Interview with Niina Villanueva

While ‘Animo’, Niina Villanueva’s debut solo exhibition at Snow is on view at the gallery in Berlin, I asked some questions from Niina and she kindly shared her thoughts. Thank you for letting us in and sharing Niina!

S: You primarily work with painting and ceramics. What pulls you into these expressions?

NV: Almost all children draw, and as it’s quite common at a certain age, it was for me too. My father painted a bit and had set up a studio in the attic of our house. When I was around 10 years old, I tried painting with oil colors for the first time. Somehow the texture, colors, and drying process – everything was kind of magical, very different from drawing. Paint had its own will, it had more of a third dimension. I also attended a private art school from the age of 7 to 12, where I delved into sculpture, ceramics, and the art of developing photographs. I am grateful to my parents for providing me with that enriching experience. It was something completely different from the art education in my elementary school. We had proper tools and materials – a fascinating time. I often think that reading and creating art saved me, especially as a child when I was hyperactive and found it difficult to be in my body. The experience of presence has always come through consumed culture. The periods when I haven’t been engaged in art are undoubtedly the darkest times for me. This is a difficult question because I often ponder it myself: why do I paint? I’m not an artist who paints all the time or tries to paint. But even when I’m not painting, I think about it on some level constantly. I sense a lot, when to go to the studio; my goal is not to fill the world with my works. They are created when they are meant to appear.

S: Can you describe your way of working? Do you have a specific process that you work to, or does each project have its own process? How do you start or warm up when beginning to work?

NV: I believe that each exhibition has its own story to tell, and its creation is often a very intuitive process. I would like to say something great about how I plan the whole thing, but often painting is something that goes alongside surviving in life. As each exhibition approaches, you have to dare to let go; time always runs out, and nothing is ever as finished as you imagined or wanted. Something then happens when the works are displayed, they take on some kind of life, detached from me in a way. It often takes time to say to oneself that it went just as it should. Because often, when the exhibition opens, you already start dreaming about what to do next. Each exhibition is an expression of something I worked on at that moment; in life, nothing gets finished. The beauty of it is precisely that art is not separate from life or the person.

Niina Villanueva, Carrying weary beings, 2023, oil on linen, 80 x 120 cm

S: Is there something specific that you hope your work evoke in the viewer?

NV: I don’t want to guide the viewer or give clear instructions on how to experience my works. Everyone has complete freedom in their interpretations. I look at my works very externally; now that the exhibition is finished, I can’t even understand where the works came from. I remember the moments of working, but the images and themes emerge very organically as the series is progressing – it’s kind of automatic writing.

S: Where do you find inspiration? How much have you been influenced by other art forms?

NV: I don’t consciously want to influence anyone. Art does not represent for me technical gimmicks or direct visual impact, but above all, it is channeling and presence. I love art, often the kind that is really different from mine. Inspiration is a bit of a tricky word; I think the work consists subconsciously of everything I read, eat, think, feel, listen to, and thus, I want to believe that there are also influential forces that I cannot directly name, some kind of spirit world. Since I work intuitively, it is important to learn to know oneself and one’s needs, not to force the work. It is essential to go to nature, swim as much as possible, rest, be silent, and be with things that interest you. It is also important to see family, friends, and colleagues occasionally.

From Niina Villanueva’s photo album

S: You read a lot. What are you currently reading? Is literature relevant to your work?

NV: Literature and poetry are half of my heart. They have always been a survival tool, especially in my childhood. The journeys from the bus stop to home stretched because I read while walking – neighbors often wondered about this to my parents. I have eternal crushes on certain poets: Eeva-Liisa Manner is my eternal love, and also Eeva Kilpi, Kirsi Kunnas, Pablo Neruda, and Octavio Paz are ones I return to again and again. Among recent books, Oksana Vasjakina`s ”Wound,” Tanja Tiekson’s ”Fantasma” – I have read it twice, a fantastic travel book, especially on the train. Silvia Hosseini is sharp and sensitive at the same time; I read Tove Ditlevsen’s trilogy a while ago, Kazuo Ishiguro’s ”Klara and the Sun” raised beautiful questions about how humanity and values are defined as artificial intelligence develops. Heikki Kännö’s ”Mehiläistie” threw me off balance once, and I hope more of that strange art and fantasy sci-fi would be done. I have a ”problem” that I want to know everything about the world, and everything interests me. I read a wide range of non-fiction, biographies (especially of artists), fiction, and poetry – often, while walking with my dog I listen to audio books. But when painting, even listening to music can be too much, and many times I don’t want to hear any human voices while working. The older I get, the more work requires silence.

S: Your exhibition Animo recently opened at the gallery – what can you tell us about its genesis and theme?

NV: I worked on the exhibition in Southern Germany in my father’s ancient empty house. The place was familiar, but I had never worked or spent such a long time alone there. When leaving from Helsinki, I thought about how ghostly it would be there, but it was wonderful to notice how I felt a connection to the house, my family and the memories there. My goal was to put myself in a situation where I would be completely alone without distractions. Most of the time, I didn’t have an internet connection, just the neighbours Wi-Fi in the neighbours parking lot, and the store was nearby in the village, where I rode my bike a couple times in a week. I also quickly found joy in reading the same way as a child, reading books left by people in the house in the evenings, swimming in night time darkness in a river, and I kept a diary for the first time since childhood. I wanted to simplify a kind of space to work with myself and the works. I wanted to experience loneliness to be more sensitive to listening to myself and detecting those frequencies that may be difficult to perceive when daily hustle and bustle overwhelm. In this space, I also tried to be receptive to frequencies that might be hard to perceive when daily routines roll over me.

Studio in Southern Germany. From Niina Villanueva’s photo album

I painted in an old barn with beautiful limestone walls, but without electricity, so I had to work during the daylight, when it was also insanely hot, sometimes close to 40 degrees. In hot weather, hawks often come to the slate roof of the house; it was a wonderful experience to live in the same yard as those birds, I often felt like I was being watched. Stories often emerge during the painting process, and some kind of idea or story about what they are about becomes clear to me only when the series is complete.

My perception of time changed, and I began to pay more attention to my surroundings and nature. Often, stories emerge during the painting process, and some idea or narrative about what they represent becomes clear to me only when the series is complete. The intuitive process is the foundation of my work; the paintings tell, and I listen. In recent years, people around me have departed, and I needed some kind of closure. A space where I accept myself as part of nature and the fact that I cannot control these things. This exhibition was somehow a purification and a ritual, after which I have felt somehow peaceful. It’s quiet inside in a good way.

Niina Villanueva, Joku on alati läsnä, 2023, oil on linen, 140 x 160 cm

S: What interests you about the themes you are currently working on?

NV: For some time, I’ve been contemplating themes related to nature, the abject, human, and entity, or at least that’s how I interpret my works afterward. Currently, I dream of returning to larger surfaces, yearn for a new studio, and linen. I’ve taken a break from painting for a few weeks; I find myself thinking about painting more and more, missing it. I ponder materials and colors. It’s a bit like being separated from a loved one, but I don’t miss it painfully yet—I’m softly waiting for meeting again.

Niina Villanueva, Only whispers echo, 2023, oil on linen, 40 x 50 cm

S: What brings you joy in the near future and next year? Can you tell us about your upcoming projects?

NV: Confirmed exhibitions include a solo exhibition at Turku Art Hall in 2025, and there are some things I’m waiting to hear about. In the early part of next year, there is a group exhibition. I look forward to simply starting to work and, in general, a more relaxed year in terms of exhibitions. In the spring, I’ll be going to Italy for a residency in Mazzano Romano, I’m dreaming about that in the darkness of winter.

S: Please tell us about an artist you are currently interested in?

NV: This is challenging; I rarely clearly feel the impact of a single artist. Perhaps there is more of a prevailing theme that recurs through music, literature, poetry, and works I appreciate. When I was in Berlin, I visited the Munch exhibition, and it was inspiring after a long time. I’m generally attracted to the feel of materials and fabric; I often think of painting as canvas, more than some kind of hard surface. Eeva Peura currently has a magnificent exhibition in Helsinki. There’s so much art in Helsinki; it feels like you can’t even see everything, fantastic stuff. Gosia Machon is one of my favorites, a brilliantly sovereign painter. I love paintings that look easy, like the channels are open. In Gosia’s works, there is a revelation of something very human with intuitively created arrangements; she manages to depict it with very subtle gestures. I admire the same freshness all so in the works of Aura Hakuri and Alexandra Duprez.

Gosia Machon, Reise, 2020, ink on paper, 24 x 32 cm

S: What kind of art do you have in your home?

NV: At my home, you can find works by artists such as Melina Paakkonen, Eero Nives, Ronja Kortelainen, Marika Lahdenperä, Milja Havas, Juliana Hyrri, Laura Hetemäki, Noora-Maija Tokee, Salla Sillgren, Anu Perkkiö, Jaakko Hukkanen, Kirsti Melartin, Eliisa Määttälä. I also have one graphic work by Salvador Dali. Even though the artist doesn’t necessarily belong to my favorites, the artwork came to me through my mother. When my mother was young in Stockholm, she attended a Dali exhibition that traveled worldwide. During this exhibition, there was a lottery for the visitors, and my mother won a drypoint work by Dali. When I was a child, she mentioned that I would inherit it when her time came, as she believed I would become artist. Now, the artwork hangs above my bed, serving as a constant reminder of my mom’s unwavering belief in me and her continuous encouragement throughout my life.

Some artworks in Niina’s collection anticlockwise from bottom left: Juliana Hyrri | Melina Paakkonen | Anu Perkiö | Milja Havas | Niina Villanueva

On the sofa: Maisa

S: A five song playlist from your studio or home?

NV: The season greatly influences what I listen to. There are periods when I don’t listen to music at all. Autumn and the end of the year are definitely such dark times in Finland that I need a soundtrack for dark and rainy walks. During the summer while painting, I listened a lot to baroque music because it seemed to be the only soundscape that didn’t disturb my work.

I love the compositions of Arvo Pärt, and I always get excited when I find new arrangements by different artists of Pärt’s compositions. I recently attended a concert in Alppila Church where Pärt’s pieces were performed on piano, violin, and arcanum cymbals. It’s hard to describe the event as just a concert; it felt more like a combination of a group meditation, a concert, and something sacred. Music and visual art are at their best almost supernatural—you can make incredible journeys through them, into yourself, to others, into spaces; you can experience something that words cannot explain.

Emma Ruth Rundle - Killing Floor

PJ Harvey - I Inside of Old Dying

Erki Pärnoja, Collegium Musicale Chamber Choir - Anima Mea

Drab Majesty - Entrance and Exits

Emmylou Harris - Deeper Well

Listen to Niina’s pieces on the Snow Artists’ Radio on Spotify

Niina Villanueva, Hurt by the stones, once left behind, 2023, oil on linen, 40 x 50 cm

Animo is running until December 2. Open for visits Wed-Fri 12 - 6 pm, Sat 12-4 pm. Welcome!

Susanne

Juhannustaika

Juhannus, summer solstice, is an enchanting time in Finland. Up north it is a beloved celebration of midsummer and light. The nature is at its lushest around the nightless night with midsummer flowers blooming.

The juhannus night is believed to be a particularly potent one and you may be called to perform juhannustaika, a summer solstice magic ritual. Collect flowers and plants that both cure and foretell the future. Pick seven different wildflowers and place them under your pillow on juhannus eve to see your chosen one in a dream. Walk naked through a dewy meadow for good health.

I wish you a warm summer solstice with these paintings from the Snow sales collection and the magic they carry!

Susanne

Melusine, Johanna Seidel, 2020, oil on linen, 90 x 70 cm

Flower of Life, Maijastiina, 2022, spray paint on canvas, 27 x 33 cm

Kukka taikoo | Flower conjures the landscape, Linda Roschier, 2023, oil on linen, 24 x 19 cm. On view at Linda Roschier’s solo exhibition Secrets until July 8.

Untitled, Niina Lehtonen Braun, 2023, ink and die cut scrap on old postcard, 15 x 10,1 cm

Rose pink Rosa, Gabriele Herzog, 2022, oil stick and gesso on raw canvas, 30 x 25 cm