kaas

Practices in Dialogue


<p><strong>Kaarin Kivirähk</strong> is the editor-in-chief of A Shade Colder.</p>


Kaarin Kivirähk


<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Illukas-10-copy.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm, <strong>Practices in Dialogue</strong>, 2025</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p><em>&#8220;Anna-Stina Treumund, what would you do today?&#8221;</em> asks <strong>Rebeka Põldsam</strong> in an article that opens the 10th issue of A Shade Colder, <em>Practices in Dialogue</em>.&nbsp;</p>



<p><strong>Anna-Stina Treumund</strong> was a bold artist, recognised as the first lesbian artist in Estonia. She was also a good friend of the author and a posthumous solo exhibition at Kumu, the largest art museum in Estonia, explores her contribution. Like friendly ghosts, the friends or people you admire and who are no longer here can often still inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. The dialogue continues.&nbsp;</p>



<p>In this issue, A Shade Colder focuses on these and other kinds of dialogues between artists, performers and curators whose practices are shaping the art scene in Estonia and elsewhere.&nbsp;</p>



<p>In the interview by <strong>Kathrin Heinrich</strong>, performance artist <strong>Netti Nüganen</strong> opens up about how she builds worlds on stage: often starting from learning a new technique, such as playing the banjo or black metal singing and then embarks on creating the performance based on these skills.&nbsp;</p>



<p>Absurd moments and humour are something that might form a thread that connects Nüganen and the worlds created by artist <strong>Kaarel Kurismaa</strong>. Interviewed by artist and close collaborator <strong>Kiwa</strong>, Kurismaa openly reflects on his long practice that began by organising happenings while in art school in the 1950s. In early 2026, Kurismaa will open a solo show at Kunsthalle Zürich.&nbsp;</p>



<p><strong>Vanina Saracino</strong> writes about the works of artist <strong>Kristina Õllek</strong>, one of the most internationally active artists in Estonia at the moment. Saracino has been in dialogue with Õllek for many years. <em>&#8220;How can image-making reveal what remains unseen, the invisible infrastructures and living processes that sustain the planet?&#8221;</em> she asks.&nbsp;</p>



<p>Last but not least, I interview <strong>Paul O’Neill</strong>, a curator based in Helsinki, whose project, started many years ago, aims to bring curators of the region together and create a non-hierarchical platform to discuss the roles and activities that shape our everyday – a call for dialogue with the potential to find completely new forms of practice.</p>


Illukas-10 copy


<p><strong>Rebeka Põldsam</strong> is Research Fellow in Ethnology at University of Tartu. She is currently working on the project <em>Imagining Queer Aging Futures – A Study of LGBTQ Aging in Estonia, Poland and Sweden</em>. In 2023, she defended her doctoral dissertation <em>Why are we still abnormal?! History of Discourses on Non-Normative Sex-Gender Subjects</em> in Estonia at the University of Tartu. Põldsam is also a freelance feminist art curator and a visiting lecturer at the Estonian Academy of Arts.</p>


Rebeka Põldsam

3. Võrk I copy

Anna-Stina Treumund, what would you do today?


<p><strong>Kiwa</strong> (Kiwanoid as sound artist) is an Estonian multichannel meta-artist, publisher, writer and neoist.</p>


Kiwa

Dripping Sounds

With humour, the absurd and seriousness I emerged. Bop and bop! – Interview with Kaarel Kurismaa


<p><strong>Kathrin Heinrich</strong> is an art historian, writer and critic based in Vienna, Austria. She currently works at mdw – University for Music and Performing Arts, organising the yearly interdisciplinary summer school isaResearch. Her writing has been published in magazines and newspapers such as frieze, springerin, Texte zur Kunst, Der Standard, and Süddeutsche Zeitung.</p>


Kathrin Heinrich


<p>In her stage and video works, Estonian performance artist and musician Netti Nüganen becomes, among others, a weightlifter, teenage vlogger, detective, historian and cowboy. Her characters allow her to build and deconstruct narratives crucial to her method of understanding the gaps between recognisable references and language, as she puts it. A graduate of the School for New Dance Development (SNDO) in Amsterdam, her works have been shown internationally, while also touring with Florentina Holzinger’s ensemble pieces since 2017. During a recent conversation in Vienna, where she has been living for the past three years, Netti discussed her evolving practice of world-building through performance with Kathrin Heinrich – from sound experiments and fragmented storytelling to the theatrical traps she seeks to escape.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block aligncenter"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Ash-Ive-Trojanovic.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Netti Nüganen. <em>Ash, Horizon, Riding a House</em>, 2025. Photo: Ive Trojanovic</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>Kathrin Heinrich: Storytelling looms large in your work. Your most recent performance, <em>Ash, Horizon, Riding a House </em>(2025) is centred around a set made of ice, in which you and two collaborators Pire Sova and Michaela Kisling reflect on identity and belonging as fluid constructs. In it, you embody different characters, such as a real-estate agent, an auctioneer and a tourist. How do you start world-building for a performance?</strong></div><div class="answer">Netti Nüganen: It usually begins in a very solitary context, with a topic or a cluster of questions. For<em> Ash, Horizon, Riding a House</em>, it started with observing myself as a tourist – travelling to where I was born, where I live, and to a completely new place. The actual world-building is a little more hands-on: I often start by learning a new technique. For this piece, I became fascinated by the banjo and by country music, its relationship to landscape and nostalgia. I was interested in how country music romanticises the rural, and – being critical of that – in trying to find a new way to look at country as a genre by relating it to black metal. Because black metal also looks at nature, but rather through a dystopian lens.<br></div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: You actually learned the banjo for this piece. How does that fit into your practice?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: I did, yes. I’ve always worked with sound, but only recently dared to start calling myself a musician. I played piano, violin, and harp for years and I work a lot with my voice. With the banjo, I took classes for some time, but then I went rogue. I also started composing rogue because I’m not interested in the proper patterns. When you have the ability to improvise or be curious about different ways of doing things, something more interesting happens. I also continued my vocal work with screaming textures, which started in the performance <em>The Myth: Last Day</em> (2022). That physical intensity stayed with me, and I began relating it to banjo playing, with a bow and pedals to develop my own sound technique. I also started learning auctioneering – that fast-paced, rhythmic speech – which I’m still practicing.</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/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-200x300.jpg 200w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-682x1024.jpg 682w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-525x788.jpg 525w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-675x1013.jpg 675w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-750x1125.jpg 750w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy-900x1350.jpg 900w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-100-copy.jpg 1111w" data-sizes="auto" width="1111" height="1667" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Netti Nüganen. <em>The Myth: Last Day</em>, 2022. Photo: Mayra Wallraff</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: Your works often have a strong dramaturgical structure. How do you decide what to show and what just to suggest?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: That’s the real hard work – finding the balance between clarity and abstraction. Sometimes you want things to be direct, but too much explanation can kill the magic. In <em>Ash</em>, I worked a lot with the symbol of the house: to what extent to keep it abstract or make it concrete. When I wear it on my body, sell it as a real estate agent, or walk with it, the image becomes theatrical, but also very real. In visual art, concrete images somehow feel freer; in theatre, concreteness can feel heavy or manipulative. One strategy to subvert this in my storytelling is fragmentation: stripping elements away and feeding the audience parts of the full image over time.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: You mentioned coming from a family of actors and directors. Does that background shape your relationship with theatricality?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: Definitely. I grew up surrounded by dramatic theatre – narratives with clear arcs and characters – and I’m constantly in dialogue with that tradition. I’m hyper-aware and critical of theatrical methods, so sometimes I intentionally go against what “works”. Still, I think the desire to tell stories naturally leads to theatricality. Once you get a narrative rolling, it becomes theatre.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: Many of your works also question how stories are told – almost like meta-histories.</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: Yes, I’m always considering how to tell a story. That reflection brings a meta-level: the tension between fantasy and the hardcore reality of the situation on stage. In <em>Myth</em>, for example, I speak in dialogue with myself – sometimes inside the fiction, sometimes acknowledging the reality of standing there, naked, talking. That oscillation between fantasy and the banal reality of performance is where the meta-level emerges. There is the fiction, the fantasy, but also the fact that we are here in this theatre together, sitting, right now.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: You’ve told me that the vlog-performance <em>THE STORY: chatty get ready, what I eat, workouts (realistic day in a life)</em> (2018) is one of your favourite works. Why?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: It was made very intuitively, with little analysis, and that freedom still feels close to me. It used the format of a vlog – I love YouTube and the confessional, intimate mode of vlogging. I made it while travelling in the US, especially in Los Angeles, where everything felt both deeply familiar from movies and television, and completely alien. That eerie mixture of recognition and estrangement fascinated me.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: The work has a dreamlike quality with a figure onstage echoing the video.</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: Yes, that figure was like a ghost, a double of myself. The performance was originally a diploma work, so it was also about defending my practice. I remember feeling like I was defending not just the piece, but my right to make it – to trust intuition over explanation.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: In theatre, people often talk about the Brechtian fourth wall. You don’t just break it, but seem to tear it down from the start. How do you think about the audience’s role in your performances?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: I think a lot about spectatorship, about attention. What kind of looking do I want to invite? Sometimes I want everyone to focus on one image; other times I prefer a landscape-like attention, where the viewer can look anywhere. Even boredom or drifting thought can be a valid mode of attention. In <em>Myth</em>, I imagined the audience as witnesses – like students or judges – but I didn’t realise that fully. Still, I want spectators to be active, not passive.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: Collaboration with other people is often part of your work, but you call yourself a solo artist.</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: I still work mostly alone. When I collaborate, it’s because I want someone to embody a specific function. In <em>Myth</em>, there was Johhan Rosenberg, a kind of ghost performer who could do anything. In <em>Ash</em>, the scenographer Pire Sova works onstage, painting and shaping the set – she’s the “holder of the ice”. There’s also Michaela Kisling, a DJ who holds the sound. But I rarely imagine full ensembles unless there’s a clear reason.</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-two-images-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-240x300.jpg 240w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-819x1024.jpg 819w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-630x788.jpg 630w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-810x1013.jpg 810w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-900x1125.jpg 900w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-1080x1350.jpg 1080w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-1439x1800.jpg 1439w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy-1575x1969.jpg 1575w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2025-05-02_TQW_RaketeFestival_C_Ronja-ElinaKappl_144-copy.jpg 1693w" data-sizes="auto" width="1693" height="2117" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption1>Netti Nüganen. <em>Ash, Horizon, Riding a House</em>, 2025. Photo: Ronja Elina Kappl</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/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-200x300.jpg 200w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-683x1024.jpg 683w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-526x788.jpg 526w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-676x1013.jpg 676w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-750x1125.jpg 750w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy-900x1350.jpg 900w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/The-Myth-last-day_©MayraWallraff-13-copy.jpg 945w" data-sizes="auto" width="945" height="1417" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Netti Nüganen. <em>The Myth: Last Day</em>, 2022. Photo: Mayra Wallraff</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: You also perform in a large ensemble in your day job. Does that influence your solo work?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: For sure. Working with Florentina Holzinger has shown me what’s possible on a big scale, especially in today’s political climate. Her work creates space for practices like mine, she’s made certain radical gestures feel normal. That visibility empowers smaller-scale artists too</div></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-q-and-a-block q-and-a"><div class="question"><strong>KH: How do you sustain your own practice while touring with her?</strong></div><div class="answer">NN: I work a lot on the road. My research travels with me, I don’t need a fixed studio. I’m slow in making new performances, partly because of touring, but I’m fine with that. Each project has multiple lives, multiple chapters. <em>Ash</em>, for instance, will likely become an installation and a sound piece.</div></div>



<p></p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block aligncenter"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/netti-nuganen_the-myth_last-day_photography-alan-proosa-104-copy.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Netti Nüganen. <em>The Myth: Last Day</em>, 2022. Photo: Alana Proosa</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


netti nüganen_the myth_last day_photography alan proosa-104 copy

Between Fantasy and Hardcore Reality: The Performance Worlds of Netti Nüganen


<p><strong>Vanina Saracino </strong>is an independent curator, film programmer, writer, and lecturer whose work explores the intersections of art and science, ecology, technology, experimental film and video, and art in the public space. Since 2021, she has taught at Berlin’s Universität der Künste and has spoken at numerous universities and cultural institutions. She has contributed to several  books and catalogues, and holds degrees in Communication Sciences, Arts Management, and Art Theory.</p>


Vanina Saracino


<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/1_detail_breathing-deep-currency_5_kristina_ollek_2025.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><strong>Breathing Deep Currency</strong>, 2025, Installation. Detail view to <strong>Manganese</strong> (2025) as part of the installation. Inkjet print with grown sea salt, 51 x 29 cm, Aluminium tube frame with clay, 66 x 64cm. Commissioned by Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, for the group show For All At Last Return, curated by Emma Dean. Courtesy of the artist. Photo: Kristina Õllek</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>In her Tallinn studio, Kristina Õllek was finalising a new installation for the group exhibition <em>For All at Last Return</em>, curated by Emma Dean and opening on 8 November 2025 at the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art (UK). October sunlight filtered through the windows, landing on a crucial element of the installation: a series of screen-like surfaces where sea salt, algae, bacteria, and other marine materials were growing, depositing, and transforming through natural processes. These hybrid interfaces, in which environmental matter produces its own forms of imaging, form the foundation of complex assemblages combining video, photography and sculptural elements.</p>



<p>Over the past five years since our last collaboration (<em>Tiger in Space</em>, EKKM, 2020, curated with Marten Esko and Lea Vene), Õllek’s artistic research on marine ecologies has evolved alongside the intensifying condition of climate breakdown, responding to human impact on the oceans with work that is both materially rigorous and conceptually expansive. This autumn, she is taking part in <em>Down Deep. Living Seas, Living Bodies</em> (State Art Gallery Sopot, Poland), curated by Joseph Constable, and<em> just juuri nüüd nyt</em> (Foku gallery, Tallinn), curated by Hertta Kiiski, among others, while she also prepares another newly commissioned work for Dulwich Picture Gallery next year (a duo show in London with Konrad Mägi in collaboration with Kumu Art Museum, curated by Kathleen Soriano), and a duo show with Tuomas A. Laitinen, curated by Anna Mustonen in 2027 in Finland.&nbsp;</p>



<p>Across all these years, the sea has remained her constant and closest collaborator.</p>



<p>Õllek’s new work <em>Breathing Deep Currency</em> for the Baltic continues a trajectory that began with <em>Nautilus New Era</em> (2018), inspired by Jules Verne’s <em>Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea</em> (1870). In Verne’s story, Captain Nemo speaks of rich metal deposits on the ocean floor, suggesting that their extraction might one day be within reach. This proto-science-fiction fantasy has now become a tangible reality and a political, economic, and ethical issue of our time: deep-sea mining is promoted as a necessary step in the transition to renewable sources of energy, with rare-earth and other minerals such as manganese (a critical industrial metal for steel and battery production) deemed essential for renewable technologies. This promise reflects a Promethean belief in salvation through technology, even as we persist in the paradox of extracting and accumulating ever more. It comes at a devastating cost: the minerals may fuel the illusion of a sustainable future, but fragile ecosystems, seafloor habitats, and countless species are destroyed in the process. It is difficult to believe that any new technology could improve environmental conditions within a system that imposes no limits on growth and extraction on a finite planet. For now, the only certainty remains what it has always been: the expanding profits of the corporations involved.</p>



<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><strong>Finding Dark Oxygen</strong></h2>



<p>While preparing her recent work, Õllek was in dialogue with marine scientists at the University of Newcastle, who study deep-sea ecologies. The encounter between scientists and artists is, in many ways, an encounter between different worldviews and methodologies: distinct ways of knowing, perceiving, and, above all, doing research. “Each scientist has a very deep knowledge of a very specific focus”, Õllek told me, “but they often avoid discussing broader implications. They’re careful not to express personal views”. Unlike scientific research, artistic research inhabits a state of perpetual becoming, where unexpected knowledge emerges through exploration, transformation, and speculative practice – always open, never fully complete. Õllek noted how scientific freedom is increasingly constrained by funding and private interests: “A senior scientist told me my work was inspiring because artists still have the freedom to explore ideas scientists can’t always pursue. Science once allowed more experimentation, but now funding and expectations direct it.”</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-two-images-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/9_powered_by_installationviews_2020_kristinaollek__5-copy-copy2.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption1><strong>Powered By</strong>, 2020. Bioplastic, 110×170 cm aluminium frame, UV print on plexiglass, spirulina powder, emerald green pigment, clay, fountain, water, energy drink cans, bioplastic-epoxy panels, adjustable holders. Installation view (detail), group exhibition <strong>Tiger in Space </strong>(2020) at EKKM – Contemporary Art Museum of Estonia, Tallinn, 2020. Curated by Marten Esko, Vanina Saracino, and Lea Vene. Photo: Kristina Õllek</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/2025/10/4_powered_by_installationviews_2020_kristinaollek__5-copy.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><strong>Powered By</strong>, 2020.</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>Among the discoveries that most struck Õllek was from a decade-long study by the Scottish Association for Marine Science, whose results were published in 2024, which revealed a second source of oxygen produced entirely without sunlight, on the deep ocean floors. ‘Dark Oxygen’ (a colloquial name) is generated by manganese nodules in complete darkness, and suggests that entire ecosystems may depend on non-photosynthetic oxygen production. This view radically challenges our assumptions about where and how life can exist, and thus potentially redefines the parameters for searching for it beyond our planet. Yet these findings often conflict with the interests of the mining companies funding such research. “When the scientists published their discovery” Õllek said, “the mining company tried to downplay the results as it could hinder extraction. The scientists had to stand against them, and also find another funding source to continue their research. It’s been concerning to learn that some researchers may even face pressure to remain silent or to expose only a partial result of their findings.”Õllek’s practice dwells in the tension between human extraction and the resilience of life, exploring the often-invisible processes that sustain oceanic ecosystems, and a deep awareness of how much remains unknown. Her works occupy these interstitial zones, where boundaries between organic and synthetic, human and non-human, scientific and fictional become porous. <em>Nautilus New Era</em> already reflected this tension, imagining the ocean as a techno-political landscape of both wonder and exhaustion. Her new body of work deepens that inquiry departing from the recent discovery of Dark Oxygen, asking how image-making can reveal what remains unseen, the invisible infrastructures and living processes that sustain the planet.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-two-images-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-1024x682.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-1520x1013.jpg 1520w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique-1688x1125.jpg 1688w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2_nautilus_new_era_kristinaollek_2018_08_le-lieu-unique.jpg 1772w" data-sizes="auto" width="1772" height="1181" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption1><strong>Nautilus New Era</strong>, 2018. Diasec print 150 x 200 cm, blue silicone gel pads, air compressor spiral hose, cobalt-pigmented sand, UV print, plexiglass 24 x 17 cm, tablet holder, UV print on acrylic 37 x 47 cm (thermo-formed, handmade), UV print on acrylic 24 x 30 cm (thermo-formed, handmade), video with sound 11’ 38’’, headphones, wondergel cushions, memory foam, 3 dark gray fibo blocks. The work was commissioned by the Art Museum of Estonia Foundation and Le Lieu Unique. Installation view (detail), group exhibition <strong>Beyond the Liquid Horizon</strong> at Le Lieu Unique, Nantes, curated by Kati Ilves. Photo: Kristina Õllek<br><br></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/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-1519x1013.jpg 1519w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2-1687x1125.jpg 1687w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/11_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_2.jpg 2008w" data-sizes="auto" width="2008" height="1339" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><strong>Nautilus New Era</strong>, 2018.</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><strong>Breathe in, breathe out</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/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-1520x1013.jpg 1520w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6-1688x1125.jpg 1688w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/7_powered_by_kristinaollek_installationview_2020_6.jpg 2121w" data-sizes="auto" width="2121" height="1414" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><strong>Powered By</strong>, 2020.</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p><em>Nautilus New Era</em> was one of the pieces Daniela Arriado and I were happiest to include in the Screen City Biennial 2019, which we curated together in several venues in Stavanger. The city, both the heart of Norway’s oil industry and a magnet for cruise tourism, embodied the contradictions of extractive practices that Õllek’s work investigates. The work was installed in the cruise terminal, a glass building overlooking the North Sea, which seemed the perfect setting for a work in which the sea itself is both subject and context. We had planned carefully around ship arrivals and departures, but on the day of the opening, a massive cruise liner unexpectedly docked just outside, eclipsing the horizon and transforming the work’s relationship to the sea. Suddenly, the installation appeared dwarfed by the machinery of consumption it sought to question. We laughed at the irony because control in the public space is always provisional: the environment inevitably responds in unpredictable ways that we prefer to embrace than oppose.&nbsp;</p>



<p>When the ship finally departed, the horizon reopened and the work regained its line of sight to the water, as if breathing again. But that short moment revealed something essential about the conditions we inhabit, and that Õllek’s practice captures sharply: that we persist through cycles of pressure and release, through the pulse between obstruction and renewal, visibility and concealment, contraction and expansion. A continuous, inevitable rhythm, that is mirrored in the act of breathing itself.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1.jpg" data-srcset="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-150x150.jpg 150w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-300x200.jpg 300w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-1182x788.jpg 1182w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-1519x1013.jpg 1519w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1-1687x1125.jpg 1687w, https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/10_view_nautilusnewera_kristinaollek_screencitybiennial_2019_1.jpg 2008w" data-sizes="auto" width="2008" height="1339" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption><em><strong>Nautilus New Era</strong></em>, 2018. Installation view (detail) at the international cruise terminal within the group show <em>Ecologies – Lost, Found, and Continued</em>, Screen City Biennial 2019, Stavanger (Norway), curated by Daniela Arriado and Vanina Saracino. Photo: Kristina Õllek<br><br></figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>


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Breath of the deep sea: Kristina Õllek


<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Peafoto_-Paul-O_Neill-speaking-at-Positioning.-Yelyzaveta-Babaieva-copy.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Paul O&#8217;Neill speaking at Positioning. Photo by Yelyzaveta Babaieva</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<p>During the first week of October this year, a four-day symposium on curating took place in Helsinki. Initiated by Paul O’Neill and PUBLICS, it was called <em>Positioning. A Symposium on Curatorial Thinking in the Nordic-Baltic Region and Beyond. </em>This year, the event was co-hosted with Amos Rex and Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma; in the upcoming years it will be happening elsewhere in the Nordic and Baltic countries. Bringing together an impressive list of curators both from the region and elsewhere, the symposium aimed to grasp the idea of what a curator’s role is today and how this can vary across countries, institutions and initiatives. We asked Paul O’Neill, the organiser and a researcher on curatorial thinking about his motivation behind bringing together a network of international curators.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-details-block details">What would you like to achieve with this vast, multi-year project? What is the core aim?</div>



<p>The aim is to establish a new nomadic centre for curatorial thinking – without a single main centre, or fixed location. Instead, it would be a centre that accounts for a cooperative decentring or recentring – one that is networked, unfixed, flexible and of regional significance while connecting to the breadth of knowledge here and beyond. This new Centre for Curatorial Thinking would focus on the significance of past and present thinking, knowledge and critiques within the practices of the curatorial.</p>



<p>This symposium aims to start with <em>positioning</em>a globally networked enquiry into current and future curatorial thinking in the Nordic-Baltic region during a time of urgencies, and of radical uncertainty for culture and human rights. We come together to consider how we can think and work together, how to position ourselves with others, and how to bridge the local-regional-global curatorial nexus within and beyond the region. We aim to provide a critical space for much-needed dialogue between diverse local and regional actors, agencies, and international contemporary art scenes, and all our extraordinary curatorial thinkers across generational and geographical boundaries.&nbsp;</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-details-block details">The event gathers curatorial thinkers from across the Nordic-Baltic region. Why focus on this region – how many topics and challenges do we share and in what ways are these countries different?</div>



<p>I think the Nordic-Baltic region needs more curatorial thinking, productive dialogues and cooperation across institutions and between differently located practices. There are already many geopolitical concerns and commonalities across the region.</p>



<p>There is also considerable disbalance between institutional scales where there are a lot of large-scale museums, institutions and academic structures (albeit constantly under threat) without offering sufficient support for independent, co-dependent and smaller scale curatorial, emergent and organisational practices.</p>



<p>There is a huge gap between those two scales without middle ground and medium-scale support structures to provide links between more grassroots and the top level and more stable infrastructures for curators, artists and cultural workers alike. Work needs to be done but without competing for the same agency, access or resources.</p>



<p>At the same time, we have seen the emergence of curatorially-led, but relatively new modestly scaled biennials, triennials and regionally specific larger-scale exhibitions with global perspectives. These are happening simultaneously with even newer curatorial studies and nascent exhibition histories and programmes focusing on the region and its surrounding relations. With the Centre for Curatorial Thinking we wish to decentre the activities of publics from Helsinki into the regions, whilst expanding our activities and collaborations with institutions, curators and artists alike, offering opportunities and support for one another.</p>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-two-images-block"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/2.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption1>Paul O&#8217;Neill in conversation with Lisa Rosendahl and Nkule Maboso at Positioning, in Publics. Photo by Aman Askarizad</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/2025/10/Positioning-at-Amos-Rex-30-September-2025.-Photo-by-Kerttu-Penttila-copy-2.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Positioning at Amos Rex, 30 September 2025. Photo by Kerttu Penttilä</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>



<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-details-block details">You’ve been researching curatorial thinking for many years, what makes this topic still relevant to you? Why do you think it matters?</div>



<p>After more than 30 years of increasingly intense curatorial production and debate – considering the foundation of the first curatorial courses in the late 1980s and early 1990s as a starting point – one aspect within curatorial discourse is the continued contestation of the existence and legitimacy of a specifically <em>curatorial</em> field of praxis. It seems that we are experiencing an ongoing discursive cycle of consolidation around curatorial practice at an increasingly global level.&nbsp;</p>



<p>During a similar timeframe, all across the globe, we have increasingly witnessed an ever-aggressive and accelerating reaction to globalism in the form of rejection, xenophobia (even in form of multiple genocides), and anti-internationalism in the form of the march and success of the populist Right, and its preference for autocratic men with names like Erdoğan, Modi, Netanyahu, Orbán, Putin, and Trump. What these leaders and their followers share, among other things, is a disdain for the liberal and humanist values of contemporary art and its permissiveness. It is the ideology of global curatorial and contemporary art practices, its proposed value, and its economic support structure – globalisation, and thus its creation of surplus value – that are under direct attack. It should also be noted that their policies are a response to the economic effects of neoliberal deregulation and global trade in favour of protectionism and neo-nationalism.</p>



<p>So by focusing on the differences and commonalities of forms and modes of curatorial thinking we can bring into focus where we are positioned and how we might come to know more, and to share and to offer opposition or modest modes of resistance. I like to think of <em>positioning</em> as situated knowledge, or simply as the practice of locating where someone or something is located or sited; how we are arranging ourselves or something in a particular way, how someone or something is placed or arranged; putting or arranging (someone or something) in a particular location or specific way. Taking up a position, <em>taking a stance</em>, and of <em>positioning oneself</em> <em>with others </em>as a means of informing art, curatorial, educational and institutional practices as much as they shape the world around us.</p>



<p>Additionally, we need to consider how we position and with whom are we positioning ourselves, and to build and expand more productive collaborative and sustainable networks, partnerships and relationships across the region and beyond for the present and the future.</p>


Peafoto_ Paul O_Neill speaking at Positioning. Yelyzaveta Babaieva copy

Paul O’Neill: A rethinking of curatorial relations is necessary

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Your guide to exhibitions in Estonia and beyond for Autumn and Winter 2025/2026

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<div class="wp-block-www-blocks-image-block alignleft"><figure class="is-zoomable"><img data-src="https://admin.ashadecolder.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Illukas-10-copy.jpg" data-sizes="auto" alt="" class="lazyload"/><figcaption>Martina Gofman &amp; Johanna Ruukholm, <strong>Practices in Dialogue</strong>, 2025</figcaption><button class="zoom m-image" aria-label="View fullscreen"></button></figure></div>

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<p><em>"Anna-Stina Treumund, what would you do today?"</em> asks <strong>Rebeka Põldsam</strong> in an article that opens the 10th issue of A Shade Colder, <em>Practices in Dialogue</em>.&nbsp;</p>

<p><strong>Anna-Stina Treumund</strong> was a bold artist, recognised as the first lesbian artist in Estonia. She was also a good friend of the author and a posthumous solo exhibition at Kumu, the largest art museum in Estonia, explores her contribution. Like friendly ghosts, the friends or people you admire and who are no longer here can often still inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. The dialogue continues.&nbsp;</p>

<p>In this issue, A Shade Colder focuses on these and other kinds of dialogues between artists, performers and curators whose practices are shaping the art scene in Estonia and elsewhere.&nbsp;</p>

<p>In the interview by <strong>Kathrin Heinrich</strong>, performance artist <strong>Netti Nüganen</strong> opens up about how she builds worlds on stage: often starting from learning a new technique, such as playing the banjo or black metal singing and then embarks on creating the performance based on these skills.&nbsp;</p>

<p>Absurd moments and humour are something that might form a thread that connects Nüganen and the worlds created by artist <strong>Kaarel Kurismaa</strong>. Interviewed by artist and close collaborator <strong>Kiwa</strong>, Kurismaa openly reflects on his long practice that began by organising happenings while in art school in the 1950s. In early 2026, Kurismaa will open a solo show at Kunsthalle Zürich.&nbsp;</p>

<p><strong>Vanina Saracino</strong> writes about the works of artist <strong>Kristina Õllek</strong>, one of the most internationally active artists in Estonia at the moment. Saracino has been in dialogue with Õllek for many years. <em>"How can image-making reveal what remains unseen, the invisible infrastructures and living processes that sustain the planet?"</em> she asks.&nbsp;</p>

<p>Last but not least, I interview <strong>Paul O’Neill</strong>, a curator based in Helsinki, whose project, started many years ago, aims to bring curators of the region together and create a non-hierarchical platform to discuss the roles and activities that shape our everyday – a call for dialogue with the potential to find completely new forms of practice.</p>

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