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In Nice, on my way to the entrance exams at
L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts de Perpignan.
I had an eight hour journey in a crowded train ahead of me. |
I wasn’t going to repost these images here but oh well, why not. They are part of my history. I had studied philosophy and art history at Helsinki University, but a question was nagging me. I was good at analysing other people’s art, but was I any good as an artist, myself? Did I have any creativity to show for? I was bored and restless, and decided to uproot myself and enrol in an art school in France. I chose France because it was cheaper than the UK. In the end, when I’d moved over to Caen, I did end up as an exchange student in Portsmouth over the course of a few weeks. Thinking back, I regret not staying in Perpignan and just getting a fine arts degree. The teacher’s were nice, it would have been a more relaxed and stable experience once I cottoned onto the language properly. I didn’t like the town that much and was also too concerned with the practicalities of life, so I thought I needed a ‘proper’ profession. I therefore felt compelled to move. The truth is that I struggled greatly with my health and tried to keep up with a life I wasn’t built to cope with.
It’s difficult to appreciate just how expensive it is to study abroad. I had a student’s loan and some private money during my years in France, the latter was an inheritance after my grandmother. But life was still extremely expensive so I ran out of it very quickly. In a different reality, the money could have formed the basis for a small flat in Finland. But it soon became obvious I wasn’t well enough to work full time, so in retrospect, it would probably have made little sense to exchange my French experience for a flat I would not have been allowed to own as a permanently disabled person in need of social security allowances.
I did a foundation course in fine arts in Perpignan and then a year of graphic art in Caen before I tried to become an illustrator when a new course opened up in Caen. By then I was exhausted and not well advised by the teachers, who weren’t very good at all. In the end I failed the exams. I was too focused on academic research into primordial myths and failed to deliver on the visual side. It’s a shame I wasn’t guided, and I can now see what I should have done instead of the crap I produced at the time, but on the other hand, I did become passionately interested in myths during this time. This inspired me to return to Helsinki University where I enrolled in Psychology of Religion and made it my major. I actually found myself in these studies and was able to take my time - I managed the minimum required per year and graduated as a Master of Philosophy in Science of Religion in 1999. I then collapsed from burn out from performing wellness for so long - linked to many general problems related to my life long genetic disease hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.
In the 90s, I spent the summers at my mum’s place in Hanko on the Finnish coast. Here, I started to make some symbolic art that became the counterpoint to the academic studies in the winter in Helsinki. My mum was active in the local art society and encouraged me to take part. Without her unfailing support, I doubt I could have found my way as an aspiring artist. We lived in a tiny crowded flat and never had any money but the proximity to the sea relieved me of stress, and the life style offered a kind of peace. I would take some lunch along and go and sit on the rocks by the sea and write my diary, then go home and make some art. Over the years I sold most of what I made in the ‘90s. So the art schools in France did serve a purpose, albeit in a strangely skewed kind of way. Looking back, I rather miss the ‘90s, the pretence that I could still ‘make it’ and create a nice life for myself, and a certain creative flow I haven’t found since. On my blog with my CV, there are photos from this time. There’s also a whole gallery with my art from 1994-2000.
LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON (1990-1991)
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L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts de Perpignan, 1990
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Bringing home a second hand chair from Secours Catholique
My first home: a shared flat on the first floor,
not very cosy, to be honest!
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My next home was all to myself and a lot more authentic.
The toilet was on the balcony but the view was great!
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| My entrance - from Google Earth |
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| In Montpellier |
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Coullioure (Perpignan is a bit away from the coast)
NORMANDY (1991-1994): |
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| I rented a flat in a chateau in Normandy |
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Now I had to buy a car to get to school, and finally practice my driving
(I’d gotten my license before relocating to France) |
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‘I could get used to this’
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| Sketching for school |
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| My table at school in Herouville, Caen |
My next home: a year in a flat in Caen
(I wanted to be closer to social life there - and it was cheaper)
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My view from the balcony in Caen
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My mum in my kitchen in Caen the morning we left -
she picked me up in her van |
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| A school trip to Berlin and Sans Souci |
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Portsmouth College of Art
An exchange was arranged for the French students to stay there. |
