Magnificent Germania
16-11-2005, 21:45
Finnish national art through foreign eyes
Umayya Abu-Hanna, the new cultural minorities coordinator of the State Art Museum, finds a resemblance between Väinämöinen and a lecherous Saudi man
"Many foreigners are puzzled by this picture. Why are those naked people beating each other with tree branches? And how come that man has two wives – is it not forbidden in Finland?"
Umayya Abu-Hanna is standing in front of Heikki Tuomela's painting Kuumat löylyt ("Sauna Heat") in the art museum Ateneum. In the painting from 1895, a man and two women sit stern-faced in a sauna.
A Finn can see an idyllic moment of peace in the painting, but how does a person see the picture, if he or she has never been in a sauna and is not familiar with the Finnish attitudes toward nudity or the relationships between men and women?
Such issues are contemplated by the State Art Museum's new coordinator of cultural minorities, Umayya Abu-Hanna. She views the museum's art from a new perspective and evaluates the criteria with which new art is brought into the museum and how exhibitions are arranged – and whether old views are in need of revision.
The goal of the two-year project is to attract more first-time visitors to the museum. It must be clear that there is nothing to fear in the museum – it is not a church, an army, nor a sauna. Ideas are beginning to take form in Abu-Hanna's notebook.
"There are about 30 000 foreigners living in Helsinki. At Christmas many of them wonder what to do, since Finnish Christmas traditions are strange to them, and nothing is open. Why not bring them by bus from Itäkeskus to admire the museums in the city centre?"
However, it is a question of much more than just marketing. Making the museums more appealing to people of foreign origin means that the museums have to change as well.
There are more museums per capita in Finland than anywhere else in the world. Most of them are, according to Abu-Hanna, quite traditional: there is a building, an exhibition, and silence.
"We should think about what a museum really is: a building, a brand, or a living, ever-changing political space for art? I favour the latter alternative."
A work of art means different things for different people. When Abu-Hanna was at an exhibition with a group of people living in the centre for refugees, some of them stopped to admire a painting of a naked Finnish man.
"Finnish men have small penises, we have big ones," the men rejoiced.
A foreigner may also be interested in other practical or mundane things, such as birds, agricultural tools, or interior design seen in the paintings.
People often seek to find something familiar to identify with. When Abu-Hanna visited the Hermitage in St. Petersburg with a Zulu man, he tried to find a single black person in the paintings. "Finally he found one, but was mystified as to why the black man had the feet of a goat. I had to tell him that the black man represented the devil."
There are not that many black or even dark-hued people on the walls of the Ateneum. A foreigner can still find something familiar there.
"The first time I was here I thought that that white-bearded man in a skirt looked just like a lecherous Saudi man," Abu-Hanna points at the Kalevala hero Väinämöinen, who is molesting Aino in the triptych by Akseli Gallen-Kallela.
"It upset me how nobody was shocked by a painting where an old man is trying to rape a teenage girl. Now I have learned to see the painting in its Finnish context: I admire the shades of blue, the atmosphere of the lake in summertime, and the beautiful perch jumping in the lower corner."
Abu-Hanna points out that Gallen-Kallela has, among others, beautifully depicted the country's original, pre-Christian culture. Christianity, on the other hand, seems to be a very small part of Finnish history from the perspective of art.
"My mother wondered how it was possible to convert a proud nation living such a cold country to follow the faith of desert shepherds. I took her to the Seurasaari open-air museum and showed her the stocks in front of the church. 'Oh dear, the Finns are also the victims of colonialism'. My mother pitied the Finns."
Art is always an agreement, Abu-Hanna reminds us. A black square is just a black square, unless you are familiar with art history and know what Kasimir Malevich meant by it.
One who has grown under the glowing sun of the tropics may experience colours differently from one used to the pale light of the North.
"Finns often refer to bright colours as "garish", which means approximately the same as "tasteless" or "childish". There is no equivalent to this word in Arabic, since Arabs see nothing wrong with bright colours."
The northern perception of art needs to be explained to foreigners. According to Abu-Hanna, Finns respect intelligence and control in art above all else. From another perspective, Finnish art may seem somewhat boring.
"If you have never been to the Nordic Countries and are not familiar with the local history or art, you may find, for example, landscape paintings about as interesting as a soggy newspaper."
The portraits of aristocrats along the walls look decorative and royal, but to Abu-Hanna, many of the portraits in European art galleries bring to mind a vain transsexual.
It is also a question of what is accepted as art. Abu-Hanna points out that an African can consider the way one dresses to be art, the same way that a Frenchman considers food, or a Finn considers a funny-shaped vase.
"One must reflect on what is the quality of art. According to traditional criteria, art in developing countries is repetitive, unoriginal, and unintelligent, traditional handwork."
Abu-Hanna admits that even she is not always able to escape racist ways of thinking. "If I am shown a Congolese religious mask, I easily start to think about some Hottentot's magical artefact, whereas a picture of the Virgin Mary is naturally a beautiful Christian symbol and work of art."
On the wall of the great hall in the Ateneum is one of Abu-Hanna's favourites, Eero Järnefelt's Raatajat rahanalaiset, in which men and women are putting out a fire in slash-and-burn agriculture. Abu-Hanna likes the defiant gaze on the soot-stained face of a little girl, although she speculates that picture may remind refugees from the Balkan Peninsula of their burnt-up home villages. It also reminds Abu-Hanna of a Finnish exam.
"There was a question about a tool involved in slash-and-burn agriculture. The answer was "risukarhi" (brush harrow), but the teacher accepted my "riisikarhu" (rice bear)."
On the next wall, Albert Edefelt's Ruokolahden eukkoja kirkonmäellä ("Ruokolahti Women on the Church Hill") brings to mind Finnish women who have converted to Islam.
Abu-Hanna thinks that the existence of a post of coordinator for cultural minorities shows that Finns are ready to approach their own culture critically. To her it is a sign of strength and self-confidence.
In many other countries the political nature of art has been forced into the people's attention earlier. The British have had to justify plundering foreign art treasures during the period of colonialism, the most well-known example of this being the marble statues of the Parthenon in Athens. Artworks stolen from oppressed Jews have been searched for in German galleries.
"I am glad that Finland does not have this kind of history, although it means that this kind of analysis is beginning somewhat later," says Abu-Hanna.
Finally we come to Abu-Hanna's favourite painting, Gallen-Kallela's Démasquée. In the painting a dark-haired lady is leaning backwards restfully on a divan and looking directly at the viewer, completely unabashed.
"That woman is so relaxed, so at ease with herself, so happy. Perhaps it would be more difficult for me to identify with a blue-eyed blonde, but look, even her pubic hair is pitch black."
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 5.11.2005
My comments: Any toughts about this from any one from Finland? Is this how most immigrats see art in Europe, looking for people who look like them self?
Umayya Abu-Hanna, the new cultural minorities coordinator of the State Art Museum, finds a resemblance between Väinämöinen and a lecherous Saudi man
"Many foreigners are puzzled by this picture. Why are those naked people beating each other with tree branches? And how come that man has two wives – is it not forbidden in Finland?"
Umayya Abu-Hanna is standing in front of Heikki Tuomela's painting Kuumat löylyt ("Sauna Heat") in the art museum Ateneum. In the painting from 1895, a man and two women sit stern-faced in a sauna.
A Finn can see an idyllic moment of peace in the painting, but how does a person see the picture, if he or she has never been in a sauna and is not familiar with the Finnish attitudes toward nudity or the relationships between men and women?
Such issues are contemplated by the State Art Museum's new coordinator of cultural minorities, Umayya Abu-Hanna. She views the museum's art from a new perspective and evaluates the criteria with which new art is brought into the museum and how exhibitions are arranged – and whether old views are in need of revision.
The goal of the two-year project is to attract more first-time visitors to the museum. It must be clear that there is nothing to fear in the museum – it is not a church, an army, nor a sauna. Ideas are beginning to take form in Abu-Hanna's notebook.
"There are about 30 000 foreigners living in Helsinki. At Christmas many of them wonder what to do, since Finnish Christmas traditions are strange to them, and nothing is open. Why not bring them by bus from Itäkeskus to admire the museums in the city centre?"
However, it is a question of much more than just marketing. Making the museums more appealing to people of foreign origin means that the museums have to change as well.
There are more museums per capita in Finland than anywhere else in the world. Most of them are, according to Abu-Hanna, quite traditional: there is a building, an exhibition, and silence.
"We should think about what a museum really is: a building, a brand, or a living, ever-changing political space for art? I favour the latter alternative."
A work of art means different things for different people. When Abu-Hanna was at an exhibition with a group of people living in the centre for refugees, some of them stopped to admire a painting of a naked Finnish man.
"Finnish men have small penises, we have big ones," the men rejoiced.
A foreigner may also be interested in other practical or mundane things, such as birds, agricultural tools, or interior design seen in the paintings.
People often seek to find something familiar to identify with. When Abu-Hanna visited the Hermitage in St. Petersburg with a Zulu man, he tried to find a single black person in the paintings. "Finally he found one, but was mystified as to why the black man had the feet of a goat. I had to tell him that the black man represented the devil."
There are not that many black or even dark-hued people on the walls of the Ateneum. A foreigner can still find something familiar there.
"The first time I was here I thought that that white-bearded man in a skirt looked just like a lecherous Saudi man," Abu-Hanna points at the Kalevala hero Väinämöinen, who is molesting Aino in the triptych by Akseli Gallen-Kallela.
"It upset me how nobody was shocked by a painting where an old man is trying to rape a teenage girl. Now I have learned to see the painting in its Finnish context: I admire the shades of blue, the atmosphere of the lake in summertime, and the beautiful perch jumping in the lower corner."
Abu-Hanna points out that Gallen-Kallela has, among others, beautifully depicted the country's original, pre-Christian culture. Christianity, on the other hand, seems to be a very small part of Finnish history from the perspective of art.
"My mother wondered how it was possible to convert a proud nation living such a cold country to follow the faith of desert shepherds. I took her to the Seurasaari open-air museum and showed her the stocks in front of the church. 'Oh dear, the Finns are also the victims of colonialism'. My mother pitied the Finns."
Art is always an agreement, Abu-Hanna reminds us. A black square is just a black square, unless you are familiar with art history and know what Kasimir Malevich meant by it.
One who has grown under the glowing sun of the tropics may experience colours differently from one used to the pale light of the North.
"Finns often refer to bright colours as "garish", which means approximately the same as "tasteless" or "childish". There is no equivalent to this word in Arabic, since Arabs see nothing wrong with bright colours."
The northern perception of art needs to be explained to foreigners. According to Abu-Hanna, Finns respect intelligence and control in art above all else. From another perspective, Finnish art may seem somewhat boring.
"If you have never been to the Nordic Countries and are not familiar with the local history or art, you may find, for example, landscape paintings about as interesting as a soggy newspaper."
The portraits of aristocrats along the walls look decorative and royal, but to Abu-Hanna, many of the portraits in European art galleries bring to mind a vain transsexual.
It is also a question of what is accepted as art. Abu-Hanna points out that an African can consider the way one dresses to be art, the same way that a Frenchman considers food, or a Finn considers a funny-shaped vase.
"One must reflect on what is the quality of art. According to traditional criteria, art in developing countries is repetitive, unoriginal, and unintelligent, traditional handwork."
Abu-Hanna admits that even she is not always able to escape racist ways of thinking. "If I am shown a Congolese religious mask, I easily start to think about some Hottentot's magical artefact, whereas a picture of the Virgin Mary is naturally a beautiful Christian symbol and work of art."
On the wall of the great hall in the Ateneum is one of Abu-Hanna's favourites, Eero Järnefelt's Raatajat rahanalaiset, in which men and women are putting out a fire in slash-and-burn agriculture. Abu-Hanna likes the defiant gaze on the soot-stained face of a little girl, although she speculates that picture may remind refugees from the Balkan Peninsula of their burnt-up home villages. It also reminds Abu-Hanna of a Finnish exam.
"There was a question about a tool involved in slash-and-burn agriculture. The answer was "risukarhi" (brush harrow), but the teacher accepted my "riisikarhu" (rice bear)."
On the next wall, Albert Edefelt's Ruokolahden eukkoja kirkonmäellä ("Ruokolahti Women on the Church Hill") brings to mind Finnish women who have converted to Islam.
Abu-Hanna thinks that the existence of a post of coordinator for cultural minorities shows that Finns are ready to approach their own culture critically. To her it is a sign of strength and self-confidence.
In many other countries the political nature of art has been forced into the people's attention earlier. The British have had to justify plundering foreign art treasures during the period of colonialism, the most well-known example of this being the marble statues of the Parthenon in Athens. Artworks stolen from oppressed Jews have been searched for in German galleries.
"I am glad that Finland does not have this kind of history, although it means that this kind of analysis is beginning somewhat later," says Abu-Hanna.
Finally we come to Abu-Hanna's favourite painting, Gallen-Kallela's Démasquée. In the painting a dark-haired lady is leaning backwards restfully on a divan and looking directly at the viewer, completely unabashed.
"That woman is so relaxed, so at ease with herself, so happy. Perhaps it would be more difficult for me to identify with a blue-eyed blonde, but look, even her pubic hair is pitch black."
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 5.11.2005
My comments: Any toughts about this from any one from Finland? Is this how most immigrats see art in Europe, looking for people who look like them self?