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EESTI ELU reedel, 17. septembril 2021 — Friday, September 17, 2021
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We’re hiring! The Estonian Foundation of Canada is looking for a roll-up-your-sleeves MANAGER to run the office of this exciting national charity. You will lead marketing, communications and fundraising and help take this charity to the next level. You will also manage the Foundation’s office, funding applications/ EFC agents, donations/donors, awareness campaigns, and ideally plan and write content for platforms such as the EFC website and community news outlets.
An illustration from Eiko Ojala’s series “Busy Times”. Photo: ploom.tv
On the Wall: Eiko Ojala cuts to the core of visual messaging Vincent Teetsov We’ve likely heard it said many times in our lives: “a picture is worth a thousand words.” While we should be mindful to not oversimplify complex social or political concepts, or to let clever design bend the truth, it is true that a well-crafted image can shed light on issues that we want to create a wider understanding of. Among the thousands of editorial cartoons and info graphics that are made regularly to inform viewers in a succinct manner, the Estonian illustrator Eiko Ojala asserts ideas with remarkable clarity. Take, for instance, his illus trations for an issue of Oprah Magazine, which were about loneliness. One of these illustra tions shows a wide gap between two people. The gap is in the shape of a conversation bubble, indicating the essential role of communication in bridging gaps between people. In the domain of social a ctivism, the visual culture blog Colossal wrote in August 2021 of how “Hugs”, one of Ojala’s series from 2020, “... helped raise money for [MTÜ Peaas jad], an organization that sup ports mental health issues amongst Estonian youth.” Peaasjad’s mission is to “raise the currently low awareness of mental health, address stigmati sation of psychiatric illnesses and to improve accessibility to mental health services by re ferring young people to appro priate help...” His illustrations of interlocking hugs gave visibility to their mission. His 2020 illustration series titled “Busy Times” examines the pressure we put on our selves with packed schedules and cumbersome expectations of productivity. The way Ojala does this is both sad and funny. Each illustrated character we see is struck with exhaustion and falls asleep as they go from one of their daily tasks to another. They fall asleep during a yoga class, while reading in the bathtub, or they slump over with their head against the seat in front of them during a flight.
Ojala’s creations for the Intel “#lookinside” campaign in 2014 took a more subdued angle. In these illustrations, he shows how Intel’s microprocessors, flash memory, graphics chips, and other manufactured elec tronics find their way into the making of so many products in some way or another. Whether it’s ice cream, pharmaceutical goods, or a bucket of paint. The appearance of circuitry and semiconductors in the crevices of these objects implies the omnipresence of the company’s technology. This leads to the main theme of Ojala’s illustrations: the way one idea is frequently nestled into another. Many times, when we open something up, we may find more than we expected, something more to analyze. Ojala deftly depicts this theme through his method of illustration, where he creates what looks like a collage cut-out made of paper. The illustrator and graphic designer, who lives in Tallinn, states that he “works mostly digitally and draws everything by hand...” In this way, he’s able to draw soft shadows and also make drastic cuts around the “canvas” of each artwork. Some parts of each drawing are set deeper inside, while other parts pop out. Even with these intricate cut-out details, he says that he likes “to keep his illustrations minimal and well-advised and [combine] consummate crafts manship with a healthy sprink ling of wit.” Past clients of his encompass many different industries and purposes. His illustrations have been featured in National Geographic Traveler and Die Zeit newspaper in Hamburg, Germany. Within the transporta tion and airline industries, he’s worked with Air France and Transport for London. In the digital and consumer electronics sphere, he has represented Apple and Nokia. To possess the ability to un ravel key messaging in each of these sectors, sometimes in one simple image, is testament not only to the artist’s wit, but how an informed artist can be an indispensable part of every cause or organization.
This position is based in the Toronto office but can provide flexible hours, some remote work, and could evolve in future. You should have a basic understanding of Estonian. We are interested in hearing from you if you have most of these skills or willing to learn. Compensation commensurate with experience. Please apply with resume to: estonianfoundationpresident@gmail.com Estonian Foundation of Canada is a registered charity that supports Estonian cultural and heritage initiatives across Canada.
Time Machine: Estonian-American suburbia in the film Seitse vihta Vincent Teetsov Oftentimes, what we see and hear of the Estonian diaspora experience is an account of huge loss and trauma. This is an important part of our history. But then there are records of opposite emotions: such as photos of family gatherings, parties, and the ways our communities have treated homesickness. Among the most elaborate records of this brighter side of diaspora life is the musical comedy film Seitse vihta, which I was re commended to watch one day. Within a few minutes of watching, it was apparent that, despite the title, we weren’t in Estonia anymore. The give aways were the spaced out suburban homes and the chain link fence that crop up in the first scene of the film. We’re also in a different era – the 1950s to be specific. Loose fitting suits, curls and full skirts, cars with fins, cameras with flashing bulbs. The whole movie has many objects that take us back to that time. Seitse vihta starts on an autumnal Saturday afternoon in a small town, as an Estonian man, Sergeant Major Juhan Lõhmus (played by Ott Walter) is unpacking groceries. He’s approached by Maali Ojamaa (Polli Mõtus), who asks about the gold-decorated drinking glasses he’s showing off. Juhan is preparing for a “sauna juubel” that night with Lieutenant Ilmar Ratas (Heinz Riivald) and their friends – celebrating what seems to be their 100th such party. Getting the party prepared isn’t without its hiccups. Sirje (played by Valli Martin, the film’s choreographer and wife of director Edmund Martin) lets her husband Ilmar go to this party, but Juhan isn’t able to get the same permission. Ilmar’s friends get ready for their party with a keg of beer and a savoury rukkileib kringel with cut up egg and kilu (sprat fish)
Still from the film Seitse vihta.
on top. They bundle together branches for the seven vihad they use in the saun, and their other friend, Corporal Uduste, is decorating the wall inside the saun building. But once the party is under way and the men are distracted, singing the movie’s main theme song in the saun, Sirje and her friends play a prank. Together, they steal all of the men’s clothing and refreshments. Upon leaving the saun and discovering that everything is gone, the men rush back home, disoriented, with towels around their waists. Here they find a roaring party with rahvatants, a full ensemble of musicians, and their missing kringel and beer. The film ends with something akin to a variety show. Comedic musicians Rolli and Arri Jõgimar perform a slapstick musical routine, with a fiddle, a banjo, and mesmerizing bowler hat tricks. At times, the story line deviates and the movie becomes more like an exag gerated vignette of a time, place, and people. Over the film’s 93-minute runtime, we are introduced to the many Estonians of their neighbourhood, including an aspiring Hollywood actress, a fellow with the nickname Kapsas (“Cabbage”), and a budding romance between two young Estonians, Virve and Jõgis. Maali makes a special trip to speak with Kapsas. Ilmar finds a handwritten note, which triggers memories of meeting Sirje and his time as a soldier. It seems everyone has dreams, social engagements, or an on going romance. The soundtrack, by Jüri
Mandre, creates a jubilant aura around a film which, in other ways, appears to have been made with a limited budget. For instance, the open credits were painted on boards and shot with a single camera panning from left to right. Nonetheless, all of the actors and crew involved endeavoured to create an enter taining spectacle. The film was directed by Edmund Martin and produced by the Eesti Filmikeskus (Esto nian Film Center) in New York. As detailed by Vaba Eesti Sõna newspaper for the director’s 90th birthday in January 2000, Martin founded the center after emigrating to the US in 1952. Then, on November 30th, 1958, Seitse vihta premiered at Hunter College in Manhattan. Today, it’s part of the film archive of the National Archives of Estonia. One small, but memorable, aspect of the film is hearing how the characters mix the Estonian language with English words like “hi” and “yes” in dialogue. You’ll even hear phrases like “Everything on okay!” (“Everything is okay!”) or “Have a nice time Virvega” (“Have a nice time with Virve”). I’m glad that they didn’t edit out this linguistic fusion; a stamp of who we are in the broader Estonian world. In any case, this fully Estonian language film made in North America is a fine docu ment of Estonian diaspora cultural phenomena. The story and its delivery are certainly of its time, but through it, we can look back at the generations, many of whom are no longer with us, and imagine how they spent time together.
