Puddle Paintings
Puddles serve as the starting point of Maiju Salmenkivi’s most recent set of paintings. Indeed, a puddle is a reference to classical painting, as the concept itself includes both a reflection and changes happening in the reflection. In a somewhat parodic way, this also alludes to the pond of Narcissus, which revealed the power of representations already in the stories of the Antiquity when Narcissus mistook his own reflection for someone else. When looking at a puddle, we see a kind of mirror; the murky water transforms the images of our world. Puddles also provoke various emotions inside us. While a child sees the puddle as an amazing opportunity, an adult may consider it a mere nuisance. Salmenkivi’s novel landscapes are connected to her earlier urban landscapes, which were based on working in and playing with the continuum of painterly realism.
Playfulness and playing are typical features of Salmenkivi’s artistry; her working methods are in many ways indicative of the fact how the artists’ works, with their unrestrained fantasies, approach pure imagination while still retaining the reality of their material side. The artists need to paint a couple of different versions of the same work, as they may feel that the first version reveals too much effort and enthusiasm. Salmenkivi’s works evince the candidness of research and observation in the following way, for instance. Global weather phenomena have had a powerful, even startling effect on the artist. While watching a news broadcast of the Fukushima nuclear accident in the March of 2011, the artist was surprised at her own reaction to the news image: she thought that the scene looked “absurdly good”. The sea of clouds and the tidal waves shown in the broadcast began to fascinate the artist immensely. Indeed, being fascinated by a destructive accident is illustrative of the nature of creative processes. Almost anything may serve as a starting point for such process; we remember the well-known stories about the rotten apple Friedrich Schiller (1759–1805) used to sniff and the demonic childhood memories of Louise Bourgeois (1911–2010). Both artists needed a starting point for their works, and it was by no means necessary to start from a lofty or a positive perspective.
Most of Salmenkivi’s paintings are different kinds of landscapes. However, the artist always wants to include a human figure in the picture; according to her, the figure will provide the viewer with a clue of the scale of the work. From an art historical perspective, I often find Salmenkivi’s paintings to be hybrids of classical and romantic landscapes. The difference is similar to that between an emotional and an intellectual landscape; a romantic landscape is reminiscent of a portrayal of the unconscious, whereas an intellectual landscape includes a conceptualised space and references either to classical mythology or to the tradition of classical landscape painting. Romantic landscapes are expressed through the artist’s broad brush strokes and luscious colours, whereas intellectual or classical landscapes are embedded in the way her works represent a combination of that which is observed and that which is processed.
It is important to watch clouds – this is one of the lessons of the artist’s work. We can regard the interpretation of the changes in weather as analogical to the way different states of mind are reflected on a landscape and, conversely, the way a certain landscape is reflected in our own minds. Following Leonardo (1452–1519), John Ruskin (1819–1900) wrote that we should indeed observe the sky and see what is happening. Salmenkivi adheres to this classical view and prepares her works in a way where factual details are connected with imaginary attributes. This dialogue results in a picturesque world, which helps the viewers to perceive their world in a new way.
The artist points out that the themes of her works often represent a moment before an event actually takes place. They are psychological situations, which she cannot really explain but which nevertheless have a tangible effect. The works amaze us, touch us, make us stop in our tracks and compel us to take a closer look. In her article on Giotto’s colour, Julia Kristeva writes: “Colour is not, therefore, a negative blackness of forms or the whiteness of dazzling light; it is not untouchable, forbidden or simply a figure moving towards shapelessness; nor is it transparent, conceptual light of disembodied meaning that is blocked from our drives. Colour does not suffocate light, but rather reveals its tiniest details: the indivisible whole is broken into the multiplicity of the spectrum, and contrasts are created between surfaces that refract light differently.” (Kristeva 1989)
Similarly to Kristeva’s Giotto, Salmenkivi studies the metaphysical reality through her works. She is like an alchemist, creating new materials and revealing hidden, invisible connections between different worlds. The viewer feels like walking through a polymorphic maze, where the environment will sometimes become humanised, acquiring its own character and personality. Tensions and moods are linked with each other in a way that reminds me of the dizzying and absolutely captivating effect of the scene in the hall of mirrors in Orson Welles’ (1915–1984) The Lady from Shanghai (1947). The space and the characters live commensurately, forming an organic whole. The images continue to live inside my mind – Maiju Salmenkivi’s pictorial power has weaved its magic.
Juha-Heikki Tihinen, PhD
Bibliography: Kristeva, Julia 1989: Giotto’s Joy. Finnish translation by Riikka
Stewen. In: Modernin ulottuvuuksia. Fragmentteja modernista ja
postmodernista. Edited by Jaakko Lintinen. Kustannusosakeyhtiö
Taide, Helsinki.
Gallery Kalhama & Piippo Contemporary
