Jamie's blog

Trapeze artist

I arrived in Finland with nobody understanding what I was saying.  ”Jamie, you are talking funny.”

I’d just been to a friends wedding in Denmark but other than that was straight out of Yorkshire and had not yet adapted to my foreign twang.  I spent four minutes trying to ask a new Russian collegue “How long has it taken you to get from Moscow?”  He couldn’t understand a word I was saying.

Then a Finnish friend interjected: “How many hours you travel from Moscow?”  He totally got it.  Kimmo who runs the event then gave me yet another lesson in English.  ”Jamie, when you want suger you just look at the person and say “Sugar.”  Forget all this “May I have and please business!  ”Sugar,” That’s all you need to say”

My time in Finland was spent making two lovely ladies flying on their trapeze.  I have to thank the girl in the yellow top for having available such a nice bum for me to copy just at the right moment.  Julie and Victoria are still there swining away.  I miss them dearly.

Jamie

My Girls

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The snow castle and the moomins

The alarm goes off and I wake up with a start.  The light switch is above my head, I look over the way to where Sergey Tselebrovskiy my room mate is sleeping and say “Lights on.”  The light goes on and Sergey announces “Ghood Mhorning in his thick Russian accent which I am glad to say is beginning to have a hint of Yorkshire now and again.

Sergey Tselebrovskiy

On the first morning that we shared the room Sergey then rolled out of bed and proceeded to undertake some sort of exercise ritual right before my eyes, surprising enough to me as it is usually myself that is doing this, but not as soon as I have woken up.  Astonished I watched on in disbelief through my groggy eyes whilst Sergey began to roll his fingers, then wrists, shoulders, waist, knees ankles with unanticipated agility liveliness.  Not to be outdone I quickly joined in and found myself doing squats, 10 press ups and leg raises.  Since that first morning we have for the last two weeks performed this morning ritual together to wake up our ever more ailing bodies in the morning.  It is like performing the children song “Heads, Knees and toes,” even more so as Sergey is learning English and we say the name of the body part that we are exercising:  “Fingers, hands, elbows, shoulders, waist, knees, ankles,” again the squats the press ups and the leg raises.  All of this is of course done in true style as we are dressed only in our underpants. I feel if tickets were available we would have a very nice sideline.

Uldis Zarins making Wolverine, photograph by sandis

For two weeks now we have been making the hotel and I think it has all come together rather nicely.  I was a little perturbed by our schedule and all of what we had to do in the beginning, but it is a credit to the boys, the girl Sue McGrew, and the planning of Jukka Likealickalot that everything has gone very smoothly.  The theme this year was comics and we have had some fun recreating boyhood heroes even if Uldis from Latvia had pretty much never heard of any of them:  Who is this Joker person?   I have been able to play with my moonwalker or Polygon jib again which is a delight as I’ve been able to enjoy the fresh air and views from it which is a sharp contrast to spending all my time in a freezer as in England.  I must say though, I’m not sure the blizzards, driving wind and extreme temperatures are quite necessary, also, why the jib has to sway and occasionally stop leaving me stranded in the air I do not know.

Jamie carving the moomin with the moonwalker, photograph by Jukka

So we will finish shortly and I will prepare myself for the biggest challenge of all which is getting through the mens sauna party on the opening night alive; the Finnish like to drink.  Last year I was so thoroughly intoxicated that I almost fell asleep in the snow on the way home which is a sure way to meet your maker.  Luckily the chap that had spiked my drink with consent was there to wake me up.  How fortunate I am to have such good friends to take care of me.

Jamie

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Morning Light as the tunnels emerge

As I stepped out of the hotel the blast of cold hit me. The Finnish know how to insulate their homes.  There are no cold drafts seeping in through the windows and you can quite happily walk around in your shorts if you want.  You find yourself getting a false sense of security as usually the temperature in my house in Yorkshire is a sure indication of what it is like outside.  But not in these Lappish countries; do not be fooled I warm you!

I could tell it was going to be cold at breakfast as I saw the trees swaying in the wind through the window.  The temperature was much warmer than yesterday which was -24, but even though it was only -14 today it was with wind and yes the wind really does chill.  I felt it as soon as I stepped out.  I had left my balaclava at the Ice Hotel the previous day and so my face was exposed.  I have deliberately grown a ginger beard to protect me from the touch of Jack Frost but it has been to no avail.  Immediately his hand wiped over my face and left a minute film of ice that I could feel crack when I began to talk to Sergey. Sergey is an old Russian friend of mine and on this occasion my roommate.  He is perhaps one of the best ice sculptors in the world and is able to make sculptures from ice that you simply would not believe, what’s more his skill is matched my his kind gentle nature.  I just class myself as a student out here which suits me fine as learning is one of the virtues of life.  As Sergey and I chatted on our way to work Jack Frost began to pinch my ears, I pulled down my hat, still not satisfied he began to blow his cold breath into my eyes which began to water.  I put up my hood to shield myself.  I know from experience that if I am out too long icicles grow from my watering eyes and impair my already strained vision.

But today I was not to be outside as such.  We walked towards our haven which is the shelter of the Ice Hotel where we are working.  The hotel is embryonic at the moment and just a shell of what it will grow to be.  For now it belongs to us, a series of tunnels and domes that grow every day as the construction team use their big machines to make a myriad of passages reaching off in all directions to reconverge like a vast maze.  It is our job as sculptors to breathe life and identity into these tunnels by making sculptures and decoration, in return the hotel protects us from the blowing wind and snow outside.  I feel privileged that I am able to see it come alive even if the ice hotel does express its growing pains in my aching body, shifting tonnes of ice each day is by no means easy work; especially for someone with my bird arms.

Sue McGrew and Sandis Kondrats

It is however one of the joys of being a sculptor that you are able to be part of the journey where an inanimate object gradually evolves from being nothing to becoming something that is potentially wonderful.  And that the essence of the Ice Hotel, it is after all only snow and ice, yet people come from all around to see it.  They will drink and be merry, they may have a bite to eat in its restaurants and eat off tables made of ice, they may sleep in the rooms there, and they may even get married in the ice chapel that we are yet to make. But before that, today and for the days to come, the ice hotel is growing, and we are here to guide it and enjoy it coming to life.   Jack Frost may cheekily nip my cheeks from time to time, but I will forgive him as it is he after all that keeps it all together.

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I approached the check in desk at Manchester airport with trepidation.  My luggage allowance was 20 kilos with one bag and I had at least 40 kilos with two bags.  I have in the past been charged over £200 for such mistermeaners.

“May I have your passport?” said the chap behind the desk.  I then cracked a joke about how early he must have got up this morning and that I was up at 4:30 am.  “I was also up at that time” he replied, “What, every day?”  I looked upon him with empathy as he nodded; we were now best friends.  I think subconsciously I was trying to hypnotise him as I have been watching too much Derren Brown, we were building ‘rapport’ and he was not totally under my control.  I was tempted to throw in a few suggestive words there as well when I disclosed that I had a second bag with tools in.  He frowned “…..Errrr  One thing I will miss about the UK is that it is so LIGHT, AS it is so dark in Finland.  Luckily I have A warm Feather coat.” The scales did not agree: 20 kilos.

After glancing at the scale he then looked up and at me amiably and smiled. This is not the usual way that people at the check in desk ask you for £200   “Did you know that we have a relaxation lounge?”  I must have looked bemused.  “…..you can go there and escape for a while if you want. Also, you are on Fast Track so you can just pass everyone else and go straight through, no need to wait around.  Have a nice flight Mr Wardley.”  Derren Brown eat your heart out!

The plane was quite late in departing which was a little worrying as I had a connecting flight. I didn’t do the Fast Track thing as I just don’t think I’m quite ready for it yet, far too racy for me.  I also passed on the Relaxation Lounge, there was something a little fishy going on and I wasn’t sure I wanted to chance it just yet.  As I queued in the tunnel to go on the plane I looked at my ticket for my seat number.

1F

Mmm, there must be a mistake.  I had never sat on row one before.  I looked away and then back again.  I could cope with the F as that means I am by the window which is what I asked for.  But I didn’t understand this 1 business.  And then I saw it at the top of the ticket. “Business Class.”  I was for the first time in my life in the elite.

As I turned the corner my throne awaited me.  There were no other people of my status there that flight so I took all the glory myself.  My personal airhostess leaned towards me with a beaming smile:  “Financial Times?”  I have never had anyone offer me anything before in such a want to please way, and the words that came out of her mouth were ‘Financial Times’.  As she did the demonstration I then felt it my duty to watch her, she kept looking over me to make sure I fully understood everything and would occasionally crack a few jokes.  I think she was trying to hypnotise me.

During the flight she offered a silver plate with a blob of some description on it.  I took the lemon scented delight to be something marvellous to put in my mouth.  I took the plate from her and was about to indulge before she pulled back the plate and said “Err, it is for your hands!”  Ah, a hand towel. She then asked me if I wanted an antipasto before my meal and I floundered.   I don’t think it took her long to realise it was my first time.  But to her credit she was not discouraged and continued to hang upon my every whim like my own personal angel.  At one point she said with deep regret “I’m just going into the ‘tourist section’, but if you need me just press the button.”  I made a deliberate slow nod of understanding.

On landing I queued at the door and I and the airhostess had a brief little chit chat about how cold it was in Finland and how much it has snowed.  This became evident when she opened the door.  I gave her a look and didn’t know whether I should embrace with her but thought better of it.  It had been one of my best flights ever and I walked away with a bounce in my step.

Unfortunately, it was a very late best flight and I missed my connection to the north.  She had definitely hypnotised me.

Jamie

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Quality time with Donald

“I’ve left my passport on the plane.”

This was my conclusion after searching my bag and pockets to no avail.  I had just landed in Helsinki airport but wasn’t too deterred as there were two attractive women sitting at the Finnair lounge just waiting to save my bacon.  I placed my hat on the desk as though I was here to stay until the matter was resolved.

The lady at the desk was bewildered and then hypnotised me for a moment with her magnificent eyes, pool blue with a dark rim to frame the delicate light tones as though she’d gone round them with a pencil.

“……What?”  She had asked me a question whilst I was swimming.

“Where did you fly from?”  She looked up at me directly from her seat .  I regained my composure.

“Leeds, uh, n…., Londo…., ah yes, Manchester.”  My composure had failed me.  “Yes, Manchester.  I was seat 19 A.”  Remembering my seat number immediately filled me with renewed confidence and I could not disguise my pride as a well deserved smirk crept from my mouth.  “What is your name?” “Jamie Wardley”  I remembered that OK.  She smiled.

“Okay, we will need to find it or else you will not be able to get out of the airport, there is security just down the corridor, but then they won’t start cleaning the plane until later.”  I was beginning to feel that I was to spend quite a bit of time in the company of this young lady for all the wrong reasons.  She rummaged around her keyboard and then picked up the phone and began to babble in Finnish.  She got up from her desk and was obviously trying to get hold of the right person, one of her contacts on the ground no doubt.  She then began to pace up and down and I followed her with my eyes which wasn’t a chore.  Occasionally she would give me a neutral glance as if to say all is under control.  And then she went into the back office and everything changed.  She came out pulling all kinds of faces which weren’t encouraging.  There was a slight pause in her babbling so I took the opportunity to give more information:

“…..There was a newspaper on my seat and the passport will be under that.”  This I was sure of.

“What was the newspaper?”

“It was the ….Daily Mail.”  My memory was in overdrive, “In fact there may have been a book with it as well,” my god I was on a roll.  Oh dear, I had left my book.

There was renewed hope in her voice at my new information but then this gradually faded away as she began to pull faces again accompanied by babbling, starring at me with those deep blue eyes as though I should understand something.  This was not good.  I began to fondle my hat still sat on the desk.  There was a bar down the way.  I had only 5 euros.

She pulled a face and with an apologetic grimace said “They cannot find your passport.”  I mumbled an appropriate expletive under my breath at the thought of been an airport refugee, wandering around in the same underpants for weeks on end until a new passport could be issued; and only 5 euros to my name.

And then the other rather more humiliating possibility dawned on me.   I could feel my bag next to my feet.  ”….maybe I have it?” The girl looked at me with a tilted head expressing her thought that ‘maybe you do.’   I leant down and slowly unzipped a pocket.  Three week old underpants and 5 euros were looking more and more appealing.  I had already checked this pocket earlier and was now hoping not to find it.  As I peeled back the fabric there was revealed a clutter of items, wallets, hard drives and a small burgundy book with the emblem of my protector her majesty the Queen of England plastered across it.  Oh dear.  I pulled it out and held it in my hand sheepishly.

By this time the girl with the pool blue eyes had come round my side of the desk and gave a roar of laughter, I indulged in a slight moment of humiliation and then shrugged off my shame and merrily joined in laughing at myself. I’m quite fortunate that I don’t dwell too much on my foolish mistakes as I make so many of them.  Practice makes perfect I always say.  Just before I made my farewells she checked me with her blue eyes for the last time.  I paused to take in the moment and then realised that she was testing me to see if I would remember my straw hat neatly propped on the table.  I had not.   She took it and placed it on my head.  “Welcome to Finland!” she said with delight and another roar of laughter.  How to make an impression by JS Wardley.

I smiled my broadest smile, “Thank you very much.” I was back in my second home.

Jamie

P.s  A sculpture I have made since I’ve been here:)

Me and m'new mate pterry

The Pterodactyl, can yo see the baby tricerotops?

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