Sculpting has taken Marjo Lahtinen’s whole life – “I haven’t really been able to do anything else, what with the bad relationships”

Sculptor Marjo from Lahti he is amused by the generalization used. That Lahtinen is synonymous with headless torsos.

The crystallization is undeniably apt, because they – the torsos – have accompanied almost the entire artist’s long career. Lahtinen female and male hippos are in important collections all over the country.

What interests the artist in human figures without arms, legs and heads?

“Say it. Why torso?”

It’s hard to explain, Lahtinen says. He thinks that looking at his work calms people down. That’s how it works for him too. The simplified, stone-carved figures breathe something that makes you stop by them.

“They are a bit like icons.”

Although the earliest works were not torsos, Lahtinen points out. When he first got hold of a stone to work with, a cat and a child’s head were born. Sometimes the subject choices might have been treated with scorn, but that hasn’t stopped Lahti.

“Whether it’s a human or an animal, all natural objects have been good for me.”

Stone is the material he loves the most. Still, if the hands get a suitable stone, the mind wonders what could be done with it. However, Lahtinen is already retired from his artistic work.

But you can’t separate an artist from a person if you’re leaning in that direction once. Lahtinen has a strong view on creativity and artistry.

“The artist is inside the person. Everything is ready, that’s my understanding. Then you can’t even run away. You can’t teach that. It’s a birth defect!” he says on the phone from his home in Kouvola, Verla.

Before becoming a sculptor, Lahtinen had studied singing for several years with determination. It was finally allowed to stay when the sculpture took its course. On the other hand, both are about the same creation.

Lahtinen says he got two important qualities from his own parents: artistry and creativity from his father, who worked as a car mechanic, and temperament from his mother.

“And both have been necessary.”

As a sculptor Lahtinen says he is more of a remover than a builder. He peels away the stone, and what remains remains.

He is also not one of those artists who sit and wait for inspiration.

“I work as if someone is chasing me. When I immersed myself in work, I never thought about whether I was hungry or thirsty. It has always been my basic characteristic.”

The efficient way of working has been partly dictated by practice.

“Sculpture has been the driving force in my life. It hasn’t really been able to fit anything else,” he says and adds with a laugh:

“What about bad relationships.”

Lahtinen was married to a sculptor By Cain Tapper with 1969–1993. They met when Lahtinen was studying at the Academy of Arts, where Tapper was teaching at the time. The long relationship between the two artists was difficult in many ways. It was Lahtinen who flexed.

Lahtinen carved the time that was left from taking care of the huusholli. Three hours at a time is not much, but it was enough when it was efficient.

“To be honest, it was also hell. There was so little time left for carving. There were plenty of drunken geniuses in that huushholli. My starting point as a young woman was to not say anything.”

Making your own art and accepting being an artist was not easy in Tapper’s shadow, Lahtinen admits.

Was it able to have its own independent artist?

“There were no alternatives, I was what I was. I did get out of the shadows.”

There was a lot of appreciation, praise and success, and Lahtisen grew up to be one of the most important sculptors in our country.

”

“There were plenty of drunken geniuses in that house.”

Something Lahtinen is still missed from those years, now that people ask. It’s a connection with colleagues. He says that he was so closely involved with home and his own art that he was unable to create relationships with sculptors of his own generation.

“I didn’t really know anyone. I’m a very outgoing person, but I didn’t get to do anything.”

Although sculpting is a solitary job, he would like to share his thoughts with like-minded people, he says.

There’s no point in dwelling on the past. It is not part of Lahtinen’s customs.

“I’m a terribly adaptable person: that’s how it is now. I don’t cling.”

You have to move forward, whether it’s about art, relationships, or life.

What would you tell your 20-year-old self?

“You don’t get everything, but you still get the most important thing.”