These self-portraits from Finland are everything that selfies are not

Minjee Hwang Kim (born in 1991) draws herself not to be seen, but to be understood. Based in Helsinki, the Korean-born artist uses coloured pencils to craft self-portraits that are both deeply personal and universally resonant. Kim’s art invites viewers into a space where cultural heritage and emotional nuance intertwine.

“I plate up Minjee seasoned with a dash of violence,” she writes, “leaving out any positive or affirming experiences that might come with my racial identity.”

Elina Brotherus

Elina Brotherus: Piscine (Transat), 2018

Elina Brotherus (born in 1972) is one of Finland’s most recognised contemporary artists. Her honest, unassuming photographs explore the relationship between people and their surroundings. The history and practice of art often play a role in her work, such as in the Artists at Work -series, in which she is photographed while being painted by other artists.

Piscine (Transat) was shot outside Paris in a house designed by Alvar Aalto, the Maison Louis Carré, which I consider one of Aalto’s finest works.”

Helene Schjerfbeck

A semi-abstract painting shows a woman face with sharp, angular features.

Helene Schjerfbeck: Self-Portrait, en face I, 1945

“I’ve seen people exit her exhibition in complete silence, even in tears,” says Anna-Maria von Bonsdorff, director of the Ateneum Art Museum in Helsinki.

Schjerfbeck (1862–1946), a celebrated modernist painter, is the first Finnish artist to land a solo exhibition at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art (Seeing Silence: The Paintings of Helene Schjerfbeck, December 5, 2025–April 4, 2026).

One of the main draws is the artist’s powerful self-portraits, which span her career from an up-and-coming young painter to an old woman coming to terms with death.

Schjerfbeck’s self-portraits are anti-selfies of sorts, von Bonsdorff says. In the constant flood of selfies on social media, artists’ self-portraits ask us to stop and really look.

“We are fascinated by self-portraits because they are more charged with meaning than, say, landscapes,” von Bonsdorff says. “They invite us to think about what the artist was thinking about while making the piece.”

By Ninni Lehtniemi, ThisisFINLAND Magazine

Peek into one of Finland’s most famous buildings, in Paimio

A masterpiece of functionalist architecture, Paimio Sanatorium is situated in a pine forest not far from the southwestern Finnish city of Turku.

The Aaltos designed every detail of the building, right down to the furniture, recognising that the patients’ environment could make a significant difference in their recovery.

The sanatorium stopped functioning as a hospital in 2015. Now it offers an exhibition, guided tours, a restaurant and hotel accommodation. It may be Finland’s best-known building internationally.

Mirkku Kullberg, CEO of the Paimio Sanatorium Foundation, shares her views on this unique Finnish architectural landmark.Video: ThisisFINLAND

By ThisisFINLAND staff, March 2026

AI app in Finland lets birdwatchers become citizen scientists

In a study conducted at the University of Helsinki, AI was trained to classify bird sounds with increasing accuracy. The results of the study have been used, among others, in the Muuttolintujen kevät (Spring of Migratory Birds) mobile application, which has become a substantial platform for collecting bird recordings.

In his doctoral thesis, doctoral researcher Patrik Lauha demonstrates that bird sound classification models can be improved by adapting them to specific monitoring contexts.

“My aim was to improve the existing bird sound classification models and to tailor methods for sound data that have been collected through automated methods,” says Lauha.

Users of the app can record bird sounds and obtain AI-provided species classifications for their recordings. The data collected through the app complements traditional bird monitoring in Finland, thereby opening up new research initiatives. The recordings can be used to investigate, among others, bird populations, migratory behaviour and singing activity.

Catching the pike: How Finnish author Juhani Karila reeled in a literary phenomenon

Many kids are afraid of the dark, but not Juhani Karila. As a child, he was afraid of light.

Back then, he lived in the “very back of the back of a tiny village” up north in eastern Lapland, the northernmost region of Finland. Seeing a glimpse of light in the pitch-black darkness of winter, he thought it must be aliens.

“I’d been reading about alien kidnappings in a Reader’s Digest book, and I was convinced they’d be coming for me to rob me of a kidney,” he recalls now, at 41. “Every time I saw a light appear, I thought it must be an alien spaceship. Really, it was probably just a neighbour on their snowmobile.”

On the outskirts of a sparsely populated village, the vast yet empty landscape left plenty of room for a young boy’s imagination to run wild. Karila points out that Lapland isn’t like a tropical jungle where a lot is going on at any one time, so he had to make use of his own mind to keep himself entertained.

“Behind my bedroom window, there was just a still, dark forest. I was able to fill it with whatever creatures I wanted.”

Wringing out words like dishcloths

Finnish writer Juhani Karila stands centred in a granite alcove, framed by a symmetrical stone wall and steps.

Juhani Karila’s aim wasn’t to write a tourism advert for Lapland. Despite its magical elements, Fishing for the Little Pike (US title; published in the UK as Summer Fishing in Lapland) stems from an authentic Lapland experience.

On top of vivid imagination, Karila also had a knack for writing from a very young age. He started writing stories and ambitious war novels under the age of ten and always said he wanted to become an author; but when the time came to choose a profession, his mother insisted he get an actual education.

Studying journalism in Tampere and writing for newspapers, Karila’s passion for fiction never faded. One of his short stories won a major literature prize, and he had two collections of short stories published. He developed a style of his own, weaving together the rich world of magic realism and the matter-of-fact Finnish mindset, resulting in dense and concise yet expressive language.

“If a sentence is a wet dishcloth, I wring out the water, meaning all excessive words,” he says, recalling how another author described his texts as huh-proosa (whoa prose). “In Gorilla [his first collection], I took that to the extreme. It’s still there, but since then my texts have had a bit more room to breathe.”

From fishing to success

Finnish writer Juhani Karila is shown in side profile wearing glasses and a brown coat, standing beside a stone wall with stairs rising behind him.

Juhani Karila chose journalism as his first profession simply because it would allow him to write.

Despite all the praise, after two collections Karila felt he was out of ideas. Having moved to the capital, he didn’t feel quite at home, which made him think about his childhood, fishing with his father in the wilderness of Lapland.

He decided it was time to write in long-form; he was brewing up a story where a certain pike must be caught in the beginning of summer every year. The reasoning behind the compulsory fishing exercise still unknown, Karila started writing, trusting the process would guide him.

And it did. Karila’s first novel, Fishing for the Little Pike (US title; published in the UK as Summer Fishing in Lapland), crowded with real-life descriptions of Lapland nature but also with creatures from his own imagination, was published in Finnish in 2019.

It turned into a huge success: it’s been translated into more than 20 languages, won several prizes and been turned into plays, and there’s a movie in the making.

None of it came as a shock to Karila. While he was writing, he already knew the text was good.

He confidently took the first 100 or so pages to his partner, expecting unconditional praise. Instead, she posed a question: Why is the main character a man? Why were the ones battling against forces of nature always men?

Karila responded that changing the character’s gender would mean changing everything.

“She looked at me with pity in her eyes and said that all I need to do is change the name,” he says. “I thought to myself that she has absolutely no clue as to how novels are written, and passive-aggressively I went back to my computer and started switching names.”

To his surprise, it worked. He soon ran back to tell her she was a genius.

“It turned into a story from a woman’s perspective but without the male gaze. It’s sad to say this, but it was fresh.”

More in the making

Finnish writer Juhani Karila stands facing the camera in glasses and a brown coat, positioned against a backdrop of large, irregular stone blocks.

Juhani Karila’s first novel, Fishing for the Little Pike (US title; published in the UK as Summer Fishing in Lapland), was translated into more than 20 languages. It won several prizes and has been adapted into plays, too.

In the process of writing Fishing for the Little Pike, Karila visited his childhood home several times, just to get a reminder of what walking through a swamp felt like. He also called his parents so often that they were wondering why their son was suddenly so keen to keep in touch.

“I never wanted to put the phone down,” he says. “I asked them about the dialect, and I asked them about the words they used. I was soaking up their expressions.”

As the novel has been translated into multiple languages, Karila has had to revisit his linguistic choices various times. Coming up with names for previously unknown creatures is one thing, but finding equivalents to Lapland expressions in other languages is a whole new ball game.

“Particularly one of the translators was a thorn in my side, but in a good way,” Karila says. “They noticed every single logical error. I started to fear their emails.”

But the translators won’t be having a walk in the park with what Karila’s cooking up now, either. He can’t say much yet, but novel number two will be out next autumn in Finnish – and it will be yet another piece of whoa prose.

By Anne Salomäki, March 2026; photos by Emilia Kangasluoma

Photos from Helsinki: Creating creatures and castles from snow and ice

A large snow sculpture of the Groke, a Tove Jansson Moomin character who has a stern face and whose feet are hidden by a long gown, stands in the yard in front of a house.

In a residential neighbourhood in northern Helsinki, the Groke – familiar from the Moomin stories by Finnish author and artist Tove Jansson – has appeared. She is joined by other Moomin characters: Stinky and, sitting on the table, the tiny duo Thingumy and Bob.

In front of a stately stone building, a permanent statue of a moose stands next to a snow sculpture of several different animals standing on each other’s backs.

The courtyard of the Finnish Museum of Natural History is guarded by a majestic elk crowned with ice, but also by snow-sculpture animals playfully threatening to steal the show.

Blocks of ice of various colours form an attractive wall in the sunlight on Lauttasaari, an island in Helsinki.

On the shores of Lauttasaari, residents have created a communal artwork: a vast ice castle. Anyone can contribute by freezing their own building block and adding it to the walls.

A snow sculpture of a dinosaur stands in the yard of an apartment building in the Helsinki neighbourhood of Lauttasaari.

Lauttasaari is also home to a snow dinosaur.

Ornaments made out of ice hang by strings from the branch of a tree, with snow on the ground.

City residents of all ages are invited to take part in creating this frozen environmental artwork.

Snow sculptures of a hen and an egg stand in front of trees in a snowy landscape.

In the Linjat neighbourhood, a giant hen waits patiently for spring to arrive.

A snowperson with a pointy snow hat stands in a clearing near the shore in the Helsinki neighbourhood of Lauttasaari.

A solitary gnome stands guard by the beach on Lauttasaari.

Several dozen small snow sculptures depict Hattifatteners, characters from Tove Jansson’s Moomin books, in front of a brick house.

The beloved Hattifatteners from Tove Jansson’s Moomin stories always travel in groups. In this Helsinki neighbourhood, they have appeared in impressive numbers.

A snow sculpture of a dinosaur stands on a small hill beside a road and a brick building.

A Tyrannosaurus rex brings passers-by to a halt in the Linjat district.

Photos by Aarni Holappa, text by Emilia Kangasluoma, February 2026

8 questions on the Kalevala, the epic that shaped Finland’s identity

What exactly is the Kalevala?

The Kalevala is epic poetry based on old oral folk songs, compiled and edited by the Finnish scholar Elias Lönnrot. First published in its final form in 1849, it is regarded as the national epic of the Finns and Karelians.

Rather than being written from scratch, the Kalevala is based on centuries-old Finnish and Karelian oral-tradition folk songs. Karelia is a geographical and cultural area that now lies partly in eastern Finland and partly in northwestern Russia.

Lönnrot collected verses during journeys across eastern Finland and Karelia, especially White Sea Karelia, stitching together songs and myths into a single narrative. An earlier version, known as the Old Kalevala, was published in 1835. The expanded New Kalevala of 1849 consists of 50 poems or chapters and totals more than 22,000 verses.

All the poems are presented in a distinctive trochaic rhythm (a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable), called Kalevala metre after the Kalevala.

Finland celebrates Kalevala Day on February 28, also known as Finnish Culture Day.

Who created the Kalevala?

A black-and-white portrait shows a man, Elias Lönnrot, seated and facing to the side, wearing a dark jacket.

Portrait of Finnish physician and philologist Elias Lönnrot around 1850. Photo: Finnish Heritage Agency

The Kalevala was compiled by Elias Lönnrot (1802–84), a physician, linguist, editor, poet and later professor of the Finnish language.

Born into a poor family in the village of Sammatti in southern Finland, Lönnrot raised his station in life through education. He wrote his master’s thesis on Väinämöinen, one of the epic’s central heroes, and qualified as a medical doctor.

Lönnrot developed a great passion for folk poetry. Beginning in 1828, he undertook collecting journeys through eastern Finland, Karelia, the Kola Peninsula and the area north of the Arctic Circle.

Although he presented the Kalevala as a recovery of ancient poetry, Lönnrot did more than record and edit. He modified, rearranged and, in places, composed linking passages to create narrative coherence. Even so, only around 3 percent of the final text was written by Lönnrot himself. The result is both a work of folklore and a constructed literary epic.

Promoting the Finnish language was central to his work. In 1831, he helped to found the Finnish Literature Society, which became crucial in preserving Finland’s cultural heritage.

How did the Kalevala come into being?

A painting by Anders Ekman shows an old bearded male figure, Väinämöinen, seated outdoors, tuning a small harp-like instrument, beside a young woman.

Anders Ekman: Väinämöinen Stringing his Kantele, 1855 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Lauri Asanti

Lönnrot’s original aim was to preserve Finnish-language poetry and strengthen the status of Finnish as a literary language. At the time, Romantic nationalism was sweeping through Europe’s intellectual circles, encouraging nations to seek validation in their folklore and oral traditions. The idea of a unified epic emerged gradually during his collecting trips.

At the time, Finland was not an independent nation. Having been part of Sweden for centuries, it became an autonomous Grand Duchy within the Russian Empire in 1809. Throughout the 19th century, a growing national movement sought to strengthen a distinct Finnish identity.

Familiar with works such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, Lönnrot began to see how fragmented folk poems could be shaped into a coherent, story-driven whole. Across Europe, interest in national epics and folk traditions had been growing since the late 18th century. Influences ranged from the Nibelungenlied and the Edda to James Macpherson’s Poems of Ossian. Earlier collectors of Finnish and Karelian folklore, such as Christfrid Ganander and Zacharias Topelius, also paved the way.

In this climate, the Kalevala became emblematic of a people with their own history, mythology and voice, although most of its source material was gathered in Karelia.

The language of the Kalevala originally blends southeastern Finnish dialects with Karelian language. Through editing and harmonisation, Lönnrot introduced new plotlines and characters, altered the language of the poems and standardised their metre. His work involved selection, censorship, moral refinement and creative invention. He also adapted the language of the poems to make them more accessible to Finnish readers of his day.

All in all, Lönnrot helped forge a shared literary language at a time when Finnish was still establishing its place.

What is the Kalevala about?

A painting by Joseph Alanen, The Defence of the Sampo, depicts a boat with rowers battling swirling waves and a monstrous figure descending from the sky, framed by symmetrical decorative patterns.

Joseph Alanen: The Defence of the Sampo, 1910–1912 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Jenni Nurminen

The Kalevala is a sprawling and dramatic cycle of myths and adventures.

It opens with a creation story: The world is born when a wild duck lays its eggs on the knee of the primeval maiden of the air. When the eggs fall and break, their fragments form the earth, sky, sun and moon.

At the heart of the epic are rivalries between the land of Kalevala and the northern realm of Pohjola. Central to their conflict is the Sampo – a mysterious object said to bring prosperity. Often imagined as a magical mill, it is forged by the blacksmith Ilmarinen and later fought over at sea.

The epic features magic, feuds, love, revenge and loss. Yet its themes also feel strikingly modern: it explores, for instance, a woman’s right to choose her spouse (Aino) and the fraught bond between parent and child (Kullervo). Its narrative arc culminates in the symbolic arrival of Christianity, marking the end of the mythic age.

Who are the main characters?

A painting by Akseli Gallen-Kallela, Kullervo Cursing, depicts a shirtless young man standing barefoot in a forest, raising one clenched fist upward, with a dog at his feet.

Akseli Gallen-Kallela: Kullervo Cursing, 1899 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Hannu Pakarinen

The cast of the Kalevala is rich and varied. Some of the main characters are:

  • Väinämöinen, the wise old singer and culture hero whose songs wield magical power
  • Ilmarinen, the master blacksmith who forges the Sampo
  • Lemminkäinen, a reckless adventurer and charismatic womaniser
  • Lemminkäinen’s mother stands out as a powerful figure of selfless devotion, tirelessly aiding her son.
  • Louhi, the formidable matron of Pohjola

Other notable figures include Aino, whose tragic fate sets early events in motion, and Kullervo, a tormented youth driven by revenge.

Kullervo’s dark and psychologically complex story, involving betrayal, violence and tragedy, later fascinated J.R.R. Tolkien. Before writing about Middle-earth, Tolkien studied Finnish and produced his own retelling, The Story of Kullervo.

What happened after the Kalevala was published?

A painting by Wilhelm Ekman depicts Ilmatar as a luminous female figure in a flowing white dress floating across dark, swirling ocean waves with her arms outstretched.

Robert Wilhelm Ekman: Ilmatar, 1860 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Aleks Talve

The Kalevala was embraced as Finland’s and Karelia’s national epic and became a catalyst for cultural and academic activity. It strengthened the status of the Finnish language and contributed to the broader nation-building process that culminated in Finland’s independence in 1917.

Its influence extended beyond literature. The imagery of the Kalevala shaped national romantic art and architecture. Painter Akseli Gallen-Kallela’s depictions of its heroes became iconic, while composer Jean Sibelius drew musical inspiration from its themes.

Why does the Kalevala still matter today?

A stone sculpture by Carl Eneas Sjöstrand depicts a male figure, Lemminkäinen, standing confidently with one hand on his hip, wearing armour and a pointed helmet.

Carl Eneas Sjöstrand: Lemminkäinen, 1872 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Henri Tuomi

The epic continues to inspire artists. In popular culture, it resurfaces in comics and children’s books – including Mauri Kunnas’s Canine Kalevala – as well as in films and music. One of the most recent screen adaptations is Kalevala: The Story of Kullervo, directed by Antti J. Jokinen.

Bands such as the folk ensemble Värttinä and the metal group Amorphis have mined its mythic themes.

Kalevala-inspired names live on in Finnish streets such as Sammonkatu (Sampo Street), neighbourhoods such as Tapiola (Tapio is the god of the forest) and given names such as Aino, Väinö and Ilmari.

Can you read the Kalevala in other languages?

Akseli Gallen-Kallela’s Aino Myth is a three-panel artwork showing a forest courtship, a woman diving into a lake pursued by an older man in a boat and her nude form sitting on lakeside rocks.

Akseli Gallen-Kallela: The Aino Myth, triptych, 1891 (Finnish National Gallery Collection/Ateneum Art Museum)Photo: Finnish National Gallery/Aleks Talve

Yes. The Kalevala has been translated into more than 60 languages, including several English versions, making it accessible to readers around the world.

More information about the Kalevala can be found on the Kalevala Society website.

By Emilia Kangasluoma, February 2026

In Helsinki, major infrastructure upgrades sustain a growing city

Helsinki has earmarked nearly 700 million euros for infrastructure projects in 2026 alone and will invest several billion euros over the next ten years. The plans include major street renovations in the city centre, expanded rail and light rail projects, improved water management and upgrades to parks and public spaces.

“These infrastructure projects are essential, as the city needs modern infrastructure to function,” says Mayor of Helsinki Daniel Sazonov. “More infrastructure works are due to start in the city centre in the coming years than perhaps ever before.”

The investments will enable the city to grow sustainably while responding to trade and industry needs and contributing to the functional everyday life of residents.

Meet Ida Elina, Finland’s modern kantele virtuoso

Everything started with a small act of mischief.

It was the late 1990s in Oulainen, a small town in the North Ostrobothnia region of Finland, when 12-year-old Päivi Kujanen decided to irritate her younger sister. Her sister played the five-string kantele, a traditional zither and Finland’s national instrument, which Päivi dismissed as unbearably dull.

One day, the girls’ uncle arrived with a find from a local auction: a large, 30-string kantele. Which sister would want to try it?

“I was about to say no when I realised that even a little tease counts,” Kujanen says with a laugh.

However, the instrument soon captivated her, and she couldn’t put it down.

“I had already become fascinated. It was something new, something different,” Kujanen says.

As the only kantele player in her home town, she found it easy and motivating to become the best. Once she received her first concert kantele and began proper lessons, the ambition crystallised.

“From the age of 15, my biggest dream was to become a kantele artist.”

Reinventing Finland’s national instrument

Video: Nina Karlsson and Annukka Pakarinen

Today, Kujanen, better known by her stage name Ida Elina, is one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary kantele music in Finland and abroad. Her signature electric kantele blends the delicate timbre of the instrument with the energy of modern pop and rock.

The kantele, or kannel, has a history stretching back more than 1,000 years. It features throughout Finnish folklore and the Kalevala, Finland’s and Karelia’s national epic, compiled in the 19th century, in which the hero Väinämöinen enchants listeners with the kantele’s sound.

“The kantele has an unusual tone which is a mix of guitar, harp, piano and a rich bass line,” Kujanen says. “It’s incredibly versatile.”

But finding her own sound took time. As a musically gifted child, she advanced quickly at first. The 30-string instrument opened an entirely new universe beyond the simple five-string.

“I had a strong preconception of the instrument. But the sound of the larger kantele stunned me. I thought, ‘Wow – you can make real music with this.’ It was a mind-blowing moment.”

A crisis, a turning point and Billie Jean

A close-up shows Päivi Kujanen’s hands playing a 30-string kantele, highlighting the strings, tuning pins and contrasting light and dark wooden body.

Päivi Kujanen has four custom-built concert kanteles with 40 strings and lever systems that allow swift key changes. Her kanteles are unique: there are no other kanteles like them in the world.

Kujanen’s path wavered when she failed to secure a place in the performance programme at the Sibelius Academy, Finland’s highest institute of music, named after the nation’s most famous composer, Jean Sibelius. Studying classical kantele in the music education department, she realised it wasn’t quite her world.

During an exchange year in Japan in 2009, she found the revelation she needed.

“I left Finland feeling lost. I even prayed that if something transformative happened in Japan, I’d continue playing. Otherwise, I’d quit.”

Living in Sapporo, she stumbled across a video of someone playing Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean on the kantele.

“I immediately thought, ‘Could you really play popular music on this instrument?’”

From that moment forward, she began forging her own path.

“Even my mum didn’t believe anything would come of it. Becoming an artist required enormous courage.”

New horizons: film scores and Finnish myth

Päivi Kujanen smiles holding her concert kantele at the Alvar Aalto Studio in Helsinki.

Päivi Kujanen performs frequently in Finland but also internationally. She has been invited to appear at events such as Finland’s Independence Day reception, hosted by the President.

Today, Kujanen not only performs but composes extensively. Her recent major project, Under the Northern Skies, is a short film retelling the adventures of Lemminkäinen, a handsome and short-tempered young man from Finnish mythology.

“When I write songs, I often draw from my own life. But with this film, the inspiration naturally came from the Kalevala.”

Kujanen coproduced the film and composed its entire score, with the script constructed around her music. The film has travelled widely on the international festival circuit and collected a string of awards.

It feels particularly fitting, as the kantele occupies a central position in the Kalevala. And in Päivi Kujanen’s life, too.

By Emilia Kangasluoma, photos by Annukka Pakarinen, February 2026