Estonian visual artist Kristina Õllek investigates the delicate ecosystems of the deep sea, skilfully merging scientific insight with imaginative storytelling. Through a combination of creative, microbial, and chemical processes, she produces captivating installations that highlight the increasingly precarious state of the world’s oceans.
This year, as Lithuania marks the 150th anniversary of Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis’ birth, Õllek’s work is featured at the M. K. Čiurlionis National Museum of Art as part of the exhibition From Amber to the Stars. Together with M. K. Čiurlionis: Now and Then. In this interview, Õllek reflects on her artistic approach and her profound connection to the Baltic Sea.
You have long focused on marine ecology, its life forms, and human impacts. How did your interest in aquatic ecosystems begin?
I was born and grew up in Tallinn in the small subdistrict named Merivälja (Sea Field). I encountered the sea almost every day – sometimes, I could see it from a distance while walking through the streets, while other times, I went for walks along the seaside or waited at the bus stop overlooking the sea.
I remember vividly how I often lost myself within this view. The sea held a particular fascination for me.
At the same time, the bay of Tallinn, being shallow and sensitive to nutrients, would occasionally emit a very off-putting and distinct smell due to decomposing algae. Unidentified sewage pipes contributed further to excessive algae growth – and this is still a continuous issue in certain areas.
I recall many jokes, discussions, and ever-wondering questions from childhood, such as “What’s happening with the sea?”. Now, as an artist, this question still lingers with me, but my curiosity and observation have expanded into seeing a broader perspective of aquatic ecosystems and ecology at large.
You have focused particularly on the Baltic Sea in recent years. Could you tell us more?
Between 2018 and 2020, I lived in the Netherlands. There, I developed the project Filter Feeders, Double Binds and Other Silicones, which examined anthropogenic impacts on the North Sea’s coastal environment, particularly filter-feeding organisms such as oysters. These creatures filter water, accumulating the elements within it, acting as living archives of aquatic pollution.
In the summer of 2020, after the first COVID-19 lockdown regulations were eased, my partner and I decided to move back to Estonia. We traveled back by crossing the Baltic Sea by ferry, and while we were slowly floating there, I caught myself thinking about the breathing and oxygen levels of the Baltic Sea.
This experience brought my attention back to the sea I grew up with and the fact that, unfortunately, it’s one of the most polluted and oxygen-depleted seas in the world.
I became curious to learn more about the water bodies that “bloomingly” surround me here, the cyanobacteria. They have witnessed billions of years of evolution while remaining almost unchanged. They created the oxygen-rich atmosphere we depend on and remain central to the global oxygen cycle. Yet, rising temperatures, limited water exchange, poor management, and agricultural fertilizer runoff fuel annual cyanobacterial blooms. These toxic blue-green algae create hypoxic dead zones, severely impacting marine life.
I explore the Baltic Sea’s geological, biological, and chemical changes, considering cyanobacteria, sedimented history, and speculative futures.
Your artistic practice is research-based, and your approach is quite scientific. How do you typically conduct your research, and what challenges do you face as an artist?
My research process starts from a personal experience, encounter, or observation, which develops further with the research. I read various scientific articles, research papers, reports, and news and I have been fortunate to engage directly with marine scientists through exhibitions and talks.
For example, while I was developing the newly commissioned work for the Dryads of Cosquer show (curated by Merilin Talumaa and Justė Kostikovaitė) at La Traverse gallery in Marseille, I had the opportunity to make a 2-week residency there and connect with the scientist from the Mediterranean Institute of Oceanography as well as explore Salin-de-Giraud salt marshes.
I’m truly interested in experimenting with various materials within my work, such as growing sea salt onto photographic works that then become sculptures or creating a seaweed-based water bubble that looks like a jellyfish, and surely to spend time in my extended studio – on the seaside and by the water.
Throughout my working process, I’m still an artist, not a scientist. I’m like a filter feeder, filtering through the information but also creating my own meaning to it. I’m interested in experimenting with these thoughts and knowledge, materializing them into a work that would start to resonate, speculate, open many threads, and create a broader dialogue with the audience.
I guess the main challenge is not getting lost in the endless information and sense of wonder.
Your work spans photography, sculpture, video, and installations using seawater, limestone, bioplastic, fossils, silicone, plant matter, and cyanobacteria. Could you explain your process with sea salt prints, as seen in Dryads of Cosquer (2024)? What drew you to these experiments with different mediums and unconventional materials?
Throughout my practice, I’ve been attentive to the intersection of natural and artificial states of being. I’m interested in how we perceive that relation and how we can expand the reconsidered meaning. By working with various materials, I’m curious to experiment with other physical layers and materialities that gain their agency within the work.
I’ve been working with sea salt for the past five years. I’m interested in its presence as a crystallized form of evaporated seawater, as well as its relations to the aquatic environments, the global ecology, economy, history, and power. The process of growing sea salt onto my works holds a unique significance for me – it becomes a collaboration. This very slow process takes months, requiring a lot of work and patience. At the same time, it’s also about letting go of control and being open to the uncontrollable.
Your installations often appear minimal, yet they carry profound and sometimes alarming messages about the future of life on Earth. What do you hope viewers take away?
I am fascinated by the politics of exhibition space, how we move to see the works, and how textures, light, and smell change the perception. I’m also fascinated by all of the small details of the artwork and how they carry the conceptual meaning and attention.
I believe that the feelings and thoughts evoked in people are somewhat different for each person who experiences the work. However, at this moment, I hope the viewer, and hereby also a perceiver, will begin to ponder on the complex interconnections we constantly establish with our environment.
Were you familiar with Čiurlionis’ paintings, photographs, or music before you were invited to join the exhibition From Amber to the Stars. Together with M. K. Čiurlionis: Now and Then?
To be honest, I knew too little about Čiurlionis and his artistic legacy. When Kathleen Soriano invited me to be part of the show, I became very curious to learn more.
Since then, I’ve explored his music and discovered his art through online platforms. I’m excited to come to Kaunas and to actually encounter his work for the first time.
Tell us about the work you have on display.
The works that are now on display are part of my project Waters of Hypoxic & Once Tropic (2022-...), which centers on the study of the Baltic Sea area, with a focus on its marine ecology, sediments, and cyanobacteria. Cyanobacterial blooms produce hypoxic dead zones; additionally, 60,000–80,000 km² of seabed experience seasonal oxygen depletion.
Delving into the geological and chemical changes of the Baltic Sea, there will be a constellation of different works, creating an installation.
When the visitors enter the space, in order to come closer to the works, they’d need to walk through two hanging metal grids with grown sea salt, a work titled The Flow Through the Metal Grids of Water, Cyanobacteria, Sea Salt, and Other Geopolitics of Power (2022), which metaphorically references to the Danish straits, the tight area through which the fresh seawater from the North Sea enters to the Baltic Sea.
Within the exhibition space, there are three photographic, sculptural works with grown sea salt: Absorbing Hypoxic Sea Water (2023), Fluxes of Sediments no. 21 (2023), and Fluxes of Sediments no. 2 (2023). The works will be hung with the marine chain and grounded with the limestone pieces. This specific setup can also be seen as a timeline fragment, from the current to the deep-time marine environment.
Furthermore, there will be two big 19L water bottles with the Baltic Sea water evaporating throughout the 6-month exhibition period into the exhibition space.
What are you working on currently?
I’m working on a newly commissioned work for the exhibition For All At Last Return, curated by Emma Dean, which will open in November at the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art in the UK.
Last autumn, I was invited there for the residency to use this time and environment to start developing a new body of work. During this time, I also had a wonderful opportunity to meet with the marine scientists from Newcastle University who are studying the fragile deep-sea environment, which has also been part of my interest for many years.
The new work for the exhibition will depart from my previous installation Nautilus New Era, which I made in 2018, focused on the deep sea and the problematics of deep-sea mining.
During these past 7 years, a lot has been happening in this field, and I feel the urgency to reflect on this within my new work.
The exhibition From Amber to the Stars. Together with M. K. Čiurlionis: Now and Then is held at the M. K. Čiurlionis National Museum of Art, located at V. Putvinskio Street 55 in Kaunas. It will be open until October 12 of this year.
Learn more about the exhibition.
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