Three days of crispy cold weather and almost clear skies, occasionally, even moments of bright cold sunshine – that is not what one expects of November in Helsinki. Usually it is damp and dark and windy and generally depressing – well, November has only just begun! On Thursday and Friday I was out sitting with the elm and the alder in the morning; today I visited them after noon, and noticed that the weather was getting warmer again. The ice forming on the puddles on the paths in the park yesterday (see image below) was gone today. Not many people out in the middle of the day, despite Halloween. But some with their dogs, still. Some of them show openly their surprise, when they notice a human being behaving in an unusual way, and so do children, while adults walk past as if they would not notice. Probably they avoid being embarrassed on my behalf that way, or perhaps they simply try to ignore noticing unusual details for some other reason. It is a way of being polite, I guess. Like when somebody is being drunk and behaving badly, most people try to look away as if not noticing, so they would not have to intervene.
Yesterday we had an interesting conversation with the visiting curator Irini Papadimitriou at Muu gallery, see info here, with some fascinating comments from people in the audience as well. I have not looked at the video documentation yet. The problem of inviting people to abandon representations of the environment and go out to experience the outdoors themselves, but doing that with the help of representations, is one thing. Another paradox or problem is the use of technology, which seems so immaterial and light but is actually draining lots of resources and creating much problematic waste as well. And there are other problems, too, like the illusion of continuity created by time-lapse imagery, which gives the impression of a durational performance while being produced by a series of short repeated performances and thus being “fake” in that sense.
The Muu exhibition, called Once Again, shows old works from Harakka Island, Year of the Horse (2003) and Year of the Horse – Calendar (2015) – they are available as small files on the RC, here – as well as several works created during the Arsbioarctica residency in Kilpisjärvi in 2014, with documentation on the RC as well, here. I am using the same principles in these visits to the trees, but for some reason I am not treating my tree companions with the same respect as Malla Fell; I am somehow taking them for granted, it seems. And the images are framed in a way that shows only a tiny fraction of the trees. Hm. Something to think about…
All posts by Annette Arlander
October – Month of the Ivy
One could assume that the ancient Celtic idea of a tree is rather strange, at least if you look at the so-called tree calendar. The vine in September, the Ivy in October and the reed in November are not what first comes to mind when thinking of trees. The real problem with the vine and the ivy is the same as with the holly, they do not grow as high up north as Helsinki. Some singular examples can be found, and since the ivy is a rather common feature in outdoor flower arrangements I expected to find some ivy climbing along a wall or around a tree somewhere, but no. At the Kaisaniemi Botanical garden I found an ivy growing near the entrance, as a low shrub barely succeeding in climbing up the wall, nothing to perform with, really. And I was already a few days late in the calendar. The month of the ivy extends from 30 September to 27 October at least according the version of the calendar that I have followed during this year. So yesterday, on the first November I decided to quit searching and went and bought myself a new house plant, an ivy in a pot. I would have preferred a larger one, but this was as big as they had them at Stockmann, and that would have to do.
The next problem was where to place it, or myself together with it, where could I find some form of neutral background? The wall in my home are covered with bookshelves or furniture; my study at the Collegium did not have enough light; to take the boat to my studio on Harakka seemed cumbersome and if I bought a house plant I should perform with it at home, I thought. The cupboard doors in my bedroom are white, and by moving away some large plants from the window I could get almost enough light for the video camera, which was sitting on a tripod in the middle of the room. The first attempts in the morning where oddly unsharp, probably due to lack of light, or then some mistake, so I tried again in the afternoon. This time I placed the tripod on my bed and moved two strong lamps from the kitchen and the living room to assist the cloudy daylight from the window. I also went through the automatic functions of the camera, and yes, now the image was at least sharp. Because the tripod was on the bed the horizon was not exactly horizontal, however, which would not have mattered if not for the vertical line of the cupboard door, which was clearly leaning. How easy it is to work in harsh circumstances outdoors, where you accept what is and that’s it. Indoors, when everything has to be arranged the whole thing is immediately much more challenging. But perhaps some small miracles could be done while editing. Usually I am not using any after effects and my main tool is a dissolve. But to brighten the image a little and add some contrast I could try. It helped a little, but not that much, as you can see below.
I also remembered straightening the horizon in one clip once, but could not remember how to do it any longer. I searched through all kinds of weird effects until I resorted to google, and immediately found a detailed reply to somebody’s desperate plea, and managed to sort it out with that advice. The difference is clear. Thus, not only did I change the rules by missing the proper time of the month, October, using a houseplant and performing indoors, I even used editing tools to correct the image, well, well. One can only wonder where I will end if I continue down this road…
The first version is murky and rather unpleasant to watch, although the composition and the fold of the scarf looks much nicer than in the second image, which is fairly sharp and “normal”. Both versions are available on the Research Catalogue, as small files, here. The interesting thing in the second version is the constant movement of the plant, due to my shivering. I remember it was painful to balance the pot, I had some strange cramp in my neck, but I could not imagine that I would be shaking that much. It looks funny, because it is as if the ivy would be shivering, trying to tell me to rest it on a more stable surface. After this ordeal it found safe place on top of a chest of drawers with some light, too.
Sateen sietäminen
Lauantai-aamuna tarjoutui ensimmäinen tilaisuus vierailla puiden luona tällä viikolla. Viime päivien ensi-lumi oli kadonnut, ainakin Kaivopuistosta, ja taivaalta tihkui vettä. Tuuli oli navakka ja kylmä, sadepisarat tuntuivat jäisiltä. Aloitin tyhjentämällä soutuveneeni ja sen tehtyäni mietin vielä hetken kääntyisinkö takaisin kotia kohti, mutta järkeilin, että samalla vaivalla voisin yhtä hyvin vierailla puiden luona, kun kerran kannoin kameraa mukanani. Istuessani jalavan juurella tajusin, että nyt oli alkanut uusi aika: nautinnon päivistä oltiin siirrytty sietämisen aikaan, talvikauteen. Istuin pipo päässä ja hytisin, vaikka olin sentään tajunnut pukea kunnolliset vedenpitävät kuorihousut ja kumisaappaat. Ilokseni kamerajalusta pysyi pystyssä, mutta tuulen voimasta kamera oli siirtynyt sivusuunnassa (katso kuva yllä). Ei auttanut muu kuin istuutua uudelleen, ja sitten vielä kerran lähikuvaa varten. Vesipisarat sumensivat linssin, mutta auttoi kun pyyhin pahimmat vedet pois. Kävellessäni kallion yli lepän luokse, tietäen, että se olisi ainakin osittain tuulen suojassa, huvitin itseäni ajatuksella, että tällä kelillä saisin ainakin olla puistossa omassa rauhassani. Yksi ainut koiran taluttaja ilmestyi kuvaan istuessani kannolla.
Olin tyytyväinen sietokykyyni tai kärsivällisyyteeni, joka tietysti on erittäin vaatimaton verrattuna mitä tahansa ulkoilulajia harrastavien säänkestokykyyn. Mutta silti; ihminen on hauras olento, varsinkin vanhemmiten, ja sietää vain melko kapeaa lämpötilojen vaihtelua. Eilisen uuvuttavan mutta inspiroivan “Kasvien kanssa” seminaarin jälkeen (ohjelma löytyy täältä) tunsin taas kunnioitusta kaikkia niitä erilaisia kasveja kohtaan, jotka sopeutuvat mitä ihmeellisimpiin olosuhteisiin, jopa pohjoiseen talveen. Olinhan juuri aamulla nostanut sisään vielä eilen lumen peitossa olleet pelargoniat parvekkeelta, jotka nyt makasivat veden täyttämissä ruukuissaan. Tiedän, etteivät pelargoniat pidä liiasta vedestä, mutta nämä näyttivät kaiken kokeneilta ja kaiken kestäneiltä uhmakkaine kukkanuppuineen. Ne saavat nyt levätä ja kuivatella tiskipöydällä viikonlopun yli. Toivottavasti sisäilma ei ole niille äkkiseltään liian kuumaa ja kuivaa.
Kallt och klart och vinter snart
Efter tre dagar i Fredriksstad i Norge, på Artistic Research Forum där, med alla intryck därifrån fortfarande surrande i huvudet och med något slags flunsa virus i kroppen dessutom, var det skönt att lugna ner sig med träden en stund. På lördagen var det nästan varmt i solskenet även om luften i övrigt var kylig, men på söndagen var det redan så kallt att jag satt med handskarna på, men tog ändå av mig mössan för bilden. Det är ju inte köldgrader, men kylan känns så ovan ännu. Det var ganska kallt i Fredriksstad också, jag minns frosten på gångbryggan på morgonen, trots solskenet. Det var spännande att ta del av så många projektrapporter, och även om jag inte gillade alla, var många av dem inspirerande. Veckan innan hade jag besökt doktorandseminariet i Göteborg, Transversality in Performance, så det här var som en fortsättning på diskussionerna. Och mera seminarier blir det. På fredagen är det dag för ett seminarium på collegiet, With Plants, som är rätt informellt, men som jag ser framemot med glädje. Och nästa vecka är det dags för forskningsdagen med Bojana Cvejic som vårt forskningsprojekt How to do things with performance ordnar, med rubriken How are things done, produced or effected with performance?
Tiden går fort när det händer mycket på en gång. Det är nästan skrämmande att tänka sig att det är bara drygt två månader som återstår av mina besök hos almarna och alen. Och vad sedan? Jag minns förslaget från en rysk historiker som besökte kollegiet. Han förslog att jag skulle leta reda på historiska träd på målningar eller i fotografier och uppträda med dem i dag. Det är lättare sagt än gjort, men tanken är förförisk. Att hitta en bild med ett träd som fortfarande lever och som man kunde känna igen… medan jag letar efter sådana, får jag nöja mig med mina gamla vänner:
Pöheikössä pitkästä aikaa
Kosteassa syksyn säässä iltapäivällä ennen hämärää tapasimme Kirsi Heimosen kanssa “pöheikössä”, joka tällä kertaa sijaitsi katajanokalla, eikä ollut pöheikköä ensinkään, vaan hyvin hoidettua puistikkoa veden lähellä, mutta sen verran villiksi jätettyä, että lehdet oli jätetty kumpareen koristukseksi, vaikka ne käytäviltä ja nurmikolta olikin haravoitu. Ja kun vielä hopeapajut tai niiden sukulaiset kasvoivat pensaan muotoisesti oksat kohti maata kaartuen, paikka suorastaan kutsui nojailemaan, konttailrmaan, pyörimään ja venyttelemään. Ja tietysti meuhkaamaan lehtien kanssa. Kahteen otteeseen heittelin niitä ilmaan, ensin kyykistyen kahmaisemaan lehdet käsiini ja nousten sitten heittämään ne pääni yli ilmaan, ja myöhemmin kontaten mäennyppylää ylös kuopien vuorotellen kummallakin kädellä lehtiä ilmaan mennessäni. Kumpikaan versio ei valitettavasti tarttunut videolle, joten ainoa jälki tai todiste on tämä kertomukseni, jonka juuri sen vuoksi kirjaan tähän. – epäilen etyä kameran muistikortti on “kulunut” koska se kieltäytyy yhteistyöstä vähän Väliä, toisin sanoen, kamera sammuu itsekseen kesken kaiken. No, ensimmäisellä kerralla syy oli minun, olin unohtanut tyhjentää kortin, mutta toisella kerralla kieltäytymiseen ei ollut mitään ilmeistä syytä. Oli miten oli, kokemus oli virkistävä, vahvistava, rauhoittava ja ihan vaan miellyttävä todistusaineistosta riippumatta. – Lisäksi tajusin taas olevani varsinainen linssilude: etsiydyin aina kameran näköpiiriin, kun taas Kirsi mielelään liikkui kameran silmän katvealueilla tai kuva-alueen laitamilla. En myöskään tajunnut, että toinen puista rajautui puoliksi kuvan ulkopuolelle, kun valoisana hohtava vesi vasemmalla haluttiin mukaan kuvaan.
Mitä haluan muistaa tästä tapaamisesta pehmeästi kaartuvien puiden kanssa? Ehkä kastemadon jota tuijotin roikkuessani oksan päällä. Vaikka periaatteessa arvostan kastematojen tekemää maanparannustyötä, olen lapsuudesta saakka jotenkin kammonnut niitä, vähän samaan tapaan kuin toiset kammoavat hämähäkkejä. Mutta nyt siinä roikkuessani saatoin aivan rauhallisesti katsella miten mato verkkaisesti eteni mullassa, supistaen lihaksiaan ja venyen taas täyteen mittaansa aivan siinä silmieni edessä, kosketusetäisyydellä. Voi olla että musersin jonkun niistä lehtien joukossa mellastaessani….
A seminar on working with plants
Three mornings, after the rain, before the rain and – in rain. On Thursday morning the microphone was out-of-order, the battery was finished; luckily there was no wind, so I could record without it. I was surprised to see how the elm tree on the hill had lost a large part of its leaves, lying beneath it, brown and wrinkled, while other trees in the park were beautifully yellow or red. Many are still green, like the alder; the leaves will fall green, I suppose. On Friday the weather was almost clear, more chilly with a cold wind; water in pools on all the paths. And today, on Saturday the sky looked grey again. While I was walking down to the alder the drizzle started, and by the time I sat with the elm the rain was pouring down. On the way back I realised I had an umbrella with me, after all. My plan had been to continue to Harakka Island and revisit the cliff where I recorded Year of the Monkey in 2004-2005, and perhaps record the view on video, to use as the basis for a small essay. The rain made me change my mind. The ferry-boat will continue until 22 October, and I would like to record the cliff before that, so as to be on the safe side regarding possible storms. I hate the idea of having to row in rough sea. Anyway, there is still time. The essay is for the upcoming Research Day, on 8 November, organised by the project How to do Things with Performance. The call can be found here, and soon also the program. Before that there will be an other research day, more informal, on 27 October, called “With Plants”. There is no website, but the call is simple:
With Plants
A seminar on working with plants 27 October 2017 10 am to 6 pm.
Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies, Fabianinkatu 24 A floor 1, room 136.
This multidisciplinary and interdisciplinary event is aimed at artists, researchers and scholars who are working with plants in various ways. You are cordially invited to share your experiences. Please send the title of your presentation, an abstract and a short bio no later than 15 October to annette.arlander(at)uniarts.fi.
I Helsingfors igen
Efter en lång paus i och med residensbesöket i Nida art colony på kuriska näset under hela september, var det skönt att återvända till träden i Brunnsparken. Söndag morgonen var lugn och angenäm, trots att jag släpade en stor väska med mig, på väg till Stora Räntan. Det fanns en stämning av höst, men också ett slags skördetid. Måndag morgonen var kall och blåsig, nu var det klart att hösten och höststormarna var här. Jag var ute rätt tidigt, innan nio, vilket så här års innebar att det inte var helt ljust. Det syns tydligt på vilden där jag sitter vid alen. Eller var det bara så molnen som var så mörka? Uppe vid almen var det redan ljusare, men där var vindbyarna kraftiga. Jag satt och huttrade och insåg att det var dags att ta fram varma kläder. – Den här veckan blir det bara dessa två besök, för jag åker av och an till Stockholm och så förbereder jag utställningen “Åter igen” på Muu galleriet som har vernissage på fredagen. Det blir gamla arbeten från Stora Räntan och från Ars Bioarctica residenset år 2014. Nyare arbeten med träd och växter får vänta på sin tur, kanske nästa år… På lördagen har vi en presentation av How to do Things with Performance på Titanik galleriet i Åbo, som en del av New Performance Turku -festivalen Och som om detta inte skulle vara nog, åker jag iväg till Göteborg och deltar med en presentation och en workshop i symposiet Tranversality in Performance där. Att besöka träden är ett sätt att “komma hem” mitt i alt detta resande.
Varying Distances
After the presentations during the Open Studios event on Monday at Nida art colony, we discussed each others works informally with smoked fish and beer or wine. Prompted by the comments I received I realised that I very easily succumb to a form of vanity, creating romantic imagery where the human figure looks good and the atmosphere is somehow semi-sublime. This was particularly true for the work I showed, Sunday with a Pine, which is recorded from a middle distance. My previous attempts, especially Resting with a Pine 4, 5 and 6 are much less flattering for the performer, but also less pleasing as views, and perhaps less interesting, too, because they do not “flirt” with the problematic tradition of the “sublime” landscape. I was nevertheless irritated by the idea of letting my vanity influence the images, and decided to make one more attempt.
On Tuesday afternoon I climbed up to the dunes and looked for a suitable pine that would stand relatively alone, so I could have an image of it from a distance without other branches hindering the view. And of course I wanted to find one I could easily climb on and not be completely covered by the needles. I chose one near the open dunes and tried to find the right angle for the camera with regard to the sun. I had also brought with me my go pro, and wanted to experiment with recording the view from where I sat in the tree with that camera while my main camera on the tripod would record the whole scene. I made four attempts with the tripod placed at various distances. The two first ones are in close up, resembling the work called Year of the Dog – Sitting in a Tree (2007), where I was sitting in a pine on Harakka Island once a week for a year (2006-2007) with only my shoulder visible in the image. The first one is actually too dark, almost in backlight, but there you can see something of the landscape below. The third one is about as far as I could get without bumping into another tree and shows the pine in full. The fourth image is something of a compromise, from a distance, but closer, so you can see the human figure more clearly. It is perhaps closer to a romantic version again. Resting with a Pine 9-12 are all online, too.
The go pro images from the four variations look almost the same: I had the camera in my hand while sitting in the pine, and although I tried to stay immobile there is small movement all the time. They are ok as still images, even though the horizon is leaning one way or the other and you cannot see so much of the view in them either.
Sunday with a Pine
Today on Sunday 24 September I finally decided to visit one of the pine trees up on the dunes every two-hours for a day, creating a time-lapse video in the manner I have done in other places. I decided to start at eight in the morning, after sunrise, and finish at eight at night, after sunset. And here I intend to write some notes of each session. So, it is time to begin….
First image. Fresh morning, quiet, empty parking lot on the hill (one car that has stayed there from yesterday), the parasols of the souvenir stands all tight and shut. I am early; finding the spot for the camera tripod is easy, framing the image is relatively easy, too. The sun is only a yellow colouring in the east, showing only as a vague glow on the tree trunk. It is quarter to eight, I climb up in the tree and sit there for approximately five minutes, enjoying the silence and the wind. Then climbing down, packing my things and returning downhill to the colony. The rays of the sun are turning brighter behind the trees.
Quarter to ten, the first bus stands on the parking lot, with a few cars around; all the souvenir stalls are up. A couple with bicycles rests on the bench by the road on the way up. The sun is high, brightening the surroundings. Suddenly the yellow leaves in the small birches stand out. I repeat my routine – second time and it is already a routine – sit in the tree and enjoy the view. I am aware of cramping my thighs around the branch unnecessarily, but if I try to relax I immediately feel unstable. The sun is not really warm and there is a chilly wind from the east; the morning is still, fresh and new.
Quarter to twelve, noon, and sun shine. It is warm, now. The bus is gone, replaced by lots of private cars; I can hear the car doors banging while sitting in the pine. An ant is moving towards me on the branch, I hope it finds a way around me, and choose not to wipe it away. I have learned how to get up on the branch and how to get down with relative ease, but I still have not found a way to sit comfortably. What feels OK to begin with soon becomes uncomfortable, and I do not want to move in the image. After all, I am sitting there only five minutes at a time.
Quarter to two, midday to afternoon, warm like summer. A woman is walking in bare feet past the tree when I arrive with my camera bag. While sitting in the tree, in its shade, I hear voices of children behind me, adults laughing, speaking Russian or Lithuanian or both. Later, when I return to the camera it has turned black; the battery? No, when I turn the camera on, it has recorded 7 seconds, and then stopped, why? Well, there is nothing else to be done but to climb up in the tree again. This time I wait to see that the camera continues working at least 30 seconds. I have no idea what happened, but this was a good reminder not to take any of my collaborators for granted. At least there were less noisy humans around the second time…
Quarter to four, almost hot, lots of traffic. The guy selling souvenirs closest to the slope looks at me with suspicion; why is she here again? Or then I am the suspicious one. The sun is no longer above me, but luckily not straight in my face either, or in the face of the camera, that is. Only two more sessions after this one; time passes so quickly it is almost scary. The walk up and down the slope feels like nothing, especially the walk down the slope, except for the constant stream of cars and huge coaches. I uploaded the clips on my computer and tried to combine the ones recorded so far. The image jumps quite a lot between each session, probably because the tripod sinks into the sand a little different each time.
Quarter to six, evening is approaching. In the forest below the hill it is already chilly, although the sun is still high in the sky when viewed from the dunes. It is hard to believe that it will set in less than two hours. There are no more coaches in the parking lot, one came down while I was on my way up the hill. Most of the souvenir stalls have closed, but there are plenty of private cars still. The pine looks really beautiful in the evening sun. This was the next to last session; the last one will be right after sun set and I am already worried that it will be too dark, for the camera to record anything and for me to find my way back. But for now everything is glowing bright and beautiful with warm evening colours.
Quarter to eight, after sunset, or actually a few minutes before, I guess, because I hurried up the hill, scared of the approaching darkness. But no problem, the light lingers on and up among the dunes the sand reflects the light, too. There were two cars left on the hill, and while returning down I still had no need for a torch. The view from the pine, with a pale violet sky and a thin crescent moon was so beautiful; what a pity that the camera sees it so very differently. I had to make all possible adjustments to let it record something, and it did. So now my Sunday with the pine is over, and it passed so very, very quickly.
Back in Nida
After a hectic visit to Helsinki, Stockholm and Oslo, it has been wonderful to calm down in Nida for a few days with the knowledge that almost a week still remains of my time here. There are too many things to do, other than finding ways of performing with the trees here, editing texts, preparing presentations, planning upcoming teaching and trying to consider alternative constellations of the works to be shown at the exhibition at Muu gallery, which opens on 6 October. Regardless of all these future worries, I have walked on the beach, playing with my little gopro camera without really finding the right way to use it. And then, today, when the weather suddenly cleared and a beautiful sunshine made everything look interesting again, I realized I should perhaps try to make one rough time-lapse session with a pine tree and my ordinary equipment after all. And if I would do it tomorrow, on Sunday, I could show it during the Open Studio on Monday. I found a potential pine partner near the beach, but perhaps too far to return to every second hour, so I walked up to the parking lot near the dunes and chose a pine tree with low and relatively bare branches. Most of the pines on the dunes are spreading their branches to create impenetrable green mounds, but this one (see image above) seemed easy and inviting. So I made a brief session as a try out, sitting up in the tree and on the branch almost touching the ground. (see images below). I managed to find a place for the camera on the slope that enabled a framing with the horizon approximately in the middle of the image, and I tried to mark the place by sticks in the sand. Leaving the tripod there for the whole day is probably not a good idea, because it is quite close to the parking place and there are lots of visitors on the weekend. Concerning the schedule starting and finishing at eight could be ok, the sun rises something like half past seven and sets around half past seven in the evening, but there is probably enough light at eight to end with a fadeout… Well, tomorrow is tomorrow, at least I have something to show for today:
Performing Landscape 