Index: Finnish Artists’ Association’s Artist Award 2023 by Saara Hacklin
New Normal by Misha del Val
’That’s Right, Hold My Hand’ Said the Lumberjack to the Limping Buddha by Raisa Rekallio and Misha del Val
R&M Jam Session, Francisco Javier San Martín - English / Castellano / Euskaraz
Hamaan Loppuun asti, Misha del Val - Suomeksi / English / Castellano
La pintura protectora, Gerardo Elorriaga - Castellano
New Normal by Misha del Val
’That’s Right, Hold My Hand’ Said the Lumberjack to the Limping Buddha by Raisa Rekallio and Misha del Val
R&M Jam Session, Francisco Javier San Martín - English / Castellano / Euskaraz
Hamaan Loppuun asti, Misha del Val - Suomeksi / English / Castellano
La pintura protectora, Gerardo Elorriaga - Castellano
Finnish Artists’ Association’s Artist Award speech
16th December 2023
Saara Hacklin, PhD, Chief Curator, Collections, Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma
Honoured artists, colleagues, dear Raisa Raekallio Misha Del Val,
I want to start with an image: in it, a small girl sits by the table after school. The village where she lives is called Sirkka, in Kittilä. The place is small and there are not many friends to play with. No other girls in her class. However, she likes to draw and paint. In the afternoons, sitting by the table, she finds company in her drawings – the world is suddenly alive.
Misha comes from Bilbao, from the Basque Country in Spain, a city that has an industrial history – and since a few decades, a museum with a prestigious name. Misha took a detour on his way to Finland via Australia, but is now based in the village of Sirkka.
When Raisa and Misha paint together, strange characters are being born out of their dialogue. The scenes open into happenings that take place in the isolation of a cabin or sauna, or where a group of people are bundled into some strange activity in the landscape. The spaces of their paintings somehow both situate themselves in North, but also reach out to different times and spaces: in them outside can be inside, inside can be outside. Depth surface and surface depth. People come together – and melt away into abstractions again.
Our paths crossed with Raisa and Misha few years back, after they participated in the Lumipalloefekti exhibition in Oulu, in 2021. At that time, the Wihuri Foundation decided to buy their painting Mökki (Cabin) for their collection. At the same time, together with my curator colleagues Kati Kivinen and Satu Oksanen, I was finalising the list of works for an exhibition of the Wihuri Collection, called Navigating North, to be held in the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma. We felt strongly that, despite the hectic timetable, we definitely needed to include this painting in that exhibition.
Raisa and Misha described how the Mökki painting had been born during the Covid pandemic when, in order to break from the dullness of all the isolation, they dressed up and played together. The painting opens up to an imaginary party of people, gathering in a cabin during strange times when the whole world was in isolation together. The table, around which the characters are sitting, looks like a glowing globe.
I think Mökki is exemplary of their practice. In their paintings, one often finds strange characters: humans, creatures… some are wearing masks, which carry references to different traditions. I find myself repeatedly coming across characters that remind me of the commedia dell’arte tradition. Especially the character of the harlequin – you know, the one with the suit made out of patches like an abstract painting. A poor servant, always ready to do tricks, and always hungry. This character can also speak the truth and get away with it.
Recently, the Director of the Finnish Museum of Photography, Anna-Kaisa Rastenberger, stated in the TV programme Kulttuuri Cocktail that “…to be an artist is already a political choice”. I agree, in these times when art and culture are not protected enough, to work as an artist is already a political choice.
To me it seems clear that Raisa and Misha have made a political choice. In their practice, there is a particular drive to do together: when painting together, they are summoning otherworldly characters through their dialogue. However, they are also doing that in real life. There is a generosity and curiosity in what they do, their practice is about summoning people together through organising events, biennales, exhibitions, participating in discussions, cooking mushroom risotto, and simply resisting the idea that there is only one location for being an artist in Finland. Following their practice, I think they are making Sirkka, Kittilä, the place through which we should all make our way in this world. And who knows, sometimes I think we all have already been there, at least in their paintings.
My warmest congratulations to you Raisa and Misha.
Honoured artists, colleagues, dear Raisa Raekallio Misha Del Val,
I want to start with an image: in it, a small girl sits by the table after school. The village where she lives is called Sirkka, in Kittilä. The place is small and there are not many friends to play with. No other girls in her class. However, she likes to draw and paint. In the afternoons, sitting by the table, she finds company in her drawings – the world is suddenly alive.
Misha comes from Bilbao, from the Basque Country in Spain, a city that has an industrial history – and since a few decades, a museum with a prestigious name. Misha took a detour on his way to Finland via Australia, but is now based in the village of Sirkka.
When Raisa and Misha paint together, strange characters are being born out of their dialogue. The scenes open into happenings that take place in the isolation of a cabin or sauna, or where a group of people are bundled into some strange activity in the landscape. The spaces of their paintings somehow both situate themselves in North, but also reach out to different times and spaces: in them outside can be inside, inside can be outside. Depth surface and surface depth. People come together – and melt away into abstractions again.
Our paths crossed with Raisa and Misha few years back, after they participated in the Lumipalloefekti exhibition in Oulu, in 2021. At that time, the Wihuri Foundation decided to buy their painting Mökki (Cabin) for their collection. At the same time, together with my curator colleagues Kati Kivinen and Satu Oksanen, I was finalising the list of works for an exhibition of the Wihuri Collection, called Navigating North, to be held in the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma. We felt strongly that, despite the hectic timetable, we definitely needed to include this painting in that exhibition.
Raisa and Misha described how the Mökki painting had been born during the Covid pandemic when, in order to break from the dullness of all the isolation, they dressed up and played together. The painting opens up to an imaginary party of people, gathering in a cabin during strange times when the whole world was in isolation together. The table, around which the characters are sitting, looks like a glowing globe.
I think Mökki is exemplary of their practice. In their paintings, one often finds strange characters: humans, creatures… some are wearing masks, which carry references to different traditions. I find myself repeatedly coming across characters that remind me of the commedia dell’arte tradition. Especially the character of the harlequin – you know, the one with the suit made out of patches like an abstract painting. A poor servant, always ready to do tricks, and always hungry. This character can also speak the truth and get away with it.
Recently, the Director of the Finnish Museum of Photography, Anna-Kaisa Rastenberger, stated in the TV programme Kulttuuri Cocktail that “…to be an artist is already a political choice”. I agree, in these times when art and culture are not protected enough, to work as an artist is already a political choice.
To me it seems clear that Raisa and Misha have made a political choice. In their practice, there is a particular drive to do together: when painting together, they are summoning otherworldly characters through their dialogue. However, they are also doing that in real life. There is a generosity and curiosity in what they do, their practice is about summoning people together through organising events, biennales, exhibitions, participating in discussions, cooking mushroom risotto, and simply resisting the idea that there is only one location for being an artist in Finland. Following their practice, I think they are making Sirkka, Kittilä, the place through which we should all make our way in this world. And who knows, sometimes I think we all have already been there, at least in their paintings.
My warmest congratulations to you Raisa and Misha.
New Normal
Misha del Val
I crossed the arcade that separated my friend’s house from the normality of the world, pushed the hefty wooden door and I let myself into the warm ambience of the room. Inside, I found a heterogeneous and unruly bunch of characters of different constitutions, backgrounds, temperaments and species, sitting inexplicably around the same table. I stood for a moment at the doorway. No one seemed to pay any special attention to me. As I approached tentatively the table, I observed how everyone sitting around it looked comfortable in their own skin. This helped me also to soften up and relax, and so I allowed myself to be just what I was. I sat gently at the end of the table. Little by little my spirits lifted up, as the atmosphere of merrymaking, fancy and mischief of my fellow diners sucked me in.
At the table I encountered ghastly lion tamers dressed up with military insignia, an old lady handing out playing cards to a dog, a Buddha, who had grown Nietzsche’s moustaches and was toying with Picasso’s bread rolls, fervent lovers hiding behind fancy venetian masks, a taxi driver whose heart had been opened to love, toddlers lost in the light of a hand device, enlightened beings, spectres, spirits of all sorts: of anger, of laughter, of confusion, of awe, dungeon wardens out of a Monty Python movie, the Supreme God in a drunken state. I saw Hermann Hesse, walls and dresses made of diamonds, mouldy men, a person from a back and white film wearing a surgical mask, a galactic refugee, saintly people who argued, kissed each other, fell asleep on the table, drooled and snorted lines. I also found fragments of the same forests I carry within me.
Serene and quiet, with my elbows leaning on the edge of the table, I understood the table as a living organism, and somehow as part of what I was. I grew fond of the other guests; I conversed and meddled with most of them and learned how everyone came from different families, quarters, countries, different walks of life, different planets, and how each of them had a different story to tell. I felt at ease amongst that miscellaneous mob. They were -we were- unique individuals, yet at that moment sitting at the same table we were all strangely alike. Touched by this observation, I looked back through the large glass window at the world of noises and smoke, words and minutes, credos and opinions waiting for me outside.
I crossed the arcade that separated my friend’s house from the normality of the world, pushed the hefty wooden door and I let myself into the warm ambience of the room. Inside, I found a heterogeneous and unruly bunch of characters of different constitutions, backgrounds, temperaments and species, sitting inexplicably around the same table. I stood for a moment at the doorway. No one seemed to pay any special attention to me. As I approached tentatively the table, I observed how everyone sitting around it looked comfortable in their own skin. This helped me also to soften up and relax, and so I allowed myself to be just what I was. I sat gently at the end of the table. Little by little my spirits lifted up, as the atmosphere of merrymaking, fancy and mischief of my fellow diners sucked me in.
At the table I encountered ghastly lion tamers dressed up with military insignia, an old lady handing out playing cards to a dog, a Buddha, who had grown Nietzsche’s moustaches and was toying with Picasso’s bread rolls, fervent lovers hiding behind fancy venetian masks, a taxi driver whose heart had been opened to love, toddlers lost in the light of a hand device, enlightened beings, spectres, spirits of all sorts: of anger, of laughter, of confusion, of awe, dungeon wardens out of a Monty Python movie, the Supreme God in a drunken state. I saw Hermann Hesse, walls and dresses made of diamonds, mouldy men, a person from a back and white film wearing a surgical mask, a galactic refugee, saintly people who argued, kissed each other, fell asleep on the table, drooled and snorted lines. I also found fragments of the same forests I carry within me.
Serene and quiet, with my elbows leaning on the edge of the table, I understood the table as a living organism, and somehow as part of what I was. I grew fond of the other guests; I conversed and meddled with most of them and learned how everyone came from different families, quarters, countries, different walks of life, different planets, and how each of them had a different story to tell. I felt at ease amongst that miscellaneous mob. They were -we were- unique individuals, yet at that moment sitting at the same table we were all strangely alike. Touched by this observation, I looked back through the large glass window at the world of noises and smoke, words and minutes, credos and opinions waiting for me outside.
’That’s Right, Hold My Hand’ Said the Lumberjack to the Limping Buddha
Galleria Huuto - Helsinki, Finland, 27.5.-19.6.2022
Raisa Raekallio & Misha del Val
Philosopher: So, what do you want?
Skier: I don’t remember anyone having asked me that before.
The Clown, the Pilot and the Samurai: We want to be free!
Sunday painter: I assumed I wanted, you know, the typical, liberation, fulfilment, ummm enlightenment… having a bit of fun perhaps.
R&M: We just want to make decent paintings.
Samoyed: I want freedom, tell me what to do.
Philosopher: Good. Now, why don’t you just be still? (Her smile embraced the whole universe)
Cossack: But how do I do that? What do I have to do??
Skier: Maybe I don’t speak for nine years…
Samoyed: I won’t even move!
Old Lady Playing Cards: I’ll hold my breath from now on (getting purple)
Philosopher: Stop that silly-billy. Relax, just let be.
R&M: But we’re afraid, If we’re still, if we let go… We’ll regress to square one. We’ll be a failure all over again!
Soul: Ay a fear of losing myself, of losing my core, of going to pieces, something inhuman, is taking over me…
Philosopher: Let be, my dear. It’s just Life, doing its thing.
Samurai: I try! I try! I try!
Sauron: Come together, let’s hold hands.
For a moment, the company came to a halt. It allowed itself to be afraid, confused, joyful, tired. The scary music just played its part. The surface of the lake became still and transparent.
Philosopher: Ok, good, what do you want now?
Phillip Glass: I don’t… want anything… right now…
The boundaries between beings became bit blurred.
Cossack: Oh cut that bullshit. You need to be strong. if you are not with me, you are against us. Burp!
Clown: They laugh at me but I don’t mind. I have met the face of Christ, I have seen the headless, the deathless, Howl’s Moving Castle, our eyes were inflamed, our hearts pounding like rabbits, I have penetrated the gentle wisdom of trees.
Sunday painter and R&M: The vistas from here are really handsome!
Philosopher: So, what do you want?
Skier: I don’t remember anyone having asked me that before.
The Clown, the Pilot and the Samurai: We want to be free!
Sunday painter: I assumed I wanted, you know, the typical, liberation, fulfilment, ummm enlightenment… having a bit of fun perhaps.
R&M: We just want to make decent paintings.
Samoyed: I want freedom, tell me what to do.
Philosopher: Good. Now, why don’t you just be still? (Her smile embraced the whole universe)
Cossack: But how do I do that? What do I have to do??
Skier: Maybe I don’t speak for nine years…
Samoyed: I won’t even move!
Old Lady Playing Cards: I’ll hold my breath from now on (getting purple)
Philosopher: Stop that silly-billy. Relax, just let be.
R&M: But we’re afraid, If we’re still, if we let go… We’ll regress to square one. We’ll be a failure all over again!
Soul: Ay a fear of losing myself, of losing my core, of going to pieces, something inhuman, is taking over me…
Philosopher: Let be, my dear. It’s just Life, doing its thing.
Samurai: I try! I try! I try!
Sauron: Come together, let’s hold hands.
For a moment, the company came to a halt. It allowed itself to be afraid, confused, joyful, tired. The scary music just played its part. The surface of the lake became still and transparent.
Philosopher: Ok, good, what do you want now?
Phillip Glass: I don’t… want anything… right now…
The boundaries between beings became bit blurred.
Cossack: Oh cut that bullshit. You need to be strong. if you are not with me, you are against us. Burp!
Clown: They laugh at me but I don’t mind. I have met the face of Christ, I have seen the headless, the deathless, Howl’s Moving Castle, our eyes were inflamed, our hearts pounding like rabbits, I have penetrated the gentle wisdom of trees.
Sunday painter and R&M: The vistas from here are really handsome!
R&M Jam Session
Prof. Francisco Javier San Martín
According to a classic definition by critic George Frazier, Jam Session refers to 'an informal get-together of musicians with temperamental affinity to play, for their own amusement, a music not written, nor rehearsed'. It could be argued, that the music they play, which basks in the very desire of making it, is alien to the idea of an organised project. The activity becomes an opportunity, a mouthful of shared humility, that turns the individual ego a bit more transparent. To collaborate is to lower one´s own expectations for a particular outcome, to open up and learn from others. Raisa Raekallio and Misha del Val have been making their pictures as a duet in Lapland for several years now, following similar principles to those of a jam session, in white quilted lands, like in the black Harlem.
I had a chance to enjoy a fruit of this collaboration, entrusted at my place for some months: it portraits, in a modest formal, a wild beast, perhaps a dog or a bear, in a combination of golden ochres and gelid blues; with that cold light that seems to come in through all the chinks, which reveal the painting has been created near snow. Beyond the animal appearance, the term that came into my mind, the first time I saw it in a bar in Bilbao, was incandescent; as if possessed by an emotional fever, sort of when the temperature of iron reaches such heights that the burning reds give way to an almost glacial white. And also the idea that painting is heated desire, even when practised in extreme temperatures: a longing to repeat what is loved, be it a feral creature that looks straight at you, the mask of a red-lipped goddess, or bodies travelling through constellations with stars in their ankles. I've returned the painting to its authors and now the audience can appreciate it in this exhibition at Torre de Ariz, draw their own conclusions, and maybe tremble before the animal they see on the image and possibly have within, without even knowing it.
R&M´s creative process is generated by a three-sided love relationship: between the artists themselves, and between the couple and painting. The seduction processes, which occur in this fertile territory of exchange, crystallises in jointly made pictures. A palette to mix the colours, a table for food, a wooden house to live in and work. As we know, love involves commitment: in this case, not only to the dainty mechanisms of the blossoming picture, but also to the shared thrust, force, motivation that drives the artists to keep wanting to make painting. In this mental and physical shared space, the studio isn't just a working place, it becomes a condominium for conspiratorial intimacy. Ray and Charles Eames had the privilege of building their own house, the place where they would live and produce all their work in collaboration for decades. Maybe that´s the highest an artist couple can aspire to. Aino Marsio and her husband Alvar Aalto, in a closer context to where the paintings in this exhibition have been made, opened In Helsinki the Artek shops to commercialise the products of their work: a rational, as much as emotional, collaboration.
R&M continue the saga painting galactic refugees, figures belonging to no homeland, sheltered in golden space blankets, gently glowing like the arctic midnight sun. Vulnerable and dignified, exposed and solemn, packed together with a stunned gaze, that reflects their long journey, R&M may have an inkling it's them, lost in the immensity of the world and found again by the fireplace in a corner of their studio. Through Skype Raisa explains, while painting these beings she feels compassion and needs to nurture it and paint it only through improvisation, responding moment to moment to what crops up on the picture: if she feels bounded by the idea of a project, this energy of empathy with the characters gets blocked and the magic vanishes into thin air. Misha in turn, she adds, tends to be more reflective over each stage of the process, and she feels comfortable with this share of responsibilities. Indeed, a jam session does not imply the dissolution of the personalities of the members involved, but precisely a sharper definition of each´s potentialities in the common flow, the destiny of the music they are making.
According to a classic definition by critic George Frazier, Jam Session refers to 'an informal get-together of musicians with temperamental affinity to play, for their own amusement, a music not written, nor rehearsed'. It could be argued, that the music they play, which basks in the very desire of making it, is alien to the idea of an organised project. The activity becomes an opportunity, a mouthful of shared humility, that turns the individual ego a bit more transparent. To collaborate is to lower one´s own expectations for a particular outcome, to open up and learn from others. Raisa Raekallio and Misha del Val have been making their pictures as a duet in Lapland for several years now, following similar principles to those of a jam session, in white quilted lands, like in the black Harlem.
I had a chance to enjoy a fruit of this collaboration, entrusted at my place for some months: it portraits, in a modest formal, a wild beast, perhaps a dog or a bear, in a combination of golden ochres and gelid blues; with that cold light that seems to come in through all the chinks, which reveal the painting has been created near snow. Beyond the animal appearance, the term that came into my mind, the first time I saw it in a bar in Bilbao, was incandescent; as if possessed by an emotional fever, sort of when the temperature of iron reaches such heights that the burning reds give way to an almost glacial white. And also the idea that painting is heated desire, even when practised in extreme temperatures: a longing to repeat what is loved, be it a feral creature that looks straight at you, the mask of a red-lipped goddess, or bodies travelling through constellations with stars in their ankles. I've returned the painting to its authors and now the audience can appreciate it in this exhibition at Torre de Ariz, draw their own conclusions, and maybe tremble before the animal they see on the image and possibly have within, without even knowing it.
R&M´s creative process is generated by a three-sided love relationship: between the artists themselves, and between the couple and painting. The seduction processes, which occur in this fertile territory of exchange, crystallises in jointly made pictures. A palette to mix the colours, a table for food, a wooden house to live in and work. As we know, love involves commitment: in this case, not only to the dainty mechanisms of the blossoming picture, but also to the shared thrust, force, motivation that drives the artists to keep wanting to make painting. In this mental and physical shared space, the studio isn't just a working place, it becomes a condominium for conspiratorial intimacy. Ray and Charles Eames had the privilege of building their own house, the place where they would live and produce all their work in collaboration for decades. Maybe that´s the highest an artist couple can aspire to. Aino Marsio and her husband Alvar Aalto, in a closer context to where the paintings in this exhibition have been made, opened In Helsinki the Artek shops to commercialise the products of their work: a rational, as much as emotional, collaboration.
R&M continue the saga painting galactic refugees, figures belonging to no homeland, sheltered in golden space blankets, gently glowing like the arctic midnight sun. Vulnerable and dignified, exposed and solemn, packed together with a stunned gaze, that reflects their long journey, R&M may have an inkling it's them, lost in the immensity of the world and found again by the fireplace in a corner of their studio. Through Skype Raisa explains, while painting these beings she feels compassion and needs to nurture it and paint it only through improvisation, responding moment to moment to what crops up on the picture: if she feels bounded by the idea of a project, this energy of empathy with the characters gets blocked and the magic vanishes into thin air. Misha in turn, she adds, tends to be more reflective over each stage of the process, and she feels comfortable with this share of responsibilities. Indeed, a jam session does not imply the dissolution of the personalities of the members involved, but precisely a sharper definition of each´s potentialities in the common flow, the destiny of the music they are making.
R&M Jam Session
Francisco Javier San Martín
Hay una definición clásica de Jam Session del crítico George Frazier: “Reunión informal de músicos, con afinidad temperamental, que tocan para su propio disfrute, una música no escrita ni ensayada”. Podríamos añadir que es una música ajena a la idea de proyecto, que surge y se alimenta de su propio deseo de hacerse. También una bocanada de humildad compartida que torna el ego individual un poco más transparente. Colaborar es rebajar las expectativas de lo propio para abrirse a las de otros y aprender de ellos. Raisa Raekallio y Misha del Val pintan sus cuadros a cuatro manos en Laponia, con presupuestos semejantes a los de una jam session que se prolonga desde hace varios años, más allá del amanecer blanco, como en el negro Harlem.
He disfrutado en mi casa, en depósito durante varios meses, de un pequeño cuadro fruto de esta colaboración: retrata, en un formato convencional como de foto de carnet, a un animal salvaje, quizás un perro o un oso, en una combinación de ocres dorados y azules gélidos que denotan que ha sido pintado sobre la nieve, con esa fría luz que parece penetrar en todos los resquicios. Más allá de la figura animal, el término que me vino a la mente la primera vez que lo vi en un bar de Bilbao fue incandescente, como de fiebre emocional, cuando la temperatura en una barra de hierro asciende a tal nivel que los rojos cálidos dejan paso a un blanco casi glacial. Y también la idea de que la pintura solo es deseo cálido, incluso en condiciones de temperatura extrema: deseo de repetir lo amado, sea una fiera salvaje que mira fijo, la máscara de una diosa de labios rojos o cuerpos viajando entre constelaciones con estrellas en los tobillos. Ya he devuelto a sus autores el cuadro y ahora los espectadores podrán disfrutarlo en esta exposición en Torre de Ariz, Basauri, y sacar sus conclusiones o, simplemente, temblar ante el animal que ven en la imagen y que posiblemente llevan dentro sin saberlo.
El de R&M es un proceso creativo generado por una relación amorosa a dos bandas: la de los artistas entre sí y la de ellos dos con la pintura. El proceso de seducción se produce en esta fértil zona de intercambio y cristaliza en cuadros pintados en común. Una paleta para mezclar el color, una mesa para comer, un espacio para vivir y trabajar. El amor, los amores, es bien sabido, implican compromiso: en su caso, no solo con el cuadro, sino también con la idea de que la pintura les conduzca a seguir deseando hacer pintura. En este espacio mental y físico, el estudio ya no es únicamente lugar de trabajo, sino también hogar, espacio de intimidad cómplice. Ray y Charles Eames tuvieron el privilegio de construir ellos mismos la casa en la que vivirían y realizarían todo su trabajo en colaboración durante décadas. Quizás es lo mejor a lo que pueden aspirar una pareja de artistas. O, en un contexto más cercano al lugar donde se pintaron estos cuadros, Aino Marsio y su esposo Alvar Aalto, que abrieron en Helsinki las tiendas Artek para comercializar los productos de su colaboración tan racional como emotiva.
R&M siguen la saga, pintando figuras de refugiados galácticos, apátridas cobijados en mantas doradas como el sol del verano ártico. Débiles y dignos, hacinados y solemnes, con la mirada alucinada que refleja su largo viaje, seguramente R&M no saben que son ellos mismos, perdidos en la inmensidad del mundo y encontrados en un rincón de su taller junto al fuego de la chimenea. En un Skype Raisa matiza: mientras pinta a estos apátridas siente emoción contenida y necesita pintarla y alimentarla solo a través de la improvisación: si hay un proyecto estructurado, una idea de peinture à quatre mains, se bloquea esta energía de identificación con los personajes desconocidos y la magia se disuelve en el aire. En cambio, en su opinión, Misha es más estratega y ella dice sentirse cómoda en este reparto de responsabilidades ante el cuadro. Efectivamente, la jam session no implica la disolución de la personalidad de los integrantes en el destino común de la música que van a hacer, sino precisamente la definición más nítida de las potencialidades de cada uno, ese valor personal que sabrá disolver el flujo de lo común.
Hay una definición clásica de Jam Session del crítico George Frazier: “Reunión informal de músicos, con afinidad temperamental, que tocan para su propio disfrute, una música no escrita ni ensayada”. Podríamos añadir que es una música ajena a la idea de proyecto, que surge y se alimenta de su propio deseo de hacerse. También una bocanada de humildad compartida que torna el ego individual un poco más transparente. Colaborar es rebajar las expectativas de lo propio para abrirse a las de otros y aprender de ellos. Raisa Raekallio y Misha del Val pintan sus cuadros a cuatro manos en Laponia, con presupuestos semejantes a los de una jam session que se prolonga desde hace varios años, más allá del amanecer blanco, como en el negro Harlem.
He disfrutado en mi casa, en depósito durante varios meses, de un pequeño cuadro fruto de esta colaboración: retrata, en un formato convencional como de foto de carnet, a un animal salvaje, quizás un perro o un oso, en una combinación de ocres dorados y azules gélidos que denotan que ha sido pintado sobre la nieve, con esa fría luz que parece penetrar en todos los resquicios. Más allá de la figura animal, el término que me vino a la mente la primera vez que lo vi en un bar de Bilbao fue incandescente, como de fiebre emocional, cuando la temperatura en una barra de hierro asciende a tal nivel que los rojos cálidos dejan paso a un blanco casi glacial. Y también la idea de que la pintura solo es deseo cálido, incluso en condiciones de temperatura extrema: deseo de repetir lo amado, sea una fiera salvaje que mira fijo, la máscara de una diosa de labios rojos o cuerpos viajando entre constelaciones con estrellas en los tobillos. Ya he devuelto a sus autores el cuadro y ahora los espectadores podrán disfrutarlo en esta exposición en Torre de Ariz, Basauri, y sacar sus conclusiones o, simplemente, temblar ante el animal que ven en la imagen y que posiblemente llevan dentro sin saberlo.
El de R&M es un proceso creativo generado por una relación amorosa a dos bandas: la de los artistas entre sí y la de ellos dos con la pintura. El proceso de seducción se produce en esta fértil zona de intercambio y cristaliza en cuadros pintados en común. Una paleta para mezclar el color, una mesa para comer, un espacio para vivir y trabajar. El amor, los amores, es bien sabido, implican compromiso: en su caso, no solo con el cuadro, sino también con la idea de que la pintura les conduzca a seguir deseando hacer pintura. En este espacio mental y físico, el estudio ya no es únicamente lugar de trabajo, sino también hogar, espacio de intimidad cómplice. Ray y Charles Eames tuvieron el privilegio de construir ellos mismos la casa en la que vivirían y realizarían todo su trabajo en colaboración durante décadas. Quizás es lo mejor a lo que pueden aspirar una pareja de artistas. O, en un contexto más cercano al lugar donde se pintaron estos cuadros, Aino Marsio y su esposo Alvar Aalto, que abrieron en Helsinki las tiendas Artek para comercializar los productos de su colaboración tan racional como emotiva.
R&M siguen la saga, pintando figuras de refugiados galácticos, apátridas cobijados en mantas doradas como el sol del verano ártico. Débiles y dignos, hacinados y solemnes, con la mirada alucinada que refleja su largo viaje, seguramente R&M no saben que son ellos mismos, perdidos en la inmensidad del mundo y encontrados en un rincón de su taller junto al fuego de la chimenea. En un Skype Raisa matiza: mientras pinta a estos apátridas siente emoción contenida y necesita pintarla y alimentarla solo a través de la improvisación: si hay un proyecto estructurado, una idea de peinture à quatre mains, se bloquea esta energía de identificación con los personajes desconocidos y la magia se disuelve en el aire. En cambio, en su opinión, Misha es más estratega y ella dice sentirse cómoda en este reparto de responsabilidades ante el cuadro. Efectivamente, la jam session no implica la disolución de la personalidad de los integrantes en el destino común de la música que van a hacer, sino precisamente la definición más nítida de las potencialidades de cada uno, ese valor personal que sabrá disolver el flujo de lo común.
R&M Jam Session
Francisco Javier San Martín
George Frazier kritikariak jam sessionen definizio klasikoa eman zuen: «antzeko izaera duten musikarien bilera informala, non idatzi eta entseatu gabeko musika joko duten, beren gozamenerako». Gaineratu dezakegu musika hori proiektu kontzeptuaz bestekoa dela; jotzeko grina hutsetik sortu eta elikatzen dela. Partekatutako umiltasun-boladak ere badira jam sessionak, ego indibidualak gardentasun puntu batera bideratzen dute . Izan ere, beste batzuekin batera jotzeko, norberaren itxaropenak jaitsi behar dira; besteena jasotzeko, haiengandik ikasteko prest egon behar da. Raisa Raekalliok eta Misha del Valek elkarrekin margotzen dituzte beren koadroak Laponian; egunsenti zuritik harago, Harlemeko beltzean nola, duela zenbait urte luzatutako jam session baten pareko aurrekontuekin.
Lankidetza horrek sortutako margolan txiki bat izan dut etxean, hil batzuetan zehar. Ohiko formatu batean (karneterako argazkiarena-edo), animalia basati bat irudikatzen zuen —txakurra edo artza, agian—, urrezko okreetan eta urdin jelatuetan, islatzen zutenak elur gainean margotua izan zela, itxuraz zirrikitu guztietan sartzen den argi hotz horrekin. Margolana Bilboko taberna batean lehenengo aldiz ikusi nuenean, basapiztiaren figuraz harago, zera etorri zitzaidan burura: goritasuna, sukar emozionala —burdinazko barra batean tenperatura izugarri igotzearen eraginez, gorri beroen ostean zuri ia glaziala sortzen denean bezalaxe—.Eta pentsatu nuen pintura, muturreko tenperaturetan ere bai, desira bero bat besterik ez dela: maitatutakoa errepikatzeko desira, hain zuzen ere (dela adi-adi begiratzen duen animalia basati bat, dela ezpain gorriko jainkosa baten katamaloa, dela orkatiletan izarrak dituztela konstelazio artean bidaiatzen duten gorputzak). Itzuli nien margoa egileei, eta, orain, ikusgai egongo da Basauriko, Ariz Dorretxeko erakusketa honetan, nork bere ondorioak atera ditzan edo, besterik gabe, dardarka has dadin irudiko piztia ikusita (agian, jakin gabe ere, barruan darama-eta pizti hori).
R&Mren sormen-prozesua amodiozko harreman batetik sortzen da: artisten arteko maitasunetik eta haien bien eta pinturaren artekotik. Sedukzio-prozesua, bestalde, trukearen eremu emankor horretan gertatu, eta elkarrekin margotutako koadroetan gauzatzen da. Kolorea nahasteko paleta; jateko mahaia; bizitzeko eta lan egiteko gunea. Gauza jakina da maitasunak, maitasunek, konpromisoa eskatzen dutela. Batzuetan, ez bakarrik koadroarekin: pintatzeak pintatzen jarraitzeko gogoa eragiteko ideiarekin ere bai. Gune mental eta fisiko horretan, estudioa ez da bakarrik lantokia: etxea ere bada, intimitate partekatuaren eremua. Ray eta Charles Eamesek pribilejio handi bat izan zuten: haiek berek eraiki ahal izan zuten hamarkadetan zehar beren bizitoki eta lantoki izango zen etxea. Akaso, horixe izango da artista-bikote baten nahirik handiena. Pintura hauek margotu zituzten tokitik hurbilagoko testuinguru bat aipatzearren, horra hor Aino Marsiok eta Alvar Aalto senar-emazteak beren lankidetza arrazional bezain hunkigarritik sortutako produktuak merkaturatzeko Helsinkin zabaldutako Artek dendak.
R&Mk segida eman diote leinu horri. Errefuxiatu galaktikoen figurak pintatzen dituzte; Artikoko udaren eguzkia lako urrezko mantetan babestutako apatridak; ahulak eta duintasunez jantziak; pilatuak eta solemneak; begirakune haluzinatua dutenak (egindako bidaia luzearen isla). Skype batean, Raisak azaldu du apatrida horiek pintatzen dituen bitartean, emozioari eutsi behar izaten diola, eta emozio hori bakar-bakarrik inprobisazioaren bitartez pintatzeko eta elikatzeko beharra izaten duela: egituratutako proiektu bat badago, peinture à quatre mains ideia bat, blokeatu egiten da pertsonaia ezezagunekin identifikatzeko energia hori, eta magia airean barreiatzen da. Ordea, uste du Misha bikotekoa estrategagoa dela, eta, horri esker, dio Raisak, bera eroso dago koadroa margotzerakoan sortutako erantzukizunen banaketa horrekin. Hain zuzen ere, jam sessionak ez dakar musika elkarrekin sortuko dutenek beren nortasuna albo batera uztea, baizik eta nork bere ahalmenak ahalik eta gardenen definitzean, balio pertsonalak guztiona den horren fluxuan disolbatzen jakitean.
George Frazier kritikariak jam sessionen definizio klasikoa eman zuen: «antzeko izaera duten musikarien bilera informala, non idatzi eta entseatu gabeko musika joko duten, beren gozamenerako». Gaineratu dezakegu musika hori proiektu kontzeptuaz bestekoa dela; jotzeko grina hutsetik sortu eta elikatzen dela. Partekatutako umiltasun-boladak ere badira jam sessionak, ego indibidualak gardentasun puntu batera bideratzen dute . Izan ere, beste batzuekin batera jotzeko, norberaren itxaropenak jaitsi behar dira; besteena jasotzeko, haiengandik ikasteko prest egon behar da. Raisa Raekalliok eta Misha del Valek elkarrekin margotzen dituzte beren koadroak Laponian; egunsenti zuritik harago, Harlemeko beltzean nola, duela zenbait urte luzatutako jam session baten pareko aurrekontuekin.
Lankidetza horrek sortutako margolan txiki bat izan dut etxean, hil batzuetan zehar. Ohiko formatu batean (karneterako argazkiarena-edo), animalia basati bat irudikatzen zuen —txakurra edo artza, agian—, urrezko okreetan eta urdin jelatuetan, islatzen zutenak elur gainean margotua izan zela, itxuraz zirrikitu guztietan sartzen den argi hotz horrekin. Margolana Bilboko taberna batean lehenengo aldiz ikusi nuenean, basapiztiaren figuraz harago, zera etorri zitzaidan burura: goritasuna, sukar emozionala —burdinazko barra batean tenperatura izugarri igotzearen eraginez, gorri beroen ostean zuri ia glaziala sortzen denean bezalaxe—.Eta pentsatu nuen pintura, muturreko tenperaturetan ere bai, desira bero bat besterik ez dela: maitatutakoa errepikatzeko desira, hain zuzen ere (dela adi-adi begiratzen duen animalia basati bat, dela ezpain gorriko jainkosa baten katamaloa, dela orkatiletan izarrak dituztela konstelazio artean bidaiatzen duten gorputzak). Itzuli nien margoa egileei, eta, orain, ikusgai egongo da Basauriko, Ariz Dorretxeko erakusketa honetan, nork bere ondorioak atera ditzan edo, besterik gabe, dardarka has dadin irudiko piztia ikusita (agian, jakin gabe ere, barruan darama-eta pizti hori).
R&Mren sormen-prozesua amodiozko harreman batetik sortzen da: artisten arteko maitasunetik eta haien bien eta pinturaren artekotik. Sedukzio-prozesua, bestalde, trukearen eremu emankor horretan gertatu, eta elkarrekin margotutako koadroetan gauzatzen da. Kolorea nahasteko paleta; jateko mahaia; bizitzeko eta lan egiteko gunea. Gauza jakina da maitasunak, maitasunek, konpromisoa eskatzen dutela. Batzuetan, ez bakarrik koadroarekin: pintatzeak pintatzen jarraitzeko gogoa eragiteko ideiarekin ere bai. Gune mental eta fisiko horretan, estudioa ez da bakarrik lantokia: etxea ere bada, intimitate partekatuaren eremua. Ray eta Charles Eamesek pribilejio handi bat izan zuten: haiek berek eraiki ahal izan zuten hamarkadetan zehar beren bizitoki eta lantoki izango zen etxea. Akaso, horixe izango da artista-bikote baten nahirik handiena. Pintura hauek margotu zituzten tokitik hurbilagoko testuinguru bat aipatzearren, horra hor Aino Marsiok eta Alvar Aalto senar-emazteak beren lankidetza arrazional bezain hunkigarritik sortutako produktuak merkaturatzeko Helsinkin zabaldutako Artek dendak.
R&Mk segida eman diote leinu horri. Errefuxiatu galaktikoen figurak pintatzen dituzte; Artikoko udaren eguzkia lako urrezko mantetan babestutako apatridak; ahulak eta duintasunez jantziak; pilatuak eta solemneak; begirakune haluzinatua dutenak (egindako bidaia luzearen isla). Skype batean, Raisak azaldu du apatrida horiek pintatzen dituen bitartean, emozioari eutsi behar izaten diola, eta emozio hori bakar-bakarrik inprobisazioaren bitartez pintatzeko eta elikatzeko beharra izaten duela: egituratutako proiektu bat badago, peinture à quatre mains ideia bat, blokeatu egiten da pertsonaia ezezagunekin identifikatzeko energia hori, eta magia airean barreiatzen da. Ordea, uste du Misha bikotekoa estrategagoa dela, eta, horri esker, dio Raisak, bera eroso dago koadroa margotzerakoan sortutako erantzukizunen banaketa horrekin. Hain zuzen ere, jam sessionak ez dakar musika elkarrekin sortuko dutenek beren nortasuna albo batera uztea, baizik eta nork bere ahalmenak ahalik eta gardenen definitzean, balio pertsonalak guztiona den horren fluxuan disolbatzen jakitean.
Hamaan loppuun asti
(in English below / en español debajo)
Misha del Val
Kuusiverho siintää kaukaisuudessa. Taivaalla killuvat tähtilyhdyt, tai yökerhon lamput, tai öljyläiskät, jotka heijastavat kaiken. Reima ja Mikael, tanssijat, liukuvat läpi ruudullisen kaukalon, jonka reunoille kasaantuvat muinaisten, happamien ja turhanpäiväisten asioitten rippeet.
Tanssijat tapasivat ajat sitten, päivänä, jolloin he taistelivat kynsin ja kyynelin samasta hammasrautaisesta tytöstä. He tuskin muistavat häntä enää. He valssaavat hilpeinä oman tappionsa tahtiin. Kosmisen tappion. He tanssivat sivuuttaen kielletyn hedelmän, joka vartioi uumenissaan kuolemattomuuden ajatusta. He jatkavat liikettään, kaikesta huolimatta, kuoppaisella merellä, saavuttamattomuuden ja oman tanssinsa kuohunnan nimessä.
Mutta nyt sillä ei ole väliä. Koska juuri nyt sormet näpristelevät kaverin olkapäätä, rapea ilma nuolee poskia, levottomat jalat hyppivät samassa raivokkaan toivon rytmissä, joka kuuluu heille, jotka tietävät etukäteen häviävänsä.
Lumisade alkoi. Aluksi leppoisasti, hiutaleet asettuivat maahan, haalareille, naamalle. Siten raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin, raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin, raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin. Kunnes lumi päätyi peittämään koko maailman. Tanssijoiden silmät sumentuivat kummallisesta kirkkaudesta, paisunut valkoinen tulvi heidän keuhkoihinsa ja kyllästi heidän jokaisen solunsa. Ja lopulta, lopun lopussa, he itsekin hävisivät ikuisiksi ajoiksi, aivan kuten he aina olivat kuvitelleet, hymynkare huulillaan, korviahuumaavaan, painottomaan, unohtumattomaan kirkkauteen.
Misha del Val
Kuusiverho siintää kaukaisuudessa. Taivaalla killuvat tähtilyhdyt, tai yökerhon lamput, tai öljyläiskät, jotka heijastavat kaiken. Reima ja Mikael, tanssijat, liukuvat läpi ruudullisen kaukalon, jonka reunoille kasaantuvat muinaisten, happamien ja turhanpäiväisten asioitten rippeet.
Tanssijat tapasivat ajat sitten, päivänä, jolloin he taistelivat kynsin ja kyynelin samasta hammasrautaisesta tytöstä. He tuskin muistavat häntä enää. He valssaavat hilpeinä oman tappionsa tahtiin. Kosmisen tappion. He tanssivat sivuuttaen kielletyn hedelmän, joka vartioi uumenissaan kuolemattomuuden ajatusta. He jatkavat liikettään, kaikesta huolimatta, kuoppaisella merellä, saavuttamattomuuden ja oman tanssinsa kuohunnan nimessä.
Mutta nyt sillä ei ole väliä. Koska juuri nyt sormet näpristelevät kaverin olkapäätä, rapea ilma nuolee poskia, levottomat jalat hyppivät samassa raivokkaan toivon rytmissä, joka kuuluu heille, jotka tietävät etukäteen häviävänsä.
Lumisade alkoi. Aluksi leppoisasti, hiutaleet asettuivat maahan, haalareille, naamalle. Siten raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin, raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin, raskaammin ja vielä raskaammin. Kunnes lumi päätyi peittämään koko maailman. Tanssijoiden silmät sumentuivat kummallisesta kirkkaudesta, paisunut valkoinen tulvi heidän keuhkoihinsa ja kyllästi heidän jokaisen solunsa. Ja lopulta, lopun lopussa, he itsekin hävisivät ikuisiksi ajoiksi, aivan kuten he aina olivat kuvitelleet, hymynkare huulillaan, korviahuumaavaan, painottomaan, unohtumattomaan kirkkauteen.
Until the Very End
Misha del Val
A curtain of spruce trees dissolves into the distance. The air whistles -13 and in the sky hover stellar lanterns, or nightclub lights, or plain stains of oil, that reflect it all. Reima and Mikael, the dancers, glide through the chequered rink, while scraps of things ancient, sour and useless pile up on the sides.
The dancers met long time ago, on the day they fought, with nails and tears, for the same girl of braces and golden pigtails. They barely remember her anymore. They waltz cheerfully to the sound of their own defeat. A cosmic defeat. They dance without indulging in the forbidden fruit of thinking themselves eternal. They keep moving, in spite of everything, for the patches on the sea, the unattainable, and for the hullabaloo of their own very dancing.
But now, never mind all that. Because now is the fingers on the friendly shoulder, the crispy air licking their cheeks, and their itchy feet skipping to the rhythm of the fierce hope of those who know themselves to be defeated beforehand.
It started snowing. At first, unhurriedly, deliberately, the flakes landing on the ground, the overalls, the skin. Later, with greater strength, with greater strength, with greater strength. Until the snow ended up covering the whole world. The dancers’ eyes misted up with a strange luminosity; the white flooded their lungs and saturated each and every fibre of their bodies. And finally, at the end of the ends, they themselves too succumbed and vanished for evermore, as they had always imagined, with a faint smile, into a deafening, weightless and unforgettable clarity.
A curtain of spruce trees dissolves into the distance. The air whistles -13 and in the sky hover stellar lanterns, or nightclub lights, or plain stains of oil, that reflect it all. Reima and Mikael, the dancers, glide through the chequered rink, while scraps of things ancient, sour and useless pile up on the sides.
The dancers met long time ago, on the day they fought, with nails and tears, for the same girl of braces and golden pigtails. They barely remember her anymore. They waltz cheerfully to the sound of their own defeat. A cosmic defeat. They dance without indulging in the forbidden fruit of thinking themselves eternal. They keep moving, in spite of everything, for the patches on the sea, the unattainable, and for the hullabaloo of their own very dancing.
But now, never mind all that. Because now is the fingers on the friendly shoulder, the crispy air licking their cheeks, and their itchy feet skipping to the rhythm of the fierce hope of those who know themselves to be defeated beforehand.
It started snowing. At first, unhurriedly, deliberately, the flakes landing on the ground, the overalls, the skin. Later, with greater strength, with greater strength, with greater strength. Until the snow ended up covering the whole world. The dancers’ eyes misted up with a strange luminosity; the white flooded their lungs and saturated each and every fibre of their bodies. And finally, at the end of the ends, they themselves too succumbed and vanished for evermore, as they had always imagined, with a faint smile, into a deafening, weightless and unforgettable clarity.
Hasta el mismísimo final
Misha del Val
Una pared de abetos se apaga en la distancia. La temperatura ambiente silba -13 y en el cielo cuelgan puntos de luz, o bombillas de discoteca, o manchas de aceite, que lo reflejan todo. Reima y Mikael, los bailarines, se deslizan por el ajedrezado de la pista. Restos de cosas viejas, agrias e inservibles se amontonan en los costados.
Los bailarines se conocieron hace mucho tiempo, el día que se pelearon con uñas y lágrimas, por la misma chiquilla de coletas rubias y corrector dental. De la que apenas ya se acuerdan. Danzan con una mueca, contentos a pesar de los pesares, sin consertirse el lujo de probar la fruta prohibida de saberse eternos. Bailan al son de su propia derrota. Una derrota cósmica.
Pero ahora nada de eso importa. Porque ahora son los dedos en el hombro del compañero, el aire crujiente lamiendo sus mejillas, y los pies inquietos, moviéndose al ritmo de la música de la esperanza fiera de los que se saben derrotados de antemano. Reima y Mikael bailan por los baches del mar, lo inalcanzable, y por el estropicio.
Comenzó a nevar. Al principio pausadamente; los copos se posaban sobre el suelo, los uniformes, la piel. Después con más y más fuerza, con más y más fuerza, con más y más fuerza. Hasta que la nieve acabó cubriendo el mundo entero. Los ojos de los bailarines quedaron empañados por una extraña luminosidad, el blanco inundó sus pulmones y saturó cada una de sus células. Y al final, en el final de los finales, también ellos mismos sucumbieron, y se desvanecieron para siempre, tal y como se imaginaran, sin perder la sonrisa, en una estrepitosa, ingrávida e inolvidable claridad.
Una pared de abetos se apaga en la distancia. La temperatura ambiente silba -13 y en el cielo cuelgan puntos de luz, o bombillas de discoteca, o manchas de aceite, que lo reflejan todo. Reima y Mikael, los bailarines, se deslizan por el ajedrezado de la pista. Restos de cosas viejas, agrias e inservibles se amontonan en los costados.
Los bailarines se conocieron hace mucho tiempo, el día que se pelearon con uñas y lágrimas, por la misma chiquilla de coletas rubias y corrector dental. De la que apenas ya se acuerdan. Danzan con una mueca, contentos a pesar de los pesares, sin consertirse el lujo de probar la fruta prohibida de saberse eternos. Bailan al son de su propia derrota. Una derrota cósmica.
Pero ahora nada de eso importa. Porque ahora son los dedos en el hombro del compañero, el aire crujiente lamiendo sus mejillas, y los pies inquietos, moviéndose al ritmo de la música de la esperanza fiera de los que se saben derrotados de antemano. Reima y Mikael bailan por los baches del mar, lo inalcanzable, y por el estropicio.
Comenzó a nevar. Al principio pausadamente; los copos se posaban sobre el suelo, los uniformes, la piel. Después con más y más fuerza, con más y más fuerza, con más y más fuerza. Hasta que la nieve acabó cubriendo el mundo entero. Los ojos de los bailarines quedaron empañados por una extraña luminosidad, el blanco inundó sus pulmones y saturó cada una de sus células. Y al final, en el final de los finales, también ellos mismos sucumbieron, y se desvanecieron para siempre, tal y como se imaginaran, sin perder la sonrisa, en una estrepitosa, ingrávida e inolvidable claridad.
La pintura protectora
Raisa Raekallio y Misha del Val comparten lienzos y una visión libre de la práctica pictórica.
Gerardo Elorriga
La Visión de los náufragos cubiertos por una manta térmica es ya un icono de nuestro tiempo. La televisión ha difundido profusamente escenas reales de individuos ateridos, generalmente sentados en la cubierta de un barco de rescate y cobijados por esa prenda metálica. Raisa Raekallio y Misha del Val utilizan el imaginario colectivo para construir una metáfora en torno a la pintura, entendida, en su caso, como una práctica que, de alguna manera, también les protege y, sobre todo, confiere sentido a sus vidas. La exposición “Seres apátridas', recién inaugurada en la Torre de Ariz, da cuenta del trabajo de esta pareja formada por finlandesa y vasco, residentes en Laponia, que pintan a cuatro manos. La muestra forma parte del programa de esta entidad, todo un itinerario por el arte emergente y consolidado de la escena local.
La muestra no pretende ser una estricta reflexión sobre el fenómeno contemporáneo de los desplazamientos políticos. El punto de partida es, en todo caso, una propuesta para hablar de esa condición del individuo, sin relación con un origen, identidad, género o clase social, sometido a un constante proceso de cambio, a veces generado por la pérdida. Sus rostros aparecen desvaídos, inacabados, desvelan su vulnerabilidad y pierden protagonismo frente a esa manta de aluminio que se extiende en primer plano, con efectos tornasolados. La pieza de abrigo se convierte en un caleidoscopio, el reflejo de todo un mundo que apenas se atisba.
Esa ambigúedad constituye uno de los atractivos de la exposición, una propuesta de sorprendente coherencia formal, a pesar de ser fruto de dos autores. «No permitimos que las ideas limiten nuestra aventura», apuntan. «Queremos que la obra pueda generar múltiples interpretaciones». La creación de Raekallio y Del Val apela a las emociones sin caer en el sentimentalismo. Su vida, en las inmediaciones del Ártico, está condicionada por la influencia del clima extremo, pero el pintor bilbaíno niega una influencia directa. «No me gustaría caer en el romanticismo de Gauguin», advierte, aunque señala la influencia de esa poderosa naturaleza. «Se impone y aparece otro tipo de saber, basado en la intuición, que se traslada a la pintura».
La Visión de los náufragos cubiertos por una manta térmica es ya un icono de nuestro tiempo. La televisión ha difundido profusamente escenas reales de individuos ateridos, generalmente sentados en la cubierta de un barco de rescate y cobijados por esa prenda metálica. Raisa Raekallio y Misha del Val utilizan el imaginario colectivo para construir una metáfora en torno a la pintura, entendida, en su caso, como una práctica que, de alguna manera, también les protege y, sobre todo, confiere sentido a sus vidas. La exposición “Seres apátridas', recién inaugurada en la Torre de Ariz, da cuenta del trabajo de esta pareja formada por finlandesa y vasco, residentes en Laponia, que pintan a cuatro manos. La muestra forma parte del programa de esta entidad, todo un itinerario por el arte emergente y consolidado de la escena local.
La muestra no pretende ser una estricta reflexión sobre el fenómeno contemporáneo de los desplazamientos políticos. El punto de partida es, en todo caso, una propuesta para hablar de esa condición del individuo, sin relación con un origen, identidad, género o clase social, sometido a un constante proceso de cambio, a veces generado por la pérdida. Sus rostros aparecen desvaídos, inacabados, desvelan su vulnerabilidad y pierden protagonismo frente a esa manta de aluminio que se extiende en primer plano, con efectos tornasolados. La pieza de abrigo se convierte en un caleidoscopio, el reflejo de todo un mundo que apenas se atisba.
Esa ambigúedad constituye uno de los atractivos de la exposición, una propuesta de sorprendente coherencia formal, a pesar de ser fruto de dos autores. «No permitimos que las ideas limiten nuestra aventura», apuntan. «Queremos que la obra pueda generar múltiples interpretaciones». La creación de Raekallio y Del Val apela a las emociones sin caer en el sentimentalismo. Su vida, en las inmediaciones del Ártico, está condicionada por la influencia del clima extremo, pero el pintor bilbaíno niega una influencia directa. «No me gustaría caer en el romanticismo de Gauguin», advierte, aunque señala la influencia de esa poderosa naturaleza. «Se impone y aparece otro tipo de saber, basado en la intuición, que se traslada a la pintura».