read less literary works due to a lack of time, and if I have an hour in the evening before bed, I usually read something I need to read for my work. However, in the summer, I try to also read good literature. I try to read new Italian writers as much as I can. I still very much like to read books on paper, I’m not so used to reading ebooks, but I sometimes listen to audiobooks, especially when I’m in transit, like I was just listening to the last Omar Pahmuk book. But when I’m at home, I very much enjoy the physicality of the pages and the smell of the print; I’m very attached to it.</p></div></div>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> Often, when I think about language, reading and writing, I remember a quote by Fred Moten: “I like to read, and I like to be involved in reading. And for me, writing is part of what it is to be involved in reading.” It’s beautiful how he connects the two. Curators inevitably have to be writers to some degree; they need to provide exhibitions with a lot of text – curatorial texts and conceptualisations of artworks. These texts can be seen as the prosthetics of an exhibition, a part of the infrastructure around the artworks. And when you curated <em>Milk of Dreams</em>, you also brought in a lot of literature. So, I’m wondering about the role of writing in your curatorial practice; how do you approach it? Is writing something you enjoy, is it difficult for you or maybe both?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> Unfortunately, for me writing is more challenging than enjoyable simply because of how my days are structured. I process thousands of emails in a day, and the writing I do in emails I don’t even consider writing; it’s so short and synthetic at this point. Also, as a non-native English speaker, your language gets very poor because you end up using a very limited vocabulary in digital communication. It is challenging for me to switch gears to write an essay and create that mental space where you can ignore your phone and emails and just dive in. I had a very academic background, a bachelor’s degree in philosophy, and a master’s in curatorial practice. The writing I was doing then was completely different – I had the headspace to study, to go to the library, to do the work. I think writing never gets easier for me; on the contrary, it’s painful and I do it because I have to; eventually, I enjoy it, but it’s not necessarily a very spontaneous process. I think it’s so difficult also because of the way we communicate these days.</p></div></div>



<figure class="wp-block-pullquote"><blockquote><p>The language gets very poor because we end up using a very limited vocabulary in digital communication.</p></blockquote></figure>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> I think, as a curator, sometimes you prioritise artworks, and writing just slips in between things you really want to highlight. Regardless, in Venice, you brought a lot of literary works into the exhibition – you did this through references and titles, and you also had a chapter there that looked at language more directly through visual poetry, concrete poetry etc. Literary works can be an integral part of a curatorial practice – as part of the research, as part of how you come to the end result. Do you find it challenging to bring text to an exhibition space?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> No, for me, it was very enriching, and I thought it was also the case for the viewer. I spent a lot of time doing research for the historical capsules in the exhibition, and I didn’t want to focus necessarily only on artworks. When I was looking at the 1920s and 1930s and surrealism but also the 1960s, it seemed to me that the cultural field was much more unified, and the distinction between visual artists, writers and poets was less strict. It was more about the community of people coming together and working together, whereas I feel the fields are much more separated today and the communities much less fused together. So, it seemed quite obvious to include other parts of the cultural field, like poetry and literature in an exhibition that tried to look at the different kinds of cultural environments and contexts in which artists were working. Text was also an outlet for visual artists, so it felt very natural to include journals, poetry etc. I love it when I, and hopefully the viewers too, can learn something new from an exhibition.</p></div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/‘Capsula-2-–-Corpo-Orbita-Capsule-2-–-The-Orbiting-Body-2022-exhibition-view-Central-Pavilion-at-the-59th-Venice-Biennale.-Courtesy-La-Biennale-di-Venezia-photograph-Roberto-Marossi.jpeg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/‘Capsula-2-–-Corpo-Orbita-Capsule-2-–-The-Orbiting-Body-2022-exhibition-view-Central-Pavilion-at-the-59th-Venice-Biennale.-Courtesy-La-Biennale-di-Venezia-photograph-Roberto-Marossi-150x150.jpeg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/‘Capsula-2-–-Corpo-Orbita-Capsule-2-–-The-Orbiting-Body-2022-exhibition-view-Central-Pavilion-at-the-59th-Venice-Biennale.-Courtesy-La-Biennale-di-Venezia-photograph-Roberto-Marossi-300x200.jpeg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/‘Capsula-2-–-Corpo-Orbita-Capsule-2-–-The-Orbiting-Body-2022-exhibition-view-Central-Pavilion-at-the-59th-Venice-Biennale.-Courtesy-La-Biennale-di-Venezia-photograph-Roberto-Marossi.jpeg 900w" data-sizes="auto" width="900" height="600" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><em>Capsula 2 – Corpo Orbita</em> (Capsule 2 – The Orbiting Body), 2022, exhibition view, Central Pavilion at the 59th Venice Biennale. Courtesy of La Biennale di Venezia. Photo by Roberto Marossi</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> Sometimes I’m afraid that within the exhibition, the textual can’t compete with the visual; the way that the two grab the viewers&#8217; attention is very different. Were you not afraid of that a little bit, or was it just – it is what it is?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> Of course, I was not expecting someone to read a Joyce Mansour novel right there in the exhibition, but we could provide an easy way for the audience to write down the name of a poet they didn’t know and maybe buy their book in the bookshop. In a way, literature and poetry are much more approachable and easily accessible than a work of art that you usually get to see live only in an exhibition – a book is a less precious object; you can buy many different editions. In the exhibition, they were like hints or suggestions or a trampoline for people to get inspired. Maybe someone wanted to know more, for example, what The Crisis magazine was in the 1930s in New York, so they could go home and do some research. I think it’s a different kind of user experience. The moment of appreciating a painting or sculpture happens in the exhibition space, which is often highly choreographed, but when it comes to literature and the written word, it’s something you can take home with you.</p></div></div>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> Definitely, text can create an atmosphere after the fact, in a way. You have also said that you always try to read what artists are writing – what have you encountered, and what do you look for? Is it more about reading things that would supplement artworks, or do you look for writing as artistic practice?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> I think it’s both – I don’t look for anything in particular, I’m just curious. I wish I had a lot of different talents. When I think about someone like Leonora Carrington, who is an incredible painter, her novels and writing are absolutely fabulous, and she could go from the medium of painting to the medium of writing in what seemed like a very fluid and easy way. What I truly appreciate is that she could use a completely different medium, the written word, to capture exactly the same atmosphere as in her paintings. She does it with the same levity, sense of humour, irony and sometimes darkness as in her paintings but using a different vocabulary. I’m not necessarily interested in artists writing about their own works, like Donald Judd explaining his sculptures – although his writing is incredible and I appreciate it in another way – but I am more fascinated when an artist finds a different outlet, like poetry or literature.</p></div></div>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> I’d also like to talk a bit about the way we talk about art – a lot of people often make fun of international art English, which is a very specific type of language, jargon almost. It has become so ubiquitous and levelling, almost artificial, like a parasite that ends up creeping into your own language and thinking. As someone who works with a lot of different artists all over the world and gets to look into very different art scenes, have you noticed any difference in the way people in different parts of the world discuss their work?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> Of course, international art English is everywhere, and we are all complicit. I can’t tell you if it’s different in Latin America or Asia, but when it comes to exhibition language, it&#8217;s universal; it&#8217;s almost jargon as you say, and often feels empty. I don&#8217;t know what the solution is. What I did in Venice, for example, we had artists check and approve every label we wrote. But it doesn’t mean artists don’t use that jargon. I want language to be accessible. It’s often about finding a compromise between what I want to say and what the artist wants to say. I also often try to push back against what the artist wants to say, trying to avoid what is evident anyway or references that are too obscure. So, I think our job as curators is to function as a link between the artwork and the general public and try to avoid jargon – dropping Deleuse and Guattari’s names in a label and so on, I think that is ridiculous. But when it comes to essays and the more sophisticated writing, what’s happening now is scary, it feels like all these texts are written by ChatGPT. I’m definitely curious to see what will happen to art writing because I think it’s not in a very strong position right now.</p></div></div>



<figure class="wp-block-pullquote"><blockquote><p>Our job as curators is to function as a link between the artwork and the general public and try to avoid jargon.</p></blockquote></figure>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><strong>KK:</strong> And to conclude, despite all that, what are some of the books or writing or publishing practices that you’ve been excited about recently or you’ve enjoyed lately?</p></div><div class="answer"><p><strong>CA:</strong> The last book I read is by the Italian writer Antonio Scurati, <em>M: Son of the Century</em>, the third volume of Mussolini’s biography; the fourth one is forthcoming. It&#8217;s a literary version of his life, and it&#8217;s a scary read because right now in Italy we have a very right-wing government in power, and you can see so many of the tactics they are using now, a century later after fascism was born, deployed the same way. But Scurati is an amazing writer, and the series is definitely captivating.</p></div></div>


Cecilia Alemani giving a talk at the Estonian Academy of Arts-2023-Photo Ott Kattel copy

The Shapes of Language

Exhibition language is universal but often feels empty: Interview with Cecilia Alemani on text and language in curatorial practice

Networking of the publishers of art magazines in Nordic and Baltic countries in Vilnius. The common language is obviously English. Photo by Inga Juodyte

We are still translated people


<p>Language plays an important role in framing visual art, presenting it as part of a historical narrative but also in creating new narratives. We can clearly see this at the current permanent exhibition <em>Landscapes of Identity</em> at the Kumu Art Museum in Tallinn, so we asked Kadi Polli, the director of the museum and one of the curators of the permanent display about the role of language in working with historical materials.</p>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p><em>Landscapes of Identity</em> focuses on art created by various communities in Estonia (Russian, Estonian, Baltic-German) and the entanglements these entail. However, these communities have very different linguistic traditions – what challenges did this pose for the museum in curating the exhibition?</p></div><div class="answer"><p>With <em>Landscapes of Identity</em> we did indeed want to show the entanglements between the Baltic-German, Russian and Estonian cultures instead of focusing on difference. German, Russian and Estonian have historically been the most prominent languages in Estonia and a large part of the Estonian cultural elite spoke all three. The same can be said about the imagery – there are a lot of similarities and transference of motifs. It is easy to see that many of the symbolic images in Estonian art – be it a girl in national dress, seaside views with glacial boulders or landscapes with village roads and heavy skies – are modelled after the 19th-century Russian salon painting or the landscapes created by the Düsseldorf school of painting.</p></div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj500M1810_1_pisipilt.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj500M1810_1_pisipilt-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj500M1810_1_pisipilt-300x165.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj500M1810_1_pisipilt.jpg 600w" data-sizes="auto" width="600" height="329" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Oskar Hoffmann (1851–1912), <em>On the Road to the Market</em> (1894–1899). Oil<br><br></figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>When it comes to the texts in the exhibition spaces more specifically, we decided in the beginning that we would use the three languages that are significant in Estonian culture, and add English as well. So, the exhibition speaks about Estonian art in four languages. This was a conceptual decision also when it comes to the introductory video, in which we hear German (Ulrike Plath), Russian (David Vseviov), Estonian (Krista Kodres) and English (Andres Kasekamp, Bart Pushaw). For the video, we chose people with different linguistic backgrounds, who all look at Estonian art and culture from the perspective of different communities, are familiar with both the national narrative and international context and are able to speak to an international audience. The exhibition texts are created with the same agenda in mind. Together with Linda Kaljundi we wanted the exhibition texts in different languages not to be exact translations of the same text but to consider the reader and provide a wider context to local terms, if necessary.</p>



<div class="q-and-a" class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block"><div class="question"><p>Language is, especially in Estonian culture, at the foundation of national identity – how can language be used in a way that different identities and voices could also be given enough space? What are some of the ways a contemporary museum can communicate the linguistic layers that accumulate in artworks and other artefacts during their lifetime, considering the fact that the life span of these objects is often much longer than that of people?</p></div><div class="answer"><p>For us, giving a voice to different communities did not only mean approaching these based on language or nationality. Although these were also a factor, for example, we highlighted the presence of Baltic-German and Russian artists in the art created during the Estonian Republic at the beginning of the 20th century. But it was equally important to give visibility to women artists and those of a different class or race. It is not unimportant in Estonian art history that women artists have notably featured more marginalised people; for example, Natalie Mei has created profound drawings looking at single mothers and prostitution.</p></div></div>



<p>When working with art from earlier periods, we inevitably came across those linguistic layers that were exposed in earlier descriptions and titles of artworks. This is a whole other discussion that leads to the recognition that the titles of artworks are an important part of art history. Updating these is, in fact, the task of art and memory institutions, be it done due to new research and discoveries or the changing meanings of language and terms over time.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-two-images-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574-211x300.jpg 211w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574-555x788.jpg 555w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574.jpg 563w" data-sizes="auto" width="563" height="800" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption1>Natalie Mei, <em>Women</em>, 1928</figcaption1><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj49962_G28327_Mei_Ema_lapsega_ASC0605.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj49962_G28327_Mei_Ema_lapsega_ASC0605-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj49962_G28327_Mei_Ema_lapsega_ASC0605-181x300.jpg 181w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj49962_G28327_Mei_Ema_lapsega_ASC0605-475x788.jpg 475w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/EKMj49962_G28327_Mei_Ema_lapsega_ASC0605.jpg 482w" data-sizes="auto" width="482" height="800" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Natalie Mei, <em>Mother with Child</em>, 1928</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


EKM02651_G04969_Mei_Naised_ASC0574

We wanted to show entanglements instead of focusing on difference


<p>The 2023 summer issue of A Shade Colder, <em>Flesh in Tension</em> takes a closer look at fleshy matters. Our flesh and body shape our day-to-day existence as much as our intellect and emotions, it cannot be separated from how we perceive and are perceived in the world. It allows us to be human and, in fact, makes us human – a significant part of our particularities and specific experiences exist within our flesh. Our flesh and body often determine how we are perceived and perceive ourselves and does so before anything else. These perceptions are influenced by a variety of social, historical, economic and cultural forces, a network of systems chafing against human flesh – wearing, grinding, elevating, exciting, cultivating us into what we are constantly becoming, while we try to persist and sustain ourselves. To delve deeper into the tensions between these systems and the flesh, the issue features texts on work, gender, performance, stereotypes, architecture and disability.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-292x300.jpg 292w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-997x1024.jpg 997w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-767x788.jpg 767w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-986x1013.jpg 986w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-1095x1125.jpg 1095w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-1314x1350.jpg 1314w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-1752x1800.jpg 1752w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-1916x1969.jpg 1916w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/asc5-veebi-copy-1-scaled.jpg 2492w" data-sizes="auto" width="2492" height="2560" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm, <em>Flesh in Tension</em>, 2023</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p><strong>Airi Triisberg</strong> writes about the importance of sustaining yourself materially in a precarious world, more precisely about wages for art work, accompanied by visuals by <strong>Zody Burke</strong>. In his interview with <strong>Heneliis Notton</strong> Samira Elagoz discusses performing gender and the gendered gaze in his newest film <em>Seeking Bromance</em>. Exploring the appeal of blonde hair both in Estonian art and among women, <strong>Marge Monko</strong> takes a closer look at the role of genetics, national imagery and pop culture.</p>



<p><strong>Ingrid Ruudi</strong> writes about bodies existing within regimes that gladly render them invisible, disregard their needs and particularities, uncovering the spatial politics of disability in late Soviet Estonia. Looking further into the relationship between architecture and bodies, <strong>Kaarin Kivirähk</strong> interviews Aet Ader, Arvi Anderson and Mari Möldre about their project <em>Home Stage</em>, presented at this year’s Architecture Biennale in Venice, focusing on the contradiction of homes as a place to create a life in and a piece of real estate with exchange value. And in their poem <strong>nick von kleist</strong> invites the reader to spiral between nature and screens, as much as bodied or disembodied tensions in the reader allow.</p>



<p>Of course, tension can produce alertness, anxiety or make a person freeze in their flow to examine the systems that rub away at their fleshy bits. But there also can be pleasure and playfulness in tension – so perhaps it is better to really gaze deeply into this tension from time to time rather than let it slowly eat away at our tender flesh.</p>


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Flesh in Tension

Editorial. Flesh in Tension


<p>Timelines are often used as tools for (re)arranging narratives about the past and equally so for creating future projections. Compiling a timeline also means including certain events, people and perspectives, and excluding others. Sometimes projected timelines become disrupted or broken due to historical and/or personal events – how do we refocus and re-evaluate to regain our bearings? Sometimes, shifting timelines can seem like an impossible task but focusing alternative and parallel timelines can also create new knowledge, contributing towards a new future.</p>



<p>Art historical timelines are tricky – artists and works are attached to and detached from the dominant timeline, be it due to the changing political, social or cultural circumstances. <strong>Eha Komissarov</strong>, a curator at the Art Museum of Estonia discusses the changes she has witnessed during her 50-year career and the successes and failures of contributing to shaping art historical timelines. This issue of A Shade Colder opens up works by the Estonian printmaker <strong>Concordia Klar</strong>, whose Surrealism influenced works are increasingly being highlighted again and for the first time ever, her poems have now been translated into English.</p>



<p>Alongside more powerful narratives, parallel and supplemental timelines always also run. Sometimes we only notice these in hindsight, at first finding tiny specs of them in-between oppression and oblivion. <strong>Mari Vallikivi</strong>’s and <strong>Thomas Röske</strong>’s research into art created by non-professional and mentally ill artists exposes a variety of factors contributing to the side-lining of these practices, while <strong>Brigit Arop</strong> highlights how small initiatives weave themselves into the institutionalised art world.</p>



<p>Massive political and social disruptions that tear up everything on their way force people to rethink familiar timelines once used to orient themselves towards a future – a future that will now never happen. A Shade Colder dives into how the work of various art professionals has been altered since Russia launched their full-scale war against Ukraine. <strong>Aro Velmet</strong> looks at the material consequences that often come with a shift in thinking – the differences between the monument wars in the East and the West.</p>



<p>On a path of uncertainty, we give alternative names to things that are unknown or too painful to speak of. We shift our thinking to another plane, a mythical timeline of metaphors and archetypes. <strong>Kaarin Kivirähk</strong> seeks out creatures born out of this imagination and traces their existence in the lesser-known border areas. The map of the monsters of Tallinn by <strong>Angela Maasalu</strong> and <strong>Jaak Juske</strong> lay outside historical, mythological and contemporary narratives that are deeply enmeshed in the psychological and physical space of the city.</p>



<p>In an effort to contribute to envisioning more hopeful and safe future timelines, A Shade Colder will continue donating 50% of the proceeds of our sales to the Ukrainian Emergency Art Fund.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-300x202.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-1024x688.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-1172x788.jpg 1172w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-1507x1013.jpg 1507w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-1673x1125.jpg 1673w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-2008x1350.jpg 2008w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-2677x1800.jpg 2677w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-2929x1969.jpg 2929w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Final_illu-veebi-1-scaled.jpg 2560w" data-sizes="auto" width="2560" height="1721" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm, <em>Shifting Timelines</em>, 2023</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


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Shifting Timelines

Editorial. Shifting Timelines


<p>”Nature” was invented to separate wholes from their parts, things from each other, and us from the rest of the world.<sup class="modern-footnotes-footnote " data-mfn="1" data-mfn-post-scope="00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391"><a href="javascript:void(0)"  role="button" aria-pressed="false" aria-describedby="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-1">1</a></sup><span id="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-1" role="tooltip" class="modern-footnotes-footnote__note" tabindex="0" data-mfn="1">Gardner, C. 2018. <em>(proem: against nature)</em> in <em>Naturally It Is Not</em>. Sutton: The 87 Press, p 1</span> And the thing that dissects these parts further and cuts nature into landscapes is the human eye. Observable expanses of nature become something to be enjoyed, explored, documented and categorised. But they cannot always be neatly quantified – there are several parallel timelines and imaginaries present in any landscape at any given time. These timelines run at unequal speeds – geological time, for example, moves at a different pace than that of organic life. Therefore, the appearance and disappearance of different types of material in the landscape also follow different logics, even if accelerated or hindered by human intervention.</p>



<p>Regardless of pace, landscapes are always sites of transformation and mutation, where a variety of imaginaries exists simultaneously – places where ecological, political and social concerns entwine with mythological, folkloric and magical thinking.</p>



<p>What follows here is a tentative look at landscapes and their echoes in material-focused artworks. But rather than rendering landscapes in pictures, in the tradition of landscape painting or drawing, or trying to capture landscapes in their totality, in material-based practices, only parts of the landscapes are materialised. Nevertheless, the landscapes and worlds these objects suggest, from which they sprout are equally rewarding to imagine, allowing us to question our own understanding of the relationship between the whole and its parts.</p>



<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><strong>Regeneration of what?</strong></h2>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22.png" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-150x150.png 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-199x300.png 199w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-680x1024.png 680w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-523x788.png 523w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-673x1013.png 673w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-747x1125.png 747w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22-897x1350.png 897w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Screenshot-2022-11-16-at-16.22.22.png 1088w" data-sizes="auto" width="1088" height="1638" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Laura Põld. Wasteland (The Phosphorite War). 2021. Exhibition view. Photo: Marek Mäemets</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>As the human eye glances at stone, it is designated a resource and the process of its industrialisation begins. And so, Laura Põld’s series of lumpy grey clay sculptures fitted with water, smoke and light, too, evoke an industrial landscape. Titled <em>Wasteland (The Phosphorite War)</em>, it is not an image of factories and production but rather an exhausted and abandoned terrain. The title of the work references a very specific moment in time – an extensive environmental campaign in the 1980s against opening large scale phosphorite mines in the eastern part of Estonia, which at the time was part of the Soviet Union. In addition to standing successfully against Soviet industrialisation, the campaign notably strengthened the national movement, which later led to restoring of the country’s independence. The work also resonates with the current energy crisis and the related questions of energy autonomy and security. Even though the landscape once withstood the threat of colonial extractive industrialisation, is the mining of resources that led to increased environmental damage justified now, when it is no longer done by colonial powers? It is, of course, always a question of ownership of resources and the scale of extraction – will it lead to devastation or leave room for regeneration?</p>



<p>Although Põld’s work materialises industrialised wastelands, landscapes that are transformed by humans, she does not only address the possible environmental cost of industrial extraction but also considers the possible agency of the mineral matter. Through her amorphous objects and somewhat more dynamic elements of smoke and water, she consciously looks at the weirdness of minerals, resisting the singular view of resourcification. Her perspective on the natural world is not scientific and concerned with presenting a factual image but rather different sensibilities present and the possibilities of what else, besides resources, can be (re)generated in the landscape and what else comes alive there, what kind of fruit can it bear.</p>



<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><strong>Return is not advisable</strong></h2>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-300x199.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-1024x680.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-1186x788.jpg 1186w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-1525x1013.jpg 1525w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761-1694x1125.jpg 1694w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_R_7004_7005_Vormid_Oun_1975-elo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC1761.jpg 1778w" data-sizes="auto" width="1778" height="1181" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Elo Järv. Forms Apple I, II. 1975. Photo: Estonian Museum of Applied Art and Design</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>In these landscapes, even the most familiar of fruits can bewilder us – at first glance seemingly rotting, the apples are actually leather. In an uncanny mutation, plant and animal have merged, making it a troubling effort to imagine an ecosystem capable of producing such apples.</p>



<p>The pair of leather apples is created by the artist Elo Järv (1939–2018). She is primarily known for her leather sculptures and even though her work is most often categorised as applied art, her practice stands out among her peers in terms of the unconventional use of materials. Järv’s work presents an abundance of nature motifs but often hints at mythology and the unseen forces shaping our understanding of the natural world. The materiality of leather in her sculptures brings a visceral and sometimes eerie dimension to objects, making them perhaps a little difficult to place and suggesting strange and wondrous (natural) worlds, as we see in <em>My Insectivorous Totem</em> (1995) and <em>Insect</em> (1996), for example. It is difficult to say, whether the mutated forms hail from a place of disquiet or calm, but at times caution should be exercised, as suggested by the pair of spindly formations <em>Return Is Not Advisable I, II</em> (1994).</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-scaled.jpeg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-150x150.jpeg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-253x300.jpeg 253w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-863x1024.jpeg 863w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-664x788.jpeg 664w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-854x1013.jpeg 854w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-948x1125.jpeg 948w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-1138x1350.jpeg 1138w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-1518x1800.jpeg 1518w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-1660x1969.jpeg 1660w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Jarv-Return-scaled.jpeg 2158w" data-sizes="auto" width="2158" height="2560" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Elo Järv. Return Is Not Advisable I, II. 1994. Image: reproduction from Classics. Elo Järv.</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>It is not only non-humans that exist in these spaces, anthropomorphic forms with their leathery bodies and faces often appear among Järv’s creatures as well. It is not exactly clear if these humanoids are autonomous beings, their shells, shrouds or other representations of memory. Regardless, looking at Järv’s sculptures, I recall <em>The Bog Man</em> – a short story by Margaret Atwood, in which the protagonist Julie has an affair with an archaeologist excavating a bog body and recalling the man years later, she finds herself conflating her former lover and the dead man in her mind: ”Connor, however, loses in substance every time she forms him in words. He becomes flatter and more leathery, more life goes out of him, he becomes more dead. By this time, he is almost an anecdote, and Julie is almost old.”</p>



<p>Indeed, the passing of time is an important aspect to consider when looking at Järv’s sculptures. As time passes and human is no longer a measure of everything, it becomes more of a body than a person. This is emphasised by the instability of organic matter that sits at the forefront of her works. Unlike bronze or stone sculptures, the fragility of the material is almost palpable. This is something Järv is also very much aware of. The work <em>Old Leather Returns</em> (1999) contains an obvious reference to the material and the possibility of re-use and recontextualisation, but is also perhaps suggesting something more sinister – a return from or to a place where return is not advisable.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-199x300.jpg 199w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-680x1024.jpg 680w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-523x788.jpg 523w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-672x1013.jpg 672w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-747x1125.jpg 747w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272-896x1350.jpg 896w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/ETDM_Na_1968_Oo.-Nagu_1994-Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272.jpg 1181w" data-sizes="auto" width="1181" height="1779" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Elo Järv. Night. Face. 1994. Photo: Estonian Museum of Applied Art and Design</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><strong>It sprawls</strong></h2>



<p>The increasing industrial devastation of landscapes also sets limits to what we imagine possible in and for the landscape, making people aware of the very real danger of soon having nothing to return to.</p>



<p>The performance and textile-based work of the collective Sorcerer evokes the industrial landscapes populated and polluted by massive textile waste. Their imagination relies heavily on poetics but is also not detached from the real landscapes from which dispossessed creatures, neither human or animal, arise. Using recycled materials, they look at industrialisation and its spawns, while also presenting a more magical view of the world.</p>



<p>In their latest installation <em>Lustwort</em>, created as part of Heinrich Sepp’s work <em>Made of What</em> (2022), they contemplate the queer materiality of the bog, a type of landscape that does not easily submit to rule and industrialisation, despite having historically been subject to it. Writing on swamp modernity, Egle Rindzevičiūtė says: ”The swamp is antithetical to the linear, mechanistic mind. It defies communication enabled by clear waterways, resists agriculture, and questions human mastery of both territory and living matter. In cultural terms, the swamp stands for tradition, something that is the enemy of progress in the framework of modernization theory.”<sup class="modern-footnotes-footnote " data-mfn="2" data-mfn-post-scope="00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391"><a href="javascript:void(0)"  role="button" aria-pressed="false" aria-describedby="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-2">2</a></sup><span id="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-2" role="tooltip" class="modern-footnotes-footnote__note" tabindex="0" data-mfn="2">Rindzevičiūtė, E. 2019. <em>The Swamp Modernity</em> in <em>Swamps and the New Imagination: On the Future of Immaterial Materiality in Art, Architecture and Philosophy</em>, edited by Nomeda Urbonas and Gediminas Urbonas, MIT Press, p 7. Available at: https://www.academia.edu/40047910/The_Swamp_Modernity</span> Standing against the drive to make the bog into something productive, the installation also discards the romantic ideal of becoming one with nature, emphasising the ungovernability of the bog. In opposition to the often-drawn parallel between the feminine and nature, Elvia Wilk has written about women becoming landscape not as a natural process but as an act of non-compliance: ”This is the type of resistance that women and other supposedly unstable bodies have been cultivating for centuries because they’ve had to”.<sup class="modern-footnotes-footnote " data-mfn="3" data-mfn-post-scope="00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391"><a href="javascript:void(0)"  role="button" aria-pressed="false" aria-describedby="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-3">3</a></sup><span id="mfn-content-00000000000003b20000000000000000_1391-3" role="tooltip" class="modern-footnotes-footnote__note" tabindex="0" data-mfn="3">Wilk, E. 2022. 2022. <em>Death by Landscape.</em> New York: Soft Skull Press,&nbsp; pp 9–10</span></p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-1519x1013.jpg 1519w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-1687x1125.jpg 1687w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-2025x1350.jpg 2025w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-2699x1800.jpg 2699w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-2953x1969.jpg 2953w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/MG_0765_Koolnu_jalad_Krikman_Linnagalerii_2022_photo_Paul_Kuimet-copy_-scaled.jpg 2560w" data-sizes="auto" width="2560" height="1707" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Sorcerer. Lustwort as part of Heinrich Sepp’s installation Made of What. 2022. Exhibition view. Photo: Paul Kuimet. Courtesy of Tallinn Art Hall</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>As the climate, and landscapes with it, increasingly slip out of human control, perhaps a similar process of non-compliance becomes the norm as we blend into the composite landscapes of material of varying origin, both human and not, and become one with our waste. There is always something monstrous in entities that remain ungovernable and unreproductive – uncertain landscapes populated by monsters, or perhaps, these landscapes are the monsters.</p>



<p></p>


ETDM_Na_1968_Öö. Nägu_1994 Aelo_jarv_etdm_ivar_veermae_DSC2272

Whispers in the Landscape

Parallel formations


<p>In the heat of the summer, everything is thirsty – it is the season of growth and, eventually, of ripening. Above all, thirst is a sensation of lack, a yearning for liquid, for water, and is deeply ingrained in all life, as living bodies consist of water, and life is bound in it. It also contains an element of intense desire for something or someone. So, as much as we are made of water, we are made of thirst, propelling us forward; this is blackout, heat, desire for flesh, sex, life, blood, anything.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-scaled.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-188x300.jpg 188w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-643x1024.jpg 643w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-495x788.jpg 495w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-636x1013.jpg 636w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-707x1125.jpg 707w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-848x1350.jpg 848w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-1131x1800.jpg 1131w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-1237x1969.jpg 1237w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/finale-scaled.jpg 1608w" data-sizes="auto" width="1608" height="2560" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Illustration: Martina Gofman and Johanna Ruukholm, <em>Thirst</em>, 2022</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>The summer issue of A Shade Colder titled <em>Thirst</em> offers a glimpse into the spectre of thirst. Viewing thirst at the touching points with the natural world, we invite you to explore the floral fantasias of the painter Malle Leis, as seen through the eyes of Andrew Berardini. Leis’ lush world of plants evokes a sensuality guiding the reader towards an endless summer. This is often best spent in the farther reaches of the land, as Leis did in Võrumaa in southern Estonia. In the current&nbsp;issue Kaarin Kivirähk also profiles the art scene in the city of Võru. On another kind of journey, artist Rebecca Jagoe steps into the wet realms of the sea, pondering the eroticism of liquid states in their <em>Ofthyrst</em>.</p>



<p>Thirst as yearning is also the starting point for an interview by the curator and writer Max Hannus with artists Sarah Nõmm and Maria Izabella Lehtsaar. How much of yourself or your desires and struggles is it acceptable to put into artistic work in a visible way without hurting yourself or appearing too thirsty? Among other things, the conversation discusses gentleness, queerness and intimacy. To accompany the piece, artist Elo Vahtrik has created collages based on the works of the two artists.</p>



<p>But alongside the thirst for life and everything it entails, there are also darker shades to thirst. Thirst always seems to balance between existence and non-existence – bringing things into this world and making them disappear, while thriving on lack.</p>



<p>As the events of Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine in the past months have once again made clear, the thirst for life can easily be devastated by the thirst for blood. Although, considering the unnecessary destruction it causes and its senselessness, perhaps, the English expression <em>lust</em> <em>for blood</em> is more apt here. And while the echoes of the war in the artworld pale in comparison to the real-life destruction it sows, nothing is left untouched. Do images still have power and how can we re-evaluate that power and the context in which they came into existence and inhabit the world in the present? To tackle some of these questions, curator Liisa Kaljula writes about the curatorial and administrative choices made when recontextualising the exhibition <em>Thinking Pictures</em> at Kumu Art Museum.</p>



<p>In whichever way we experience thirst, most likely its intensity will change us to some degree, so let us be aware not to get lost in it and have kindness towards others who have yet to emerge from the experience.</p>


finale

Thirst

Editorial. Thirst

A Shade Colder is a platform for discussions about and around art in Estonia and beyond.

Keiu Krikmann Keiu Krikmann is the editor of A Shade Colder.

Uncertain Territories

Editorial. Uncertain Territories

Looking for Localities

Editorial. Looking for Localities

The Many Faces of You

Editorial. The Many Faces of You

The Shapes of Language

Exhibition language is universal but often feels empty: Interview with Cecilia Alemani on text and language in curatorial practice

The Shapes of Language

We are still translated people

The Shapes of Language

We wanted to show entanglements instead of focusing on difference

Flesh in Tension

Editorial. Flesh in Tension

Shifting Timelines

Editorial. Shifting Timelines

Whispers in the Landscape

Parallel formations

Thirst

Editorial. Thirst

Keiu Krikmann

Keiu Krikmann is the editor of A Shade Colder.