Kronstadt 2001, How to photograph Russia? / Descent into hell. Icon. Second half of the 14th century. Collection of the State Russian Museum

Photo in Kronstadt 2001 on film, don’t even want to crop it I love film so much.

Descent into hell. Icon. Second half of the 14th century. Collection of the State Russian Museum

Divine Harmony, there was a dark hair in between the first pages of the booklet. Lucernarium psalms and stikhirad (verses)
O mild Light, mercy of Peace, praise
troparion (something repeated) short hymn

polyphonic we
drink coffee out of vases,
hang ourselves to trees and ceilings
no time to get gloomy though
Week of the Blindman with clay in his eyes
I think he was telling me the truth on Easter Monday.

Couple of lines from a movie Big Bullet written down for fun: My name is Bird. My name is Bird. My name is Bird.

Don’t stare at me. Please. My name is Apple. Forget Fiona.
My name is Jeff. Anything else?
My name is Tongues of fire?
Maybe, You want blood on your hands? Why would I want that?

How rude


How rude
How loud
How unclean
How vulgar
How unfeminine
How impolite
How talking over
How infuriating
How stupid


Those wings are heavy every time the dinner bell rings. Dynamic energy drastic
measures of swans for girls for lasting impressions. The want to go to Paris and
walk. They want to go Paris-thin. When a girl is too thin, when she looks sick, they
need to lose weight to float still. What gives angels their glow?
What I eat in a day as a fashion model.
How I lost weight and got lean.
How to grow your butt without growing your thighs.
My full gym workout. How men react to different levels of makeup. What I eat in a day to lose weight.
Six clothing hacks every girl must know.
Victoria’s Secret angels go grocery shopping. What young hasn’t been dreaming about this?


1998 R

Demonizing: a structure of contempt. It turns out to be the law of the R. She created a life for me in her mind. Her fingers pressed against her cheeks. El Moaur the bottomless, the terrible, a compulsive need to fill to be filled. How about movement? What became of the abandoned one? She has to be punished because she wants it all. What happens if you give all freedom to female sexuality?

Something about damaged photos, choosing of topics.

There is something to be rejected in ‘perfect photos’ as they may look too good to be real. Staged, rehearsed and paraded photos where there is something enjoyable and nice is to cheer us up. Photography is much used in this purpose. It is a mood creator taking the viewer somewhere and good as such, with a purpose. We have stuck ideas of what is perfection and what is beautiful, how it looks, as it is a look and desired. Of course we must define what is perfection, what is the aesthetics of perfection. A perfect photo is a window to a lovely world and to personality. Perfection is to know what one wants, it is a goal to which there is a road. We will notice it very often is a matter of taste and tradition and what we are used to seeing, what we like, what moves us. How much do we dare to push buttons of viewers? What does rejection tell?

We must show others that we know what is good. What do we want to tell via preferences and the medium is what is interesting. What are you telling me and why. Perfection is in part a fantasy. Is it yours, do you own it or are you reaching out for it? It is personal, somehow naive, shallow and a thing to be had, thing of vanity and making a gap between. Perfect photos uplift the photographer to a illustrator of dreams and achievements, that something is exact, right and in order and the maker of photos must know something of order and organising. The photographer is the hero owning the medium. There is heroism in photography which is itself disturbing. Sizes, prices, glows and sounds of cameras are a thing and sight and matter of awe themselves. I am interested in what is the edge there too much to take and accept. What is unacceptable in terms of photography? Is it ugliness, greyness, fuzziness, lack of light, obscenity, unprofessional look, gender, lack of money or what? “But there was one glaring omission: All 32 of the people they chose were men.”

What is the point and issue we are not touching, do not want to see and accept, are not showing but removing, are afraid of or despise in photography. We think we know perfection, so there is a ground to be followed? Rules such as don’t burn pictures with too much light. Perfection in photography is more complex than what is there in sight at first glance. It is eye candy for some, nostalgia, arranging a set and prettiness immortalised. Is there something more that needs a deeper look, what is the story or clue behind there. What is interesting in a photograph for me is fragility via a powerful medium, tool (too powerful for me to touch? Am I too small to be holding a camera?) and how this medium and media can be challenged, as it obviously must be. What gets captured, where do we point our cameras at and what does it tell?

Damage on a photo there can be is dust, scratches, negatives ageing, sudden wetness makes paper get glued on negative. Anything that creates something on the surface other than a picture should be removed. To please the eye is an interesting demand. Something gone wrong in the process of preserving a photograph, or a disturbance during any phase of making, disruptive something is a remainder of importance of imperfection, to understand this makes one take more dimensional photos than just surfaces that instantly please. Damage and doing wrong in photography is somewhat a punishable act as it is highly seen a technical art where one has to master the equipment, light, have eye for situations and capture in seconds. How good one is, is very much a technical issue for many. It is an issue of being accepted as a photographer. In other words how much equipment one can afford, which has led me to question authority and decision-making processes within the industry. Quality and how much wealth it needs to be achieved and how much wealth dictates quality and creativity in general.

In unreal photos of reality there is awe, how it was made, how much it is about the equipment and how much it is the master behind the lens. It is not unheard of to witness men saying women can’t photograph or you can never afford this camera. My destiny is of course set by people who know better. When money is the number one authority there, getting it gives you authority or is it skill.


photos of public carpets

Every Finn has a relationship to Russia. (Sadist at work. What’s not to love.)

All the things that Russia is inspire me. To understand this is probably difficult but I guess my feelings and thoughts are normal considering in part I am from Russia and anything Russian was present in Finland in my childhood. As Russia was in the News all the time, an influence via the media given for us. It is of course like all big nations are a constant puzzle and cause of chaos, all the time. I am almost obsessed partly because we are neighbors, because the country is dangerous and the influence we have had from Russia is mighty huge in many ways. Partly because the amount of grandiose, contradictions, sheer lunacy and wildness are beyond anything else. Dark mystery of Russian mind or mysticism, an abysmal depth, and violence that scare both the shit out of me, a history to sink into, a turmoil that is a nonstop mess politically, socially and culturally, painful and bloody for the most part and to follow the soap opera is to realize that this all is happening. The whole of Russia is an explosive entity that excites me as a place and state of mind and has done so always. The question is why the threat Russia likes to embody and keep alive? Russia, the scare and secrets it holds, which mystery it still is for Finland as we wonder what will Russia do next, a criminal for the rest of the world but something we are related to. Criminal is what it politically enjoys being. Such monstrous fear justifies warring just to keep fear alive and well, justifies inequality and bullying because big guys do so, not mentally mature though. Russia enjoys it grandiose and megalomaniac attacks. Its war history is such a big part of the image and character of Russia that warring is something it seems to do naturally. Amount of veterans and problems caused by wars inside the country are also gigantic. It is at constant war also with its own people. Therefore to be peaceful and start building an equal and peaceful country that does not threat its neighbors and the US is a faraway dream country, unthinkable almost to achieve but lovely to hate. How to change something that is historically and organically a law and a habit, violent macho culture? The way things are, ways people think and what things are unthinkable, unimaginable, out of reach. To keep decades long feuds going deserves a prize.

Russia could, if it was in its interest, change Russia completely for the better, meaning better for all Russians and its neighbors. Nevertheless violence and the attraction to deadly games and sadism is unescapable. I adore Russia for its culture and because it is so different to Finland, the sterile cubical Finland. I adore beauty of Russia, naturally, which beauty makes me melancholic and blue, which wildness/ melancholy/wilderness/unexpectedness is in its people, literature, vodka, food, cities, in its size and in its history. Savages, I love your beauty! Russia is an endless game, un suspicion, that does not change all the time to be a contemporary country among others as history is always present as is the suspicion. The way of thinking is a monolith. Nothing is erased, corrected, hidden or something to be ashamed of, other than the assassinations and hazy businesses might be something to rethink. But Russia is moving ahead in someways, rolling ahead and changing maybe visually, how about culturally? Trying to be cool and being definitely scary is a very special feature.

I cannot erase the image of Brezhnev’s funeral from my mind as the occasion was shown on Finnish TV in the 80’s or the nuclear threat or the possibility that Russia any day might do the same as it did 1939 attacking Finland. Somehow possibility of revolution seems impossible, that Russian people would or could overthrow Putin, never. So far we are friends. It is a strange friendship, honest and dishonest at the same time. Something that one can only have with Russians.

Here are some of photographs I took in Kronstadt 2001. Haven’t Photoshopped them, so there is dust.