Leida

Is there a person who doesn’t care at all? Hopefully everybody cares (at least theoretically) about their close ones, human and other species and nature, and the rest who do not for whatever reason, hopefully care about themselves because self-care should not be considered as something unimportant. When thinking about today’s society of overwork it becomes clear that these two aspects of care are more similar than they first appear: in order to care for others, we must also care for ourselves and vice versa – in order to be able to care for ourselves, we must offer the same for others.

The concept of “care” has been thrown into infinite circulation and multidisciplinary reuse. Sermons are heard from the sanctuaries of designers, ecologists, entrepreneurs, artists, social and health workers, scientists, activists, urban planners as well as curators. The topic of care is anchored in the content created by art and architecture biennials, research conferences, enterprises, university curricula and publishing houses, as well as mass culture and related marketing. But what is it that is being cared for? In today’s society of spectacle and endless self-promotion, is it even possible to distinguish care from carelessness, to distinguish between care and neglect? Is it necessary to know how to communicate care properly in order to avoid the impression of negligence that might arise?

While methods of care can still be copied from one area to another, in itself it is not subject to copying. Like values, care cannot be applied as something one-to-one. There is no such method that can guarantee that a person will perceive the care as such. The ecologist’s care for the environment does not automatically translate into the practice of the artist working with the themes of biodiversity. The care of a designer working with the circular economy and supply chains does not translate easily into the business practices of an entrepreneur, even if the designer and the entrepreneur turn out to be one and the same person. Care must be given the opportunity to re-emerge again and again, otherwise it turns into negligence. Talking of care is then nothing more than meaningless image creation.

Exhaustive and stressful care work is being standardised and automated; therefore, care-related tasks are increasingly becoming the responsibility of other people and technology. We are making care work more efficient, safer and more convenient for both the recipient and the person providing it. But what happens to compassion in the process? We tend to skip the fact that machines cannot include it and people tend to become exhausted due to overabundance of compassion. Technology and the social redistribution of care work may reduce the level of inconvenience but it definitely won’t guarantee the presence of care itself. Care needs attention because if care becomes passive and taken for granted, it will disintegrate. The authors of the current issue of “Leida” keep care intact and in mind, offering different perspectives for describing it. The latter is also reflected in the cover art created by MA student in graphic design, Hanafi Gazali.

“Care after Care” opens with Ave Mets’ interview with Robert Rosenberger, one of today’s most influential philosophers of technology, who introduces post-phenomenology as a philosophical approach defining the relationship between man and technology. Artist Hsuan-Hsiu Hung and designer-researcher Kristi Kuusk explore the ability of multisensory objects to provide bodily care while asking how touch can enhance our self-awareness. While artist Laura Põld emphasises in her writing that we should pay more attention to the time we dedicate to (self-)care, artist Tõnis Jürgens shows how the self-care industry has become increasingly attentive to our sleep. Designer Jaana Päeva takes us back in time and reminds us that there is hidden potential in reappropriating past techniques with modern tools. Design historian Liza Sedler discusses how kitchen design has changed over more than a century and how this is reflected in the changing image of women in society. Graphic designer Carlo Canún’s visual essay raises the question of how queer history should be written and read, and the role of our personal experiences and preconceptions within this. Designer-researchers Julia Valle-Noronha, Marta Konovalov and Elina Määttänen introduce care practices related to the repair and recycling of clothing that go far beyond the limitations of the gentle cycle on modern washing machines. Hannah Segerkrantz, MA student of Craft Studies at the Estonian Academy of Arts, brings together the fields of ecology and feminism; she explores the links between caring for nature and women as caretakers. The closing piece of the current issue is a panel discussion between Priit Tohver, the head of the Sustainable Development Department at the North Estonia Medical Centre and designer Ruth Melioranski. The panel discussion is moderated by Daniel Kotsjuba and it views the recent design practices implemented in Estonian healthcare, while also discussing new collaborative projects and future goals.

The “Care after Care” issue acknowledges that care does not end care, but continues and creates more care. Certain ways of caring are followed by others, which is illustrated very well by how prehabilitation and rehabilitation improves the effectiveness of healthcare procedures. While the time taken for care work and the results can both be measured, it is difficult to measure care itself. However, so that the over supply of care (and talk surrounding it) does not completely exhaust us or lose its meaning, care must be actively practised. We need to keep re-learning how to care for and take care of, because in the end, caring is the equivalent of the feeling of being cared for ourselves.