A constantly transforming landscape of broedplaats Lely brings DAY outside the gallery space during the Museum Night. A possibility to catch the rapid changes of the urban scenery that are not dependant on the artists keep the unpredictability of the outcome. Every day the body of the mountain was created by constructors. Every evening this shape was being explored and altered by the bodies of DAY.

De Apple gallery during the Museum Night, Amsterdam (04.11.2017)



“Urban resort” is a site specific performative video. This work is reflecting on the fully changed environments and increase of urbanization in the city of Amsterdam where commercial and artistic spheres merge in a surrealistic outcome. The performance done in the nostalgic landscape on the edge of two worlds: broedplats Lely and new offices. In this story there is a way to escape the sense of a burden by neglecting the everyday duties. “The One time use” ideology is heavily present by giving another meaning to those objects, creating a playground out of building materials.

About DAY

A group performance inspired by a work from the Stedelijk collection – Blue Red Rocker (1963) by Ellsworth Kelly.

Ellsworth Kelly explained his own work in 1996 by stating the following: “I think what we all want from art is a sense of fixity, a sense of opposing the chaos of daily living. This is an illusion, of course. Canvas rots. Paint changes color. But you keep trying to freeze the world as if you could make it last forever. In a sense, what I’ve tried to capture is the reality of flux, to keep art an open, incomplete situation, to get at the rapture of seeing.”

A natural, physical continuation of the Rocker – a movement based performance, reaction to the sculpture through the body movement. We were interested in the space that the sculpture creates – the illusion of a triangle while the sculpture has only 2 surfaces. Interpretation of the balance is a triggering aspect of this work, so we developed it through the movement and interactions with each other and the audience. Starting with rush and chaoes, serving as “tranquillizers”. The movement of leaning on the other person, including people from the audience, created the imagined movement back and forward evoked by the sculpture.




Blindfolded, bare feet, with headphones and a helmet on my head I let go of control and simply follow a rope that leads me through the 40 minutes of an individual experience ‘Door into the Dark’ by an English art collective Anagram. I feel safe, the chances are small that something disastrous would happen to me in an art gallery.  However it is physically and emotionally saturated experience.

From the very beginning of the journey, having to empathize with a blind person is so intense that it makes me cry. The fact that my grandfather is loosing his eyesight makes this experience more dramatic and I wish the introduction story was less confronting. I am experiencing the environment with my hands and body, adapting to a new situation, not being sure about anything and trusting my own senses. These sensations together with my personal thoughts worked so strong that I can now say that for the first time in my life an installation made me cry.

Surrendering to the void, risking, and sometimes feeling lost is not something new to my mind. I like to exercise my ability to orientate and disorientate, to find a way to trust my intuition once again and let undiscovered paths unfold. Usually stepping into the dark is worth the risk, but I have to say that sometimes it gets my feet wet. This time it was just my eyes.

This work has been mentioned in the context of immersive theater, storytelling, interactive/ immersive installation, soundscape and more. I felt like I was inside a documentary film, but instead of my eyes, I was watching it with my ears, feet and hands. It was a new and intensified way of watching a film.


I will feed the world…

One weekend I was cooking and serving breakfast, lunch and dinner to strangers in New York City. The performance was activated when someone from the audience decided to step in and to interact – to feed me and to be fed. Few times I got very hungry because nobody showed up. I was not starting the meal without a guest. Friday dinner turned out to be the most social. I fed 4 people. Performances took place in the gallery space, my room or the bathtub of the artlifelab, depending of the circumstances. The lenght of the spoons is adjustable – 180 and 90cm.


Residency program Edible bodies, Glasshouse ArtLifeLab, New York City, Brooklyn






I enjoy arriving to a performance without expectations, without reading about it beforehand and just see and feel what happens to me in the moment. What happened here was a lot. A lot of information, a lot of words, images, body movements – a mix of different forms of communication. Beautiful poetry combined with a kind of informative hyperactivity. Boldness and masculinity in contrast with poetry and raw, improvised body gestures. How come that a person is able to manage all of these ingredients at the same time and able to smoothly switch in between various forms. My eyes were so focused on the visually dynamic and interesting forms of this performance that my ears did not manage to absorb all the politically historical content, because it was a lot of information to take in. But that’s probably just me being too slow. Somehow a word ‘struggle’ comes to my mind, it was not a piece that I would call ‘easy going’ but probably that’s the whole point of it, to trigger uncanniness.

“Jeremiah Day (1974, USA) is re-examining political conflicts and resistances through unfolding their subjective traces and contexts through photography, speech and body language.” (info from the website of The Graduate School an the Postgraduate Forum of the Berlin University of the Arts).

It’s amazing how many different forms and temperaments a performance can be – from an abstract setup without words to an overflow of information and facts. A fiction can be a performance, a documentary can be a performance. A film or a performance can be a story in-between.

In September I was attending a performance of a Dutch artist Roos Tulen, during the food and art festival in Schiedam. She was serving Syrian food in a homey atmosphere. We were a small group sitting around the dinner table, connected in some way and consuming the experience. The food tasting was accompanied by a video projection on the table and the sound on the headphones. It was a story about Syrian refugees in the Netherlands. And once again, I was too slow to digest all the layers at once, as a “one sense at the time” person. I was tasting the food while listening to a story on the headphones and at times also watching a video. And I was all the time late with finishing the food, but I don’t like to eat fast, specially in the context of (layered) art. Roos explained to me that that is how quickly they eat in a Syrian family, so she had adjusted to it.

Somehow I believe that in the times of coping with constant rush, burnouts and information overflow, an artist could allow to slow down the space around him or her. Just below the dinning room there was my slow motion video playing. I stay loyal to the slow. Maybe because my part time job in a semi fast food cafe has traumatised me. Maybe because I love my slow Estonian friends.

Just came across this ‘what is now’ clock.