Reimo Võsa-Tangsoo “Mind the Frog!”

One of the starting points for the exhibition is Karel Čapek’s The Gardener’s Year. Čapek’s sharp and humorous observations on a (city) gardener’s desires, joys, disappointments and endless need to care for something immediately struck a chord.

Having spent an increasing amount of time at a summer cottage in recent years, I have also begun to develop my own, still rather vague understanding of rural life and the rhythms of nature. These rhythms can be calming and abundant, but at the same time ruthless and starkly indifferent.

Autumn evenings and nights in the countryside are dark, unless the moon is shining. If wearing a reflector in the city is recommended, in the countryside making yourself visible can be a necessity.

A beautiful summer is pleasant and abundant, but already in August the creatures that have kept their distance from the house begin pushing their way back in through cracks and openings. All it takes is a single day away for birds to devour all the berries ripening on the bushes, or for the last apples fallen beneath the trees to disappear overnight.

It is uncomfortably sobering to realise how fragile life is, and how much care is required to maintain this small part of our surroundings that we try to “domesticate” or cultivate. Even if one somehow manages to avoid disease, fungi and frost, a vole suddenly moving into the garden can be enough to throw the entire order of things into question.

In the countryside, humans are not necessarily the masters. Everyone is competing for food, light and space. If humans imagine they have an advantage in this struggle, it is only for as long as they remain vigilant and keep things “in order”. In the end, everything is food for someone or something.

Of course, one can take an arrogant position – scatter poison left and right, put up deterrents, or concrete over every available patch of ground. But at least I don’t want the countryside to become too orderly and controlled. That would take away one of the reasons for being there in the first place.

The ant, the wasp and the snail all have their place. So does the frog.

With thanks to: Estonian Artists’ Association, ARS Art Factory, EKA Foto, EVA Lab, Katrin Koit, Lipuvabrik OÜ, Taavi Varm, my wife, and my mother.

Open Mon-Fri 12-18, Sat 12-16

Finissage: 28 September, 18:00

* This plea has stayed with me from a period I once spent in Kütiorg, which significantly reshaped my understanding of living alongside nature and of nature conservation as an alternative worldview – one in which slogans and radicalism do not take centre stage, but rather common sense and an understanding of what is and is not possible.