Vartiovuori is one of the seven hills in Turku (yes, we are the Rome of Finland), in the centre of the town, near the river. Start from the river, cross a street, climb up steep steps, then move on to winding park lanes on the hills, now covered in snow. Observe signs telling you the sea level 1,000 years ago, 2,000 years ago. Consider the view over town and ponder on the land rising, the city rising, growing and changing. Catch your breath and reel a bit in tides of overlapping history, then make your way towards the neoclassical observatory, a jewel of a building that celebrates its 200th birthday in 2019. Next to it there’s a mound that might as well house hobbits, with a funny little tower, a charming architectural mongrel, jutting out from its side. In the middle of the mound there’s a recess and a door, disappointingly quite square and modern, but don’t be put off by that. Inside the mound hides a water reservoir built in 1903, but right now, by way of magic called art, this doorway is a passage to a timeless, nameless piece of Iceland.
The beautiful vaults of the reservoir have housed small-scaled exhibitions before, but none this poetic. The installation called Vatn (“water”) by Guðrún Kristjánsdóttir was inspired by springs she has found while wandering on Icelandic highlands. Her artificial spring is a round basin of water on the floor, surrounded by dark lava gravel. An image of its surface is projected on the wall. Every now and then a drop of water falls in, creating a series of ripples, ever different patterns that slowly die away until the surface is still again. Then the next droplet falls, dancing water, dancing light on the wall.
The vaults are very dim, with only a spotlight on the spring and the wall projection giving off light. Recording of music composed specially for this installation by Daníel Bjarnason, played on an instrument made of stone, plays gently. The peculiar sound of the instrument, somehow bright and dull at the same time, resembles that of the dripping water. They clearly belong together.
I was lucky, the only visitor at the moment. All the busy everyday sounds were shut out beyond the thick vaulted walls of the reservoir. It was easy to forget the silent guard at the door – there was only water, chiming rock and my own thoughts.
Every visitor will likely follow their own train of thoughts and I don’t particularly feel like imposing my own to anyone else in any great detail. Suffice to say that intellectually they might touch on nature, ecology or cultural history, for example. Darwin forbid me from sounding mystic and new agey, but my visit was also peaceful and restoring. Miserable mood and muscle tension dissipated, racing mind calmed down much like I’d experienced in Icelandic nature. When I finally got up to leave, somewhat reluctantly, I found myself treading softly as if in a cathedral or in a forest, careful not to break the peace.
I may return to the spring, perhaps with more analytical thoughts. In any case I rather wish Vatn could stay in that reservoir for ever, an Icelandic oasis for weary townsfolk, just a little city hike away.
Vatn on Vartiovuorenmäki 8. – 28.3.2018, Mon-Fri 12-16, Sat-Sun 12-18
The Night Owl's Random 