Curator's foreword

The phrase “life can never be paused” is, for me, both a comfort and a sigh. On one hand, it is reassuring to think that there is no pause button in life. Everything bad will pass in one way or another, but sometimes it is hard to find solace in that. Similarly, the cliché “time heals all wounds” is true, but I always feel the need to add an asterisk to it: sometimes, even despite the passing of time, the pain leaves scars.

This exhibition was inspired by the feeling that, as a person, it can sometimes be difficult to find balance. Wars and famines are constantly happening in the world, one humanitarian crisis follows another, and keeping track of it all creates a sense of guilt: there are so many problems in the world, yet as an ordinary person, I find myself worrying and overthinking. Having travelled a bit, I can say that Estonia is a good place to live, as this small piece of land is, at least for now, spared from major earthquakes or other similarly devastating disasters.

But still, even if Estonia is not threatened by natural disasters or other crises, a quiet undercurrent of societal issues persists here, with occasional disagreements and friction. Yet, this is nothing new. Isn’t it true that history lessons in general education schools often focus on the history of wars? Someone is always seeking to harm someone else – it is nothing new, as millennia of world history attest. However, alongside all of this, there has always been room for deeply human reflections.

Today, engagement (and the pressure to engage) with societal issues feels somewhat different than it did in the past. In the age of social media, it can feel strange to see people transform overnight into foreign policy experts or virologists, eagerly sharing their opinions. I have occasionally noticed the pressure to take a side and express an opinion during polarising or significant events – otherwise, you are seen as passive or failing to draw attention to the issue. “Drawing attention to things” is a phrase I have read dozens, if not hundreds, of times in exhibition texts. There is no shortage of things to draw attention to, but at some point, solutions should also be offered. Otherwise, an overdose of attention-drawing begins to set in.

This exhibition offers a small moment to catch your breath – a brief pause in a world where more is happening than one could grasp, even if reading the news all day long.

The initial spark for creating this exhibition was the desire to visually explore the moment when all you want is to curl up and hide from the world. In such times, you often wish life could be paused, but, unfortunately, it cannot. No one is ever fully shielded from misfortunes, whether they stem from personal struggles, work overload, or even unemployment. Whatever the case, there are only 24 hours in a day. For me, at least, mornings carry a sense of positivity even in the most melancholic moments – a new day, a fresh start.

Sometimes curling up and retreating from the world is necessary, even refreshing. But only if it is brief. Afterward, you need to take real action to replace the feeling of desolation with something better. I would like to hope that everyone has something that helps them feel better.

For me, reading Haruki Murakami’s books is pure balm for the soul. His work feels timeless, exploring the various shades of the struggle of being human, making his books suitable for any mood. I read one of his most famous works, Norwegian Wood, about once a year, sometimes even more often. Occasionally, I don’t read it cover to cover; sometimes just a few dozen pages are enough to provide me with a peculiar sense of solace. I truly do not know what I would do without Murakami – there is no other author whose work I can immerse myself in so tirelessly. Each time, even in a text that has become so familiar to me, I discover something new. As my life experiences accumulate over the years, Murakami’s texts acquire new interpretations. Having spent nearly a decade immersed in the art world, it is sometimes strange to realise that there isn’t a single visual artwork that I have a similar relationship with. There is no artist whose creations would accompany me through life in the same way.

Murakami has been a constant presence throughout my twenties, whereas the visual world feels much more kaleidoscopic. Putting together the exhibition Life Can Never Be Paused was a journey through the works of various artists, each of which carried a sense of spirituality for me. Whether it was the aforementioned urge to curl up and hide from the world or a vague sense of existential melancholy, unsure of how much one can afford to worry about something – there was a thread connecting them all.

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood: „April ended and May came along, but may was even worse than April. In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going down. In the pale evening gloom, when the soft fragrance of magnolias hung in the air, my heart would swell without warning, and tremble, and lurch with a stab of pain. I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and wait for it to pass. And it would pass – but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache in its path.“¹Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood. London: Vintage Books, 2010, p. 336.