1. How did the idea come about to schedule the exhibition on the same day as the Venice Biennale opening?

If I recall correctly, the idea was to launch my exhibition, your new gallery, and its season all on the same day as the first public day of the Venice Biennale — the preceding days being reserved for press previews — so everything would happen together.

Or perhaps it was actually me who first suggested it? In any case, the timing felt organically connected to the themes of my exhibition.

2. Why focus on the backstage of the art world and its power relations?

These themes naturally emerge when you operate within this world and have even a modest curiosity for analyzing events, phenomena, people, and the power dynamics that shape them.

3. You’ve been critical of Estonia’s contemporary art infrastructure in the past.  Looking back at your earlier statements, has anything changed over time or has the system largely stayed the same?

I feel the passion of artists and, at times, the hostility of cultural administrators.

The system itself seems increasingly antagonistic toward the artist. The artist exists almost as a serf within a feudal art world, while institutional roles—held by curators and arts administrators—form the upper echelons, the “lords” of this society. 

However, we live in a capitalist system, where a person’s value is measured by the money they can earn, whether by exploiting others or by overworking themselves. Who can truly respect freelance creatives whose labor isn’t even valued at a minimum wage, with none of the basic social protections that most workers take for granted?

Let me remind you - if you beat someone up, rob them bare, or injure them and end up in prison, protections like healthcare and pension contributions still remain. The system assumes that being incarcerated prevents you from earning a living. But what about those whose work safeguards the Estonian nation, language, and culture—the very mission articulated in the preamble of our Constitution? Their labor is essential, yet insufficiently recognized, leaving them without professional security or means to sustain themselves. Artists in this position deserve protections comparable to those granted to prisoners: access to healthcare, pension accrual, and free dental care.

4. If you had to describe the Venice Biennale to someone who’s never been, what would be the most characteristic scene you’d share?

A stylishly dressed, charming middle-aged Italian woman elbows her way to the free wine table during the press preview. She mutters, “Animali!” (“Animals!” in Italian).

5. What are the invisible rules and hierarchies in the Biennale or in the art world more broadly that outsiders don’t see, but which nonetheless influence everything?

I think there are quite a few people who exist in what you might call a “sacred cow” position—those it’s considered impolite, at least publicly, to criticize.

Overall, the hierarchies are fairly simple and largely tied to official positions. Of course, there are a few charismatic “guru” figures in academic positions whose opinions carry significant weight. But most people have an innate sense of hierarchy and navigate the system quite successfully because of it.

6. How do you navigate hierarchies in the art world yourself? Are you an observer who keeps your distance, or an active participant who consciously plays by and exploits the rules?

By now, my outspoken critiques of certain officials’ actions have made me “real” in the system and, at least in social media, probably persona non grata with several of them.

Greetings are not always returned and sometimes people turn away or leave the room when I arrive. A friend once told me that a well-known Estonian photographer and professor had even warned her about me beforehand, calling me a bully and a troublemaker. Me, a vulnerable freelance artist, criticizing corrupt officials in comfortably secure positions, and suddenly they feel like the victims of schoolyard bullying! Incredible.

At the same time, I admit, I have many supporters and admirers.

7. Have you experienced any particularly “Biennale-like” moments in your career, moments that feel like they belong on the very exhibition you’re preparing?

A legendary curator, an elderly lady, joins a discussion circle I’m part of at Kumu. The topic is self-initiated artist-run spaces from the 2000s. I speak about Kultuuritehas (Culture Factory) Polymer, a space I was deeply involved with for seven years, primarily as an organizer and curator.

The “legend” flips through Polymer’s book in the front row and finds the title “Avant-Garde of Amateurs.” She declares that this perfectly describes what we were at Polymer, despite the fact that “Avant-Garde of Amateurs” was a series of music events organized externally.

I push back by asking how were we the amateurs? What kind of artificial division between mainstream and underground is this? Most of the artists active then had similar education. For instance the same group often performed both at our festival and at exhibitions at EKKM or Kunstihoone (Art Hall).

So in Polymer, the artist is a “dilettante,” but at EKKM, they’re a professional?

The “legend” grows visibly angry. “Professionals work with deadlines!” she announces, expecting no argument. I respond anyway: “And what makes you think we didn’t have deadlines?”

At this, she truly loses her composure, grabbing an artist from the audience and dragging them aside, undoubtedly to curse me further. 
“An example of professionalism!” I announce into the microphone. Laughter follows.

8. How much does an artist’s career success/failure depend on who they know, when, and where they circulate? Is this a peculiarity of the art world, or part of any creative field?

I think social circles are extraordinarily important in the Estonian art world. It’s a small community and a tightly closed field.

9. For you personally, is this exhibition a commentary on the professional art world, or more broadly about society and its power structures?

Definitely both.

10. Do you think MIGA's small and self-sufficient format could offer a solution to some bigger systematic problems? Or are alternative formats ultimately forced to play by the same rules?

I’ll have to leave that question unanswered, but I remain hopeful.

Photos by Maria Kilk