Hobbling into Autumn

During the summer, life happened. Family and friends came to visit us in Helsinki (thank you all!) and I went back to Ireland for various golfing, family and writing events.

Then, last Monday, just when I was settling back into a somewhat regular routine, I arranged to meet a friend in my favourite sitting room, the Central Oodi Library in Helsinki for a coffee and to stay on to write for a couple of hours. I got off the metro at Central Railway Station and was walking the five-minute route to the library when there it was (or the twelve or so paving bricks that should have been there weren't) and I stepped into it.

Hence, here I am back in Dublin with a fractured ankle and 'in a boot' for a minimum of four weeks. I have never before broken any bone and I do know it could have been a lot worse; it's not a bad fracture and doesn't require surgery. However, apart from a few odd days here and there down the years, I have never before been house-bound, never had to rely on others to drive me places, never needed friends and neighbours to bring me groceries. It is a chastening experience. My only hope is it may be good for my writing life as I theoretically have more time to write, and I may have these new emotions (for me) of vulnerability and fragility to mine into for my scribblings in the future.

During the summer months, as a recent National Geographic article put it so well, Helsinki wore its heart and creativity on its sleeve. There were outdoor terraces in cafés and restaurants, food trucks with seating, plazas with exhibitions, flea markets and outdoor concerts and exhibitions galore.

One of the highlights was the Helsinki Biennial, an international contemporary art event held every two years, that took place this year on the maritime Vallisaari Island and in the centre of Helsinki from June to September. It featured 57 artworks, the work of 37 artists or collectives from Finland and around the world. The theme of this year's biennial was Shelter, taking inspiration from the habitat of Vallisaari Island, which has been free of human habitation for decades. The biennial reflected on the fragile relationship between humanity and the natural world. The curators of the exhibition describe the island as a rich ecosystem surrounded by the sea that has been left to its own devices without active human intervention for a long time. The protected island, located close to the heart of the city, is one of the region’s most diverse in terms of flora and is also home to numerous bat, butterfly, and other insect species. Today, the island, with its long history of military use, offers the opportunity to imagine what unfolds when humans leave the stage and non-human actors remain.

We visited the island (about a 20-minute boat ride from the Central Market) with my daughter and her husband on a beautiful summer Sunday. It reminded us of a more wooded version of one of the smaller Aran Islands or other sparsely populated islands off Ireland's coast. The looped trail around the island brought us on a tour of the 31 art installations. Some of them were interactive experiences with soundscapes and opportunities to touch and feel. Many were strange, most were thought-provoking.

One of the nice things is that a small number of the artworks are acquired at each Biennial and will remain permanently in the city. From the 2025 Helsinki Biennial, two artworks will be permanently installed in Helsinki: Stranding by Sara Bjarland and From the Dark into the Great Blue Yonder by Gunzi Holmström. I will be really curious to see how the former artwork in particular is installed in the city. It comprises seven bronze sculptures of sea mammals that took their shape from inflatable swimming toys and it mimics a pod of stranded dolphins.

However, as I finish writing this blog post and look down at my boot, I wish as much money and care was taken in maintaining the safety of the public footpaths in Helsinki as in purchasing public art!