Vilma Myllyniemi
Painting the roses pink
I was six years old when I told my grandmother I want to be a grandmother too when I grow up. “But who will be the grandfather?”, she asked me. I still remember the confusion I felt at that moment. I had never thought that someone else was needed for me to get what I wanted.
In the world of princes and princesses, endless love songs, red roses, and movies where the boy gets the girl, it’s hard to imagine happiness without romantic love. Romantic love that looks and feels a certain way. But what if this kind of love doesn’t feel natural to me? How can I unlearn what has been taught to me about loving and still keep love in my life? Are my fantasies of love my own or just something that I’ve learned to desire? And would that learned desire really be the worst thing?
In this project I am reflecting on my thoughts on love, and my need to reject what has been taught of practicing it. Through conversations on the topic with people who I share different kinds of love with, I try to remind myself that to care, to want and to desire isn’t a sign of weakness, and that if I don’t like the shade of the roses, I can try painting them a different color.
Gathering
Sometimes nature is the only witness that remains. It stays in place, ever-changing but still the same. It remembers when no one else will. It comforts when no one else does. I began exploring the feeling of not being protected and the ways of caring for the self, building sanctuaries and safe places, hideaways, and shelters. Using my own body, I started performing a ritual of making a circle of care and protection in the forest. The act became a way to find a connection not only with nature and my body but also with the women of the past who needed to find care and protection within themselves.
Contact:
myllyniemivilma@gmail.com
@peilityyni
