The Nightingale and the Glass Tube
Huuto Gallery Jätkäsaari, Jätkä 2
August 5-20th, 2017
Installation views from the gallery (photos: Ville Laaksonen)
The Nightingale Must Be Killed
acrylic, ink and college on canvas
233 x 184 cm
Time No Longer Moves Linearly, but in Depth
acrylic, oil, ink and collage on canvas
225 x 180 cm
Contemporary Psychiatry 1
acrylic and oil on canvas
162 x 132 cm
Contemporary Psychiatry 2
acrylic and college on canvas
161 x 138 cm
The Story of Juicy Brains
Tarina mehukkaista aivoista. Lääkäri odotti potilasta. Sitten ovi avautui ja potilas tuli. Lääkäri sanoi: “istu tuohon niin katsellaan”. Potilas istui. Lääkäri otti sakset ja leikkasi ensin vähän, “sieltä aivot näkyy”, ja sitten vielä enemmän, “oo ne näyttää mehukkailta”, lääkäri sanoi. “Otetaanpa pilli. Noin. Tässä on pilli, jonka nimi on Bernandoo. Delicious! Olipa hyvät aivot. Sitten otetaan Pepantiinia ja Sipikorttia. Noin. Ja sitten tursutetaan. Noin. Vielä yksi hörppäys. Noin. Hyvästi aivot, nähdään pian”, ja lääkäri neuloi pään takaisin. Potilas sanoi: “no miltä aivoni näytti?” “Mehukkailta”. “Ja ne ovatkin mehukkaita”. Potilas lähti. “Ja juo sinäkin joskus aivoja!” Sitten lääkäri ajatteli: “se oli kyllä hyvää.” Kirjoitti: Donna Aho, 8v
acrylic, oil and collage on canvas
184 x 196 cm
The Candle Can Be Burned at the Same Time at Both Ends,
but Then It Burns Too Fast
acrylic, oil and ink on canvas
203 x 182 cm
The Blackened Ears Hear the Most Secret Songs
acrylic, collage and ink on canvas
197 x 185 cm
They Think That I Am in Hell, Even if Im Lying at the Gates of Paradise
acrylic on canvas
190 x 184 cm
The Best Place is Between The Wings of the Angel
Acrylic on canvas
225 x 184 cm
Once a day an opening appeared in the wall and remained open for about an hour. Then I would step out and walk down the hill to the store. Afterwards I am not able to remember anything significant about going out and being there except the burning brightness of the sun and my uncertain steps back up the hill, back to the other side of the wall, to the cave… I now call it a cave. A damp and grey place dominated by endless corridors and fluorescent lights.
My speech did not come out normally, I sang my own melodies. I told stories that did not have a believable order in this reality. The stories were, however, loaded with meanings and emotions, although unnamed, because my ability to perceive even a sentence was not yet sufficiently developed. Now, afterwards, my speech is still not perfect, not even close, but I am able to say “bird”, “flower” and “glass tube”.
After a few months, or perhaps years, I noticed that I can breathe through the wall. This happened when I found a glass tube embedded in the wall with one end on my side and the other open to the outside of the wall. At first I didn’t know how to use it but little by little I started to blow into it and then also inhale, which led to breathing.
In the end I also found a nightingale whose singing was even sweeter than my own melodies. It tempted me to say sentences in which the words were in the right order. Now that I think about it, my dwelling… How should I put it… it wasn’t healthy, but my basic needs were satisfied. Singing and breathing.
The cave is still at the top of the hill. I look at it wistfully from below, from the store, but it is no longer my cave. I have planted flowers around it to make it look like a regular hill. I have a daily habit of taking worms and snails up to the hill in order for the nightingale to have something to eat.
The exhibition is about the war between life and death and about life when one seems dead but is still alive. When one’s joy of life and hope have been given/taken away and one’s body – flesh and bone – continues its existence in reality. With age, questions have become simpler/more complicated, but still the fundamental question behind everything remains unchanged – will I go to hell when I die.
The theme becomes concrete through metaphorical depictions of life in a hospital. The exhibition consists of large paintings released from stretcher bars. They have been removed from the structure dominated by right angles. If I can’t release my own life from tight control, I can at least release my work. Long live freely hanging canvases. The works have mainly been painted using acrylic paints but also include collage techniques and ink drawings.