Finnish artist Emma Sarpaniemi’s self-portraits inspire emotions

We all could use a little playfulness and a splash of colour in these times, Emma Sarpaniemi thinks.

The Finnish photographer is in high demand. Her career took off after the prestigious Les Rencontres d’Arles photography festival in France in 2023. Since then, she has held multiple solo shows and group exhibitions across Europe, and the pace keeps accelerating.

When asked about what makes her work resonate right now, she smiles and pauses for thought.

“I believe my work provides the kind of delight and comfort that people need nowadays, among all the unrest, climate change and so on,” she says. “People want to feel hope.”

Her whimsical self-portraits get people’s attention. She poses atop a playground slide in a clown costume, or in the studio with a giant stuffed bug strapped to her back. Beneath the colour, there’s always a deeper meaning.

Sarpaniemi began making self-portraits as a way of exploring her identity while studying at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague.

“I wanted to understand myself and the world around me better,” she says. “Considering the themes I often work with – identity, femininity and gender roles – it felt very natural to use myself as a subject.”

Between the real and the imagined

Emma Sarpaniemi lays on her stomach in snow, playing with a toy for infants. She wears a yellow, orange and red dress.

Emma Sarpaniemi: The Crunch of an Apple Being Bitten Echoes Across the Blue Ocean (2024)

Sarpaniemi shoots on film, and she often leaves the shutter release cable visible in the photo as a reminder that she is in control of her own image.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the relationship between the photographer and her subject, about the positions of power,” she says. “How do you photograph a person honestly and with authenticity, not just show what they represent?”

Even when she’s dressed in costumes and exploring various roles, there is always a part of her true self present in her photographs.

“Part of it is real and part is imagined,” she says. “I don’t create an alter ego for my photographs. It’s important to me that I recognise myself in my work. The gaze must always be honest.”

Creating self-portraits requires a lot of emotional work and processing, says Sarpaniemi. She is a productive artist but highlights she needs time to reflect on her work.

“With self-portraits, you need some distance before you are really able to look at them, truly accept them,” she says. “Sometimes it can take months before I can assess some photos with the necessary distance, with enough objectivity.”

Deeper and rawer than selfies

A woman, Emma Sarpaniemi, sits on a small playground slide at night.

Emma Sarpaniemi: Self-portrait as a Playground Pirate (2024)

The main elements of her work – the honesty, the gaze and the distance – also set self-portraits apart from the endless stream of selfies.

Sarpaniemi admits she has a “love-hate relationship” with social media. She values the connections and visibility it offers, but is wary of its performative nature.

“In the selfie culture, you try to present yourself at your best,” she says. “I don’t choose my photos based on how gorgeous I look in them, that’s not the point. I may even choose photos in which I don’t like the way I look.”

Scrolling through others’ perfect selfies, she notes, can easily spark insecurity and pressure to look the same. Self-portraits, however, are not meant to trigger the same kind of comparison.

For Sarpaniemi, self-portraits are more about what’s beneath the surface, the emotions and the underlying context.

“Self-portraits are much deeper and rawer,” she says. “Compared to selfies, they require a lot more vulnerability. When I look at self-portraits, I don’t think that I should look like that. I think, wow, what a courageous image, how brave it is to put yourself out there like this and how many layers it has and history.”

Still, not everyone sees the difference. Some dismiss self-portraits as self-centred – or even an easy way out, since we all have cameras on our phones and take pictures of ourselves all the time.

“I don’t believe that taking self-portraits is narcissistic,” she says. “You can be the stage, the mirror for others to look into.”

The importance of just being Emma

Right now, Sarpaniemi is searching for balance between making time to create new work and handling the demands of her rising career. The art world can be rewarding, but it is also famously unpredictable.

“I’m incredibly grateful for all my achievements and the opportunities I’ve gotten,” she says. “But at the same time, they bring an enormous pressure.”

After Sarpaniemi’s career took off, she said yes to everything, taking part in solo and group exhibitions across Europe, going to every festival where her work was shown. At the same time, she was creating new pieces at breakneck speed and managing the heavy administrative load of an artist.

She noticed the pace was getting too intense, and took a proper break to disconnect entirely from her work and regain her creativity.

“I’ve tried to let go of constantly being productive and learn healthier working habits,” she says. “As an artist, you don’t have set working hours, but I aim to set limits. If I start working at seven thirty in the morning, I can stop at five. I don’t have to keep pushing through the night.”

The busy years have taught her the importance of being “just Emma,” not Emma the celebrated artist or the Emma the audience sees in the photographs, but just herself, without any roles or responsibilities.

“Because I make self-portraits, people often think that I enjoy being in the spotlight, but actually I’m a very private person,” she says with a smile.

Receiving attention and praise is difficult for her, but sparking emotions in others is what makes creating art worthwhile.

“Some time ago, I was waiting at a traffic light on my bicycle, and a passer-by said they admired my work,” she says. “It was a lovely moment, to discover what you do is meaningful for others as well.”

By Lotta Heikkeri; photos by Emma Sarpaniemi

Riverbank comes alive with music, art and theatre in Turku, Finland

Arts & culture Architecture

Finland’s former capital, Turku, has been a hotbed of culture since the 13th century, growing up around the River Aura. Its riverbank district, billed as the Cultural Waterfront, is more vibrant than ever, with two major launches in late October 2026.

The jewel in the crown is the Turku Music Centre Fuuga. This state-of-the-art multi-genre venue is nestled between the newly renovated, city-owned WAM Museum of Contemporary Art and the City Theatre. Between them, the three neighbouring cultural institutions boast a half-dozen event locations with a combined capacity of 3,000, as well as five places to enjoy a meal or a drink.

Together, they form a magnet for culture-loving locals and visitors, says Fuuga director Samppa Rinne.

“People can come in without a ticket and experience all the shapes and moods,” he says. “They can go up to the rooftop terrace and see an almost 360-degree view including Turku’s castle and cathedral, any time until late evening – it’s amazing.”

Fuuga is open to the public almost every day of the year. “The threshold to come in is very low, but the quality is really high,” says Rinne. “And if somebody comes here for a show, I hope they go to see a WAM exhibition, too. They have a nice restaurant there, too. Altogether, it’s a beautiful part of the riverside.”

The 90-million-euro music centre and the theatre, which are under the same management and connected underground, plan to team up for musicals and operas – and perhaps shows tying in thematically with WAM exhibitions.

A home for all music

An aerial architectural rendering of a riverside in the centre of the city of Turku, with a modern concert hall in the centre of the image.

Turku is a vibrant city located in southwestern Finland. It is home to about 210,000 people.Architectural rendering: PES-Architects

Fuuga is the centrepiece of this new cultural hub, and its main engine is the Turku Philharmonic Orchestra (TPO), one of the world’s oldest continuously operating orchestras.

“We started in 1790, so when Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven were composing their masterpieces, we played them as contemporary works,” says CEO Nikke Isomöttönen. Finnish national composer Jean Sibelius also frequently conducted the ensemble.

Percussionists in an orchestra, with timpani in the foreground.

The Turku Philharmonic Orchestra was founded in 1790.Photo: Jussi Virkkumaa / City of Turku

The TPO doesn’t rest on its laurels, though.

“Since we’re the only professional symphony orchestra in Southwest Finland, we have a responsibility to play for as wide a range of people as possible,” says Isomöttönen. “Fuuga is a home for all music. Besides our symphonic programme, we play chamber music, opera projects, crossover productions with pop stars, and film screenings. And our chief conductor, John Storgård, is very active in bringing the audience contemporary pieces.”

Sound that envelops you

An architectural rendering showing a modern, light-coloured concert hall, with an orchestra on stage and a full audience.

Fuuga’s main concert hall seats 1,300 people, while the smaller Ateljee Hall seats approximately 300.Architectural rendering: PES-Architects

The TPO’s first season at Fuuga features commissioned premieres by three women composers: Ukraine’s Victoria Polevá and Finland’s Minna Leinonen and Outi Tarkiainen. Tarkiainen’s piece highlights Sámi yoik singing. (The Sámi are the only recognised Indigenous People in the EU area.)

The philharmonic also shares a bill with the Turku Jazz Orchestra and pianist Iiro Rantala, followed by several concerts with Swedish pop veteran Tomas Ledin. For events with amplified instruments, the sound in Fuuga’s concert halls can be adjusted using acoustic curtains.

“The key to Fuuga’s success is its acoustics,” says Isomöttönen. “It’s really a top world-class hall, with acoustic design as the first priority. The concept is to create a sound that envelops you, bringing the music close to the listener.”

Designed by renowned Brussels-based acoustician Eckhard Kahle along with Finnish experts, the 1,300-seat main hall’s sound “has power, but doesn’t get noisy,” says Isomöttönen.

That will be put to the test on May 1, 2027, when the legendary Berlin Philharmonic performs its annual Europakonzert from Fuuga for a worldwide TV and streaming audience.

Crucial to the main hall’s sound are the pine stage and curved spruce acoustic panels made by a local family firm. Meanwhile, the intimate Ateljee Hall, with a capacity of approximately 300, features a wide range of events including pop, indie rock and jazz gigs.

A great space for great exhibitions

An interior view of a building with white walls and distinctive rows of windows.

WAM opened in 1967 as the Wäinö Aaltonen Museum but has rebranded as the WAM Museum of Contemporary Art.Photo: Raakkel Närhi / WAM

Fuuga, with its distinctive curved copper façade, was designed by Tuomas Silvennoinen of PES-Architects, creator of many landmark buildings in Finland, China and Vietnam. It’s built to complement its neighbours, including WAM.

WAM opened in 1967 as the Wäinö Aaltonen Museum, honouring one of Finland’s best-known sculptors, responsible for landmark statues in Turku and other cities.

“We decided to rebrand it as the WAM Museum of Contemporary Art because it’s not primarily dedicated to Aaltonen,” explains chief curator Silja Lehtonen.

Following a 16-million-euro, two-year renovation, the museum has more space, including the new WAMx multipurpose studio and event space and an underground exhibition space. The inaugural exhibition is the first Nordic show by Canadian media artist Sabrina Ratté (through April 2027).

A colourful artwork on a screen, surrounded by darkness.

Interactive video installations by Canadian artist Sabrina Ratté fill WAM. (Pictured here is Pharmakon, 2025, an interactive installation at Eisode in Montreal.)Photo: Sabrina Ratté

“These immersive, interactive video installations are visually very rich,” says Lehtonen, mentioning “lots of glimmering lights and mirrors and reflections all over the exhibition space, as well as a projection on the building’s façade.”

Returning are two features beloved by locals: an aquarium and a courtyard fountain.

“This is, in our opinion, the greatest exhibition space in Finland,” she adds. “But we’re obviously biased!”

By Wif Stenger, October 2026

Finnish Futuro: the UFO-shaped house that landed around the world

Arts & culture Design

It looks as if a flying saucer has landed in the middle of Helsinki – more specifically, among the carefully laid paths and climbing plants of the Kaisaniemi Botanic Garden.

The pale structure is eight metres across. A set of stairs folds down like the boarding steps of an aircraft. Inside, the elliptical building even smells faintly of plastic, which is hardly surprising: there are roughly 4,000 kilograms (8,800 pounds) of reinforced plastic surrounding us.

Two rounded windows punctuate the curved shell of the Futuro, reflecting trees and the surrounding grounds in their tinted acrylic plastic.

This new Futuro, unveiled at Helsinki Design Week in 2026, was made using the original moulds acquired by Dutch-American designer Jan van Dijs. It is the first Futuro built since 1978 and an exact replica of Suuronen’s original design.

This is a brand-new Futuro, the first one built in decades, recreated using the original moulds. Fewer than 100 of these unusual Finnish structures exist worldwide.

A ski cabin from the future

A Futuro house with dark oval windows stands on display at Helsinki’s Stockmann department store, surrounded by small trees, flower decorations and crowds of shoppers.

A glimpse of the future in 1969: a Futuro on display at Helsinki’s Stockmann department store.Photo: Ritva Bäckman / Finnish Heritage Agency

The story of the Futuro began when a friend of Finnish architect Matti Suuronen asked him to design a ski cabin that could be placed in difficult terrain.

The request made perfect sense in Finland, where skiing is a national pastime and ski trails often lead into remote landscapes.

The cabin needed to be easy to transport, quick to assemble and fast to heat. Suuronen’s solution was radical. The house was manufactured in sections at a factory, transported to its destination and assembled on site. It was even light enough to be moved by helicopter. The idea was that homes could be mass-produced, almost like cars.

Flower beds and winding paths in a landscaped garden are visible through one of the distinctive oval windows of a Futuro house.

Part ski lodge, part summer cottage, part UFO. Futuros have served many purposes around the world, often equipped with all the comforts of home.

In the late 1960s, these were revolutionary ideas.

The era was defined by faith in technology and the future. Space exploration captured imaginations around the world, and many people genuinely believed flying cars were just around the corner.

Finnish architecture, meanwhile, was strongly influenced by functionalism – the idea that design should first and foremost solve practical problems. The Futuro combined both visions: practical engineering wrapped in a futuristic shell.

When the world fell in love with a UFO

A yellow Futuro No. 001 stands on supports behind EMMA – Espoo Museum of Modern Art – with oval windows and a red staircase leading to its entrance.

The yellow Futuro No. 001, manufactured in 1968, now rests behind the Espoo Museum of Modern Art, near Helsinki.

The first Futuro was unveiled in the spring of 1968.

Known as Futuro No. 000, it was painted light blue and placed at a private ski slope in southern Finland. The second, a yellow model numbered 001, became an extension to a summer cottage in Hirvensalmi, near the eastern Finnish city of Mikkeli.

Despite its compact size, the Futuro was fully equipped. Inside were six convertible seats, sleeping alcoves for two people, a fireplace, a kitchen and a bathroom.

The Futuro’s compact interior features a curved kitchen counter with a stainless-steel sink, yellow walls, red structural details and a round window.

Despite its compact size, the Futuro included all the essentials for a weekend getaway, with a small kitchen, sleeping area, fireplace and toilet built into its futuristic interior.

It was the third Futuro, however, that captured international attention.

In autumn 1968, a yellow Futuro was displayed at a Finnish export exhibition in London on the deck of a ship moored on the River Thames. Visitors were fascinated. In the months that followed, manufacturer Polykem received more than 400 inquiries about production licences.

A Finnish export unlike any other

The Futuro’s bright interior has a red floor, curved white wall panels and three large oval windows showing trees and buildings outside, while sculptural white chairs are upholstered in striped red Marimekko textiles.

The Futuro’s interior features textiles by Finnish design brand Marimekko as part of its 2026 Helsinki Design Week installation.

Visitors queued to see the new Futuro during Helsinki Design Week.

Inside, Marimekko textiles and carefully chosen lighting make the compact interior surprisingly cosy. It feels less like a spaceship than a small, comfortable retreat.

Between 1968 and 1978, 20 Futuros were manufactured in Finland, 12 of them for export. Production licences were sold to 25 countries, and manufacturing began in ten of them.

An aerial view of the Kaisaniemi Botanic Garden shows its glasshouses and landscaped gardens among dense trees, with a large historic building and the white UFO-shaped Futuro positioned on the open lawn.

In autumn 2026, visitors could see the new Futuro at the Kaisaniemi Botanic Garden. Its final destination has yet to be announced.

The Futuro was a highly unusual Finnish export. At a time when Finland was known mainly for timber, paper products and functionalist architecture, the Futuro offered a radically different vision of Finnish design.

In total, fewer than 100 Futuros were produced worldwide.

Suuronen continued experimenting with reinforced plastic and designed an entire family of futuristic structures known as the Casa Finlandia series. The best-known after the Futuro was the Venturo.

A futuristic house meets the oil crisis

Bright yellow moulded seats with oval white panels stand against the curved red-orange walls of a Futuro interior, with a polished dark floor and a row of oval windows.

Over the decades, Futuro has found a second life in pop culture, appearing in music videos, adverts, TV and museums around the world. Many recognise the UFO-shaped building without knowing it is a Finnish design classic.

Despite the international attention, the Futuro never became a commercial success.

For many people it was simply too unusual and too expensive.

Then came the oil crisis of 1973. As oil prices soared, producing large plastic structures became far less attractive. The Futuro’s dreams of global expansion faded.

Yet the story did not end there.

Fewer than 70 Futuros are still known to survive. They can be found across Europe and in the US, Australia, New Zealand and Japan. Taiwan even has an entire village inspired by the Futuro concept.

Some houses were demolished. Others were abandoned and deteriorated.

Bright red folding steps lead up to a yellow Futuro house, with yellow support struts and a metal foot visible beneath the structure.

The surviving Futuro houses in Finland can be found in Espoo, Åland, Merimasku, Pöytyä and Kauhava.

Today, the Futuro is one of the best-known examples of Finnish futuristic design and a sought-after architectural collectible. It has appeared in music videos, advertisements, television programmes and museum exhibitions around the world. Many people recognise the UFO-shaped structure without realising it originated in Finland.

At least five Futuros remain in Finland. One can be found at the Espoo Museum of Modern Art, just west of Helsinki. The others are in private ownership.

So if you happen to encounter an elliptical UFO somewhere in the world, look twice: you may be looking at a piece of Finnish design history.

Futuro in brief

Designed by Finnish architect Matti Suuronen (1933–2013), the Futuro is a prefabricated house that embodies the future-oriented optimism of the 1960s.

The original colour options were white, yellow and light blue.

Constructed from fibreglass-reinforced polyester plastic, the house measures eight metres (26 feet) in diameter and four metres (13 feet) in height, with a floor area of 25 square metres (270 square feet).

The ellipse motif appears throughout the design: windows, light fittings, electrical outlets and even door handles repeat the same rounded shape.

By Emilia Kangasluoma, October 2026; photos by Emilia Kangasluoma unless otherwise noted

This article is partially based on information from Marko Home and Mika Taanila’s book Futuro: Tomorrow’s House from Yesterday (Desura, 2002).

Designing happiness: Finnish products that help people thrive

Life & society Design

Rain, check!

What? Kidswear by Reima

How? Founded in 1944, Reima has built their reputation on clothing that supports children’s mobility and outdoor play. The focus on functionality means waterproof fabrics, breathable materials and durable construction. This reflects a broader Nordic ethos: children should be free to explore, whatever the weather. In Finland, everyday wellbeing is often traced back to time spent outdoors, starting from early childhood.

Walk past any kindergarten in Finland on a rainy day, and you’ll see small figures in waterproof clothing or splash gear jumping in puddles and playing in the mud.

Someone ordered a smile?

Several small delivery robots move down a curved sidewalk.

Photo: Aivan

What? Delivery robots designed by Aivan

How? Starship’s grocery delivery robots are a prime example of design that spreads joy. Rolling along Finnish sidewalks, they bring groceries straight to people’s doorsteps. Unlike some robots that can feel cold or intimidating, these ones spark delight: when they were first introduced, people snapped photos of the friendly-looking machines. To this day, pedestrians still stop to help if one gets stuck or hesitates at a busy crossing.

According to the Finnish design agency Aivan, social acceptance was a key driver in the design of the robots. They are intentionally made to look non-threatening. Their compact, rounded form and subtle expressions make them feel more like helpful companions than machines.

Child’s play

Photo: Wiitta

What? Sled and slider

How? A sled (pulkka in Finnish) or snow slider (liukuri) is more than just a plastic toy – it’s a ticket to winter fun. Found in nearly every Finnish home, these simple items turn snowy days into opportunities for movement, play and shared happiness, transforming even the smallest hill into an amusement park. And not just that: On snowy winter days, a sled pulled by a guardian is the go-to mode of transport to kindergarten for anyone under six in Finland.

For generations Finnish winter play has been shaped by classic pulkka, a simple plastic sled. Its design is straightforward, durable and affordable – qualities that reflect the Finnish belief that good design should be accessible and enhance everyday life.

Showing true colours

A woman in a Marimekko print dress lies on her side on the floor, lifting one leg.

Photo: Marimekko

What? Lifestyle brand Marimekko

How? Since 1951, Finnish design powerhouse Marimekko has been on a mission to bring colour and cheer to everyday life with bold prints and vibrant palettes, in both clothing and homeware. Founder Armi Ratia envisioned a brand that would celebrate individuality, optimism and freedom.

In a time when the norm was tight, form-fitting clothing for women, Marimekko introduced loose-fitting, eye-catching dresses that offered freedom of movement and expression. This wasn’t just fashion. It was a statement of liberation, especially for women stepping into new roles in society. Today, Marimekko’s bold patterns and colours are combined with Nordic minimalism in everything from tableware to textiles.

Joy on wheels

A high-tech bicycle is on an urban street. A person rests her foot on the bike.

Photo: Helkama

What? Jopo bicycle

How? Jopo, short for jokaisen polkupyörä (everyone’s bicycle) was introduced in 1965 by Finnish company Helkama as a response to the growing need for a practical, everyday bicycle. It marked a radical departure from traditional bike design. With its adjustable frame, single-speed simplicity and cheerful colours, it was built to be shared, enjoyed and embraced by all ages.

Jopo bikes are manufactured in Hanko, Finland’s southernmost city, known for its sunshine. Over the decades, Jopo has become a symbol of Finnish egalitarianism and urban cheerfulness – a true everyday design icon. It remains an all-time favourite among tweens and teens, with colorful bikes lining schoolyards across the country.

Can happiness be designed?

A woman, Anniina Koivu, poses in the sunshine.

Photo: Piercarlo Quecchia

This is the question curator Anniina Koivu set out to explore in Designing Happiness, an exhibition that premiered at Helsinki Design Week, the largest design and architecture festival in the Nordic countries.

“Happiness is difficult to define. It’s something between the deeply personal and the collective,” says Koivu.

The exhibition examines how design can trigger key hormones behind the feeling of happiness: the so-called “happiness cocktail” of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin and endorphins.

So, what makes Finns top the World Happiness Report year after year? Koivu, who was born in Finland, raised in Germany, and now lives in Switzerland and Italy, has some ideas:

“In Finland, there’s a certain calmness, appreciation and acceptance of things as they are, rather than a constant drive to change them.

“I like to think it’s connected to our relationship with nature – accepting that we don’t need to dominate or master it. It’s about understanding your place as part of something bigger, whether that’s society, nature or the universe.”

By Taina Ahtela, ThisisFINLAND Magazine

Turku Castle has stood through 700 years of Finnish history

Life & society History

In southwestern Finland, the city of Turku holds some grand historic structures, including a castle that counts itself among the nation’s oldest buildings. An episode of Monocle Radio’s The Urbanist explores the history of Turku Castle, from its beginnings in the 1280s to its later life as a museum.

Construction began when Finland was part of the Kingdom of Sweden, and the castle grew from a small, partly wooden fortress into a formidable stone castle and, in the 16th century, a grand Renaissance residence.

The castle later found itself at the centre of European power struggles when Duke John, later King John III of Sweden, brought his new wife, Catherine Jagiellon of Poland, to Turku. John’s older brother, King Eric XIV of Sweden, grew suspicious of his alliance with Poland and, in 1563, sent troops to besiege Turku Castle. After heavy bombardment, John and Catherine surrendered and were imprisoned. Five years later, the tables turned: John led a successful rebellion against Eric, deposed him and brought him to Turku Castle as a prisoner in 1570.

In 1614, a fire broke out in the kitchen while King Gustav II Adolf was visiting the castle, destroying much of the interiors. The castle subsequently served as a storehouse and barracks, while its outer bailey was converted into a prison in the 19th century. The main castle was severely damaged during bombings in 1941, and restoration work was completed in 1961. Today, Turku Castle operates as a museum and remains one of the city’s major historical landmarks.

Beats beneath the surface: Inside Helsinki’s underground rave scene

Arts & culture Music

Ask five people what a rave is, and you’ll likely get five different answers. But at its core, rave culture centres on music, dancing and a shared love for this counterculture with an ethos of peace, love, unity and respect (PLUR).

DJ Pixi, a longtime rave organiser and performer, says the vibe changes depending on the setting. Indoors, you are edging closer to club territory. Outdoors, it’s all about culture and community.

Step inside Helsinki’s underground rave scene.

If you’re new, you’ll need a tip from a friend or a lucky scroll on social media. Locations are whispered, not posted, though the occasional flyer may appear if you know where to look.

For those interested in exploring the scene, start by joining local music groups or Helsinki-based events pages on social media. Sometimes, chatting with strangers or DJs after club nights can open doors, too.

Trees and techno

A woman performs with glowing LED props that form bright blue and white patterns swirling through the darkness at an outdoor rave in Helsinki.

The bass shakes the trees as Ada Kontio works the beat like magic, spinning lights and pulling everyone into the heart of the party.

Summer in Helsinki means daylight that stretches almost all through the night. Midnight means nothing as people peel off the main road – and they’re not just out for a stroll. On the eastern edge of the city, at Vuosaari Limestone Quarry, people of every stripe gather with one goal: to dance summer into existence.

The city’s forests transform into a fairy tale, but with a soundtrack that actually slaps. Ada Kontio, a seasoned raver, compares outdoor raves to tumbling down Alice’s rabbit hole: “Here, you can truly be yourself and dance however you want, without judgment. You can make a new friend just by smiling and dancing together.” Weirdness is celebrated here, just as it is in Wonderland.

Coloured lights shine through dense forest beside a small body of water, where people gather at an outdoor rave in Helsinki at night.

Every rave is made by the people who show up, by their shared respect for the space and their mission to make everyone feel at home.

The decks are open, meaning anyone brave enough can step up and play. There’s no hierarchy here. DJ Pixi is inspired by that unity: “What I see in my sets is that everyone is in it together – it’s not just me as the DJ and them as the audience; we’re all together, and that’s the feeling that makes me continue doing what I do.”

A DJ wearing white sunglasses mixes music on a controller as colourful streaks of light blur across the crowded dance floor at an underground rave.

DJ Pixi’s mission? To spark endless adrenaline and excitement, bouncing her own passion straight back into the crowd.

The night refuses to end as hundreds gather at the quarry. Electronic beats clash and mingle with the hush of Finnish nature, creating a surreal world ravers want to respect.

Morning comes, but the beat goes on as friends and strangers tidy up together.

Rules for raving right?

Revellers sit and stand around a fire in a wooded clearing at night, illuminated by orange flames and blue and green lighting from a nearby outdoor music setup.

Campfires, lights and natural surroundings are common features of outdoor rave gatherings in Finland during the summer months.

Angel Girls, a DJ duo who wish to be quoted together, say the setting plays a major role when it comes to raves. “In the middle of the forest, people don’t see what’s going on, so you can just go there and be at peace in the woods.”

But that freedom and peace? It doesn’t just happen. Ravers build their own safe haven, one good deed at a time. Angel Girls were named after their actions: “Our friends gave us the name. At some point, they started calling us ‘The Angel Girls’ – I guess because we always had all the essentials with us. We’d hand out water, gum and snacks to people.”

Even though the scene is welcoming, there are some things to keep in mind. Angel Girls say that as long as you follow the etiquette and are kind, it’s easy to get involved. Whether you have never raved before or are a regular, everyone is invited onto the dancefloor. But what etiquette, exactly?

It’s simple, really. As DJ Pixi puts it: “There’s an unspoken rule that you don’t make anyone uncomfortable – people just get it without needing to talk about it. Everyone can be themselves and come as they are, and no one is judged for what they’re like, because raves are a place where a judgmental atmosphere isn’t welcome.”

So, with etiquette in mind, step into the woods or a city park after dark. Follow the bass and you might just stumble into a whole new world, where the dance floor greets you with open arms and aux cords.

By Céilidhe Becker, September 2026
Photos and video by Sami Heiskanen

How Finland’s free school lunches became part of the national identity

Life & society Education

When school meals are discussed in Finland, the conversation often carries a whiff of enlightened civic virtue and moral certainty. Any sensible adult is expected to have just one view: school meals are worth supporting. Full stop.

Free school meals became available to all elementary school students in Finland in 1948. In the early years, kids’ favorite school lunches in Helsinki included meat soup and semolina porridge, according to Ritva Kylli’s book on Finnish food history.

The most hated dish was thin, milk-based macaroni porridge. At the time, macaroni was too exotic an ingredient for Finns, and it was favored in institutional cafeterias because preparing it was much easier than peeling potatoes.

Macaroni’s exotic aura, meanwhile, is long gone. On offer now are spaghetti, lasagna, penne casserole, marry me pasta and Palermo pasta, now something of a Finnish school-cafeteria classic. The recipe was created for a 1998 school food competition by Sirkka Anttonen, the kitchen manager at Kärpänen School in Lahti. In a 2023 Helsingin Sanomat article, Anttonen said she was looking for a name for the dish, turned to a map of Italy, and happened upon Palermo.

School meals were once an effective weapon against poverty and malnutrition in Finland, too. When children’s stomachs aren’t growling, learning outcomes improve, as well.

The full story by Virpi Salmi is featured on Kotona.com, a Finnish lifestyle site covering homes, design, crafts and everyday living in Finland. (Kotona means “at home” in Finnish.)

How a Finnish music fest creates a singular sense of community

Arts & culture Classical music

After driving for several hours along a road lined with forests and lakes, you wouldn’t expect to wind up at one of the world’s leading classical music festivals. Yet every July, Kuhmo becomes the international capital of chamber music for two weeks.

“The contrast is huge,” says festival volunteer Matti-Jussi Pollari, a former director of the Kuhmo Arts Centre. “We are by the lake, surrounded by forest. And then we have this amazing concert hall.”

Kuhmo Chamber Music Festival typically hosts about 60 ticketed concerts, as well as a couple dozen free events. The concerts attract a total of more than 7,000 unique attendees and sell a total of about 20,000 tickets. Venues include the Kuhmo Arts Centre, the local church and the village school.

Visit the friendly atmosphere of Kuhmo Chamber Music Festival with our video.
Video: Erika Benke/ThisisFINLAND

The Kuhmo Arts Centre, a striking building with a 668-seat performance hall built from local pine and stone, is the heart of the festival. “It’s one of the best halls I’ve ever played in,” says violinist Sergey Malov, widely known for his versatility, who keeps returning to Kuhmo year after year. “It may be my very favourite hall in the world. It has a wonderful look and perfect acoustics.”

Kuhmo may be famous for world-class chamber music, but the magic also extends off-stage. Musicians and audiences become neighbours. “We haven’t got much hotel capacity in Kuhmo,” says Pollari. “Most artists and visitors rent cottages or spaces in people’s homes.”

Two seated people shake hands with a standing visitor at an outdoor café table shaded by an awning.

Violist Mira Maranta (left) and cellist Nigel Thean of the Modulor Quartet chat with a festival visitor at a café in Kuhmo.

This arrangement is crucial to understanding how the festival has become part of everyday life in Kuhmo. Locals meet musicians everywhere they go, and musicians report running into members of the audience at the supermarket, mingling with them at cafés and sitting next to each other in restaurants.

“Everybody seems to be in it together,” says Beatrice Harmon, a violinist in the Modulor Quartet, which came to Kuhmo from Switzerland to play at several concerts. “When we see each other in the street, we greet each other. We go to the same shops as the audience members, and we go to the sauna with all the musicians – a Finnish experience that we haven’t got in Switzerland.”

Modular’s cellist, Nigel Thean, agrees. “We arrived two days ago, but I already feel like part of the community.”

Two people swim in a calm lake bordered by a forest under a clear sky.

Visiting musicians appreciate the possibility of going for a swim in the lake – and there is a dock conveniently located behind the concert hall.

Malov has fully immersed himself in the Finnish experience. “Fifteen minutes before the opening concert of the festival, I had a dip in the lake,” he says with a mischievous smile. “That could not happen in New York or London.”

Visitors feel it, too. Eberhard from Germany has attended the Kuhmo Festival 12 times since 1999. “I’ve just been to the supermarket and bumped into a man who checks the tickets at the concert hall,” he says. “He said, ‘Welcome to Kuhmo, I remember you!’”

That sense of familiarity is central to Kuhmo’s identity. For Kuhmo Chamber Music Festival artistic director Minna Pensola, those everyday encounters break down barriers between performers and audiences. “The threshold to comment on what happens on the stage is really low,” she says. “It has to do with the fact that we go around and mingle, and have equal access to concert halls, cafés, restaurants and lakes.”

A still lake glows orange, reflecting the sunset while the trees on the shore appear as silhouettes.

During the long days of summer, Kuhmo experiences magical “white nights,” with twilight for a few hours, but not complete darkness.

I experienced that sense of belonging for myself. The first question I was asked after entering a sauna in Kuhmo wasn’t about where I came from. It was, “What instrument do you play?” I had to admit that I didn’t play anything. Nobody seemed to mind, and I still felt like a welcome part of the group.

I left Kuhmo thinking that its greatest feat, and part of what makes it so unique, is what happens in between the concerts. World-famous musicians, festival staff and concertgoers aren’t separate groups – they all belong to the same community.

Text, photos and video by Erika Benke, September 2026

Tag: English