We entered in conversation with Finnish artist and designer Kirsti Taiviola, whose work deal with the interplay between light and glass through a poetic of immateriality and ephemerality. By discussing a series of works, the artist retrospectively reflects on her practice which is connotated by an aesthetic of transparency, translucency, diaphanous atmosphere and images.
Kirsti Taiviola, “Auringon laulu”, 2021, left photo Vesa Laitinen, right photo Kirsti Taiviola, courtesy the artist
Sara Buoso: Your background is in ceramics and craftsmanship, but a pivotal moment occurred in your career made you interested in the materiality of glass material both from a fine art and a design viewpoint. Would you like to elaborate on this pivotal moment?
Kirsti Taiviola: In 1999, I went on a one-year student exchange in Copenhagen and while experimenting with diverse materials and practices, I became fascinated with glass due to its immaterial qualities. Although my background is in ceramics, as a design student, I found the physicality of objects taking up space and the connection between the product design process and continuous object production to be inconvenient because something we humans may not always need what we produce. Glass opened a new path to me, which I decided to pursue. It was spring, I remember, days were bright and I decided to initiate a series of observations on light being reflected, refracted and diffracted through glass, documenting my project through photography. The effect of light refracting through the glass created beautiful reflections on the ground and I began to wonder if I could learn to control this phenomenon. I was fascinated by the idea that I could use glass to direct my gaze away from the physical object and toward the light.
Kirsti Taiviola, “Auringon laulu”, 2021, detail, photoVesa Laitinen, courtesy the artist
As you suggest in your current project, the Eye series, your practice proposes a sensuous approach to geometry and optics, experimenting with rays of light and lenses. Which are your discoveries within this process?
In my lens works, I view glass as a tool. The process of making lenses refers to optics, physics, and mathematics but my approach is experimental. The lenses are crafted using a blowing technique as a craft-centered process. After extensive exploration and experimentation, my practice is grounded in understanding how patterns are created. I have a sense of how to approach making a specific projection – sometimes the goal is to create something figurative or geometric, but often it’s something more indicative, where the lenses and reflection patterns evolve throughout the making process. There is no complete control. For many, the ultimate goal might be a hyper-realistic or photo-realistic result. However, I believe that beauty and fascination are lost with total control, which is why I embrace imperfections and mistakes in the making process. The final piece reveals something about glass, where I am not in full control and in the end, the process becomes exploratory and sensual. I remain loyal to glass, though I do experiment with plastics and other transparent materials, such as water and ice.
Kirsti Taiviola, “Kehrä. The Spindle”, photo Vesa Laitinen, courtesy the artist
Would you like to elaborate on your works Kehrä (The Spindle)? The research beyond this work is fascinating, both conceptually and aesthetically. The same consideration applies to a reading of Auringon Laulu – Solsången (Canticle of the Sun), which sits within the legacy of stained-glass window cathedral.
For the piece Auringon Laulu – Solsången (Canticle of the Sun), 2021 which originated from a design competition, I had to confront an altarpiece that faced east, where the sunrise occurs and is revealed. For this project, I researched the writings of Saint Francis of Assisi and was greatly influenced by his hymn, Canticle of the Sun, which praises God and thanks Him for His creations such as the sun and the moon. Kehrä (The Spindle), 2017-2019, similarly explores natural light, the sunlight and the act of praising of the sun through the materiality of glass objects and a coloring method applied. From this perspective I might say that the work is not truly my own because it touches on the sacred through practices of pursuing and participation. In fact, for the work Auringon Laulu – Solsången (Canticle of the Sun), I wanted the congregation to participate in the creation process. I asked parishioners to send me pictures of nature that held special meaning for them. I then used these photos the inspiration for the colorings of each of the 356 glass pieces in the altarpiece. Ultimately, the work became abstract in its symbolic meaning, facing east towards nature. Behind the glass objects there is a tall window, but each glass piece can also be illuminated with programmed LEDs. In both natural light and artificial light, the work takes on a different appearance throughout the day and at dusk. Through the practice of repeating mold-blown glass pieces, I wanted to pay tribute to the industrial history and heritage of Finnish glass. I also wanted to use a specific coloring method on the glass in a way that I find unique, watercolor-like. The working process for Kehrä (The Spindle), began at the winter solstice and lasted six months, it is a work about observation and repetition. Daily observation of the sunrise from my home, from the kitchen window, every day, every moment, resulted in the documentation of 183 mundane days, recording the weather phenomena through my impressions, notes and photographs. Because I wrote work instructions for glassblowers based on my daily observations, I noticed that, as the process progressed, the wording of my observations slowly begun to describe different glass colors.
Kirtsti Taiviola, “Kehrä. The Spindle”, detail, photo Vesa Laitinen, courtesy the artist
You also seem very much interested in the relationship between light and shadow but not in a dichotomic, oppositional sense. In the Flora Vitrum, series 2021, for example, nature seems to play a fundamental role in your practice. Would you like to tell us more about this aspect of your practice?
Earlier, I didn’t find the practice of glass engraving particularly intriguing, but over time, I became captivated by the way floral motifs could intertwine with glass. This led me to question the concept of authorship. At the core of the artwork Flora Vitrum are old, factory-made glasses adorned with engraved floral decorations. I wanted to emphasize these motifs by creating one-of-a-kind frottage-style prints. The piece explores the notions of authorship and the conventional criteria used to categorize works as either art or craft, such as seriality, uniqueness and presentation. A similar approach is seen in the work The Garland (2021), which plays with light and shadow. The shadow reveals, brings forth, and suggests a deeper meaning about life and death. In contrast, light represents life; it is the center, the essence of time. Light serves as a visual language that I can master with glass.
Kirsti Taiviola, “Swallow”, 2017, photo Kirsti Taiviola, courtesy the artist
In your large-scale public works like Aaltojen Alla (Under the Waves), 2024, and Kenno, 2021, you also need to confront the spatial and often architectural conditions of the site you are operating. Which structural and perceptual considerations can you draw from these projects?
My large-scale projects focus on perception and exploration. The dramaturgy of space is essential, and my work is deeply influenced by its physical presence within an architectural environment. It is a holistic process. The work occupies space, engages with the viewer and shapes the atmosphere of the surroundings. For me, light represents time and life, and I aim to create works that offer a rich, immersive experience of focused presence. In these works, I am also drawn to the beauty of light, its materiality, its ephemeral qualities, and the essence of events, much like life itself.
Kirsti Taiviola, “Flying Bird With Seven Lenses”, 2021-2024, photo_Kirsti Taiviola, courtesy the artist
Often, those artists who choose to work with light as a phenomenon, reject figuration/representation intentionally. Does this choice apply to your practice?
I wouldn’t say that I intentionally reject figuration in my works. Some of my pieces, like Flying Birds with Seven Lenses (2021-2023) or Studies on Weightlessness (Swallow and Birdie, 2016), are based on bird figures. However, I’m not yet sure how prominent figures will ultimately be in my work, as I don’t yet know where the creative process will lead. One must understand what the figure represents. What is it trying to convey? That’s what I’m trying to figure out.
Info:
She is interested in the visual, verbal and textual aspects of the Modern Contemporary Arts. From historical-artistic studies at the Cà Foscari University, Venice, she has specialized in teaching and curatorial practice at the IED, Rome, and Christie’s London. The field of her research activity focuses on the theme of Light from the 1950s to current times, ontologically considering artistic, phenomenological and visual innovation aspects.
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