Some reviews of A Dying Star in Serlachius museum Gösta

New Scientist - Cosmological conceits blossom under Finland’s midnight sun
by Simon Ings

For the impatient, here's the part:

A more elegaic exploration of the same idea (that we murder to dissect) lies in Petri Eskelinen’s 2016 installationDying Star. After a few minutes, the viewer’s dark-adapted eye makes out a beautiful and convincing cloud of stars. At regular intervals, lights come on, revealing the cloud for what it is: smeared, worn Perspex sheets stuck with scraps of Post-it note and scrawled over with whiteboard pens: “Yes”; “No”; “No life field”. The night sky is reduced to a bitterly precise, tiresome, anthropocentric hunt for an earthlike planet.

The lights go out. The magic reasserts itself. To comprehend the world, we must reduce it. But as Penelope Umbrico ably reveals in 30,400,020 Suns from Sunsets from Flickr, the world is big enough to take our abuse. And in the moonlit landscapes by 19th-century artists Fanny Churberg and Hjalmar Munsterhjelm, it swallows us whole.


Apollo Magazine - Factories, fine art and starry skies in rural Finland
by Tom Jeffreys

For the impatient, here's the part:

My personal highlight, however, is Dying Star (2016) by Petri Eskelinen. Inside a room of total darkness, we are confronted by a galaxy of tiny phosphorescent smudges. It reminds me, oddly, of the dancing colours of Georges von Swetlik’s A Woodland Pool (1933), part of the Serlachius permanent collection. As you stand and wonder about scale and distance, all of a sudden a blinding light reveals the trick: the smudges are the sums and jottings of sundry scientists seeking to identify the truths of the galaxies. In that moment, the universe is revealed to be made of maths, of information. Whether this is objective truth or subjective judgement remains open. So too does the question of whether, when it comes to theoretical physics (and art for that matter), we can ever know the difference between the two.