During my entire “artist career” (quotation marks very intentional), I’ve been stuck on two stupidly simple questions: What is art? Who is an artist?
They sound easy. They are not.
At some point I read a definition that stuck with me: “An artist is someone who sees something others cannot see, and then creates something that makes it visible.” I like that. Not because it solves anything, but because it at least points somewhere.
For me it’s simpler. Art is self-expression. That’s it.
I have a stressful, highly technical day job. I have two small kids. And yet my head is constantly filling up with weird ideas. I wake up at night and write things down. Random concepts, visuals, titles, fragments. Writing them down is not enough. The idea doesn’t leave. The only way to get rid of it is to actually make it real.
So I do. Fast. I don’t care about technical perfection. I don’t polish. I just get it out — quick and dirty — and then I’m done. Space cleared. Next idea can come in.
There have been many outputs over the years. Paintings (some made by me, some produced through others), films, music, books, installations, random public pieces, even jewelry. My only real method is: try everything.
I’m not particularly skilled with my hands. That has never stopped me.
Like Jeff Koons or Andy Warhol, I’ve sometimes outsourced execution. I’ve photoshopped something and asked someone else to paint it. I’ve used voiceovers heavily in my films — partly as a stylistic choice, but also because I can bring in a voice that is not me (and yes, often from Fiverr).
I do everything alone. Not because I’m against collaboration — I just don’t have a team.
Some of my work has found its way into places that feel slightly unreal. Sleep was shown at IFFR in 2015. Now it’s part of Anozero 26 – Biennal de Coimbra. And Christopher Costabile wrote a thesis about it.
So by some definitions, this must be art. But does that make me an artist? I’m not sure.
I want to be outside the system — but not labeled as an “outsider artist.” I don’t feel like I belong inside, but I’m not building my identity around being outside either.
My work doesn’t always carry a deeper message. Sometimes it’s exactly what it looks like. No hidden layers, no grand narrative. Just an idea that needed to get out.
I don’t apply for grants. Not because I’m against them — I fully understand why they exist. But the moment I would need to think “will this get funding?” or “will this sell?” I would probably stop making anything. That kind of pressure would kill the whole mechanism.
I make art because otherwise my brain gets too full.
The biggest challenge these days is time. Between work and family, I often don’t have enough of it.
I’m also a dad, an engineer, a tech enthusiast, an IT security director. All at the same time. In Finland it’s completely normal that musicians or athletes have day jobs. In visual art it somehow feels like a taboo.
I once showed my business card to Anton Ginzburg, and he told me: “Never show that to anyone in art circles.” That stuck with me.
I think that’s bollocks.
And yes, I used AI to polish my grammar. No regrets there. It makes it easier to read. You can tell from the “— ” characters.
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