If we can feel the moment before we make a sound, we will not simply make a sound, we will be immersed in the atmosphere, our every movement, and the sound. It is important to focus on sound, but the memory and movements are also principal.
This instrument can make sounds by hitting potteries with wooden sticks, by turning the sticks on their side, or scratching them up and down. The act of hitting with a wooden stick or scratching or turning the sides with a stick is what I did to make these potteries. In order to make the walls solid, I tapped countless times with my hands and turned a throwing wheel to make their shapes. I also made the walls thinner by moving my hands up and down on a throwing wheel. By making a sound with these movements, we can reminisce about the memories between the potteries and I, and talk to each other.
Through this work, I wanted to share the silent moment just before the music begins, the memory of the instrument from when it was the soil, the reminiscences of the scene I was creating, and the moment of silence that will make sound.
Medium: Clay, Wood, Sound
Photographs: Anne Kinnunen
”Once upon a time, when magic was still strong in all parts of the world, a curious event took place every spring. As the snow began to melt, revealing the first plants, sometimes, if you were lucky, the soil beneath your feet would come to life. They called them Little Creatures. Some say they carry messages, and should you listen closely, a little creature might have one for you.”
Death does not part us, it unites us. We all die eventually. Ten hand-built raw clay vases have been left in nature to fall apart, disintegrate and dissolve into the environment, symbolizing the death of loved ones. The vases have been photographed daily to reveal their decomposition. The artist has not had to face the death of a close relative and the resulting grief that is inevitably coming. With this artwork, she wants to prepare for it and address the topic she fears.
The act of remembering takes its toll: each recall creates distance from the initial event, a memory of the memory. If I Don’t Remember This, Nobody Will manifests the intangible: what does forgetting look like?
