LUONTOJA – DESCRIBED AS SEEN, LUONTOJA WORKING GROUP

In his travel book Suomen maisemia (Finnish Landscapes), I. K. Inha describes the views from the peak of Kolivaara. From there, he saw the entire southern part of Lake Pielinen with its islands, while to the southeast, “the advancing shoreline of Pielinen unfolded in an impressive foreshortening,” rising into hills. To the north, the Kolinniemi peninsula with its hills and capes emerged, whereas in the south—on the landward side—the landscape was dominated by the cultivated fields of Kolinkylä. The houses were far apart, the fields small, and no roads cut through the scenery.

At the time, photographs were rare as book illustrations, making the subtitle described as seen particularly significant. The first edition, published in 1909, included only a single photograph—a snowy forest landscape titled Saloilla, printed on the front page. Thus, Inha had to paint landscapes with words, making them visible to his readers. However, he later became famous precisely for his landscape photography, as the use of images in books became more widespread.

Inha’s landscapes remain compelling as historical documents, just as contemporary artists—through new materialist representational analysis—venture into these places themselves, experiencing and observing nature up close. They seek to see, smell, and feel the environment, sometimes even at a microscopic level.

Human-made scales and measures have become subjects of critical examination, as we have come to understand the irreversible impact of our actions on nature. For visual artist Robert Smithson (1938–1973), a world based on scale signified uncertainty. According to him, size defines an object, but scale defines art. A crack in the wall could be called the Grand Canyon—if viewed in terms of scale rather than size.

Hannele Kumpulainen’s works reveal that a delicate coffee stain on the rim of a cup can be just as sublime or beautiful as any landscape representation, whether captured in words or images. These miniature mosaic-like landscapes emerge precisely through shifts in perspective, but only if one observes them closely and attentively. Similarly, when examined in terms of scale, Pia Männikkö’s landscapes first appear as earth’s surface from a distance, yet up close, they transform into skin—flesh that protects all living beings.

During long artistic processes, constant changes occur, and these shifts are freely inscribed into the works. It is about varying emphases, as described by visual artist Miika Nyyssönen, who curated this exhibition. Rather than following chronology, the decisions in his artistic process are composition-based.

For today’s artists, nature and landscape are no longer mere backdrops, as they were for Inha and his contemporaries. Iisa Maaranen writes that in paintings, we repeatedly find ourselves as outsiders to nature:
“It feels as though nature is slipping away from us. There is always a barrier that directs our attention elsewhere,” Maaranen continues.

Nature and landscape no longer wait to be conquered; they are ever-present, shaping both the experience of art and the creative process itself. Sara Orava describes the landscapes in her paintings as imagined, yet interwoven with memories of real places. This past spring, during the COVID-19 pandemic, she found herself with time to pause and experience darkness at her cabin. “At first, I saw nothing in the dark, but gradually, forms began to emerge—layer by layer,” Orava recalls.

In art, we all have the freedom and power to experience things transformed, in a new light—even as comforting and, surprisingly, beautiful. Perhaps beauty lies precisely in the diverse perspectives presented by the works in this exhibition.
“The landscape is where everything exists. It is the structure of life, the background, and the stage set,” as Inka-Maaria Jurvanen succinctly puts it.

Petri Kaverma
Visual artist, researcher, university lecturer

Translated with ChatGPT