State of Things

The purpose of exhibitions is to offer a snapshot – to capture a particular moment in time. In an era defined by information overload and relentless speed, this act of pausing can feel counterintuitive, even outdated. Yet exhibitions “move” in their own ways: through rotating artworks, shifting displays, or the inclusion of live performances. In this exhibition, the act of being alive is entrusted to tomato plants, which Sandra sprouted earlier this spring in her studio on Raja Street. She has crafted pots for them and built a trellis structure to support their growth. Plants are slow, rooted beings; our constant motion is foreign to them. Relocation and disruption cause them stress. We hope these tomatoes will settle, recover, and – if all goes well – bear fruit before the exhibition concludes.

The tin roof built by Tõnis is both sculpture and furniture. In a scenographic sense, it is designed to lift us up – to carry us from street level and everyday life into a rooftop world. This world is like a city within the city. On rooftops, tense chases, secret meetings, games, and accidents unfold. Roof tiles tinkle; sheet metal thuds. It thuds underfoot – and also when the wind shakes it. The roof acts like armour, like skin, shielding the home from the storm. Roofs are pierced by chimneys and vents, and here and there, antennas rise. It’s a landscape where vegetation made of metal, clay, and plastic seems to thrive. Might we spot an animal, too? It feels as if someone has shed their skin, limb by limb – yet the pieces have taken root. If an antenna could grow freely, would it reach straight toward the signal, the way a tomato plant stretches toward the sun?