Jukka Korkeila
The significance of tradition?
Well, perhaps we could put it simply, and say that even
though your gaze is strictly directed forwards, the back
of your head, the making and the works, is in tradition.
In principle I am interested in the entire tradition of
painting. It is hard for me to give concrete examples.
In any case, I am mostly interested in individual cases
and individual works, not in some period or movement.
In fact it is often easier not to think about art. Of
course, it is a significant part of life, but never the
most important thing. Or we could say that art is so important
that it also demands to be forgotten now and then.
Could you clarify that? What interests you in the
tradition of painting?
Broadly speaking it is a question of ideas. Of versions
of reality that do not fit on the good-bad axis, but which
you latch onto through how interesting they are to you.
In my own paintings the contemplation of identity and
unpacking of it are still going on. That may not be very
trendy, but very few trends are interesting.
This contemplation of identity has shifted within its
own starting points in the sense that the context has
expanded. I deal with more things, even though sexuality
is still crucially present. This expansion is more clearly
visible in the range and multi-facetedness of the language
of the painting. On the other hand, it is also about the
interaction between the questions What and How. And this
relationship - what I paint versus how I paint - is a
big wheel that turns very slowly.
The possibilities of painting?
We are still in an extremely interesting situation. Painting
has been pushed to the margins, and to me that is a good
place to be. Considerably more pleasant than being at
the centre of attention. Whenever you are compelled to
find reasons and to question things, then the mode of
expression has a splendid vitality.
Where does this marginality come from?
It seems to be a typical group phenomenon. It started
with a small group of top international curators simply
deciding amongst themselves that painting is boring. And
that's that. Then this line is followed and maintained
by a large group of sheep followers-on, who have no desire
at all to call into question a view that is assumed to
be true and good.
Does this general anti-painting attitude affect your
work?
Absolutely not. In my case, the work is about the perpetual
need to stay alive. And at the same time also about a
certain stage of development. A good example is the project
that I did in Milan in the spring 2002. It was a joint
exhibition, and there, for the first time, I painted both
straight onto a wall and combined wall painting with already
existing drawings. The experiment was a success, albeit
an arduous one. The execution on the spot took three intense
days. The aim is to do something like that in Turku.
The idea came out of a bunch of random impulses that
set me thinking about whether painting directly onto a
wall is at all possible. The answer was a positive experience.
I got sufficient distance from conventional rectangular
painting, which often incorporates an element of that
feeling of anxiety linked with the shape. At the same
time, the painting process reverted to its original model.
It was an action that happened directly in the space.
What do you read?
Are all these questions compulsory?
Of course, otherwise it wouldn't qualify as torture.
Well, I am a very slow reader. Reading sets off too many
mental images in me, and that's precisely why it is such
a slow business. A great example is when I just recently
read a new translation of Grimm's fairy tales. They are
absolutely astonishing material. In one famous story Snow
White is against the Queen, who is her wicked stepmother.
In the fairy tale evil gets its reward, and how. The stepmother
arrives at the ball and some iron dancing shoes are heated
red-hot, and she is forced to put them on and dances herself
to death. Another thing in the same fairy tale that has
a special connotation is the glass coffin made for Snow
White, which immediately reminded me of Lenin's Mausoleum.
Your relationship with the subjects of your paintings?
It is never one to one. One part in the background is
mirroring oneself in a self-portrait, one part relies
on experiences and on pictures of people in my immediate
circle, and a third part is the whole of the surrounding
society. It is about the choices that I make between them.
The centre of gravity of all these sub-areas emerges
as the painting process progresses. They shouldn't be
and can't be fixed or resolved in advance, rather they
have to be kept in motion right up to the end. Earlier
on, I mentioned the push and pull between what I paint
and how I paint. The same thing could be described as
an endless contradiction and cross-pull between the ideas
and iconography and the actual painting. None of them
is totally subordinate to any other. The final outcome
emerges from this contradiction, from the perpetual pushing
and shoving between them.
What is the role of the artist?
Perhaps the artist can serve as a valve. On the other
hand, participating in the world of images, presenting
your own version is extremely important in order for diversity
and richness to be preserved and given space. The basic
situation continually remains pretty much the same. Images
from the dominant culture echo the same hegemonic values,
and we both should and can affect these. But the effect
is very slow and cumulative. The changes are only visible
in the long term.
Mika Hannula
Translated by Mike Garner
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