In Memoriam of Annu Wilenius (1974–2020): The Creator and the Lead Curator of the Bare House Art Project
Dr Tsendpurev Tsegmid
For days I have struggled to process the news. It can’t be. We haven’t even met in person, but I have known Annu Wilenius for nearly a decade. All our correspondences took place via email. Was I just naive to assume that she would be living her life, working on her art projects and defending her PhD thesis? No, I am not being naive. She was far too young to leave us. But she contributed a huge amount to the development of contemporary art in Mongolia, a tiny country isolated on the Central Asian plateau, to which few people pay attention when it comes to art.
Even after more than thirty years of development, contemporary art is still in its infancy in Mongolia. This is no surprise, as there is, and never has been either the funding or the infrastructure needed for local contemporary artists, contemporary practice-minded creatives and art curators to transition and thrive. As of 2021, I still have to explain what ‘contemporary art’ is to wide-eyed local art students and emerging artists. Again, this is mainly because local art universities and colleges still do not teach contemporary art practices, neither the theories nor the methodologies. For decades, there has been a sustained and fierce opposition towards contemporary art from the mainstream institutions in Mongolia.
Annu belonged to a small but special group of creative nomads consisting of international artists, curators, researchers and arts professionals who ventured to this far end of the world and dedicated years of their lives to the development of contemporary art practices, curator practices and supporting local artists in Mongolia. Among these outstanding creatives, Annu stands out with fifteen years (2005–2020), focusing solely on art projects titled Mongolia: Perception and Utopia (2005–2008), Bare House: Pori- Rotterdam-Ulaanbaatar (2008–2011), Bare House Ulaanbaatar: At the Building Site (2011–2014) in collaboration with Mongolian art collective Blue Sun, associated artists and curators. Beyond 2014, she concentrated on getting her PhD thesis Nomadic Science Fiction: Experiencing Diversity and Alterity through Urbanizing Mongolia completed while dealing with health issues, partly caused by a riding accident during her time in Mongolia.
I use the term ‘special group’ above not as a complimentary phrase, but in order to illustrate how rare it is for a foreigner to approach Mongolians as ‘equal peers’ and to see the exchange as ‘two-way collaboration’. For centuries and the during the first three decades of this country after the Soviet Union collapse, foreigners flocked into Mongolia, mostly looking for opportunities for themselves, to get rich quickly, to find the next gold mine, to get away from failed lives in their home countries, to exploit locals and to ‘teach’ us better ways to conduct our lives. Many still do so without even trying to learn our language, explore our culture and listen to our thoughts.
In contrast, as a curator and a researcher with a deeply inquisitive mind, expert knowledge and associated skill set worthу of both envy and admiration, Annu was not a stereotypical opportunist. She was a true trailblazer. Her goal was clear and she was determined. There were many difficulties she would have to face and overcome the language barrier being the first of many. She overcame it all by inviting European arts organisations to contribute, enticing artists to become involved, writing successful funding applications, making multiple trips back and forth, staging and curating multiple exhibitions at various international venues and writing curatorial pieces for the exhibitions and the published books.
To my great disappointment, I was not able to witness any of this first hand, as I was pursuing my PhD in the UK. But Annu heard about me from Dr Uranchimeg Tsultem, an experienced Mongolian art curator and art historian based in the USA, and in 2010 Annu asked, if I could translate the Bare House: Pori- Rotterdam-Ulaanbaatar art book (also known as the Green Book) from English to Mongolian. Despite being very busy with my own studies and part-time work, I took on the task, not realising what a mammoth effort it would take to finish it. Our agreement was three months but it took me nine months to complete the work. This was the first time ever that a book on contemporary art, architecture and practice-based research had been translated into Mongolian. At times, I was simply lost, not knowing how to translate specialist phrases and words into Mongolian. During this period, Annu was very understanding but firm. She pushed me to go beyond my comfort zone, to be better and to try harder. She highlighted the fact that although I was doing everything to learn the western ways of doing things, I should never lose my ‘Mongolian ways’.
As a result of this collaboration, the project succeeded in producing a fully-fledged book in both English and Mongolian, on a very specialist subject; a fine outcome from a three year long project. And it is still the only book I can refer to as a book — not a catalogue but a real book — written by professional researchers, artists and curators, who carried out original research, created new artworks and high quality texts. Thinking back now, if she had decided to have the book in English only, that would also have been good; but she always put Mongolians’ interest first. Many, many one-off art projects took place in Mongolia since 1990, producing catalogues or books of some kind but only one percent were interested in making the content accessible to Mongolians. Why bother? What is the point and why spend more money and energy? This is where Annu differed from the rest. She didn’t want to rob local artists and art students of the chance to understand the content and the context of these projects, which already consumed years of hard work. Accessibility was key. She was absolutely right. These projects, these years, only make true sense when the context is expressed in the local language as originally intended. Really, what was the point of choosing a country for art projects, when the country’s official language was not honoured? She wanted to do it in the right way. So she did.
The international exhibition and publication projects that Annu initiated and carried out in Mongolia, Finland and Netherlands elevated Mongolian artists and curators to the next level. This was clearly evident in their post-Bare House careers, which saw many of them going strong, practicing art and exhibiting internationally. Mongolians probably benefited more when compared to the international participants, if I may say. And this is again, an anomaly for us. Annu and her collaborators’ efforts to secure funding for these projects paid off, the project was able to pay for expenses, artist fees and travels for Mongolian artists, and it was one of only a very few times when I got paid fairly for my translation work. And this is not because Mongolian artists asked for or demanded it. Overall, it should be noted that we are notoriously bad at asking to get paid for our creative work (although this, of course, may just be a universal problem for most artists). But Annu’s sense of professionalism, her intimate understanding of the artists’ lives, her desire to support these talented but financially insecure creatives, made her act ethically and fairly. Here, I wish to celebrate her family, her friends and everyone who contributed in raising such a great human being and a strong advocate of fair treatment. One of the Mongolian participants, Ganzug Sedbazar expressed his astonishment regarding how he was treated:
Annu didn’t exploit us, she actually spoiled us. Before that, I never got paid for making art or participating in an art project. It was just hard to believe.
Unfortunately, the likes of Annu are few and far between. Local artists are often exploited by so-called international art projects and work unpaid roles at arts organisations because they are somehow ‘responsible for enlightening and educating the society on a voluntary basis’; an outdated socialist dogma imprinted on our subconscious mind.
In the Fall of 2012, I returned to Mongolia, having defended my PhD thesis in the UK. After coming back to my native land, getting to know the local arts scene and finding out about situations artists must deal with, my perspective shifted a great deal. The somewhat ‘romanticised’ perspective that I had held whilst living far, far away faded swiftly. But I didn’t flee after a few months or a couple of years like other repatriate Mongolians; I stayed and decided to contribute. That, and simply trying to survive whilst working in the visual arts sector, has been one of the most challenging situations that I have had to deal with in my life.
Now I understand Annu much more. After learning Annu’s untimely departure, I was in the unique position of being able to analyse her contribution and write about it in English. It should be stated that this piece is based on my own judgment but was also influenced by many stories told by participant Mongolian artists. Secondly, her two books, Bare House and Bare House II played the main role as the legitimate basis to understand her thinking, her process and her objectives. Most touchingly, I had the pleasure of communicating with Annu’s mother, Tuula Wilenius and asking her about her daughter. I took on the uneasy task of inquiring about her beloved daughter, but she had the most difficult task of answering while grieving for her. Tuula wrote:
You asked me to describe Annu´s personality. Not an easy task to do (“How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?” people sang in the film The Sound of Music when asked about the girl Maria) but I will try. Annu was imaginative, talented and courageous. She did not avoid difficult tasks if she thought them worthwhile. She was determined, even passionate in things she valued. When she was a little girl and had to choose her first foreign language to study she asked me which is the most difficult to learn and decided to learn that. This was typical of her. Later in life it was art that was close to her heart. Also working together with other artists. The Mongolian project was a good example of this.
Through Tuula, I connected with Oula Salokannel, Annu’s former partner, creative collaborator and participant of Bare House projects, and asked more questions about the processes that took place behind the curtain. As he recalls:
In Finland we had had quite much more struggle, as it had turned out that the museum’s attitude to the Bare House project was shifting unsuspectingly and frequently between positive and negative. Because of that Annu used a lot of time and energy that, in turn, was then away from everything else. For us it was a bit of a disappointment to learn how hard it was for the museum to bring up the emerging, unsettled forms of art. It was partly because of the on-site working period — an exchange process that contributes to the local conditions while utilizing and referring to its sources. Due to the nature of the work we were unwilling and unable to provide an exact plan with a preconceived outcome. This kind of sketchy approach in such a large scale and variety was almost too much for the museum already. Not to mention the not-so-showy conceptualism dealing with nomadism, dwelling, transportation of ideas…
From Oula, I got to learn the other side of creating and running international art projects, situated in cities of vastly different cultures and working styles: punishing hours, piles of paperwork and applications, taking on sole responsibility for the whole project and managing all associated tasks. For anyone who has some idea of a workload of this level, you might understand; but many will simply fall short. But Annu was in a different league. Oula further elaborates on the project:
But with each exhibition we were happy with the end result. It was always a powerful experience to see the spatial orientation and atmosphere that showed up in each of the spaces. This happened in Pori and in Ulaanbaatar as well. The exhibitions and their singular contents became very dear after all the planning and co-work they required. You know, in Pori the exhibition was much larger, taking different locations besides the museum. I loved how the Bare House feeling took over our town, spreading both sides across the river. And to live with Annu in those times was somewhat spectacular, as it became clear that she orchestrated all that. She had managed to get her international artist friends who shared or expressed something in Annu’s thoughts to reside in Pori for a while, to work for the exhibition, which also turned out to be only a part of a bigger picture.
When will we have the next Annu? I do not know. Maybe never. Because she is irreplaceable. Annu was the only non-Mongolian I know of, if I look back at the last thirty years, who has done so much for the development of contemporary art in this country. Her green Bare House book is still the only credible book on contemporary art of Mongolia in both English and Mongolian. Annu truly cared, made a mountain of an effort and we are able to enjoy the results in many different ways.
Her PhD thesis was over and was waiting to be defended. Now, her peers and friends, namely Harri Laakso (Associate Professor of Photography Research, Aalto University, Finland), Saara Hacklin (Curator and Theorist, Helsinki, Finland) and Taina Rajanti (Senior Lecturer of Urban Studies and Cultural Theory, Aalto University, Finland) are working to get it published in partnership with Aalto Books, an in-house publishing entity of Aalto University. The thesis publication will be one of many legacies she has left for us, forever engraved onto our brains and souls. When the time comes, I will meet Annu and finally be able to embrace her spirit and say Thank you for everything!
May your soul rest in peace and be reborn in Mongolia as one of us!
