You can read this article as a PDF/flipbook in issue 86 of Korpo Bladet here
On the second evening after dinner, I walked onto the yellow ferry and asked the person who remote-controlled the traffic lights about ferry schedule. He showed me the Finferries App and asked me what kind of art I do. I said I walk around and ask questions. This forecasts my life here (and highly likely the rest of my life).
In the first week, a fellow artist Gill showed me two labyrinths in Korpo and Nauvo. For the first time I learned that a labyrinth is not a maze. In a maze, you try to find your way out and might get lost in dead ends, but in a labyrinth, there is only one way, which leads to the center, and you walk out the same way. After my first labyrinth walk, Gill asked what was on my mind. I said “no destination” - another synopsis of my life and artmaking.
Unlike the other residencies I had attended, this one doesn’t have an exhibition or open studio at the end, which matches my “no destination” philosophy. But I also know that doing nothing is harder than producing counterfeits of art.
I try to walk without destination. One day I found this sculpture trail called “Barefoot Path”. Among the three times I “hei”ed or “hei hei”ed, one person said “hello”. He was from UK and was doing St Olav’s Way on bike. He told me he went to Shanghai in 1986 and at that time the Peace Hotel was the tallest building. The UK embassy was turned into a hostel for travelers. They slept on bunk beds. After we parted, I followed signs, passed a field, and ended up on a rocky beach and did a watercolor of the two pools of water which shone like gems embedded in the rock. This person, who was previously noticing dragonflies near the ditches, appeared again and introduced me to bird types, how ticks bite, and the three kinds of twilight (oh they rhyme!).
Despite the swooshing cars during my walks, I enjoyed the company of the vestige of life – paths on twigs and wood which are the runes of worms, claw scratches on the rock bed probably from glacial movements, fallen pieces of pine tree barks which look like a multi-layered puzzle, and each piece form a bigger puzzle on the tree. I also noticed a lot of fallen trees on the island, which I heard are not meant to be removed unless they are in the middle of the road. With every step, I cannot help thinking about tectonic movement and that this island is actually one giant piece of rock, with trees and animals living on it. And I am redundant to this landscape. This feeling of me being an insignificant creature on earth reached its peak one afternoon when Gill and I saw two young foxes napping in the shade of the roots of a fallen tree. All I could think was, this is their land, and I should leave.
