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Who Is Afraid of Solomon R. Guggenheim (or how to learn to live on the shoulders of giants)?

Andreas Trossek (4/2016)

Andreas Trossek took a trip up north.

 

 

This autumn, Estonia elected a new president, Kersti Kaljulaid, whose first international visit was to Finland. Traditionally, newly elected heads of state make their first visit to the friendly neighbouring countries they share the closest historical, cultural and economic bonds with, and over the past quarter of a century, presidents of re-independent Estonia have basically had two choices for their first visit of courtesy and introduction: either Finland or Latvia. Sweden seems somehow further away and Russia is too close, because, as we know, geography is not always the same as geopolitics, which in turn, does not cover the same ground as psychogeography. But the Finnish language is also very similar to Estonian, the largest number of emigrants from Estonia in the past couple of decades live and work in Finland and there are countless examples of Estonia's "little brother"-relationship to Finland in cultural history.

Looking at the Estonian media, however, it seemed that the journalists were bored at the heads of state press conference up until the point when talk moved from important and topical global issues to building a tunnel between Tallinn and Helsinki. In the presidents' opinions, such a tunnel would be necessary at least from the perspective of the transit of goods. "Even if the tunnel doesn't offer a lot of sunshine or karaoke," joked Estonia's first woman president and added that it is not such a distant utopia, taking into account the related railway project known as Rail Baltic.

Indeed, quite a few enquiries into the cost efficiency of the Tallinn-Helsinki tunnel have been conducted on both sides of the Gulf of Finland and will continue to be conducted, because the idea itself is more than a couple of decades old. The plan would only be realised if someone can find at least 15 billion euros to start the diggers. (For example the gross domestic product of Estonia in 2016 was 8.83 billion euros, which shows that this is quite a large amount.) Technically, the plan for a tunnel is a realistic option because Tallinn and Helsinki are separated by only 80 km of seafloor and the necessary expertise is present on both sides of the gulf; the question is therefore, only one of cost efficiency. If the total investment were available, accounting for various preparatory investigations and construction, it should only take ten to twenty years for the Tallinn-Helsinki tunnel to be completed.

 

Tervetulua Helskinkiin!

Coincidentally, I also visited Helsinki this autumn on a fact-finding trip, with Monty Python's immortal hit "Finland" (1980) ringing in my ears – a place so near Russia and so far from Japan. The invitation came from Frame, an organisation, which is something similar to a combination of two Estonian organisations: Center for Contemporary Arts, Estonia and Estonian Contemporary Art Development Center. I copied the official names of these two institutions from their websites to make sure I didn't mix anything up in my haste and to be certain that they really are two separate organisations: one promotes the participation of Estonian artists at biennales and other similar international joint projects with the support of the Ministry of Culture, the other works mainly by introducing and selling at commercial fairs supported by European money from Enterprise Estonia.

However, what's the difference nowadays, one could ask rhetorically. So, the people at Frame took the invited foreign journalists on a tour of nationally funded large institutions, such as Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma, as well as "Art Helsinki" art fair and Helsinki's private galleries. My conclusion from this trip is that although Finns traditionally seem to be always a few steps ahead of Estonians in the global sense, as the "little brother" narrative dictates, it seems that in terms of regional politics, we share exactly the same provincial and peripheral complexes at the beginning of the 21st century. Here I dare to be heard drawing the following conclusion: Finland is small and conservative, the art market is small and conservative, the international visibility of Finnish artists could certainly be better, there could be more cooperation at least in the direction of Scandinavia, there could be more money, etc.

The joke is of course the fact that, if you replace the word "Finland" with "Estonia" in the last sentence, the idea remains the same even though Estonia has 1.3 million inhabitants and Finland 5.5 million. At some point, tired from this repetitive rhetorical pattern of going from meeting to meeting, I told the director of Frame, Raija Koli something along those lines, which may have unnecessarily angered her: "This isn't some sort of competition of who is smaller, right, because who must I feel like then as an Estonian here in Helsinki?"

 

Enter Guggenhiem!

One of the hottest topics of recent years in Finnish cultural news has undoubtedly been the plan to build a Guggenheim museum subsidiary in Helsinki. This, of course, to develop tourism, increase income and place Helsinki on the map stronger than before. The name of Solomon R. Guggenheim does not need explaining to people interested in contemporary art, neither does the name of his niece Peggy Guggenheim. If someone were to ask again, why the walls of Kiasma and Kumu are both curved, then we should probably approach the architects of these museum buildings, but also remember from the history of art and architecture in the 20th century, how incredibly famous and ground-breaking Frank Lloyd Wright's spiral shaped solution was for the Solomon R. Guggenheim museum, which opened in 1959 in New York. So in a certain way, "Guggenheimesque" museum architecture is already present in both Helsinki and Tallinn. Or if someone were to ask again, why the international Venice Biennale is held in such high regard, then this is also in large part down to Peggy Guggenheim, who moved to this constantly sinking city after the Second World War and, up until her death in 1979, kindly showed her art collection to enthusiasts from time to time, thus helping to make Venice the art metropolis and tourist magnet it is today.

According to the latest plan, the building of the Guggenheim museum in Helsinki would have been constructed at the site of the south harbour, a place well known to Estonians, because from there it has been possible for many years now to catch a fast boat to Tallinn. In 2011, after a few years of lobbying, the Solomon R. Guggenheim fund made an official proposal to the city of Helsinki, since then there has also been an international architectural competition with a record number of participants by Finnish standards (1715 projects), and a winner announced last year (French architecture bureau Moreau Kusunoki Architectes). And yet, the arguments have not abated regarding who will foot the bill for this expensive bit of fun, and whether the game is worth it, looking at it from the perspective of the average Finnish tax-payer.

Indeed, the numbers do seem rather colossal: the construction alone will cost at least 130 million euros. In addition, a yearly license fee for the use of the Guggenheim name (beginning at 23.4 million euros, falling to 18.4 million). Initially there was talk of the state assisting construction, but the current government will most probably not do this regardless of the promise that the subsidiary will be staffed with local workers. Consequently, there has been discussion saying that if the city of Helsinki put up 80 million euros, then 50 million would come from the private sector, which already has 15 million for the purpose, which would mean that with the city's guarantee "only" 35 million would need to be borrowed. But this plan also failed: at the beginning of December the city council voted against the financing plan, already the third in its kind, which would have mainly used public funds.

Together with additional costs, of course. The city would be responsible for an average of 6.5 million euros annually for the upkeep of the facilities. The projected fixed expenses for the museum would be 11.6 million euros a year. With all that, the anticipated yearly admission income won't be more than 6.5 million euros and even this relies on a yearly visitor total of around half a million people. So, in conclusion, lots of expenses with an unsure income. That said, it has been projected that, in addition to the employment and tax money, a Guggenheim subsidiary would attract tens and tens of thousands of extra tourists to Helsinki, who would bring in a total of at least 16 million euros every year.

Having said that, it is true that the plan has now pretty much fallen into a hopeless coma, metaphorically speaking, but it is also true that after each attempt to conclusively "pull the plug", the plan for a Helsinki subsidiary of Guggenheim has, after a while, always "awoken" from its coma. Nice plan; if it only weren't so damn expensive…

 

Back to Tallinn

What Estonians should learn from their northern neighbours, is the courage to think big, and a Helsinki Guggenheim subsidiary is a pretty big idea. Even too big. And like all things in life that are oversize, we don't actually need it. However, it is still a sight more ambitious than, for instance, setting up a real estate development by the seashore, designating it a "cultural centre", where there could easily be an art gallery and/or cinema – preferably next to a restaurant or supermarket – and waiting for the profit to come rolling in. Even Estonians can come up with such a simple idea, if you listen to the stories told by Tallinn city developers.

Of course the idea for a Guggenheim subsidiary is a contradictory one; an idea, which demands further thought. Obviously it is just another risky project, much like the Tallinn-Helsinki undersea tunnel. The success rate of such risky projects is always comparatively small, on a good day, maybe a few percent, but never much more. Usually, risky projects promising a huge profit just burn out. Although, every now and then, these projects must be followed up because how else can we understand what our future might become? For example, let's invite Guggenheim to "provide content" for the Tallinn City Hall, because why not? Its planned reconstruction works would cost more than 100 million euros anyway. And the Guggenheim franchise would "only" cost some extra millions…

 

Andreas Trossek is the chief editor of KUNST.EE.

 

 

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