Although it was a weekday afternoon, the square was full of life. Of course, the location of Kansalaistori between Parliament House, the Music Centre, the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma and the Oodi Library guarantees a steady flow of locals and tourists passing through. But now the square was livelier than usual.

Most of it was occupied by an environmental event called ItämeriFest (Baltic Sea Fest), whose carnival parade was loud and joyful as it snaked into the square with a police escort. The festival attracted participants with a variety of food trucks and exhibitors. Meanwhile, a separate demonstration called attention to unfulfilled children’s rights. The sounds of the two events blended together.

I had come to the square to see a third event: a performance of Heinz-Juhani Hofmann’s opera Didi vs. Maailma (Didi vs the World). The opera consists of a series of short dramatic scenes for female voice (soprano Annika Fuhrmann) and electric guitar (Jukka Kääriäinen). Each scene is a through-composed mini-opera in itself, yet together they form a single progression. The work was performed in public spaces across Helsinki.

A small group had come expressly for the performance, but as it unfolded, many passersby paused to listen, some only for a moment, others lingering longer. A few merely slowed their pace before moving on. Someone took a selfie. One person, aiming for the perfect shot of the Oodi Library, backed up between the performers and the audience without noticing the performance. The faces of a daycare group glowed with such genuine curiosity that the adults had their hands full keeping the double file moving.

About halfway through the opera, a spontaneous moment occurred that could just as well have been scripted into it. The organiser of the neighbouring demonstration approached us, suggesting we continue on the steps of Parliament House. Only then did I realise that many passersby probably interpreted the situation the same way as the demonstrator: Kansalaistori was hosting ItämeriFest and two demonstrations.

The more I reflected on it, the more natural it seemed to see the demonstration and the opera performance as indistinguishable, since both superficially used the same language. The opera singer’s microphone-enhanced, speech-like singing carried the same kind of declarative force as the demonstrator recounting personal experiences of child protection’s failings. Both performances also had the same goal: to stop passersby, to make them look and listen.

I also realised that the request to move the other “demonstration” to the steps of the Parliament House was not a hostile attempt to silence us, but a purely practical suggestion. Two demonstrations need not compete for space, especially when neither was opposing the other. The negotiation came to a natural end when the demonstrator learned that it was an opera performance that would not continue much longer. There would be room enough in the square for all of us, even if the soundscape became chaotic at times.

I enjoyed every second of the performance. During the final aria, I found myself watching the reactions of passersby as much as the performers themselves. In particular, I found the aria’s relationship to the adjacent environmental event fascinating. At one point, I noticed a man behind a stall on his lunch break raise his eyebrows as the soprano, in the midst of an expressive, non-tonal passage, suddenly threw in a bluesy hook repeating the line “Ihmiskunta, lopu jo!” (“Humankind, end it already!”).

That raised eyebrow was, in that moment, as expressive an element of the performance as the singer’s voice.

Didi vs the World (composition and libretto by Heinz-Juhani Hofmann) is the second part of the opera trilogy The Public Life and Death of Afrodite “Didi” Hakkarainen, which combines opera, theatre, video,  performance art and social media (with @didihakkarainen feeds on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube). The Kansalaistori performance I attended was part of the Helsinki Contemporary Opera Festival, now in its fifth edition.

Only later did I realize how precisely the on-site negotiation about whether the performance could continue mirrored the festival’s current situation. A couple of days later, at the festival’s home venue, the Alexander Theatre, I attended Uljas Pulkkis’s monologue opera Ada Lovelace (libretto by Isabella Shaw), which made skilful use of electronics and video to enrich the expressive possibilities of the pianist and singer.

While waiting for it to begin, I leafed through the festival booklet. On the opening pages was a sobering text by artistic director Reetta Ristimäki, predicting that this year’s edition might be the last due to lack of resources.

According to Ristimäki, budget cuts to culture were already evident this year: the festival programme had no world premieres. The possible loss of the Helsinki Contemporary Opera Festival would be a major setback for the professional scene, especially for Finnish composers and librettists, whose works have made up the bulk of the festival’s repertoire.

This year’s programme, in addition to the works already mentioned, featured Silvia ja minä (Silvia and Me) by Markus Fagerudd (libretto by Eppu Nuotio), Bon appétit by Lee Hoiby (libretto based on Julia Child by Mark Shulgasser, Finnish translation by Saara Pääkkönen), and Nainen kuin jäätynyt samppanja (A Woman Like Frozen Champagne) by Ilkka Kuusisto (libretto by the composer, based on Aino Piirola’s play). There were also free events in central Helsinki (such as Didi vs the World) and a panel discussion.

Featured photo Tiago Mazza (the recycling container in the background is part of the Baltic Sea Festival)