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Three Wishes in the Art Hall

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Järvi Pust, gallerist and art consultant at Haus Gallery

The beginning of the year has come to represent a sort of symbolic overlook, where one can stop and take a long look over one’s shoulder or attempt to peek behind the curves of the days and months ahead. It is here that others also stop and take stock of where they are and how they have reached this point. Wishes are made, witchcraft is engaged in, and in recent years the tradition of making New Year’s promises has also begun to rear its head; although, in connection with this, I am reminded here of my desk mate in school, who pledged every New Year to never be late to school, usually managing to keep this promise for about five days. I have always tried to steer clear of such holiday promises because I know that life will interfere with the best of intentions sooner or later, and that is why I prefer to give promises to specific people and on specific topics. Instead, I have made wishes; as doing so seems somewhat more ebullient and less restrictive, especially if you are wishing for liberation from something.

On the picture: Rein Kelpman, "Dancing Lesson"

Many of us know the good old anecdote about an elephant in the zoo and how people of different nationalities look at it, and how the only thought Estonians have is: What is the elephant thinking about me? As surprising as it may be, something similar happens in the world of art, so if we were to exaggerate a bit, we could replace the elephant in the joke with a piece of art and the zoo with an exhibition hall. Instead of listening to and observing our sensory experience while standing in front of a painting, we want to understand it at any cost, as if it were a complicated math problem. We want to know what the artist was thinking, and we rack our brains with anxious guesswork instead of letting our fantasies run free with what we see, or allowing ourselves the simple luxury of deciding that we do not like a particular work of art, and simply moving on to the next piece. A work of art may speak about anything, and the motives behind it may also be very different. Art begins within the convolutions of an artist’s brain and continues in the heads of lots of very different viewers, sometimes even in their hearts or souls. All these people have a different upbringing, education, life experiences and even mood at this particular moment in time. Of course, knowledge of the history of art and continuous self-improvement in this realm is always worthwhile; however, even someone without the slightest bit of “preparation” would be able to spot the piece that speaks to them, if they would be just brave enough to listen to the silent voice inside themselves that makes decisions. Hence, my first New Year’s wish is that we should have fewer fears and prejudices and more courage to trust in ourselves when communicating with art, and that we be bold enough to acknowledge what we are feeling, even if we never learn what the picture is thinking about us.

My second wish is that – in a time when we are increasingly drifting apart from other people and life in general – art would serve as an anchor, giving us support and encouragement to engage in direct contact with life and the world, to once again discover and even invent everyday realities through art. It is always a pleasure to meet a form of art where you know instinctively that the artist has been “immersed up to their elbows in life,” that their contact and connection with what is depicted is full of tension and genuine. This does not mean that art should meticulously copy reality. Far from it. Even the most conceptual or abstract piece of art may emit such an impulse and the wonderful feeling of being alive, which might have been lost in the hectic rat race that is our everyday life. For me, this feeling of “being inside life” has been sparked over the past few days by the pictures serving as illustrations for this piece of writing.

My third wish counterbalances the first two, which called for noble thoughts and actions, and it is this practicality that makes it the most difficult to come true. Namely, I would like to finally take the time and have framed or hung on walls all of the pictures that have been patiently waiting for their time, those that are simply stacked somewhere or propped up against something. After all, a work of art is meant to make our lives beautiful, perfect and meaningful, and if it is just sitting on top of a cabinet, it is quite difficult for it to fulfil these daily functions. So it is that I am suggesting to my dear readers that they take out their power drills and take care of this final little act that is preventing them from enjoying art in their homes.

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