If we try to compile a subjective 100-page atlas on the basis of Estonian art, then it is highly probable that the outcome would be quite weird. Estonia would most probably be depicted there on two thirds of pages, but it would be followed by a dozen pages of France, eight pages of Italy and thereafter also something about Åland, Russia, Spain. One might think that Inga Heamägi is being aware of such atlas, but she has forgotten it on her way to Rome – maybe to a petrol station, bus stop or pizza restaurant. Forgotten? Or maybe has left it deliberatly?

When Konrad Mägi found in Italy again the joy to create, found colours that had disappeared at Saaremaa – and when Ants Laikmaa was thinking of Taebla while his stay at Capri, then Inga Heamägi has clearly melted into Italy. These are not just artistic qualities that Heamägi sees in Italy – no “new handwriting”, “smashing colours”, “a critical creative stage” are introduced here into her creation. Heamägi is interested in something, which might even be the basic concept of art: specific aestheticism, channelling, emphasizing of the gathered impressions, signs, meanings and connections.

It is of course not quite right to claim that Heamägi has not shown in her Italy-series any interest towards directly aesthetic notions – colour, form, composition. Yes, one might claim that here the author is not talking here only in these categories, but still here is so much remarkable to be found. In her Italy-works Heamägi has abandoned strict framing with bohemian carelessness – her works rather consist of details that have never been tried to force into concrete afflicting boundaries. Connection between different figures is rather associating than random, depending in an emphasized manner on the artist’s angle of vision.
Egoism?
Certainly.

But at the same time also personal choice, in the case of which it is impossible to say, whether this or that is “right” or “wrong”. Italy itself contains far too much in order not to be an egoist.

In this series the main emphasis still seems to be on rendering of freely chosen impressions. Even though at the first glance everything seems to be comprehensible, we should still take a look at the manner in which Heamägi has worked. Italy surely offers endless inspiration, but also is endless the number of ways of forwarding it. We could pick the academic approach: have a thorough look at the architecture, everyday life, history. Also we could pick the gloomy approach: to see the poverty, mafia, misery. But we may also have a look at Italy the way Heamägi does it. Joyfully, in an openly optimistic manner, not being sentimental and longing, but by being mellow – quite the way we remember the Lindgren books from our childhood. It is amazing, how snugly an Estonian author feels herself in these works: instead of the expected self-irony we really see the cramp-free briskness. Heamägi adds up symbols, figures, signs being characteristic to Italy with extraordinary joy and playfulness. And this is already a totally new atlas.