Finland Fucks. Watercolours at home.

Finland fucks

Gloomy tale, fuck me.

Sex play number one. We went into his car and I sucked his dick. Don’t  know who he
was. I didn’t care. It was a brisk Autumn night. We went into his apartment and I
sucked his dick. It had already started to snow heavily and that felt good. We moved
on to his bed and I sucked his dick. It kept snowing. We kept changing the place of
action while I sucked his dick. Sun came up and I sucked his dick in slow motion.
You could see the windows were covered with dust and fingerprints and you could
see the street. I saw his dick and I took it into my mouth.
We went to a department store toilet and I sucked his dick. We did some grocery
shopping and went to the car at the parking lot where I sucked his dick. And I truly
hoped that everybody saw. He drove us to a deserted place and while doing that I
sucked his dick. When we got there I sucked his dick. How the story ends? It
doesn’t.

Sky is dirty, 2001, BOOm! Age of innocence.

Who is afraid of ass? Nobody nowadays, question only is what size it is and how it was made. Body needs work as it is looked at and certain parts are looked at. Naturalness which we appreciate cannot be anything but a result of hard work. Still nudity is scary even in art, which has led me thinking what does it mean, the fear, scandalising body, seeing something that cannot be looked at because it reveals something of the viewer, especially female body and showing of it, looking at bodies is telling. The fear is to be ridiculed, seen, judged, losing opportunities because of the shame of being seen, what else? Female body in art is on display but is it for the shock value, beauty the value, for artistic value (what makes artistic value?), difference in how body is displayed and what is desired from this show, exploration of human form, what happens in time to human body and how we perceive it and receive it, how we accept it or not, what else? Menstruation the word and sight is too much to take, is nudity any less? We are judged by what we reveal, what we watch, how we want ourselves to be seen, how others expect we must be seen and how not.

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 neighbours, 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 neighbours 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 neighbours. 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.

 

It’s Miss May!

Perfection is an interesting goal. I as an artist am puzzled by it, it is the thing needed in art. It is an absolute, layered fulfillment. Question is is there something behind perfect? Does it end something when found? To define perfect is to leave out something. Perfection and beauty, culturally bound liking and appreciation. It is to find something whole and solid to fill every possible desire, to become content, find and conquer, achieve and win. It is satisfaction and thrill. Thought is, it is good to be perfectionist, like something to prove. But whose perfect is in question and for who do we seek to be perfect. Perfection, the idea of perfect, is wanted when there is a show going on, when there is something precious to gain. It is to stand out and be special, make an impression, give an awe.

I am little annoyed by perfectionist way of doing things. There is something missing there, but it is not neurosis nor compulsiveness, nor obsession, despair and unhappiness, fear of failure that is lacking. They are there like knives, like guilt and shame, fear of abandonment. Perfectionism is full of those things. It can be predatory and loath against making mistakes, which can prevent from trying. Prevent from being different. Special fades from narrow perfection, so does originality.