Irina Laaja works at the intersection of textile, sculpture, and the body—where material becomes confession, and process becomes meaning. Through recycled objects, casting, and mixed media construction, the work examines how sexuality, normality, and obscenity are embedded not only in culture, but in physical experience and subconscious memory. With roots in fashion design and a clear break from its rigid expectations, Irina Laaja has shaped a practice that resists fixed definitions of the body, instead allowing complexity to remain visible. Material is never neutral: each surface carries limitation, history, and emotional residue. This interview follows a practice grounded in questioning, sustainability, and persistence—where inspiration is treated not as accident, but as something built through time, observation, and work.

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How does your art engage with or comment on pressing contemporary  issues—social, political, or environmental?  

I mainly work with textile and mixed media sculpture but also photography, video and  performance. The body is often present and its complexity and significance fascinates me; how  something so concrete and obvious is also so complicated and difficult. How views on, and  definitions of, sexuality, normality and obscenity are woven through our physics and  subconscious. My practice is both conceptual and confessional with a strong focus on the  process, the body and the experiences that stem from it. The choice of material plays a big role and I often include recycled materials in my work. This started as a strive towards using as many environmentally materials and methods as possible but I have also developed an attraction to the limitations and challenges of working with recycled  materials and I’m interested in the emotional and intellectual history of objects.  

How has your artistic style transformed over the years? Are there specific  influences, experiments, or moments that marked a turning point?  

I have a background in Fashion Design which I started studying at the age of 17 and I have then  worked as an independent designer. I found myself struggling with the industry more and more  and stood against the strict ideas around the body as well as the use of the body in the industry.  This led me to eventually move away from it and I started evaluating what I actually enjoyed which  was working sculptural with the material. I started to, instead of working for the body, include the  body in my work. During that period I also studied for a Bachelor in Art History and took my  degree in 2014.

In 2016 I received a project grant to develop a new collection but instead it resulted in a series of  soft sculptures. In 2018 I was accepted to the Master program in Fine Arts at Umeå Academy of  Fine Arts in Sweden which became the real shift in my work and since then I work exclusively with  art. During my Master studies and the following two years I worked mainly with textile but I have  since then started to include more materials and methods such as casting and various recycled  objects.  

How do you reignite creativity during those inevitable periods of self-doubt or stagnation?  

I don’t see creativity or inspiration as something that just comes to you from nowhere, but rather  something that requires work. With that mindset those slower periods becomes a natural and  sometimes even necessary part of the process. When I have an intentional period with less productivity I usually read, watch a lot of tv, listen to  podcasts, learn about new subjects, visit lots of second hand shops and gather materials and  objects. I collect words, thoughts, fragments. Eventually I start to see a pattern which I’m then  able to collect into a more concrete idea of what I’m drawn to in the moment. When I start to  understand what I’m interested in I can start to analyse it and work with it.

When I find myself struggling with inspiration I try to just spend time in the studio. Maybe I’m just  there a few hours and I might not even do something productive. Maybe I just read a book, listen  to the radio or organise materials but by going there and spending time there I eventually activate  my creative processes. I have struggled a lot with self-doubt but I have become better at recognising and analysing those  thoughts. During the process of a project I can most of the times predict when that doubt will  come and then I can prepare myself for it. I have also become better at understanding what  thoughts to tell “shut up” to and ignore, and what thoughts I should trust as my gut trying to tell  me something. But I still get lost in translation sometimes.

What do you think is the most meaningful role an artist plays in society today?  

I think the most interesting aspects of an artwork lays in the unanswered questions. In my opinion, the artist is not necessarily here to present all the answers or ready solutions but  rather to ask the questions and present a perspective that evokes something in us. This can be  thoughts, feelings, reflection, critical thinking, discussions or other things.  

Do you believe artists have a responsibility to address climate change or environmental  concerns in their work? Why or why not?  

We are now facing a very critical situation regarding climate change and I don’t think anyone can  stand above that. Everyone has a responsibility to consider the environment and the art world is  no exception. This doesn’t mean that every artist needs to deal with the subject thematically in  their work, something that is really important to point out. I believe that as an artist you should  only work with subjects that you’re genuinely interested in. But I do believe that artists has a  responsibility to include sustainability as a factor when choosing materials and methods, same as  for any other field of work. 

How do you respond to debates about the accessibility of art—should it be exclusive, or is it  for everyone?  

I stand against the idea of art as something exclusive. Instead I believe in access to art being a  core element in a democratic society. This includes the possibility to view and experience various  kinds of art through institutions and galleries and to have access to public art. It also includes  access to art as a subject in school; both through practical exercises and through viewing and  talking about art with children and youth as a given part of the education. This is a good way to  approach thought-evoking topics and questions, initiate conversations and encourage curiosity  and critical thinking.  

Do you think the boundaries of what can be called “art" are being stretched too far, or is  this evolution necessary?  

I’m not so interested in the discussion of what is art and what is not. If we follow the notion of the  artist’s own right of interpretation it also becomes irrelevant. As soon as someone produces or  presents something as art it is in fact art. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s good art or  professional art, but to uphold oneself to the question of what art is only takes away from what’s  actually interesting which for me is to discuss the artistic expression and its intentions. 

Are there any up coming projects or dreams that you’ re particularly excited about? 

I’m interested in art in relation to architecture and urban planning, how art is incorporated into  public spaces and how people interact with public art. This has led to a strong interest in working  with public art and it's something I’m actively working towards at the moment. Working with public art requires to take other things into consideration regarding materials, methods and composition compared to when working towards an exhibition, which I’m drawn to.  I’m also into practical problem solving and finding new technical solutions as well as learning  about new techniques and materials, so I’m excited for new challenges and continuing to develop  my work. 

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Throughout this conversation, Irina Laaja returns to art as an act of inquiry rather than conclusion. The work insists on unanswered questions, on the tension between what is seen and what is felt, and on the body as both familiar and unknowable. Sustainability is approached as responsibility, not trend, while recycled materials become both ethical choice and creative challenge. Even self-doubt is framed as part of the rhythm—something predictable, analysable, and sometimes necessary. Rather than guarding art behind exclusivity or fixed definitions, Irina Laaja argues for openness: art as democratic space, cultural necessity, and shared experience. What remains is a practice driven by curiosity, discipline, and the quiet urgency of making work that asks rather than explains.