statement
I am a visual artist operating within a number of fields: sculpture, videos, installations and performances. I have participated in exhibitions since the early 1990s and created performances both as a member of a group (NE+ and BAR) and on my own. My work is characterised by exploring physical experience and the properties of perception from various viewpoints. Lately, I have concentrated on sculpting, focusing on the issue of creating objects, sculptures, which could also be experienced and conceived as images.
A sculpture consists of form and mass, it is a space marked off from the air. It is a place of its own. The object and the person perceiving are present in the same space, in the same image. A painting, a drawing or some other two-dimensional image is on the surface, creating an illusion of another space. The place of the image is the surface and the image of the other place it shows. The enchantment of the image lies in its illusion, in its capability of "lying" to be something more than the mere piece of paper or canvas.
The basic issue of my work has been how to combine these two strata of representation. How to create an object, a sculpture that could also be experienced and conceived as an image; how to extend the presence of the object in the space to also incorporate the illusion, the domain of the line and the colour; how to bring the deception of the image in this tangible reality.
In my works, I have approached this issue from a number of vantage points. I have studied the work processes of painting and sculpting, different materials, explored the significance of light as the definer of form and place, and contemplated the essence of colour also as a physical form.
I primarily work with plaster (or concrete), body-tinted with pigments. When casting or constructing forms with these materials, I create both the colour and the form in a single act. This is a way of introducing colour into a three-dimensional process. I also see these materials as neutral and insignificant, representing pure form and colour.
My current work is focused on perception and the content of the image. I try to tackle the relationship between perception and corporeal experience. My interests include the significance of light and shadow as factors defining the place and space of the object. I create figurative sculptures with tinted plaster so that the finished object appears to contain the effect of light. These works create a paradox, where the sculpture as a three-dimensional object is present in a given space and light while at the same time representing another situation, marked by the light and shadow it carries. Thus, the sculpture is simultaneously present in the past and in the present. In addition to being an object of perception, it also becomes a perceiving subject.
The Joy of Asking and Experimenting
Paula Toppila
Curator, Frame
I find myself trapped by Vesa-Pekka Rannikko's Fragments (2001-2002) series. These works are like the engine, something that is crucial for making the thing go, but which is generally hidden, non-aesthetic, hard to define, metallic and heavy without being either. Like the convoluted assemblage under the car bonnet that causes it to move, like the innards of any piece of equipment, which are not intended to be seen, but to be hidden beneath the neat, protective shell. Yet Rannikko is not satisfied with simply showing what appears to have been made to be hidden, but goes even further - in his exhibitions at Gallery Titanik (2000) and Gallery Kuumola (2001) he also hitched the wall itself into being a part of his work, and tried to expose the making of the work, to show in the work itself the time that it took to make it, the process by which the work became what it is.
Is this also what is fundamentally at issue in the series of plaster sculptures mostly portraying human figures that primarily study light and colour, which begins in 2003 with the exhibition at the Amos Anderson Art Museum? And what is that going on on the surface of the sculpture, the cheerful battle between light and colour? Even though the figures clearly have different identities, that does not seem to be the main point, too much is happening on their surface. All the figures are passive, relaxed men, on stand-by, as they say - but full of presence as though to confirm to the doubting viewer - look, it is happening right here, on the surface! This is about observation, about the way we look at ourselves, at each other, about the way the environment is reflected in us and in our pictures. In this sense, for example, In the Background (2003) - and Red Light (2003) are fertile objects for contemplation.
Even though the process of making the work is no longer clearly readable from these figurative plaster sculptures, the counterpoints to Fragments , it is, nevertheless, still present in the unswerving choice of materials, in the plaster. Making a sculpture out of plaster (coloured by the artist himself) with a spatula intrinsically involves speed, since plaster dries very quickly. And perhaps specifically for that reason, his recent works made using plaster and concrete are very painterly, or, I would say, expressive, in a way that is characteristic of painting as a genre - the rapid, revealing execution is the primary observation. The lights and shadows have been made luxuriantly, in thick layers of colour, one on top of and interleaved with the other. That is why the work's remote viewpoint, from a distance, permits us to form an image of the whole. When we look at the piece from close to, the blotches of colour appear as though the light had formed a layer of bark on a human body, created a radiant, light coat of armour - an antimilitaristic, if not highly carnivalesque, camouflage created by light.
Rannikko is very open-minded and at the same time practical with regard to the artist's means of expression. Plaster and concrete are not the only materials, nor are casting and using them the only methods that Rannikko has employed during his career. He has also investigated light and colour in the minimalist manner, directly and clearly via photography, in his slide projections in exhibitions at Gallery Kuumola, following his residency in Iceland in 2001. The occurrences and emergences that take place in the work here and now were also once studied by the BAR group, formed by Rannikko and two other artists, and its performances. Video and drawing have also brought new scope for investigating simultaneous occurrence and the relationship with space, and also the carrying out of artistic work.
It is interesting and stimulating to notice that Rannikko's starting point is quite evidently a courageous posing of questions: Is this what it looks like? And what are we actually seeing? What is involved in making the work, what is its process? How do we give light or colour a presence? Is there actually any difference between a sculpture and a painting? Is there a possibility of creating a situation in which that difference vanishes? Does enlarging the original object make the work a monument or a tribute to its subject, or does something else happen here?
Asking questions, however, is not enough. In order to liberate the forward-bearing energy hidden in the questions - as Rannikko's production shows - it takes tireless experimentation and testing of both materials and processes, and also of the viewer - not to forget the artist's endless practise and risk taking.
A sculpture posing as a picture
A discussion between Vesa-Pekka Rannikko and Jan Kaila
Kaila: You have been creating pieces that are sculptures and paintings at one and the same time for about four years now. Has combining different things always been characteristic of your work?
Rannikko: Yes, it has. I started creating painting-like sculptures when I was studying ceramics at the University of Art and Design, Helsinki. Later on, at the Academy of Fine Arts, I started working with performance art and videos. The relationship between the corporeal and the image became the common denominator in my work. I'm interested in the grey area between different media. I often strive to create works that are defined by multiple shades of meaning. The interesting thing is that a piece cannot be categorised in any specific pigeonhole; it can be defined as a photograph and an installation, or a painting and a sculpture at the same time.
Kaila: So these twenty-first century works of yours are sculptures, three-dimensional objects here and now, but at the same time they are illusory images that represent something other than what they are in a material sense.
Rannikko: I'm intrigued by the sense of ambiguity that is created by not being able to define whether it is a picture or an object you see when you look at the work. At the same time, the physical place of the piece and the situation that it represents are obscured.
Kaila: I find your art surprising and humorous, especially when one thinks about the presuppositions that observers might have about traditional sculpture. A figurative sculpture is, after all, usually an autonomous object that takes the place of the model.
Rannikko: I don't think of myself as a sculptor but as a picture maker. The material I use does end up in three-dimensional form, of course, but the starting point is not three-dimensionality but two-dimensionality. I work from painting, drawing and photography.
Kaila: How does this process work in practice?
Rannikko: I experiment and test what happens when two-dimensional art traditions and genres are realised in three-dimensional form. I use working methods and models that are familiar from the history of painting, but the starting point may be something else, like a comic strip, for example. Sometimes I even categorise work in progress in a specific way: "this is a still life", or "this is a landscape", or "this is a portrait".For me, the key question has to do with the relationship between perception on the one hand and two-dimensionality and three-dimensionality on the other. So, it is quite clear that early twentieth-century art has been important to me.
Kaila: The pictures that you start with are, however, rather varied in their expressive qualities and techniques. They also belong to different historical eras. You have used both medieval miniature sculptures and contemporary news photographs as your models. What does the narrative content or subject of the model images that you choose mean to you?
Rannikko: Finding a subject is a complex process. Sometimes I find models to suit the subject. I became interested in the concept of a terrarium because of its artificial nature, and started searching for suitable imagery that I could use. But I often become interested in an image for its visual qualities. The subject is often defined by the inner dialogue between illustrative quality and its three-dimensionality. Many of my subjects come from photographs I have taken myself.
Kaila: Your first pieces, created in 2003, resemble traditional sculptures in the sense that they are full-length images of human beings.
Rannikko: In 2003, when I was experimenting with a new technique it felt right to start from the scale of the whole human body, which is an elementary issue in relation to image and space.
Kaila: These human figures were somewhat smaller than real-life human beings. Why was that?
Rannikko: It has to do with developing a picture. The idea was to create distance; a smaller "human being" looks as if it is further away - thus the sculpture becomes an illusory picture of itself, seen from further away. Observers are put in a position where they can't reach the work properly; the sculpture always remains at a distance. The human figure is also a recognizable marker of scale. A smaller-scale figure appears to enlarge the space it is placed in. This creates an experience on two levels for the observer, where the corporeally sensed space is smaller than the space experienced through the sculptures.
Kaila: You obviously used yourself as a model for your full-size works?
Rannikko: I used photographs of myself in various positions.
Kaila: How accurately did you reproduce the colours and light values of the model photographs in your pieces?
Rannikko: Photographs were then only a starting point. The lighting and colours of the pieces were created on new terms to refer to the specific situation of the actual work.
Kaila: Alongside your works depicting humans, your exhibitions in 2003 also included a number of still-life images representing various objects.
Rannikko: With one or two exceptions, I have tried to avoid too obvious themes for my exhibitions. I try to use unexpected comparisons to create additional meanings between pieces. These meanings have to do with scale and the relationship between the work and the space.
Kaila: In 2004, you created a series of busts, also on a somewhat smaller scale than real life.
Rannikko: They were explicitly smaller than real people - and they were also cropped and hung up on the wall. The idea was to highlight the picture qualities and approach the traditions of sculpting busts as well as the traditions of painting portraits. They are also some of the first pieces where I introduced cropping as a part of sculpture.
Kaila: What sort of models did you use when you were creating this series?
Rannikko: Some are modelled on photographs of myself, while some were initiated by films. I picked images for my own use from stills I made by stopping the film. The masking of the film remained as the cropping in my work. The Daughter series started out from my interest in Andrei Tarkovsky's film Solaris and the sci-fi novel by Andrei Lem on which it was based. Lem's novel depicts a kind of fictitious sculpture project, in which flawed copies of real people, alive or dead, are created through memories. In that way, the story is a type of image-making process. Thus, TarkovskyÕs film is fiction based on fiction. It's a series of multi-layered, flawed reproductions, i.e. images, in the same way as in my work.However, I could only find a single interesting shot in Solaris. It was a scene where the camera zooms in on a ten-year-old girl. The scene is left open in the film, and the girl's identity is never revealed. The series of works based on that image was named Daughter, since the word refers to being a child. It brings to my mind similar questions of resembling and copying as in Lem's book.
Kaila: Your works from 2004 and 2005 deal with the key problems of art in modern times, such as portraying movement and the borderline area between figurative and non- figurative art. Did your technique change too with these new works
Rannikko: To some extent: I work on a styrofoam structure reinforced with steel, using body-tinted plaster. The actual works consist of layers of body-tinted plaster on top of each other. I work on the colour and form of the piece at the same time. This simultaneousness sets parameters for the structure of the piece. Plaster dries quickly, and I only have a window of about five minutes to work each colour. After this, I mix a new colour and continue. The whole working process is rapid and sensitive. As the forms of my pieces become more disintegrated (they are sometimes meant to depict disintegration), they become more difficult to keep together physically. The structure of the work becomes more visible, and at the same time it becomes a factor that defines the content of the piece. This kind of disintegrating structure alters the observer's experience of the piece to a less material rather than a solid sculpture. The boundary between the work, the space around it and the perception of it becomes more ambiguous.
Kaila: It's as if you were seeking new aesthetic dimensions for modern art traditions with your experiments. Your rather rough style of working, which accentuates the marks left by the tools you use, differs from mainstream contemporary art, where artists often try to transfer meaning from the actual work to contextual issues, or create rather clinical objects that are refined in the extreme.
Rannikko: My working process is largely defined by the content demanded by the work. My pieces appear flat when perceived, despite their three-dimensionality, which is characteristic of my work. I strive to accentuate this contradiction between the object qualities of the piece and the picture qualities of perception with the physicality of my working method. I think that the work must retain its rough physical quality and be an interface that reaches out towards the observer, tempting him or her to make contact without any kind of exclusion.
Kaila: The titles of your works are very significant. With names you often bring interpretations or meanings to the works that the observer might not necessarily have come up with.
Rannikko: The titles of my works refer to the content behind them, which sometimes might not open up merely through the visual aspect. If we think, for instance, of the piece Rain cover, it could easily be just a yellow shape on the wall to the observer. The words "rain cover", however, refer to different directions: they speak of protection, shell, and covering. The way the observer's perception of the yellow shape relates to the knowledge that he is looking at a shelter from the rain is extremely interesting.
Kaila: On those occasions when the observer immediately realises what a piece of yours depicts, the title often has a tautologous, even an amusing meaning in relation to what is depicted (as clearly is the case with Balls, a work obviously depicting three balls). Sometimes, though, I at least cannot identify what I see in your work as anything based on an idea an object or a situation. For example, Setting remained purely non- figurative to me until I saw its title on paper.
Rannikko: I often use the names or subjects of my model photographs for the finished works. The model photo for Setting is one of a house burning down, which was actually a film set. I moved so far away from the model photo, though, that the stage set could manifest itself as something completely different.
Kaila: Due to the tautologous titles, observers might think that your other pieces also depict something more or less familiar, and thus begin to concoct a subject or a story for those pieces that they find non- figurative. Or they might begin to contemplate the nature of their own observations. How do you construct your exhibitions? What does an exhibition as a whole mean to you?
Rannikko: I don't construct obviously thematic exhibitions, but I try to create networks within them for the observer to go backwards and forwards in. A certain piece might have such a unifying meaning that it covers the thematics of the exhibition in itself and links up with other pieces, like Gathering in the exhibition of the same name. My works might link up with each other through colour, contrast or scale. I feel that it is also interesting to leave some issues unresolved and question how the works could possibly relate to each other. I often think of my works as fragments - parts of a larger work, the exhibition.
Kaila: I feel that your latest works, from 2005 and 2006, relate to both objects and figures that are familiar from pictures, as well as to the strangeness and set-like quality of the representation, as in your work Hotel.
Rannikko: My works are stage-sets of a certain type. The sort of illusions created through set-design - they are shells, they are pictures. That is also why I have ended up with similar subjects - production situations, construction situations. I continue to build these up, layer upon layer, as Tarkovsky built up his film on the basis of Lem's book.
Published in book: Vesa-Pekka Rannikko:Terrarium, 2007