Borders become fluid pathways between personal territories, shaping the rhythm of movement between two distant worlds—Estonia and the Cayman Islands. Over two years, travel becomes a dialogue with change, both natural and ideological, as shifting values redefine the landscape of a globalized existence.
Walls rise and fall, constructed and dismantled within shared social and cultural spaces.
What binds individuals to a place? The exchange of lived memories, the echoes of the past, the act of reclaiming land upon returning home.
Freedom itself wrestles between internal and external forces, stretched across unseen boundaries. Is our freedom connected to the walls we build, to the lines we draw, to the marks we make or to the decisions we make?
Traveling in and out, counting steps, measuring the space between the act and the act of creation. Using yarn once spun together with those who are no longer with us, reconstructing memory through embodied experiences across time and space. The once private property has transformed into a common place, filled with passing echoes, turned heads, and reflections of despair. Almost dead-like trees, standing seven meters high, provoke wonder.
Exploring the sense of belonging, something ancient and deeply rooted within us—a survival instinct, resilience, and lost connections. Blurring the lines between borders, we delve into the profound connections that bind us, both living and non-human forms, in this shared space.
Calm and almost sacred space, where carefully gathered bed sheets envelop delicate bodies, creating a sense of wonder and uncertainty. The mystery beneath the fabric reflects the fragility of life and every living thing. In a way the uniformly wrapped tree trunks resemble a palliative care unit, yet there is no unified understanding of grief, mourning or nature.
I was dealing with my own personal losses. Wrapping became an act of care, and though I didn’t want to make it personal, I realised it was something I had to deal with. It was standing in a way for everything else. The woven tapestry became a metaphor of these shared lived experiences with those I had lost.
The fabric also connects my story to those who crafted it, whose hands held the yarn. It carries the story of its defects, which altered its initial direction, and the connection between loss and profound sense of belonging, something deeply rooted within us.
Blurring of Boundaries
My work explores the blurring of boundaries—between personal and collective space, observation and experience, individual and global identity. By opening my home to the public, I create a meeting point where these distinctions dissolve, encouraging dialogue around shared narratives.
Rooted in process, my practice reflects the evolving socio-cultural landscape, where lines between experiences continuously shift. From a distance, moments and objects appear blurred—indistinct, unreachable. Only through proximity can we perceive details and fully engage. My work is designed for this immersion, inviting viewers to step beyond passive observation and into active participation.
As an artist, I seek to blur the lines between creator and audience, fostering a space where connections are recognized, interpretations evolve, and meaning is shaped collectively.
Through interaction, the boundaries between self and society, past and present, known and unknown begin to dissolve—revealing the fluid nature of our interconnected terrain.
In the heart of the deep forest, trees are felled, their fall a testament to human negation and a stark reminder of life’s fragility and the impermanence of our existence. Are we destined to the book of history or merely the recycling bin? These partially felled trees, joined together in a collective embrace, almost sacred, narrate tales of lives once lived. Individual experiences converge in this shared space, creating a tapestry of existence.
A chance encounter within this private space sparks a dialogue, urging us to observe and reflect on the urgency of our interconnected terrain. This serendipitous moment opens eyes to the profound connections between living and non-human forms, exploring roles, spaces, values, and identities.
Is fear in the body of darkness?
In the unmeasurable distance?
Or in the feathers of a dead bird looking away?
In the row of coffins?
In a burial ground we create?
Between the rising and setting sun?
In the number of steps it takes to climb the ladder?
In the elevation of unfamiliar technology?
Or in the lens of the camera we hold?
In the uncaptured image before our eyes?
Or looking through the lens?
Am I the fear?
