The year began on edge. Outside, the cold pressed in. A chill that seems harder to bear with each passing year. The negative temperatures seem to stretch on week after week, until enduring them becomes unbearable. Along with the dormant landscape, our income seemed to slip into hibernation as well. However MIGA's far from modest construction bills loom in the distance. In moments like these, we’ve always known how to rally and this time was no different: our art collection came to the rescue.
Our art collection wasn’t born out of strategy. It has grown from collaborations, travels, and sometimes purely chance encounters, and it carries no pretension. Alongside original works, it includes copies, prints, and even postcards.
The pieces in our collection don’t so much celebrate artists or eras as they mark our own life stages, choices, and turning points. Some works became part of our collection simply because they happened to be in the right place at the right time. Other times, it was we who found ourselves in the right place.
In some ways, this collection reflects the circle of people around us. It holds works by artists, curators, and friends who have, at one time or another, shared a part of our journey. Some pieces were first admired simply for their beauty or intrigue, only to grow more meaningful with time. Others lost some of their initial sparkle but gained a layer of memory. Many of the works feel like witnesses, having seen exhibitions, moves, and in Voronja gallery, hundreds, or even thousands of guests and conversations. They have never hung on the wall alone, but always as part of a story. This collection is a reminder that art is not merely for viewing, it is part of everyday life, always accompanying us, moving with us, sometimes gathering dust, and sometimes acquiring new meaning.
How does one let go of all this? Honestly, a year ago it wouldn’t have been easy. But over the past twelve months, through our thoughts, countless conversations, and even our actions, we’ve been practicing downsizing, and letting go of things we couldn’t possibly bring to MIGA has begun to feel natural. There is something unexpectedly liberating about it. It feels good to recognize that art, collected emotionally and without plan, still holds value. Something that could, if needed, be converted into cash, though money has never been an end in itself for us. Rather, it has been a means to an end. In our case the art collection is becoming a kind of pension fund. MIGA is part of our seven-year plan, and one year has already passed. Its purpose is to reduce everyday living costs as much as possible by the time I retire, making life simpler and allowing us to enjoy it more fully.
About a week ago, while giving an interview to Inkar and reflecting on how to let go of things that are full of stories, I used a vase as an example. At home, we have a beautiful, thick porcelain vase, its glaze speckled with tiny dots of different colors. It was a wedding gift to my maternal grandparents on my mother's side and eventually came into our family. For my grandmother, it was one of the few possessions that had been left with relatives during her deportation to Siberia and awaited her upon her return. It belonged to a life that no longer existed in the same form, carrying memories of home freedom, and of the person she had been before being sent away.
The story that accompanies this vase truly matters only to me. If I were to leave unexpectedly, only Kaili would know its origins and the memories it holds. Without her, it would most likely end up in a second-hand shop, stripped of its story and context. Knowing this compels me to now decide whether to take it with me into the next phase of life, where in the end it will at best eventually makes its way to a second-hand store, or whether I can find it a home or a place where I can pass on its story. Perhaps it is enough to write about my grandmother’s vase here. Perhaps one of my children will want to carry it forward. Or maybe even a museum. The fact remains: if I don’t take responsibility for it, someone else will and for them, it will be just another vase among many.
This way, the art in our collection find new homes, new walls, where they will likely inspire new stories. The journey continues. And not every object needs to carry a story with it. Even indecision can be a choice in itself. By letting things go without expectation, we give them the chance to begin anew. Perhaps the hardest part of downsizing is not deciding what to keep, but deciding which responsibilities to release. Not because the things themselves are unimportant, but because we cannot carry everything with us forever.
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On February 7, 2026, between 12:00 and 17:00
Voronja gallery Community Café Day contribute to MIGA
where our art collection is on display and works are available for purchase.
You can also see our art collection in our online shop.
In some ways, this collection reflects the circle of people around us. It holds works by artists, curators, and friends who have, at one time or another, shared a part of our journey. Some pieces were first admired simply for their beauty or intrigue, only to grow more meaningful with time. Others lost some of their initial sparkle but gained a layer of memory. Many of the works feel like witnesses, having seen exhibitions, moves, and in Voronja gallery, hundreds, or even thousands of guests and conversations. They have never hung on the wall alone, but always as part of a story. This collection is a reminder that art is not merely for viewing, it is part of everyday life, always accompanying us, moving with us, sometimes gathering dust, and sometimes acquiring new meaning.
How does one let go of all this? Honestly, a year ago it wouldn’t have been easy. But over the past twelve months, through our thoughts, countless conversations, and even our actions, we’ve been practicing downsizing, and letting go of things we couldn’t possibly bring to MIGA has begun to feel natural. There is something unexpectedly liberating about it. It feels good to recognize that art, collected emotionally and without plan, still holds value. Something that could, if needed, be converted into cash, though money has never been an end in itself for us. Rather, it has been a means to an end. In our case the art collection is becoming a kind of pension fund. MIGA is part of our seven-year plan, and one year has already passed. Its purpose is to reduce everyday living costs as much as possible by the time I retire, making life simpler and allowing us to enjoy it more fully.
About a week ago, while giving an interview to Inkar and reflecting on how to let go of things that are full of stories, I used a vase as an example. At home, we have a beautiful, thick porcelain vase, its glaze speckled with tiny dots of different colors. It was a wedding gift to my maternal grandparents on my mother's side and eventually came into our family. For my grandmother, it was one of the few possessions that had been left with relatives during her deportation to Siberia and awaited her upon her return. It belonged to a life that no longer existed in the same form, carrying memories of home freedom, and of the person she had been before being sent away.
The story that accompanies this vase truly matters only to me. If I were to leave unexpectedly, only Kaili would know its origins and the memories it holds. Without her, it would most likely end up in a second-hand shop, stripped of its story and context. Knowing this compels me to now decide whether to take it with me into the next phase of life, where in the end it will at best eventually makes its way to a second-hand store, or whether I can find it a home or a place where I can pass on its story. Perhaps it is enough to write about my grandmother’s vase here. Perhaps one of my children will want to carry it forward. Or maybe even a museum. The fact remains: if I don’t take responsibility for it, someone else will and for them, it will be just another vase among many.
This way, the art in our collection find new homes, new walls, where they will likely inspire new stories. The journey continues. And not every object needs to carry a story with it. Even indecision can be a choice in itself. By letting things go without expectation, we give them the chance to begin anew. Perhaps the hardest part of downsizing is not deciding what to keep, but deciding which responsibilities to release. Not because the things themselves are unimportant, but because we cannot carry everything with us forever.
---
On February 7, 2026, between 12:00 and 17:00
Voronja gallery Community Café Day contribute to MIGA
where our art collection is on display and works are available for purchase.
You can also see our art collection in our online shop.
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