Blog

  • Body as Location – Laura Denning 17.-20.7.2025

    I am a UK artist who works across different media to develop work which mostly focuses on watery human/nature relationships.  I use experimental methodologies to develop an art practice that aspires to contribute to experimental geography, to foreground its environmental and ecological focus.

    Having worked extensively with the Atlantic Ocean, the prospect of meeting the Baltic Sea for the first time meant that I would be dealing with a lot of unknowns, therefore an experimental approach was necessary! My plan was to document, through polaroid photography, the many ways in which ‘body as location’ could be interpreted. Human bodies, algae bodies, watery bodies, island bodies, vessels as bodies and so forth. I arrived with the vague notion that the polaroids would later need to be subjected to forms of corrosion to better represent what began as nebulous ideas. First, I had to take the images!

    My first impressions of Godzilla, berthed in a quiet harbour on a beautiful, calm day was that actually, the gaping hole between the two hulls was a terrifying prospect to have to cross! The practicalities of personal hygiene were mere incidentals in comparison. However, Andy and Merja quickly put me at my ease, and soon I was (in my opinion at least) able to nimbly navigate the boat. The cheeky little otter that popped up whilst we ate supper also helped make me feel at home. I loved the cosy cabin where I slept (though a few new pillows would be a good purchase for next years’ adventure). Although my Godzilla experience was mostly on land, I absolutely loved sitting above deck as we moved through the water. I saw a lot of bodies, in new locations, and as new locations.

    My experience (perhaps more so than other artists on this years’ residency) was a stitching, or a tacking, between land and sea, sea and land. At no point did I experience a watery world where no land is visible; the geography pulled us into harbours, under bascule bridges, along shorelines of lush summer greenery. I took 50 polaroid photographs. I joined revellers at a festival, and mourners at a concentration camp, I saw fireworks, and disused bomb factories, I entered quietly magnificent medieval churches and sauntered through loudly colourful reconstructed villages. One misty morning Andy and I witnessed the early and noisy arrival, then departure, of a large flock of seabirds.

    Clearly the Baltic Sea is a highly contested body of water. Whilst this is true of all bodies of water, the unique geopolitics of a sea that is enclosed by the countries of Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, Sweden, and the North and Central European Plain regions mean that the contestations are both deeply historical and actively present. Unlike on the Atlantic, in the Baltic sea you know you are never far from land, but which land, whose land? And therefore, does the sea bring these people together, or does it form a kind of neutral zone? How does the Baltic Sea enter the shared imagination of these culturally diverse nations?

    I have so much more to explore now I reflect upon my too short introduction to this watery corner of the world. Facts such as it is the world’s largest brackish water basin, and that it is only barely tidal, fascinate me. For the time being I will work through these questions, and sit with the memories and queries that surface whilst I develop my polaroids into a body of work.

    I will share my work-in-progress at a conference in Poland in October. Baltic Waterscapes: Entanglements in Natureculture takes place at Gdansk University, in collaboration wit Utrecht University. So now I have a deadline! Currently I am in the process of printing scans of the polaroids onto Corton steel so that oxidisation will bring rust into play. I am also experimenting with decades old, very out of date, liquid emulsion which I’m optimistic will also infer corrosion, time passing, imperfect bodies and compromised locations. I need to make, experiment and reflect a few times before I can explain the why and the what of the project, but the where is obvious, where else? Onboard Godzilla, Imagining Godzilla.

  • Piss, Posh Harbour Minks and that Pride Flag I Never Got to Mend

    Mia Tamme: sailing from Simrishamn in the south of Sweden to Skovshoved Havn on the outskirts of Copenhagen

    Merja is hands down the best storyteller I have met. The rest of us go through a lot of theoretical training and emotional work to be able to spill remarks like: “I am quite envious of your bush, mine is already grey and shabby.” Merja’s words after Tonya’s, my fellow mate on the boat, beautiful naked performance in probably the most expensive neighbourhood of Denmark. I hope, one day I’ll be as bold in my writing as Tonya with their body, and Merja with her words. I guess I also desire to impress Merja with this blog post. She asked me what sort of work I do, and I said I write funny stories. Actually, I am not even a writer, let alone a funny one, but I wish I were. Now I probably should pull something out of my sleeve…

    I also dream of being a badass sailor who circumnavigates the world on a 50-feet boat. I would have a big dog on the vessel, and hopefully fall desperately in love on one of the small Polynesian islands, only to realise that I am not into men, and then end up surfing a lot. In reality, I’m a pretty land-bound artist who chases their watery dreams by digging in the archives, coming up with stories about fisherwomen, and reading hydrofeminist theory. I think a lot, I tell myself that I am good at it. I say I need to think to be a better writer. Currently, I am obsessed with trying to find material on queers who sail, or women who live with the sea, but not in that essentialist type of way. Not that the lactating-body-and-period-blood-match-with-the-eternal-oceanic-osculation. No, not in that type of way. More in the pirates and badass femmes on the sea type of way! Eagerly, I volunteer to mend Godzilla’s pride flag, hoping this might make a change. In the end, I know that flags are just a representative fabric, and the queerest thing to do is chase cute harbour minks, get ice creams, and giggle while doing diving tricks with Iida, the boat’s photographer. Who I suspect is pretty queer, but I don’t dare to ask. 

    When Aga, another artist-sailor-resident, asks me if I am doing any art on the boat. I answer that I’m actually more into sailing than art-making. She laughs. I go on to a rant about how I want to bring the silly-excited-emergent-energy I get when I sail into to my artistic work. I tell her that I think it’s time to do more sailing and let the art just happen on the side. I am gutted that over the years, my artistic practice has been infiltrated by an increasing amount of housekeeping, bureaucratic tasks, grants, and applications. That’s not what life is about! Sailing represents the way out of that. When I talk to Merja and Andy, it seems like they too are caught up with all of that infrastructural work, even while touring with Godzilla. I am grateful for the space they hold on the boat. I can just hang out on the boat and live a life with no worries about money or emails, at least for the next couple of days. Just sail and stop thinking about how, why and … ! 

    I’m always a bit of a sucker for people who manage to stop talking and start doing, and people who braid their lives into a continues practice where lines between personal and professional, artistic and mundane fade away. I find myself amid Andy’s and Merja’s couple dynamic. I wonder which one of them is actually a captain, and does that matter? I have been told that every boat needs to have a captain with a strong hand and sharp words, but maybe that is just something I have been told? Andy and Merja don’t shy away from having what seems to be a personal argument in the middle of waves that give me a bit of scaries, and why should they? Professional-personal, human-sea boundaries kind of blur on the boat, and they should. That’s what makes sailing so much fun. Life is messy and cannot be pulled apart, especially when the winds peaks at 15 m/s. It’s hard to tell if the boat is an artwork or a vessel for transportation. Or Andy’s fibreglass experiment, or an extension of my body when I hold the wheel.

    About the boat—Godzilla is a cutie! On my desperate googling in the v-berth to find out more about its origins. I get soaked! I carefully question Andy, who, by the way, has worked for the boats deginer James Wharram in his youth. Cool! I stumbled upon the story: James was openly in non-monogamous relationships throughout his life. The boat is a copy of the canoes they used on Polynesian islands. I try to imagine how he built his first catamaran together with one of my favourite authors Bernard Moitessier, and how he sailed it over the ocean. I wonder if seeing people dwell less modernised lives on tiny islands gave him encouragement for less monogamous love, a less monogamous way of thinking about boat design? Was he queer? I cannot help to wonder if the multihull concept and the polyamorous relationships have something to do with one another? I think of the ties that develop on a boat, how roles get distributed, and how in the tight space, personal boundaries disappear. I feel like I know the crew for years, but I arrived just yesterday, people cook food 10 cm away from my toes, you get to know the odour of people’s piss And who likes to drink tea with regular milk and who with soya?

    There is something about boat life and I am not talking about sailing, but the whole shebang, the harbour showers, doing dishes, and chatting with fellow boaters. It’s its own microcosm. I grew up like that, spending endlessly stretching hours in boatyards waiting for the antifoul to dry, figuring out how to improve the outhaul system for the season ahead. Both of my parents are sailors. So I spent my childhood in ports waiting for the weather, and then for my mom and dad. I was taken along if the wind were fair and leant a couple of tricks: how to silently follow orders, smoothly slide on the boat without getting hit with a boom. I leant how not to drop myself into the water, how to set sails, hang fenders, splice ropes, and tidy up the boat once we reached the port in early morning hours, how to let my parents sleep next morning, and wonder on the pier looking at fish, imagining to be a fish, making friends with tiny black animals who I did not know were called minks. Words did not matter; it was more about the feeling, the feeling of belonging. The thing about childhood is that you do not really question it. I thought all kids knew how to sail, knew how to move like a fish, how to pee overboard, and make a bed in between sails, taking care not to sleep on the competition set. Those sails are more holy than my comfort!

    After being done with my bachelor’s, I got myself a boat with Erasmus money, only to realise that I had never been a captain. I had always just followed orders. I sold it some years later, thinking I was not cut out to be the dominating one, not cut out to be the badass sailor I was always expected to become. The leg from Simrishamn to Skovshoved Havn was my first sail after a two-year break. I think I kind of forgot how much sailing matters to me, how calm it makes me. I love the sea and the port life. I was definitely flattered by being called an excellent sailor by Andy and Merja, maybe I am actually quite good at it? I was reminded that even though I have not been sailing, I have grown to be a more confident girl boss captain. Probably through all that thinking about gender, probably by taking more dominant positions in sex, and probably also through my writing, performing and artistic pursuits. As I empty the canisters of piss, I find myself questioning the sailing etiquette and roles on the boat the same way I ponder about the roles expected of me on land. Soooooo maybe it’s time to get cracking, do some more sailing, but not in that conventional way, in the queer-artist-on-a-boat-giggly-girl-boss type of way?

    Ps. I never got to mend that pride flag, so some dear artist after me, please give it some care!

    2nd of July 2025, 

    Mia Tamme

  • Tonya Fucking Björkbom 27.-30.7.2025

    While onboard the Godzilla we sailed from Simrishamn to Skoveshaved harbour near Copenhagen. Our initial plan was to sail from Malmö to Laeso but due to climate change (and manmade greed) it was so stormy at sea that the route had changed.

     We set of early in the morning around 06.00 or 07.00ish on the 28th of june.

    Being at sea felt mesmerzing. I felt like I could stare into the ocean for hours, days, months even. It felt meditative, the mind stopped raising, the only thing that felt real was this very moment, the howling of the wind, the sound of the vawes hitting the boat, the salty smell of the ocean, the wind roughly touching my face, like a firm lover. I felt free. And I love that feeling above all else, I am an sagittarius after all.  

    We stopped for a hour at Falsterbokanal to wait for the bridge to open and then continued into the open sea. It was nice to have a break from the bumpy vawes. We ate some food together and enjoyd the stillness.

    After we continued the weather seemeed fine and I went to sleep after the Godzilla had passsed the bridge between Copenhagen and Malmö. It was around 22.00 and the boat rocked me to sleep to a rather calm and beautiful pink firy glow in the sky. 

    At some point I woke up to people shouting onboard and the boat rocking side to side, it was dark and the vawes where huge. At times I got scared that the entire boat might tip over. I went back to sleep thou. I was so tired. And a part of me embraced the storm. I embraced the uncertainty. Perhaps cause the last few years have been rather rough for me and I’ve therefor learned with each passing day that no matter how much I stress and worry the future will still be unpredictable. The only way to make it at least a bit easier is to welcome the unknown. To greet it like an old friend. I think this journey was a good reminder to never take anything for granted. Never ever. Not the climate, the sea, people, lovers, friends, food, shelter, health. Or a place to piss.

    And Something magical happens when you learn to ride the storm. You are insync with life. And yes it is painful and scary at times but its also heartbreakingly beautiful.

    In the night/morning maybe around 02.00 we arrived at Skoveshaved which is a super posh harbour in Copenhagen (the amount of people with white clothes, blond hair and beige dogs was hilarious). We spent the next day recovering from spending almost 20h at sea. I picked stones from the nearby beach and looked for places to do my performance. And on the 30th of June I did my performance where I basically made out with the sea and the nearby rocks by the harbour.

    I really enjoyd this experience and learned a lot, mostly I feel like my soul came out of the shadows and danced with me in the rhytm of the ocean.

    Some highlights:

    drinking coffee in the mornings, the laughter whenever the entire crew would sit down together, Merja’s stories (I particulary enjoyed her giving me reading tips on a comic called Killer condom), all the places I climbed on at various harbours, Simrishamn was especially magical (if anyone knows someone who lives there pls let them know that Im looking for a sugarmama/daddy atm), and I left one of my forest-nudes at the harbour for some posh sailor to enjoy, I also loooved the Godzilla, it was definetely the coolest looking boat I’ve ever seen! 

    I also enjoyed doing the dishes in the harbour shower while using dish soap as shampoo (thanks for the tip Merja) and most of all I enjoyed the feeling of freedom that this journey offered me. I think most of all I got a reminder that I should, like Snusmumriken in Moomin, every now and then go on adventures and by myself. Its nice to be around people but its also amazing to go into the woods (or in this case into the sea) alone, with only your backpack and an open heart. 

    Thank you to Mia, Iida, Andy, Merja, Bua and Aga. You have no idea how thankful I am of this experience ♡ 

    Mucho kärlek,

    Tonya Fucking Björkbom

  • First two weeks of Imagining Godzilla 2025

    Greetings form Århus! Two weeks of Imagining Godzilla tour behind us and it has definitely been eventful. Feels like we’ve already been sailing for months! But that’s how time changes at sea. 

    The planned route has been changing quite a lot with the beginning of summer being quite stormy, cold and rainy, with harsh winds blowing, and by some black magic a lot of the time they’ve been blowing against our route rather than helping us on. Here’s the actual route compared to the planned one!

    Our trip started from Hanko a day late, since we had to wait out a gale wind coming down from the Bay of Bothnia and blocking our passage across the Baltic Sea to Kalmar, Sweden. We got on our way in the early morning on Sunday 22nd with a decision to cross a shorter and more sheltered route to Nynäshamn close to Stockholm. Even with the worst gusts of wind past, we still had quite rough seas to cross in hard gusty wind. The first artists on board were the Passepartout Duo, experimental musicians from Italy and USA. They were sailing for the first time ever and really got straight to the deep end and a full experience of the sea. We did some 30h of sailing, with the waves getting huge towards the end of the leg, Andy and Merja taking it in 2h shifts to steer the boat, and everyone on board more or less getting their share of seasickness.

    Among the wind and rain, there were some calm and beautiful moments of sailing and the Duo got to test out their DIY hydrophones, recording underwater soundscapes next to Godzilla while it was gliding along the sea. 

    Chris Salvito of the Passepartout Duo recording underwater soundscapes with a hydrophone on open sea somewhere between Hanko and Nynäshamn. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    In Nynäshamn we were joined by artists Isabella Martin and Marek Tuszynski for the long sail down the Swedish coast with the intention of getting as close to Malmö as possible. 

    We ended up sailing all the way down to Simrishamn, approximately a 44h leg, with a brief stop in Kalmar in the middle of the night to get some petrol, since we had to be motoring quite a lot. Luckily also got a lot of nice sailing done.

    Isabella got some data collecting done for her project Baltic Bodies, filming underwater in Nynäshamn harbor and recording soundscapes boith underwater and above along the way. Marek, an experienced sailor and a certified skipper, was enthusiastic to sail the Godzilla with Andy and Merja, and to get inspired for his plans of a project about the mapping of the oceans.

    Isabella Martin recording soundscapes of the sea for her project Baltic Bodies. /Iida-Liina Linnea
    A submarine sighted near Karlskrona, not far from the Godzilla. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    We had a change of crew in Simrishamn where artists Mia Tamme and Tonya Fucking Björkbom joined us. We started sailing early morning on the 28th June from Simrishamn with the idea to possibly get as far as Helsingborg. The sailing weather was amazing during the morning and it turned out Mia was an excellent sailor and super enthusiastic to join in sailing the Godzilla. We stopped to cross over at the Falsterbokanalen near Malmö. When we arrived it seemed a bit stranded and not functioning,

    and we spend the better part of an hour having dinner and wondering if the bridge will open for us at the designated time. Nobody seemed to be working on a Saturday…or summer holidays… We did get through and had fantastic sailing through the Øresund Bridge connecting Malmö and Copenhagen. After a beautiful sunset the wind got harder and harder sooner than we had anticipated and Andy and Merja made a fast decision to head to harbor near Copenhagen to get shelter. We motored against the wind in growing waves, gusts of wind and rain to Skoveshaved harbor. Had we been sailing for longer we would’ve had an extremely rough and dangerous night. 

    Wondering will the Falsterbokanalen open for Godzilla. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    After the rough night, Godzilla spent a few sunny days in Copenhagen where we were joined by the next artists Aga Pokrywka and Agnieszka Bulacik. Near the harbor, Tonya delivered an extempore performance where they explore a possibility of a sensual and playful relationship with the Sea. 

    In Skoveshaved, Copenhagen. From left: Merja, Aga Pokrywka, Agniezska Bulacik, Tonya Björkbom, Andy and Mia Tamme. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    Leaving Copenhagen towards Århus, we had the first beautiful summer day of the trip. There wasn’t much wind but beautiful skies and sweet sailing with the spinnaker up, going at about 4 knots speed. We stayed the night in anchor at Isefjord and arrived in Århus in the afternoon 2nd July. 

    On board Agnieszka was fascinated by the sea and sang a Belarussian lament together with Aga for the Baltic Sea in different spots during their journey. Aga filmed scenes for her upcoming film, a speculative documentary about an alternative history for humanity from microscopic and astronomical perspectives. 

    Agnieszka and Aga practising the Belarussian folk song Sztoj pa moru. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    Getting near Århus, there were big commercial cruising ships passing by quite frequently and at one point we found ourselves sailing through his nasty, bubbly trail of foam and oil, that was the dirty water these cruising ships empty into the sea, without cleaning or filtering. Makes our efforts of collecting and storing our pee and dishwater on board, instead of throwing it overboard, like a literal drop in the ocean of an effort to try and keep the sea from becoming one big drain. It’s disturbing that this kind of activity is still allowed anywhere, and especially a sea as polluted and delicate as the Baltic Sea is. 

    A trail of waste water form cruising ships near Århus. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    ANIMAL OBSERVATIONS FROM ALONG THE WAY!!!

    • A porpoise swimming next to the boat near Århus!!!!
    • A demon hedgehog in Simrishamn!! Tonya saw the hedgehog in the early hours of morning eating a tiny baby seagull, who had been nesting next to our boat…
    • A huuuuge and very walrus-like lonely seal bobbling its head above water close to Godzilla in the middle of the open sea!
    • A very sleak and beautiful harbor mink in Skoveshaved, who had absolutely no fear of people or boats ( maybe minks are taking over harbors after the fur business collapse in Denmark??)

    Cheers,

    Iida

  • Santtu Laine 8.-13.8.2024

    My trip started in Turku, where I took a two-hour ferry to Seili Island. This provided a smooth start to the upcoming Godzilla trip and the adventures ahead. On the ferry, I also met Rachael Allain, a co-artist from the UK who was also taking part in the Godzilla project.

    At Seili, we participated in Herring Day, co-organized by the Archipelago Research Institute and CAA Contemporary Art Archipelago. During the event, we learned about the extensive research on herrings that dates back to the early 1980s. We learned that herring and the entire ecosystem of the Baltic Sea are highly dependent on the salinity of the seawater. In short, when there is less salt, herrings grow smaller, which affects the entire ecosystem—from birds to sea mammals, and ultimately to us humans. It is predicted that, due to climate change, the Baltic Sea will gradually become warmer and less saline than before.

    We also met with other Godzilla artists: Sergio Castrillón, Siún Carden, Minna Henriksson, and Ragnar Elnyg. We had the pleasure of enjoying the magnificent performances of Sergio Castrillón and Ragnar Elnyg. The evening at Seili concluded with a magical touch when CAA curator Taru Elfving took us to visit the old 17th-century church of Seili and to watch the beautiful sunset from the highest point of the island.

    After Seili, we headed straight to Hanko Harbour to seek shelter from the approaching storm and heavy winds. While Godzilla was tightly moored in the harbour, we spent three days at the nearby Tvärminne Research Station. Tvärminne is a zoological research station maintained and operated by the University of Helsinki. In the research station it was time to roll our sleeves and get to work. At Tvärminne and in the close by island I managed to film and record underwater videos and sounds. I was specifically interested in underwater noise pollution originating from boats and ships. The close proximity of Syndalen military base and passing patrol boats provided more than I had expected.

    My own research is divided into two areas. The first focuses on material studies, where I explore seaweed-based bioplastics with the intention of using them as building materials for my work. This approach is rooted in a “leave-no-trace” mentality, aiming to create art with minimal ecological impact. I am also committed to the idea that the materials I use are “edible”, meaning that everything is both non-toxic and compostable. The second part of my research centers on creating art, involving a conceptual approach to listening and interpreting the memory embedded in the material. 

    I learned that the wellbeing of herrings is closely tied to the health of seaweeds. As the Baltic Sea gets warmer and its salinity decreases, the growth of seaweeds is also affected. Another crucial element in this puzzle is the sustainable harvesting of seaweeds. The seaweed I’m currently focusing on in my research is a red seaweed (Furcellaria lumbricalis), which is also found in Finnish waters. In Danish waters, commercial overuse and extensive harvesting in the mid-20th century almost wiped out the entire species. In recent years, more sustainable harvesting methods and regulations have been implemented to prevent further overexploitation. This serves as a reminder that we shouldn’t repeat the same mistakes with underwater forests that we’ve made with our terrestrial forests.

    Countless discussions with Tvärminne researchers, often while sitting in the sauna (of course), sparked many new ideas and provided valuable information about the various organisms and the current state of the Baltic Sea. I feel that by exchanging ideas and discussing them, we reached a mutual understanding that we are all working towards the same goal: to better understand the sea and make the Baltic Sea livable for future generations.

  • Notes from Mariehamn / Björkö / Nötö / Själö (Seili)

    July 31 – August 9

    During our stay in Mariehamn we went to explore the Bomarsund castle ruins with Godzilla’s artists Siún Carden, Minna Henriksson, and Ragnar Elnyg. The whole place was built with such uniquely shaped hexagonal (very honeycomb-like!) stones. Majority of the original (apparently massive) structures had been destroyed — there were only wall parts left here and there.

    The Bomarsund ruins. Photos: Saara Kolehmainen

    Minna Henriksson’s and Ragnar Elnyg’s performances took place on August 2 at the Sjökvarteret Museum. Minna Henriksson’s performative lecture ’Zeitenwende’ referred to a famous speech by the German Chancellor Olaf Scholz just a few days after Russia’s full scale invasion of Ukraine. Literal translation of the term is ‘times-turn’, and it marked a new era of increased militarisation of Germany, and with that of Europe. The performance introduced some aspects of the Zeitenwende with a focus on the Baltic Sea and Åland. It also included a workshop with the audience about future scenarios.

    Minna Henriksson’s ’Zeitenwende’. Photos 1 & 3 by Saara Kolehmainen, photo 2 by Iida-Liina Linnea.

    Ragnar Elnyg performed his piece “Hardstyle Fish”. The performance included dancing, singing, playing violin and swimming with a fishtail.

    Ragnar Elnyg’s performance “Hardstyle Fish”. Photos: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Sari Torvinen and Siún Carden sailing from Mariehamn to Björkö. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    From Mariehamn we sailed (in a beautiful weather!) to a small island Björkö, where artistic duo Simon Häggblom and Karin Lind (SIMKA) hosted us in their beautiful home. Onboard on this trip: me, Iida-Liina Linnea, Merja Puustinen, Andy Best, Sari Torvinen, Ragnar Elnyg and Siún Carden.

    Around Björkö. Photos 1, 3, 4, 5 by Saara Kolehmainen, photo 2 by Iida-Liina Linnea.

    They showed us the sweet small island with only 9 permanent inhabitants (but during summertime around 100 people!). We had a magnificent walk through the forests and the rocky beaches, and a refreshing swim in the Baltic Sea. Some bones (probably seal’s) were found on the shore. Simon Häggblom showed us their chicken and vegetable garden. SIMKA also talked us about their artworks. They had recently started to reconnect with their past project “Floating Trunks” that they had 10 years ago. One of the nights we had the cutest get together and a dance party with the locals. Ragnar Elnyg performed his piece “Ulkomaalainen vedenväki” at the Björkö event stage.

    Merja Puustinen, Andy Best, Simon Häggblom, Karin Lind, Sari Torvinen and Siún Carden in SIMKA’s studio. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Party time in Björkö. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Ragnar Elnyg performing in Björkö. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    After spending couple of days in Björkö, we headed to Vitören — a small island with only a sauna in it. The place was magical! The weather was beautiful, Simon was making pancakes, some went to sauna, some were reading books and laying on the rocks. Godzilla stayed the night on anchor in Vitören. Iida and me slept in the sauna!

    Simon making pancakes in Vitören. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Sauna in Vitören. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    View from inside the sauna. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    We left Vitören early next morning and sailed to Nötö. Back in Finland after a while! In Nötö we had a little hike to see Soiva kivi (A stone that rings). Iida picked up berries and also some chantarelles were found! Some of us slept in a yurt.

    Siún and the “Soiva kivi” (the stone that rings) in Nötö. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Sari’s hat was the perfect bucket for mushrooms. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Yurt in Nötö. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    After enjoying a sunny day and peaceful night in Nötö (even though the island was full of ticks), we finally started heading towards Seili (Själö) and the Herring Day event on August 8, co-organised by Archipelago Research Institute (Turku University) and CAA Contemporary Art Archipelago in collaboration with Imagining Godzilla and John Nurminen Foundation. The event was part of a long-term collaboration between art and science in Seili.

    The programme of the day was full of interesting things: First we had a guided tour about Archipelago Research Institute “60 Years of Research on the Changing Sea” by professor Ilppo Vuorinen. Then we heard about the state of the herring with super fascinating What’s up Herring? – how to read the otoliths (hearing bones) of herring and the food web of the sea – lecture guided by researchers / marine biologists Katja Mäkinen and Marjut Rajasilta. Then we had a viewing of the seashore through water binoculars, guided by marine biologist Katja Mäkinen. Then curator Taru Elfvig from CAA Contemporary Art Archipelago guided us through At the Edges of Knowledge: exhibition. Finally we enjoyed Sergio Castrillón cello performance Global Soundscapes, and Ragnar Elnyg‘s performance “Save a fish, eat a sailor.”

    Professor Ilppo Vuorinen’s guided tour about Archipelago Research Institute “60 Years of Research on the Changing Sea”. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Marjut Rajasilta giving a lecture about herring. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    We took a closer look at the herring bone with the microscopes. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Herring. Photo: iida-Liina Linnea
    Looking at algae in Seili. Photo: Iida-Liina Linna
    Sergio Castrillón performing his piece GLOBAL SOUNDSCAPES. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Bladderwrack. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Ragnar Elnyg performing his piece Save a fish, eat a sailor. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea

    We left Seili a few days earlier than planned – we wanted to avoid the storm that was reaching the archipelago area. After packing our things, saying bye to Ragnar, Sari and Siún, and welcoming artists Rachael Allain and Santtu Laine onboard, we started to head towards Godzilla’s this summer’s last harbors Hangö and Tvärminne.

    🦭: Saara

  • Aga Pokrywka 24.-30.7.2024

    The first scientific illustration of prehistoric times was painted 2 centuries ago. This watercolor represents an aquarium-like view of an epic battle between different dinosaur-like marine species living 200 millions years ago. Looking at it gives you an impression that competition and Jurassic Park aesthetics are inherent features of planet Earth.

    But dinosaurs were not the first creatures inhabiting our planet. Much earlier, there were cyanobacteria, the inventors of photosynthesis. They kick-started life on Earth and filled the atmosphere with oxygen, which led to the mass extinction of early life forms and paved the way to the evolution of future ones. What would a painting depicting life on Earth 3 billion years ago would look like?

    The answer is quite straight forward. It would actually represent a large body of water covered with cyanobacterial blooms of blue green algae. It is a familiar view to those who have seen the ocean, sea or lake polluted with fertilizers during warm days. I saw that image this summer sailing with Godzilla through the Baltic Sea, from Visby to Stockholm. 

    Hugged by the ring of an undisturbed horizon, it felt that our boat was stuck in one place and that only water with its rhythmic waves moved underneath. Stripes of tiny particles of blue green algae of various intensities resembled light green-yellowish glitter. Like tiny stars hanging throughout the volume of entire dark waters, at least as deep and far as I could see. I was staring at them and passing through their hypnotic patterns. They had a surprisingly strong and vivid presence: microscopic organisms counted in nautical miles.

    It made me think of Solaris and the ocean depicted in this scifi book by Stanislaw Lem: a vast, sentient entity, covering most of that distant planet. It was confusing for result-driven astronauts and scientists: it was silent but active; it didn’t want to build cities or flying machines; it didn’t try to reduce distances, nor was it concerned with interplanetary conquest. It was only busy with being and transforming itself on and on. Humans tried desperately to communicate with it, without much success. The more they tried the more it revealed their own limitations, fears, regrets, and desires. It was a mirror, reflecting the internal landscapes of the humans who encountered it. The scientists were asking one another helplessly: “How do you expect to communicate with the ocean, when you can’t even understand one another?”

    Maybe being a sailor doesn’t differ that much from being an astronaut. What do you see when you look in your own reflection in the fertilized-polluted waters covered with cyanobacteria? What if the overgrowth of these bacteria in the oceans, including Baltic Sea, is not a curse but a message?

    I will delve deeper into that reflection in my upcoming work “Invisible Colonies”, a speculative documentary film that tells a new history of humanity from an astronomic and microscopic perspective. The premier is planned in late 2025 and it will include footage shot during my time aboard Godzilla.

  • Notes from Karlskrona / Kalmar / Öland / Oskarshamn / Visby / Fårö

    July 12 – July 23

    Dinner in Karlskrona. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    After Poland we arrived in Karlskrona, Sweden, where we met with Godzilla’s artists Sasha Rotts, Pavel Rotts (SASHAPASHA) and Anastasiia Lapteva. We explored the small harbour town for a while, and early next morning we started heading towards Kalmar.

    The plan was to stay in Kalmar for few days, so we could fix one of the mast wires that got damaged during the sail and to get to know the surroundings better. We rented a car and had a little road trip to Öland, an island thats history dates back to Stone Age. We visited places such as Ismanstorp fortress (ruins of an ancient ringfort), Borgholm Castle (originally built in the second half of the 13th century) and St Brita’s Chapel (most likely) from the 13th century. The Borgholm Castle (or actually the ruins of it) were really really captivating. Despite it was cold and drizzly, we stayed quite a while walking around. The view from the top floor to the open sea was really impressive!

    Sasha, Pavel, Asya and Iida-Liina looking at an old house in Öland. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Ismanstorp fortress. Photo: Iida-Liina Linnea
    Borgholm Castle. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    St Brita’s Chapel. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    The next day we visited Kalmar Castle (built around 1180). It was fascinating, but somehow all of us were more impressed by the ruins seen the day before.

    After leaving Kalmar, we had a one day stopover at the harbour of Oskarshamn. Everyone had a little time to walk around. Me, Pavel and Asya had an evening stroll to the town’s old water tower on top of the hill. There was an extremely friendly and sociable cat greeting us. We were clearly in their neighbourhood and they seemed to be the guardian of the tower. The town looked really pretty up from the hill and over the little bridge, just like an illustration from some childrens book. The wooden houses were painted with the most fantastic colours and it was almost full moon.

    We left a bit after 6am the next morning. It turned out to be the best day to sail to Visby. The weather was unbelievable. Perfect winds, blue sky, sun shining. Sasha was sewing on the deck. I had a nap and read some book. It was bliss! After 13 hours of sailing we arrived to Visby, Gotland. Before reaching the harbour, we took a look at the massive limestone cliffs with binoculars.

    Practising knots. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Sasha sewing. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Asya and Iida-Liina. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    What a shock arriving to Visby was after these silent and peaceful places! I have never seen so many yachts in my life. Dj’s playing on the decks of billionaire boats. Red carpets. Dress colour-coded parties. Vintage cars. So much wealth and status. Planted palm trees on the beach. Everyone wearing white linen. Helicopters taking people to places. The presence of money and party drugs is undeniable here. And yet again super picturesque hilly cityscape – unbelievably cute houses, an ancient wall ruins surrounding the city, small cobblestone alleys, amazing view to the sea. Apparently Pippi Långstrump is from around here!

    View from Visby. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    In Visby harbour. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    Time to explore the area more! We rented a car and drove to Fårö. We headed to the Langhammars Naturreservat in the northern part of the island, where some of the magical rauks of the island were located. The rauks of this area are limestone sea stacks — columns sculpted by erosion by winds and waves over time. The rock formations were standing majestically on the shore facing the open wide Baltic Sea.

    At Langhammars Naturreservat. Photos: Saara Kolehmainen

    It was possible to see the passing of time captured into the rocks and stones. Shapes of various life forms from ages ago had remained in surfaces as fossil print patterns. The little rocks by the water had already gotten their round or cracked shape. It seemed that the other small rocks further up in the slope were still waiting for their turn to be sculpted more by the surrounding elements. There was also something I’ve never seen before — a skeleton of a swan.

    Photos: Saara Kolehmainen

    The basis of the barren and stony nature reserve area was limestone, with only a thin soil layer on top. The vegetation had faced long-term grazing because of the sheep. They had kept the land open and created the stunted savannah-like landscape by cropping trees and bushes.

 Truly a breathtaking place!
    Before heading back to Godzilla, we had a little walk on a beach with and old light house. As we were driving around the island, we saw so many shapes on the fields and by the sides of the roads. The question always was; is it sheep, ruins or formations?

    Sasha’s found from the beach. Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    On our last day together with the group Sasha and Pavel had their artist talk at Galleri Apoteket, where their upcoming exhibition The Perfect Match will take place in August. Such good talk, such cute place! Seems like a perfect match for this exhibition. We met with the new residency artists of the week; Jukka Lehtinen, Niklas Warius and Marja Helander, and to say farewells to Sasha and Pasha (they were staying the next days at the gallery and then heading home). Me and Asya took the morning ferry to Nynäshamn and started to head towards Helsinki. Weird to be away from the boat for a couple of days! I will catch Godzilla next week from Mariehamn.

    🦭: Saara

  • Sasha Rotts (SASHAPASHA) 25.7.2024

    When I was little, we had a book called ‘Masterpieces of Russian Painting’, which I loved to look through. On our first day on the boat, when we went out to the open sea, I couldn’t understand for a long time what this situation, which was so new to me, reminded me of. And then I realised that I was inside a painting. A painting from my childhood, from that very book. It was called ‘In the Blue Expanse’, and its author was the artist Rylov.

    In this painting, I found myself every time we went out to sea. In the first days, I was simply there, sitting on the boat, listening to the wind, smelling the air. I hardly talked to anyone, was alone, and didn’t think about anything. Such a state and way of spending time are rare, and it felt very unusual. Gradually, I began to come out of it. I had a large textile project with me, which I am currently working on. I am glad I completed one of its parts during our boat trip. Our final destination was the island of Gotland, where we will have an exhibition next month. 

    I brought five flags with me for it, which I sewed myself. We hoisted a new flag on the mast daily, and it was great. Previously, these flags had been displayed in exhibitions, and finally, for the first time, they were used for their intended purpose. I looked at them and rejoiced like a child. Before embarking on the journey, I was slightly afraid — my relationship with water is complicated. Sometimes, I am afraid to go into the water, fearful of the depth of the current and the waves. I didn’t know what it would be like to sail and not see the shore, with only the sea around. My worries were in vain — the sea accepted me. I felt no anxiety, only gentle rocking when we went ashore. I would like to sail more. I thought one week was a lot, but it was very little.

    By Arkady Rylov (1870–1939), painted in 1918. Picture from here.

  • Pavel Rotts (SASHAPASHA) 26.7.2024

    Godzilla

    I was always afraid of water. Sometimes I have nightmares about drowning. In this repetitive dream, I’m trying to stay on the surface, floating on something not meant for water, such as a sledge. The sledge is drowning, and I see how it disappears in the darkness. I am afraid of sharks. This fear is absurd, as I fear them even in the lake or river. It is rather an abstract fear of something unknown and wild in the deepness below me. Sometimes, when travelling on ferries in a cabin below the waterline, I can’t fall asleep because of the fear. Lying on my bed with eyes open and with ears catching all the sounds behind the metal walls separating me from the sea.

    Therefore, I was a bit anxious about joining the ‘Imagining Godzilla’. But surprisingly, during the week of sailing, I felt comfortable. I relied on the Godzilla boat and the physics of sailing. The excitement of adventure didn’t leave a space for my fear. I was lying on the net stretched above the water, watching the flow under the deck, and felt confident and protected.

    Travelling by water is one of the most ancient ways of travelling, but I was born far from the sea, and sailing was unfamiliar to me. However, my home place – Karelia, sometimes called ”The country of lakes” is the land of fishermen. Any settlement in Karelia is placed along the shore of a lake or a river. When I moved to St.Petersburg, I was shocked to come across some settlements without water nearby. Such places felt like houses without windows.

    I was brought to the Godzilla boat by my project in which I’m studying the fate of the Ingrian Finns, the national minority I’m part of, who used to live in Ingria, the historical area between Narva and St.Petersburg. We were repressed by the Soviets, occupied by Germans, shipped to Hanko harbour from Klooga concentration camps by Finns and deported to the USSR at the end of the war to end up in exile or even in prison camps. But some of us had escaped to Sweden. I heard some of my relatives did the same. But we lost connection. In 2022 in Sweden, I met Anna Monahof, the Ingrian-Swedish writer whose family avoided deportation by escaping to Sweden by the sea. They were smuggled on the fisherman’s boat but were cached by a storm. They arrived at an unfamiliar shore and feared it might be Estonia. If it were so, they would be caught by Soviet authorities. The Swedish box of matches found on the shore was a happy sign that they had reached Sweden.

    It was conceptually essential for me to approach the Gotland shore on a sailing boat. During the stay on the island I discovered that the Soviet refugees played a considerable role in Gotland’s history, and many people were involved in the refugee evacuation. We visited the monument for the refugees from the Soviet Union. Latvians and Estonians installed it in memory of those who were helping to escape from the USSR to Gotland. The monument is the actual metal green-painted boat that was used for smuggling people over the border. It is impossible to imagine how they managed to get over the sea on such small boats. There is an inevitable parallel with the situation on the Mediterranean Sea and Lesbos Island with the refugees from the African continent. But the fate of survivors in Sweden is better than those of Africans on the coast of Greece. The memorial plaques installed near the boat thank Gotland on behalf of Estonian and Latvian escapers. On the other shore, in Latvian Mazirbe, the so-called boat cemetery is situated. The Soviets destroyed the boats during the occupation to prevent people from escaping abroad. I met one person on Gotland who told me the story of his neighbour who was smuggling people from the Soviet shore. They would send balloons with messages from Gotland to the Soviet side. The message contained the time and the place of evacuation. Then they would cross the sea, and meet people waiting on the shore. They smuggled many people this way, but one day, his team was caught by Soviet guards. He was lucky as he had to cancel the trip at the last minute because his wife was giving birth.

    Sailing across the Baltic Sea is not just an exciting adventure but an alternative fate of my family. My grandfather recalled how at the end of WWII, their entire family was sitting around the table in Lohja, Finland deciding whether to obey and come back to the Soviets or dare to escape to Sweden. Their father suggested to vote. They voted to come back home. However, they were doomed to never return home again. All the Ingrians were gathered in the transition camps in Oitti, loaded on the cargo train and sent to Vyborg. After that, instead of going back to St.Petersburg and their home village, they were sent to Siberia, Yaroslavl Oblast, Yakutia and other remote places. They were considered politically unreliable by Soviet officials and were never allowed to live closer than 100 kilometres to the big cities. This is how I ended up being born in Soviet Karelia. Our family’s fate would be totally different if they would take different decision that day. That’s why, when meeting writer Anna Monahof whose family had taken a risk and reached Sweden in 1945, I considered her life story an alternative path for us. Travelling on the Godzilla boat helped me to bring these collective memories of Ingrians to life.

    I have always been fascinated by borders, but borders on water are special. The border is somewhere far, but at the same time, it is right here, on the shore. The other shore is unreachable, but only the vast emptiness of the sea separates you from it. When I think about far distances by land, it’s discontinuous. There are cities, forests, lakes and rivers, fields and villages between me and the destination. But when standing on the shore and looking at the horizon, I feel that there is only one step between me and the place behind the sea; it’s the sea itself.

    During our visit to Fårö island, we were standing on the shore, and Saara mentioned that the sea there looked like an ocean, as if it had no limits. I realised that after the sailing trip on the Godzilla, I felt the opposite – the sea did not feel big enough anymore. A sea for me was always the territory of the unknown but after crossing it on the boat, I learned there is land on the other side, even if it is invisible at the moment. The sea is not a mystical and uncrossable void for me anymore. I can imagine walking by water to the other shore. Before the trip, the sea was, for me, an empty space opposite to the solid matter of the land which you could step on. This binary opposition is gone. Now the sea, for me, is also a matter. Like an ocean from the Solaris by Stanislav Lem, this matter has its own agency and can let you cross it or block your path, but it is not an empty indifferent space anymore – the sea is another land.

    Memorial for Refugees from Soviet Union (Latvia and Estonia) in Slite on Gotland island, Sweden 21.07.2024. Photo by the author