|
|
|
|
Estonian Beauty, 'Duchamp's Suitcase', Arnolfini, Bristol, UK, 2000also at 'Sybaris' Baltic Contemporary Art Biennale, Szczecin, Poland, 2001 see  images 
Safe Society, Tallinn Art Hall Gallery, Tallinn, 2000see images
A Beautiful Estonian Girl, 'ArtPort 2000', Kotka City Space, Finland, 2000The relationship between two neighbours Estonia and Finland is somewhat complex, there has been many mistakes from both nations, which have generated widespread misunderstandings of each other. One of which is the stereotype of Estonian Women for Finnish Men. "I am beautiful Estonian girl, every Finnish mans dream: an ideal wife = slave and best prostitute = cheap. That is my Dream, indeed!" A series of very short ironic videos projected randomly on a screen on a window of the main street of Kotka will display An Estonian Beauty, cooking in the kitchen, washing mens socks and underwear, cleaning the house and doing other housework for him, parallel to those the other episodes display her beautifully exhibiting the 'natural' feminine sides and how cheap and accessible those are to Finnish men. She may stand on the harbour and look for a client or just be picked up somewhere, even while not seeking the contact. Parallel to the window display a postcards will be available around Kotka. The style reminds the prostitute postcards from London phone boxes, yet they do not advertise a prostitute, they advertise an Estonian Beauty, who is more then just a prostitute. On the card is the web address of the 'world wide' agency of Estonian Beauty, to give to the Finnish men the opportunity to live out their dreams and also make the project working beyond the streets of Kotka. see images
To Sit into Bright Future, Sebra Gallery, Tartu, Estonia, 1999see images
SECOND-HAND LOVESTORIES, Vaal Gallery, Tallinn, 1996also at 'MAP' (Media.Art.Project), Myyrmakitalo, Vantaa, Finland & 'Junge Kunst International '98', Overbeck-Gesellschaft, Lybeck, Germany Love is essential for every person. There are diffrent kinds of love. My project is looking at heterosexual love. The stories are fragments of somebody's life - fragments which have been carried to me with night-dresses and underwear. Around 1990 I saw for the first time a huge pile of charity clothes from West, sent to art students. There was little useful left, after teachers had taken the cream and left the rest to the students. I remember myself standing in a hall holding somebody's old, dirty pants in my hands. I thought: "Why on an earth they sent their used lives to us." I felt insulted and vulnerable at the possiblity of touching strangers sperm or blood. At the same time I was wondering: "Who has worn those paints;" "How does or did she live;" "Is or was she happy?" read stories
see images video (Realplayer)
|
