Sunday, 30 September 2007

IN SITU 2001–2005




















Can there be human excistence without traces or memories? If not, how long can a memory, a piece of evidence or a relic survive?

These are the questions I have approached in my exhibition, examining the traces and evidence of human presence in the huts and shacks of the homeless. Traces, oblivion and vanishing are the prevailing themes of IN SITU.

In IN SITU the outcasts and their huts are the objects of landscape photography, as opposed to the approaches of traditional photojournalism or methodical documentarism. The builders of these huts are mainly invisible to us, located on the peripheral vision of society. However, in the images, their presence is still discernible - as if someone had just been there.

In the images a parallel is drawn between Kyoto, Osaka, Tokyo –a metropolis without evident borders– and Helsinki. Two cultures, divided by thousands of kilometres, with different histories and languages, meet. A moving similarity can be seen in the tents and huts of the images.

IN SITU continues my series of exhibitions focusing on landscape and visual re-mapping with images. Photography is a logical instrument for this work, an instrument, which is in very complex ways also believed to be neutral. The themes have varied from the executions and violence of the 1918 Civil War in Finland (Topography of Murder, 2001), the threat and fear in city space (Topography of Fear, 2001) and hiking (Aomori Waterwalks -installation, Japan 2004).

\In si'tu\ [L.] In its natural or original position or place; in position; -- said specif., in geology, of a rock, soil, or fossil, when in the situation in which it was originally formed or deposited.
Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.


































Saturday, 29 September 2007

Aomori Water Walks, Japan 2004


































Water is everywhere. It is inside us, it is in the air we breathe and it runs deep under our feet.

From April 30th to May 25th, I completed seven walks: 90 kilometres. From every walk I collected about one litre of water from a river, sea or a brook to a cheap water bottle. Usually, I carried it with me inside my backbag, two times I returned to the site and collected the water later.

The installation consists maps drawn to the walls of the exhibition hall, describing the routes I took when I was climbing Mt. Hakkoda, hiking to valleys or walking down to Aomori harbour. Below each map there is a small cup of water collected from that walk.

Most of my earlier work has been connected to concepts of traces, presence, absence, memory and disappearance. The Aomori Waterwalks plays with the notion of temporariness. I did not leave very many traces to the landscape, and the water I collected evaporates in the porcelain cups. After the water has vanished, the exhibition is also over. The photographs in the series Waterwalks do stay and resist the merciless process of time for a while, but they are only fragments of memories from the hike and my physical efforts.

The Aomori Waterwalks is a countinuous process: I will collect water and add new parts to the installation during June 2004.


(Aomori Contemporary Art Center, Japan, May 2004)




Topography of Fear (2001–2005)



























Do you keep an eye in the night-time for the street-corners? Do you
check the corridors before entering them? Do you feel yourself unsecure,
if someone walks behind you to the same direction? Do women
choose different walking routes and different strategies, compared to
men, and what kind of influence this has in terms of daily routines?

I am interested in the historic layers within the landscape, and
particularly in the values which are added to the landscape and
space. A picture of space can be seen also as a picture of psyche
and mental processes. On the fringes of certainness and safety of the
urban space, do exist grey areas, where lies the possibility of threat,
danger and violence. This uncertainness shows in daily use of safety
and surveillance equipment, and in our everyday routines.

The pictures of the series Topography of Fear are taken during the
night-time in Finland, Estonia, Austria, Germany and in the United
Kingdom. In stead of sociological processes, my object is space. The
menace could become true: the space is empty in the pictures. It is
full of possibilities, potential of emptiness, like an empty scene without
actors and arrangement. Only traces are left from the presence of
people or things which might have happened there. The basis for my
work has been the concept of mise-en-scène – scenic emptiness.

A casual passer-by can become an eye-witness or a victim. We are
part of a network of safety, unsecureness and menace.

(2001)

mise-en-scène/n mise-en-scènes
Fr 1 tech the arrangement of furniture, scenery, and other objects used on the stage in a play
2 lit or pomp the surroundings in which an event takes place
(the Longman Dictionary of English Languge and Culture)




































































































































































































































































































Der finnische Fotograf Ari Saarto spürt die Grauzonen und Schattenseiten der europäischen Stadtarchitektur auf, unter anderem in Newcastle, Wien und Helsinki. Die bedrohlich unbestimmte Leere fahl beleuchteter Unterführungen, einsamer Korridore, kahler Gänge und dunkler Toreinfahrten. Ausbalancierte Kompositionen von Dead Ends und Unorten zur Nachtzeit, in denen die urbane Umgebung zurückweicht und archaischen Formen und Ängsten Platz macht. Saartos Fotografien wirken wie Filmzooms in einer ausweglosen Situation, letzte Bilder aus den Abgründen der Seele.

Bei längerer Betrachtung nehmen die großformatigen quadratischen Aufnahmen irreale Qualitäten an: Wir blicken in eine „europäische Nacht“. Verantwortlich dafür ist die lange Belichtungszeit, welche die Leuchtkraft der vorhandenen elektrischen Lichtquellen und den Widerschein auf der rauhen Alltagsarchitektur um ein vielfaches verstärkt. Der erste Eindruck farbloser Düsternis verfliegt. Eine unsichtbare Fackel ist entfacht, die Lichtschleusen sind geöffnet. Die Motive hellen sich auf sonderbare Weise auf, ohne ihre Alltäglichkeit zu verlieren. Saartos Fotografien tauchen die Welt des Halbdunkels in ein magisches, gelegentlich blendendes Zwielicht, das in seiner filmischen Künstlichkeit so nur auf den langbelichteten Aufnahmen existiert. Der Vorhang der Nacht gleitet zurück, das Dunkel wird abgestreift, eine leuchtende Palette von grau-blauen und gelb-rot-braunen Farbtönen steigt empor. Neonröhren und Lampen scheinen sich plötzlich darin zu überbieten, die vorgeschriebenen physikalischen Gesetze außer Kraft zu setzen und die tristen Rampen, Träger und Wände aus Beton und Stein, die Tore aus Holz und Stahl in atmosphärisch warme Farbtöne einzuhüllen. Leuchtkörper starren mit glühenden Augen in die Nacht, ein Gittertor wirft einen pittoresken Schattenriss, die Entlüftungsanlage einer Garagenausfahrt weist ein grafisches Relief auf, profane Kulissen blinken vor sich hin. Menschliche Zeichen und Spuren im öffentlichen Raum bilden sich überdeutlich ab. Mensch und Zeit bleiben wie von Geisterhand unsichtbar. Die Fotografie inszeniert die Nacht aus Licht, als ein malerisches Ereignis, eine Dämmerung ohne Ende, voll von verschiedenfarbigen Zwischentönen strömender Energie, welche die Dingwelt auflädt und in Schwebe lässt.

Dr. Peter V. Brinkemper (2002)



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Dans ses promenades nocturnes à travers les déserts urbains de l’Europe, Ari Saarto se laisse gagner par l’angoisse comme un poète succomberait à la séduction des muses ou un marin au chant des sirènes. Culs-de-sacs, coupe-gorges, hangars incertains, lieux intermédiaires et glauques encore marqués d’une présence récente, qu’une lumière blafarde soustrait à peine de la nuit, tout l’attire pour installer sans escorte sa chambre grand format. Comme le bon Brassaï mesurait son temps de pose au temps de consomption de sa cigarette Boyard, Ari Saarto travaille à la seconde ou à la minute près pour saisir les lieux à la lumière artificielle mais naturelle à l’endroit. Cela donne en fin de compte une suite d’images inquiétantes, tirées en grand format, à peine manipulées sur ordinateur, comme autant de champs ouverts dans lesquels le spectateur vient à son tour laisser poindre ses propres peurs de solitude et d’agression.

Hervé Le Goff (2002)


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An introduction to the Blue Horizon show in Spiral Gallery, Wacoal Art Center, Tokyo (2003, please click to enlarge the text):