Contemporary sculpture reflects a broader rejection of the idea that sculptors are the creators of objects. Sure, we can expect to see a whole range of objects at exhibitions but when we actually enter the gallery, the key element might actually be the space itself. Other sculptors might create something that appears to be an object, but is in truth so rich and with details that take on a life of their own in relation to the whole that the object loses any sense of cohesion, transforming into multitudes and becoming porous, at best creating a quizzical connection with the porous self of the viewer.

It’s not too difficult to understand where this protest stems from. Traditionally, sculptures have always been in the service of something or someone. Even though its finest examples always imply something deeper than a mere urge to subjugate, it has greatly limited the scope of sculpture. In its fullest capacity, sculpture could cover the obscure grey area between the object-centric and spatial experience.

Neeme Külm’s work seems to approach this territory from two opposite directions. On the one hand, he seeks out seemingly secondary details or layers in the space and amplifies or enhances them into something far more compelling. It evokes a certain sinic quality. As François Jullien writes, Chinese thought constantly reminds us of the fact that, however insignificant the starting point, continually underlining its propensity will lead to decisive results. That which does not break tends to, for this very reason, spread out, condense and thicken, thus gaining greater consistency through such regular accumulation, ultimately attaining validity as something evident. Külm forces details and layers to grow in directions they would not have otherwise grown, but which help them become valid in their new form. The final result often comes across as robust, but it starts from extreme attentiveness and is carried by a tenderness not unlike that of a gardener tending to his plants. The result can also appear rough, even crude, but achieving it has involved artisanal finesse.

On the other hand, Külm also creates objects that are completely divorced from their immediate surroundings. There are instances where his creations seem not to be intended for sensory perception at all, but rather aimed directly at the mind: instead of images, they tend to evoke (indeterminate) thoughts. Sometimes he confronts visitors with abstract geometric objects that were designed never to serve any practical function, resembling something from a computer program or drawing board. And other times, he draws on a familiar everyday object or symbol and distorts it just enough to make it lose its original meaning and become enigmatic. Even in this more object-oriented approach, apparent simplicity has demanded a great deal of meticulous work. Külm is like a French chef who disguises his layered dish with a mask of Italian simplicity.

Although this may apply to all good artists it seems particularly appropriate to say that Külm’s true creative subject is the visitor and their experience, especially the part that falls between playfulness and uncanny. His spatial interventions disrupt our habitual expectations of the “user experience” of an exhibition, as well as our accustomed way of relating to things by asking what this evokes in us and how we cope with it. He poses the question indirectly, through delicately executed acts of brutality and polished roughness.

The artist and the gallery would like to thank Aksel Haagensen, Raili Keiv, Kadri Villand, Tarvo Porroson, Tiit Pääsuke, Karl Nagel, Viktor Gurov, Ott Metusala, Marko Smirnov, Alice Kask, Veiko Illiste, Johann Möldre, Eik Hermann, Virgo Pastak, Art Allmägi and Valge Kuup Studio. The exhibition is supported by Tallinn Art Hall and the Cultural Endowment of Estonia.