Timo O. Nenonen.

In this hotel Christmas begins in early November.

Dj Papa Oscar puts on his red uniform and bleaches his beard with whiskey.  He plays Finnish tangos so long that even deaf people cry.   After cheeks are wet for everybody, he gives room for other music styles:  Delta blues, 80’s disco, foxtrot!

Usher Charlie sprinkles whole kilo of potato flour on dance-floor.   Man who looks like zulu king dances slowly, smiling by himself.   His submarine shaped cufflinks and a stickpin are solid gold, but hip joint made of titanium is something that keeps him in good mood.  When  music is over he limps to patio, spreads his wings and flies lightly circling, like a seagull, 200 stories up.

In his room Victor reads aloud 70’s colour television repair manual, while he feeds alpha-alpha sprouts to his parrot.

Bright coloured bird doesn’t pay any attention to vocabulary of dusty electronics.  He just tilts his hollow head, winks,  changes the weight from one foot to the other and yells right at Victors face:

Bravo! Nice echo, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo…  Heaven is as close as a door handle.

Up on roof antennas swerve and sway as they dodge low orbit satellites, space dust is swept off twice a day.  Every now and then staff has to shoot fallen stars back to the sky with slingshot.

From view terrace you can see city of Lima resting on shore of South Pacific Ocean in Peru, grass growing in Yankee Stadium, colour changing frogs eating fireflies in India and icicles on cold winter of Quebec. But only if you want to.

On great balcony, Juliette kisses a golfball in her hand, takes a couple of running steps and throws the ball as far as she can.  Moment later down in parking lot windshield of shabby Ford Sierra crashes in.

When Romeo revives in hospital, smiling doctor waves an x-ray in front of his eyes and says:

“Hello, you were unconscious for two days and you have heart shaped skull fracture, blushing nurse squeezes his hand gently and whispers: Congratulations, it was love, that hit you”.

Juliette had aimed at Alfa Romeo but Amour obviously sees deeper than human eye.

After being a hotel manager only for one day, Mike had already lost both of his shoes and he had also tried to kiss every cleaning lady in the building.   On a second day he broke his pen, followed scent of food to the kitchen and fell asleep.  There he is still, snoring, with sack of jasmine rice as his mattress.

Bio ~ Timo O. Nenonen.

Timo O. Nenonen (b. 1972) is a visual artist and a musician originally from Pieksämäki, Finland, nowadays living in the outskirts of Salo. As a child he mistook a watercolour paint cake for candy and ate it. Some time later, in 2005, he graduated as a sculptor from the Arts Academy at Turku University of Applied Sciences.

Nenonen’s works often resemble visual riddles. They’re layered with humour and attempt to deal with the surrounding world. His techniques and materials vary from wood to bubble gum and most of it seems just incredibly impractical.