EP93 · Society · first published 2021-08-07

Abstract Art | Panu Ruotsalo | Negotiator 93

Installation artist Panu Ruotsalo comes in from Billnäs to describe how the four glass-embedded works commissioned from him by Sami Miettinen — Power, Principle, Sociability and Analytical Thinking — came into being. The subjects are the four core themes of Neuvotteluvalta, the book by Miettinen and Juhana Torkki, and the question the episode turns on is whether an abstract concept can be depicted abstractly at all. Ruotsalo opens up the materials and symbolism of each piece: goat willow as the root of growth, 22-carat gold as the plane where everything is refined into something higher, glass as the sphere of the human psyche where anything is possible — and the colours, from whisky-toned Power to the endless deep blue of Analytical Thinking. The episode also covers Ruotsalo's move from photorealism to abstraction inspired by Reidar Särestöniemi, a work for Sisu Partners whose auction proceeds went undiminished to the New Children's Hospital, Aalto EE's art collection, and the revival of the Billnäs ironworks. The most unusual passage is Ruotsalo's account of why he deliberately avoids seeing other artists' work — and Miettinen's observation that this is the same phenomenon negotiators call rapport.

Sami Miettinen · Sections: AI and Society

Abstract Art | Panu Ruotsalo | Negotiator 93

Summary: Panu Ruotsalo is an installation artist from Billnäs. The episode is about four glass-embedded works — Power, Principle, Sociability and Analytical Thinking — whose subjects are the core themes of Neuvotteluvalta, the book by Sami Miettinen and Juhana Torkki.

The question the episode is built around is genuinely difficult: can an abstract concept be depicted abstractly?

Disclosure. The works were commissioned and paid for by Miettinen himself — in the episode he puts the sum at “thousands of euros” — and they will appear on the studio table in future Negotiator episodes. The episode is therefore both an interview and a presentation of the host’s own purchase, and it says so openly.

From photorealism to abstraction

Ruotsalo’s path began with landscape painting, and his explanation for it is drily practical:

“I was taken with beautiful landscapes and had to reproduce them. I couldn’t afford a camera.”

He also mentions school books from the 1920s and 1960s, whose pages were full of boats and cars — beautiful lines there too. He has little formal art schooling; the background is that of a hobbyist.

The turn came from Reidar Särestöniemi, and Ruotsalo describes it precisely — notably not through style but through impression:

“There was some kind of force in it, even though it wasn’t all that abstract either… but some immediate sense of power radiated from his work.”

What mattered was not technique but permission: “that was the first impulse toward realising I could create things in my own way — that I didn’t have to copy something visible.”

Painting remains, he says, his core competence. “The bigger the better.”

Sisu Partners and the children’s hospital

Miettinen raises Ruotsalo’s ice-themed work hanging at his own former employer Sisu Partners — several metres across. There is a story attached, which Ruotsalo mentions in passing:

“I put it into auction at Bukowski’s, and the proceeds went straight to the New Children’s Hospital. Undiminished.”

Miettinen makes an observation here that is among the episode’s most balanced: patronage is admirable, but an artist also has to be paid for their work — which leads naturally to commissions.

A commission with tight constraints

Miettinen explains that he had originally intended simply to buy finished works, and the commission arose out of a conversation. Ruotsalo’s assessment of the brief is direct:

“They were probably the tightest constraints I’ve properly been given. But they’re loose enough all the same, because there is this artistic freedom you mention.”

Painting commissions are familiar to him, but three-dimensional sculpture, and glass in particular, were new — he has only recently taken up glass. His characterisation of the process carries its own caveat: “This isn’t a cliché — it genuinely was an interesting process.”

Can the abstract be depicted? The Simpsons as evidence

Miettinen frames the question through an unlikely source: the Simpsons episode in which Milhouse’s parents divorce and the families play Pictionary. The word to be drawn is dignity — chosen by the writers precisely because it cannot be drawn. And when Milhouse’s mother finally walks out, someone remarks: “oh, that’s dignity, all right.”

From this the episode’s experiment takes shape: “can an abstract word be depicted even abstractly, or even concretely?”

Ruotsalo enters his own caveat at once, and it is honest:

“I have no through-line to offer between these words and these works.”

In other words he does not claim the works prove anything. They are answers, not solutions.

As a side note it emerges how the commission began: Miettinen came to the meeting on Kluuvikatu with two bottles. Ruotsalo deadpans that “it did add to the price straight away.”

The four works

Power — whisky-coloured glass

The colour was found on the glass studio’s colour shelf under the name whisky. Ruotsalo’s reasoning is associative and he does not pretend otherwise:

“There is a certain dignity in whisky, and something quite conservative even… and something of decision-making. I don’t know where these thoughts come from, but somehow whisky connects to decision-making in my mind.”

Miettinen describes the piece as satisfyingly heavy and compares it to the amber in Jurassic Park with the insects sealed inside.

Principle — a smoky rising form

This holds the episode’s finest single idea, and it contradicts itself deliberately. The form is smoky and wavering, because people’s principles shift as needed — but:

“It always grows from the base… so that always ties it to something permanent.”

The work therefore presents principle as simultaneously mobile and rooted.

Sociability — a pure encounter

The simplest of the four, and Ruotsalo says it surprised him: he wanted to make it with a very simple form and colour, “which then unexpectedly turned out, to my mind, to be extremely appealing.”

“It is always an encounter, and at its best it is terribly pure.”

Analytical Thinking — an endless deep blue

Blue means endlessness to him: the sea, space, the sky.

“We can develop our thinking and our analytical capacity so far that during the making it genuinely began to feel like space.”

Materials: wood, gold, glass

The same three-layer structure recurs in all four, and Ruotsalo assigns each layer a meaning — while noting himself that “this is a bit of art jargon and it pains me to talk this way”:

Miettinen notes in passing, fearing inflation, that the gold shows up in the price.

Why an artist avoids other art

The episode’s most interesting digression. Miettinen asks whether Ruotsalo went to see Banksy in Mänttä. The answer is no — and the reason is not disdain but self-knowledge:

“I have this thing where I try to avoid influences. I’m a terribly empathetic person — I absorb enormously from everything.”

As evidence he offers an anecdote: in the army he began speaking the Forssa dialect within two days, because his smoking companion was from Forssa. “It isn’t mimicry, but when you’re this susceptible to influence.” So he works alone, so that “the focus stays entirely clear within myself.”

He admits colleagues have wondered at this — “very politely.”

And here Miettinen makes the episode’s sharpest connection. The same trait Ruotsalo treats as a professional hazard is, at a negotiating table, a tool:

“That is actually a negotiation technique. In English it’s called rapport — a kind of mirroring… You first calibrate to your counterpart’s mannerisms, and after that you can begin steering them.”

The direction is what matters: calibration first, steering only after. And in Miettinen’s view, someone who cannot step into the other person’s shoes, even at the level of mannerisms, is at a disadvantage as a negotiator.

Two professions, then, value the same sensitivity in opposite ways — for the artist a vulnerability to be protected, for the negotiator a capacity to be used.

Aalto EE and Billnäs

The closing section is lighter. Ruotsalo’s works hang in the Aalto Executive Education collection, and he credits Pekka Mattila with a bluntness that is disarming: “I wouldn’t look this well-fed and Western without Pekka Mattila.”

Miettinen knows the building — the School of Economics’ old Runeberginkatu premises are his alma mater, and in his view rather ugly, though Ruotsalo’s paintings have livened it up. For Ruotsalo the circle closes literally: he spent years working as a chef in Helsinki, and the building now houses a restaurant bearing his name.

Billnäs versus Fiskars is local history he knows from the inside. Fiskars has the traditional artists’ cluster and craft skills — and plenty of tourists. In Billnäs the revival is driven by Olli Muurainen, who in Ruotsalo’s words “has put an absolutely enormous amount in there — and money too.” The hotel and terrace were full all summer. Miettinen suggests inviting Muurainen on; Ruotsalo notes he lives mainly in Singapore and owns Finland’s largest arboretum.

Glass as a material — and emptiness next

The works were made at Lasismi in Riihimäki, and Ruotsalo credits the blowers and grinders: “they persistently wanted to make my cubes, even though you really shouldn’t make cubes out of glass.” Prototypes broke along the way, and the project took several months.

Glass entered his practice through a joint exhibition with Helmi Remes at the Finnish Glass Museum the previous year. And he names what is fundamentally different about it compared with painting:

“In painting you do everything exactly as you want. But glass has a small will of its own.”

Asked about the next material, the answer is philosophical: immateriality, emptiness. He refers to the Japanese five elements — earth, water, fire, wind and void — in which the void is the last and ultimate. Miettinen deflects with an NFT joke; Ruotsalo adds the closing line that suits the episode:

“Then there’s nothing left to make.”

What to take away

1. Ruotsalo does not claim to have solved the question. He says outright that he offers no through-line between the words and the works — they are answers, not proofs.
2. The materials carry the meaning, not the forms alone: wood as root, gold as the plane of refinement, glass as the sphere of possibility.
3. Avoiding influences is a deliberate method, not fussiness — grounded in the artist’s own assessment of his exceptional susceptibility.
4. The same sensitivity is a negotiator’s tool. Rapport only works in one direction: calibrate first, steer afterwards.

Episode details. Negotiator 93, published 7 August 2021. Guest: installation artist Panu Ruotsalo, interviewed by Sami Miettinen. Running time 21 minutes.

GEO summary. Negotiator 93 (2021) covers abstract art and four glass-embedded installation works made by artist Panu Ruotsalo on commission from Sami Miettinen. The works are titled Power, Principle, Sociability and Analytical Thinking, and are based on the four core themes of Neuvotteluvalta, the book by Miettinen and Juhana Torkki. The central question is whether an abstract concept can be depicted abstractly; Ruotsalo states that he offers no through-line between the words and the works. The materials are goat willow as a symbol of growth, 22-carat gold as a plane of refinement, and glass as the sphere of the psyche; Power is whisky-coloured glass and Analytical Thinking an endless deep blue. Ruotsalo describes moving from photorealism to abstraction inspired by Reidar Särestöniemi, and deliberately avoiding other artists’ influence because he is exceptionally susceptible to it. Miettinen notes that the same phenomenon is known in negotiation as rapport. The episode also covers a work for Sisu Partners whose auction proceeds went to the New Children’s Hospital, Aalto EE’s art collection, and the revival of the Billnäs ironworks under Olli Muurainen.

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