Visions and Experiences of the Landscape – ARJA -RIITTA NIEMINEN and VAULA SIISKONEN

ARJA-RIITTA NIEMINEN

Visions

My painting exhibition was born in June while working at the Finnish Artists’ Studio House in Grassina, near Florence.

The initial idea for this exhibition and my work in Italy was completely different. However, things did not go as planned. After applying multiple layers of primer to the canvas, I realized I was painting the yellow-pinkish wall of a Tuscan house. From this wall, something began to emerge—appear—something I recognized as the hem of the Virgin Mary’s dress: the pale pink robe from Pontormo’s Annunciation fresco in Cappella Capponi, Florence. I felt this was fate, as I happened to be working in a studio named after Pontormo himself. So, I let the work lead me, allowing influences from the surrounding landscape, light, warmth, and early Renaissance paintings—especially the beloved frescoes of Fra Angelico in the monastery of San Marco—to flow freely into my paintings.

In this exhibition, vision does not mean a visual apparition seen with the eyes. Instead, it is an inner experience, a shift in the subconscious, or even a physical sensation—something suggested by the fleshy, bleeding colors of my works. At their core, my paintings speak of human existence, which is multidimensional and layered, both invisible and visible.

There are two kinds of visions in this exhibition. Some of the works depict the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary. However, unlike in medieval and Renaissance paintings, where an angel appears to the young Mary, these works tell of the appearance of the Virgin Mary within the modern individual—of motherhood and womanhood, in all their sanctity and darkness.

In the Madonna series, I have juxtaposed a piece of contemporary Italian women’s clothing with a fragment of the Virgin Mary’s robe from an old painting. While these comparisons are purely visual, they also invite philosophical reflection.

In another series, the vision is more rooted in perception. These works depict the moment when, on the verge of sleep—just before drifting off or upon waking—the patterns of wallpaper and textiles blend into dreams, merging with bodily sensations. Light, shadows, and ambient sounds take on a life of their own in an unreal, dreamlike existence.

With the arrangement of my works, I aim to create a space that evokes a sense of the sacred and the eternal—wrapped in transience and rawness. This space could be an abandoned inner chapel, awakening to new life.

I paint with acrylics on unstretched cotton canvas. My works consist of one or multiple irregularly shaped pieces.

Arja-Riitta Nieminen

VAULA SIISKONEN

Experiences of the Landscape

My themes come from nature. I observe seasonal, diurnal, and weather-related phenomena through color and rhythm—light and energy.

Last year, I painted the colors of sunsets and the polar night (kaamos). This resulted in a series of red paintings and my first works on kaamos.

November and December skies are peculiar. On clear days, an eerie half-light illuminates the landscape, and the sun arcs low in the sky. Sometimes it feels as if the light never reaches the ground, or as if the dark fields and forests absorb it. At times, the delicate light seems to retreat upwards. I like kaamos, even when thick clouds hang low. Everything seems to rest—except for humans.

From kaamos, I painted a series of Spine Paintings—dark in color. I imagined that, for us northerners, kaamos has settled into our very spines. For many, it feels like a shackle, something to escape from into the southern sun.

One of my paintings is titled River. In the forest, there is a stream that has been carving its winding course for ages. Sometimes the water stands still in pools, then rushes forward again. When I came across the African polyrhythmic pattern 5+7 (2 3 2 2 3) – 3+3+3+3 – 4+4+4, I thought—it holds the same rhythm as the flow of the stream, the movement of wind in the trees, and the rolling of waves. An ancient rhythm.

I paint with oils. I carefully construct my painting surfaces, covering wooden blocks and slats by sewing fabric onto them. The process is slow, intentionally so—because it is part of the essence of the work.

Vaula Siiskonen