The Finland issue by Mark O'Sullivan

«Puhumatta para !»

UNDER THE INFLUENCE THE FINLAND ISSUE - WINTER 2008/09 Publisher

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Pihla Hintikka Oliver Farry Bryony Harris MGD Lahiffe Sandrine Goncalvès Benoît Masbonson Ayako Iijima Katie Burnett Amanda Ericsson -3Mark O’Sullivan Edward Lane Susan Connie Marsh Raul Diaz Hanna-Kaisa Korolainen Christophe Pérez Sanna Saastamoinen-Barrois Jussi Saastamoinen Jeremy Barrois Emanuele Fontanesi

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ISSN - 1759-121X Printed in Poland

EDITORIAL Finnish fashion pioneer Ritta Immonen’s passing away last august came after our decision to explore Finland as the inspiration behind the winter issue of Under the Influence. We felt it was only right to touch upon her role in Finnish fashion, the collaborations the brand she cofounded continues to nurture with local designers and artists, as well as prominent aspects of the country’s history, culture and mindset.

Only thirty two years before the birth of Nokia, in eighteen thirty five, the undoubtedly influential first edition of the Kalevala was compiled and edited by Elias Lönnrot from ancient folk and oral poetry he had collected throughout Finland and Karelia, thus creating Finland’s definitive epic. This fascinating poem crafted around the mysteries of nature, the origin of all things that be, the enigmas of human tears, embodies the entire wisdom and accumulated experience of a nation. The Kalevala had a deep everlasting impact in bolstering the Finn’s confidence and faith in the possibilities of their language and culture, even more so than the Beowulf song in the anglo-saxon countries, the founding act of finnish identity as well as the start of a national awakening process known as the Karelianism vogue. Nokia might just be the notch of pride that topped it all.

Indeed, the “grand old lady’s” Marimekko brand helped to bring “national” design to a worldwide audience through her boldly patterned cotton clothes - Spring/summer 09 will see the premiere of British based, half Finnish illustrator Sanna Annukka’s collection for the brand. Another example of the vitality of the brand is controversial Finnish artist Miina Äkkijyrkkä’s successful ongoing collaboration with Marimekko to bring her work to a wider audience.

With an ever increasing surface of a seven square kilometers a year growing rate and an extreme and often unforgiving climate, it is no wonder nature has such a great impact on every aspect of the people’s shape of mind and spirit. Nature is there, it is strong. It IS. The incessant brightness of the summer light and contrasting perpetual darkness of the cold winter experienced in the far north is as unforgiving as omnipresent. That’s maybe why the Finn’s needed a sweeter folklore with the moomins, a new little world that would serve as a gentler postcard in order to reach out to the expanding modern world.

Another well documented Finnish success story is that of Nokia, the powerful industrial conglomerate which started out in eighteen sixty seven as a paper mill on the banks of the Nokianvirta, went on to produce a century later the brightly colored ‘Kontio’ rubber boot before becoming what we came to recognize as one of today’s biggest worldwide communication networks, thus setting a huge contrast with what might be pictured as the local way of life. Finnish people indeed live in a land of marshes and mountains, lakes and rivers, seas, gulfs, islands and inlets inhabited with trolls, hunters and legends. This lush but often harsh natural environment has bred a long tradition of folklore which started out in the earliest age of Suomi with the worshiping of even the least conspicuous elements of nature, your regular animist society, almost in the same fashion as Japan. The Sun, Moon, Stars, Earth, Air and Sea were to the ancient finns living self-conscious beings, when not gods. Then came the moomins, but that’s a different story…

In effect, when looking closely at some of this fashion season’s most striking moments, one might find finnish folk art and design pattern traces as well as kinship with the sami’s reindeer fur clothing. The John Galliano autumn/winter 08 collection is a perfect illustration of this, moreover when you consider the resemblance its quirky make-up and hairstyle bears with the colours found in Sanna Annukka’s Kalevela inspired maidens. Whether conscious or not, these nods to the sami herders and their bright bold outfits hold the promise of a rising trend rooted in the most specific aspects of Finland’s heritage. With designers such as Marimekko, Ivana Helsinki and Iittala enjoying success on an international level, our aim was to reach for the roots of Finland as our source of inspiration for us to commission and produce new works influenced by the folk, fairytales, colors and contradictions of the Finnish landscape and spirit.

SUOMI/Finland

Photographer - Edward Lane Stylist - Sandrine GoncalvĂ¨s Make-up - Akiko Sakamoto Hair - Ramona Eschbach

O O NORDIC-----O KINGS

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Previous page: Dress Dries Van Noten, Scarf Paule Ka, Jewellery Maison Martin Margiela. Left page: Dress Dries Van Noten, Jacket Ines & Marechal, Belt Maison Martin Margiela, Boots Pierre Hardy. Right page: Dress & mittens Paule Ka, Hood Christian Lacroix, Necklace Moutoncollet, Tights Maison Martin Margiela.

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Dress Xuan Thu Nguyen, Necklace Dorothee Simonnet.

Cardigan & Necklace Dries Van Noten, Dress Josep Font.

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Coat Dries Van Noten.

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Cape Sylvia Rielle, Top Christian Lacroix, Boots Pierre Hardy, Bag Maison Martin Margiela.

Top & Sleeves Maison Martin Margiela, Pants Wolford, Necklace Helene Zubeldia.

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Trousers & Shoes Maison Martin Margiela, Belt Soaz.

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Top Jean Luc Amsler, Jacket Dries Van Noten, Neckalce Moutoncollet, Ring & bracelet Soaz, Pants Wolford.

Same as previous page.

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Dress Paule Ka, Scraf Dries Van Noten.

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MADE IN FINLAND Photographs - Sanna Saastamoinen-Barrois

Story by Pihla Hintikka

I. Helsinki train station at noon. It’s a Friday in July and the sun will be up for nineteen hours today. Two pairs of statues hold the spherical lamps on either side of the main entrance designed by Eliel Saarinen. I’m taking a good look at the art nouveau genius’ work when the smell brings me back to reality. – Don’t believe what they say about us, a staggering man whispers, raises his eyebrows and offers me a sip from his bottle of black Salmiakki booze. I pass. But the guy has a point. What is a Finn made of? Track eight. About a hundred passengers are already standing next to an empty track, staring quietly in the direction of travel like robots. No one is talking. I try to scan what’s happening, nothing, of course. This is a country where people plan everything in advance. You rarely see a Finn running to a train at the last minute let alone missing it. When the French deal with a leaking pipe it’s already causing water damage, a Finn would never have allowed the pipe to leak. Precaution is the key, for better or worse. I’ve even seen a Finn marking a hangover down on a calendar. I gobble up raw peas, a Finnish summer goodie, and join staring. The white and blue clinical looking wagon is in chaos for a minute. Everyone wants to find their place at the same time. Passengers get welcomed abord the train in Finnish, Swedish and English. Stiff businessmen push the buttons of their hi-fi laptops, some stare out the window. Nobody smiles nor talks. Kids fingering their mobile phones are desperately trying to look as hip-hop as their idol, 50 Cent. I ask the lady behind me if it’s ok to recline the seat a bit further. I guess stiffening and looking away equals yes. Outside tall yellow houses begin to change to yellow crops surrounded by thick dark green pine forests. Here and there you get a glimpse of a wooden red house and black and white cows. As soon as the landscape changes to grey, you know you’re in the city of Lahti. Businessmen step out. The train to Kuopio through Eastern Finland takes about five hours. I lay my head and close my eyes. II. Mikkeli – St. Michel. The conductor comes and demands us to leave the train. Apparently Finland’s pride, the fanciest and fastest pendolino train has some technical problems, as usual. Old rusty express one is picking us up. It seems that I’m the only one who’s irritated even a bit. Other passengers shake their heads, but kindly get up and step outside. No making a scene, no swearing, no raising your voice, no I want my money back. But Finns obey only in front of authority. Outside on the platform the art of Finnish communication begins: communal complaining. How can they do that? I need to be at home on time. We should file an appeal. I participate with one of my favorite lines of the genre: I hate pendolinos. People nod with sympathy. An old Finnish lady turns to me and asks: – Which city are you from? Eeva, a Finn turned Canadian with curly gray hair and lightly slanted eyes, begins telling me how she’s going to meet her grandchildren she hasn’t seen in ages. Toronto called her at the age of sixteen, during the Second World War. He was half Canadian, half German and they decided to get away. – You see that rock over there? She points to the forest next to the light blue wooden station. – I know who put it there, she adds and nods convincingly. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve met a psychic. – The goblin from my hometown Hiitola has been here. Ok, just a mental case, or maybe not. She tells me a long story of a malicious goblin called Hiisi who lives in the Finnish forest. Beardless, ugly Hiisi is always dressed as a scoundrel and is found near ominous crevasses, large boulders and other amazing geographical features. –When we were evacuated from our home because of the war, my family took all the cows and goats to the train. I remember guarding them while staring outside, looking at the woods terrified that I could see Hiisis travelling in a noisy procession, attacking people who did not give way to them. I knew we’d have to get away from the woods, to the cultivated area where the Hiisi would never step foot. Then I saw a big boulder and I thought I was going to die. But I never did. Not yet. Eeva giggles and before I have the chance to say anything, she’s already wishing me a good trip and jumping into the old rusty express train. A corner of Kalevala by Elias Lönnrot is popping out of her bag.

III. The tacky old express train seat feels safer than the pendolino one and I can’t help picturing Eeva running after cows and away from goblins right here only sixty years ago. Hiitola is no longer part of Finland. The eastern Karelia of the Maiden of Finland ceded to Russia in the Winter War. Karelia is never forgotten in politics but how many people remember the area in general? Does anybody go there anymore? Suddenly my computer makes a weird noise. I try pushing the buttons, nothing. Battery checked. Wire checked. Electricity! I swear out loud and seek for sympathy. Communal complaining anyone? In a surprise move, people are smiling. A gap-toothed man behind my seat hands me a strawberry. A young blond nerdy hick asks with a wide accent if I need help. I have a sudden flash back of a zombie movie. Are they drunk? High? Mental? No, they are simply friendly. Welcome to Savo, Eastern Finland. Next to me a family, wearing matching Marimekko striped t-shirts, are eating Karelian pies, hard rye crust filled with rice pudding. It takes a long time and patience to make them, but in the end it’s worth it. An allegory of a Finn. After passing Pieksämäki, the unhappiest town in Finland voted by the public for many years now, the contradiction of this part of Finland is in your face. The nickname Land of a Thousand Lakes derives from here. The landscape is absolutely beautiful with glittering water and branches swinging in the wind. Joyful and friendly people who haven’t heard of the words stress, burn out, nor hurry. Or maybe it just seems like it. Rather than happiness, unemployment, alienation and high suicidal rates are characteristic of this area. Finland is the only country in Europe in which anti-depressants are the most popular medicine sold. The lighter it seems, the darker it gets. One precautionary provision is always there to help and hinder a Finn. The plague is called alcohol. IV. In the restaurant wagon many happy passengers have red noses already. A couple of older lads are laughing their hearts out with their pints of Lapin Kulta. Young art student girls with big wooden pearls around their necks giggle and gulp dry ciders. A stiff lady sitting straight, with a silky Marja Kurki scarf, is eating meatballs and mashed potatoes with a plastic fork. In one corner a smelly hillbilly sings the Finnish national anthem and toasts himself repeatedly. I sit by the window by myself and guzzle my beer. Here we are, the miniature Finland packed in one wagon sitting next to and talking to each other without a problem. It’s like in the sauna. Finns are losing their inhibition of talking. In a cruise boat on the Baltic Sea they loose it all. A short guy wearing a four-cornered hat is winking at me. Oh please shoot me. He’s moving closer. – I own reindeers, he says with pride and sits in front of me. This must be a) a hidden camera show b) a new reality TV-show or c) a horribly tacky bachelor party. – And some huskies, if you ever want to come for a ride some day, he adds. I can’t help but ask him if he’s serious. And he definitely is. According to his ID, Erkki is a 31 year old fellow born in Inari who each autumn takes part in a reindeer roundups near Rovaniemi, the city of the two most famous Finns, Santa Claus and Lordi. What is a genuine Lapp doing in eastern Finland? To my surprise he tells me he spent the week in Helsinki teaching Sami to linguistic students in a university. Overwhelmed I try to make a joke about his hat. C’mon, nobody wears a four-cornered hat below Oulu, or even there for that matter. – I’m proud of my background. Kippis! And just like that Erkki, one of the rare 3000 who speak Sami, a dying language, as their mother tongue and who actually still makes a living out of reindeer, is gone. The joke is on me. I feel incredibly ridiculous with my Ivana Helsinki dress and high heels. I want to go to the bathroom and wash my face, put on rubber boots, a threadbare t-shirt and baggy trousers, wear a scarf in my hair and sit in a hammock, pick blueberries and breath the fresh air. The further away from Helsinki you go, the more exposed you feel. And little by little it starts to feel good. It feels like home. V. The phone rings. My brother wants to know if he should make me a birch switch for the sauna tonight. While staring at the lakes rolling by outside, I wish I were in the heat already, by the lake of our summer cottage, naked, dipping into the water, under the glowing sun that doesn’t go down until 11 pm. I want to be throwing more water onto the heater where a sauna elf sits guarding the spirit of traditional place. – He’s an elf, a guy whispers in my ear and bursts out laughing so that I almost spill my beer. I beg your pardon? Timo is a friend of Erkki’s and according to him the reindeer caretaker is also working part-time as an elf in Santa Claus’ office in the capital of Lapland, Rovaniemi. I see. This is a work trip to Saint Petersburg, then to Tallinn to bring as much booze as possible back to Finland. – Watch out, he might be under your window next Christmas if you don’t behave well enough, Timo prattles with a wide smile and for a while I believe him. –We will shortly arrive in Kuopio. Thank you for traveling with us and welcome aboard again, the official tape announces. I gather my belongings, say good bye to the elves and jump out of the train. I breathe my lungs full of the fresh summer night air and head to the sauna. VI. After a relaxing weekend in the summer cottage, built by my grandfather himself, I feel I have energy to once again face the urban life in Helsinki. Lau Nau is singing to my ears: I’m of the sea, I’m of the sun. In two ways, staying from a place. The railway station is full of noises, Greenpeace volunteers try to persuade people to join them and there’s always a baby crying somewhere. I walk through the lobby to the main gate and bump into at least five people. When waiting for the 3T tram I can smell Chanel. A girl with white graphic hair and bright red lipstick is checking her phone with one hand and smoking a Vogue with another. Her legs are covered with flower print leggings and the black Iloa dress is fantastic. She might be a graphic designer or fashion assistant but inside, she’s a berry picker. She’s probably heading to the trendy bar Erottaja and is going to drink some glasses of fair-trade red wine from South Africa and sing along to Le Corps Mince de Francoise’s “Cool and Bored”, but she knows how it feels to sit in a hammock and ride a bike to school when it’s minus 25 degrees. She knows how it feels when the first snowflakes of winter are falling down. She remembers the first spring day. The girl probably takes trips to Berlin, Paris and New York every now and then but secretly she wishes she had time to make lingonberry juice herself and see the Northern Lights more often. Urbanism is only a mask. A Finn is always, and will never cease to be, a forest-dweller inside.

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G YL RA IS PH T M - K ER AK A - K E- TIE AT H UP BU JA AI R H R NI NE EN C T T M SHI HO T A SC O N LA T H DE YA W EL L - F HA W VE UK MI W RO AM LTO .KA N TIE N I IK BU A RN AT ET O T.C XY O G EN .U K M O DE LS

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SANNA ANNUKKA www.sanna-annukka.com

ÂŠ Sanna Annukka.

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ÂŠ Sanna Annukka.

EARLY MORNING AFTER THE STORM

PHOTOGRAPHY BY HANNA-KAISA KOROLAINEN

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KAKSKERTA

NEIGHBOURS GARDEN

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MY FAVOURITE PLACE

NIGHTSWIM

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VÄINÄMÖINEN

Walking to aeroplanes is something we probably won’t be allowed to do very soon. I could run among these aircraft and disappear, any moment I want. I suppose that makes this little walk romance. I bent down and scooped a handful of runway snow into my mouth, and it was still dripping from me as I passed the identikit air-hostess on the steps and gave her the most manic look I could find, wouldn’t want the little aeroplangel feeling too comfortable in her job. The cold ice burnt my tongue and tasted bitter and filthy. I’d chosen this flight carefully; it meant not flying over the Baltic Sea. I could never dare to look at it again. It is not like other seas, it forgives nothing, no life that does not belong there can last more than a few moments. I had to be away from it, the suction I felt every time the tide went out, pulling me towards it. I’d lost my sister there, that’s why I was running, that’s why I wanted to be in there. I lost her…we were walking, holding hands, an unusual thing to do but it was cold. We walked along the coast a while. A stranger to her but a face I knew came to me and felt me with his gun, pushing bits of my flesh and boner. «Come with me to the ashes of the old boathouse, I’m sure we’ll find something in common», he said. There, he wanted to kill me. I couldn’t remember why, there were probably a lot of reasons. I wouldn’t have time to ask more than one question, I decided. «What’s your name?» I asked. «Väinämöinen», he said back. He changed his expression and looked at my silent sister, her mouth open and showing her tongue. «I will let you go if I can have her», Väinämöinen said.

Story by MGW Lahiffe

Photograph - Jussi Saastamoinen

I will never trust my mouth again. It said yes. It is like when a beggar stops you in the street for change and your pockets are full and you see the hunger in his eyes, and you say no. What will you do with that change? Throw it on a desk or in a jar until some turbulent day needs calming by sorting it and changing it for better money. I said yes and I saw the grim evil in him as he moved to her. She ran though, good girl I thought, and she kept running. Into the November sea, into the furnace of cold that is the Baltic, her hair splayed like seaweed as she went under.

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SON OF MARJATTA - 50 -

PHOTOGRAPHER STYLIST MAKEUP HAIR

DRESS DREAMANDAWAKE, JEWELLERY TANJA MALO.

EMANUELE FONTANESI AT LAREVOLUTION.IT AMANDA ERICSSON HUGO VILLARD CHIAO SHEN

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JEANS CHEAP MONDAY, SHIRT RALPH LAUREN VINTAGE, COAT MARTIN MARGIELA.

JEANS DOCTOR DENIM, SHIRT WOOD WOOD, SUNGLASSES MOSS LIPOW.

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THIS PAGE

LEFT: JEANS CHEAP MONDAY, VEST MARTIN MARGIELA.

ABOVE: COAT MARTIN MARGIELA, DRESS DREAMANDAWAKE, TIGHTS WOLFORD.

RIGHT: JACKET MARTIN MARGIELA, SHIRT THE STRAY BOYS.

RIGHT: JEANS DOCTOR DENIM, SKIRT KATHERIN HAMNETT.

A PICTURE TELLS A THOUSAND WORDS Aki Kaurismäki was born in Orimattila in southern Finland in 1957. After an initial apprenticeship co-directing his elder brother Mika’s films, he directed his first film in 1983. Among his films are Leningrad Cowboys Go America, Ariel, I Hired a Contract Killer, Drifting Clouds and The Man Who Wasn’t There, for which he was nominated for a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. His films, mostly set in Helsinki, are stylised accounts of working-class and marginal life. He is widely considered to be Finland’s greatest ever film maker.

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OLIVER FARRY They’re probably a couple, looking out at what seems to be the middle distance, until you realise that there’s a mirror placed, at an unusually high level, half-obscured by a pile of tea towels or some such linen, their ease of access indicating they’re called on a lot in this household. The couple is Lauri («not yet fifty», as he says in this very scene) and Ilona (38). There’s a studiousness about them that suggests a moment of some importance. Ilona, with her dressing gown belted like a corset and her 1950s kitchenware, looks like the doomed heroine of a Douglas Sirk melodrama. But the era is the early 90s and Lauri and Ilona are the protagonists of an Aki Kaurismäki film, Drifting Clouds (1996). It is a film in which the characters and the viewers sense the musty shroud of poverty creep up on them. But for all that it is not unburdened of hope. The strange high angle of their kitchen mirror allows them to rehearse the hopeful stance that they find themselves assuming for so much of the film their necks are likely to seize in an eternal crick, if the continuous setbacks they experience don’t knock them back out of shape. The moment of import is a job interview, for which Lauri has scrabbled together a semblance of formality. At the start of the film, both are employed, Lauri as a tram driver and Ilona as the maître d’ in an old-fashioned restaurant. They seem happy but ultimate happiness is elusive,kept at one, two, three, four removes. Everything is paid for on

hire purchase, including the big colour TV that Lauri surprises Ilona with early in the film. But after the breakup of the Soviet Union and the collapse of Finland’s number one trading partner the cold winds of recession blow over the country. Both lose their jobs. First Lauri, who keeps his redundancy a secret from Ilona for a month («Most the routes don’t make any money. Half the people drive and half take the Metro. The rest can’t afford to walk.») Then Ilona, whose cherished restaurant Dubrovnik is bought out by creditors. Both find it hard to adjust. Lauri loses his license – and a job driving tour buses – when it is found he is almost deaf in one ear. Ilona is told she is too old to work in restaurants – «But I’m only 38,» she says, only to be told, «exactly, you could drop dead any minute,» by a man who is over 50 but «has contacts». The couple are childless but during the film we see briefly the portrait of a smiling boy, whose identity is otherwise unexplained but can easily be guessed at. Kaurismäki provides a twist that would be lost on many viewers – the child in the photo is Matti Pellonpää, his regular leading man, who died relatively young the previous summer. Ilona’s grief is further hinted at when she leaves off cleaning, saddened by news reports of a tsunami in the Philippines and the execution of the Nigerian poet Ken Saro-Wiwa.

People with hangdog looks are two a penny in Kaurismäki films but in Drifting Clouds he chose to hang one on an actual dog. Pietari perches on the ironing board, attentive to his master and mistress’ needs and concerns. He is ever present throughout the film and goes everywhere with Lauri and Ilona. He provides the sort of unstinting, unwavering loyalty that only a good dog can. And Pietari’s performance – for that is his name in real life – is impressive. The objects we see in the picture are significant in both the film and in Kaurisamäki’s work in general. The retro kitchen appliances are commonplace yet they are more than simply kitsch nostalgic signifiers for the director who was born in 1957. In the lives of his characters, these clunking, CFC-wheezing, lead-lined hulks are the only constants. «Trees still grow,» says Lauri defiantly after he loses his job. But the appurtenances of a contented domestic life are less assured. The new colour television gets repossessed as the couple fail to meet their payments. The furniture follows. But the old vacuum cleaner, toaster, radio and TV remain. Neither are the truths of the world assured, Ilona, at a job interview, says that the Dubrovnik was the ‘best restaurant in town’ only to be cruelly told, ‘yes… after the war.’ The ironing board appears throughout the film, as emblematic as the ironing board in John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger was. But with Osborne, it was a symbol of stifling domesticity. With Kaurismäki, it is indicative rather of domestic order and reassurance: when Lauri leaves Ilona briefly, ashamed at being unable to stand up to her thuggish employer, the saddest pointer to his loneliness is the fact that he is forced to iron his shirts on the top of a bedside locker. The ironing board is part of the film’s tribute to work, not a grimly puritanical or Stakhanovite valorisation but a eulogy to the simple efforts of ordinary people in their everyday labours and the dignity that goes with it. Lauri cleaves so tightly to this ideal that he proudly refuses to draw the dole, further imperilling himself and Ilona. Kaurismäki’s characters inhabit a world that flits in and out of the actual one, it’s not real but it is realistic. Like Fassbinder, he plots only the salients of his drama and his characters bud as the films progress. His films lead off from a standing jump; the characters, like the hero of his best-known film The Man Without a Past, have no past history to begin with. It fills itself in gradually. His method of working with actors (usually the same ones) is always

Still taken from the film Drifting Clouds by Aki Kaurismäki.

the same: he allows them one day of rehearsal and no more so their performances never become too ‘actorly’; they are always pitched between naturalism and the expressive passivity that wheedles the secrets, sorrows and emotions out of characters that are summoned as if from thin air. It’s not for nothing that Kaurismäki is the only major film director for more than 75 years to have made a silent film, his 1999 adaptation of Juhani Aho’s classic novel Juha. Drifting Clouds, like all of Kaurismäki’s films, is neither blindly optimistic nor masochistically despairing. But it recognises the simple desires of people; to paraphrase Kurt Vonnegut, all its characters want something, even if it’s only a glass of water. Some people might claim that Kaurismäki resolves too easily some of the problems he sets himself in the film but the clouds of the title drift, they never completely disappear. It’s not a perfect film but few good films are perfect. He allows his characters to be, as well as essentially good, naïve, stupid, mean and wrong. But he is always on their side and the one thing that is never excluded in a Kaurismäki film is hope, because that, no matter how misplaced or impossible it might be, is what people do.

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PHOTOGRAPHER - RAUL DIAZ STYLIST - BENOIT MASBONSON

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Pull Sylvia Rielle, Wool Neckles Ikou Tschuss, Pants Eres.

Merino Wool Coat Ikou Tschuss, Legging Burfitt, Necklace Sylvia Rielle & Corpus Christie, Shoes Jean-Charles de Castelbaljac.

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Dress Fornarina, Fur Collar Lutz & Patmos.

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Hat Lutz & Patmos, Jumper Fornarina, Necklace Corpus Christi.

Shawl Lutz & Patmos, Legging Eres.

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Mohair Cardigan By Malene Birger, Pantie Wolfoord, Necklace Corpus Christie.

Hair - Pascal Wolfert at LeBigOne, Make-up - Estelle Jaillet at LeBigOne, Model - Sophie at Major.

AURORA PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRISTOPHE PÉREZ

Rvontulet, literally meaning “foxfire”, is the Finnish name for the Northern Lights. It comes from the Sami legend in which the tail of a fox running along snow-covered fells strikes the snow drifts, sending a trail of sparks into the sky. This magnificent natural phenomenon, like dancing curtains of light in the night sky, is actually a result of charged particles, electrons and protons, accelerating in the earth’s magnetic field and colliding with air molecules. Light is created when these particles give up a part of their surplus energy. The oxygen in the atmosphere produces the vibrant green, yellow and red colors commonly associated with the light, whereas the rarer blue and violet hues are due to the nitrogen. Paradoxically, the sun is the culprit of these nighttime spectacles, whose eruptive activity and solar flares catapult particles of matter out into space at speeds of 1000 km a second on solar winds. The floating particles in the atmosphere from the sun’s boisterous flare-ups create the lights, much like the soft thrashing of a furry tail in the snow.

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MOOMINABOUT

BRYONY HARRIS

Tove Jansson, creator of and imagination behind the magical Moominvalley and everyone in it, died at the ripe age of 86 in 2001, leaving behind her a legacy of weird yet endearing characters and a rich tapestry of child and adult-identifiable storylines which have been translated into 34 languages and played on TV sets all over the world. Her wonderland was first dreamt up after her uncle warned her as a young girl that if she kept pinching food from the kitchen cupboards, then the Moomintroll, dweller of the space between the wall and the stove, would come and breathe freezing air down her neck. This memory of spook and danger would go on to play a lingering role in her Moomin tales; indeed her liberal, bohemian family and youth would exert a significant influence on the characteristics of our unearthly friends. Moomintroll, our main reference and naïve protagonist, was originally drawn by Jansson with wiry and ugly features, but soon developed into a fatter, softer hippo-like thing. He lives with his family, the head of which, Moominpappa - the echo of Jansson’s own well-known sculptor father – spends his days reading the paper, writing his memoirs, and occasionally uprooting the family on slightly reckless and whimsical trips. On one occasion he sets off on a jaunt to build himself a house – which turns out very reminiscent of the shape of a heating stove. Among others in the houses’ motley crew are Moominmamma-

peacemaker, homemaker, jam-maker, all round warmth maker, Snufkin- the well respected flute-piping lone ranger, the Hemulusa detached old gent who avidly studies nature, and Sniff- the lazy yet anxious mouse who always seems to have a runny nose. Our stage - Moominvalley, a varied, lush land dense with forests and tiny coastal archipelagos reflective of rural Finland, has heavy snowfall all through the winter, so the Moomins gorge on pine needles and hibernate, to reappear bouncing into the spring, with flowers and fruit abundant, and hot coffee and warm fresh bread served as their first breakfasts. As Jansson’s imagination broadened, so did the nooks, crannies and creatures of Moominvalley, and with them darker and more complex adventures. On a summer trip to a seemingly deserted island, the Hemulus discovers a mysterious and beautiful barometer, takes it home to the camp, and wakes to an eerie storm and an imposing swarm of white ghostly figures with red flickering eyes whose flailing robes burn with electricity; the Hattifatteners have come to reclaim their prized treasure. Folklore being at the forefront of traditional Finnish national identity, the mythical and the untouchable become current themes running through the Moomin adventures. So too is the development of morality and humanity passed on from generation to generation. Much like another Finn, Mauri Kunnas and his dog stories, placed at a time before the invention of the

internet and the apparent loss of innocence, the Moomins seem to hit a traditional yet subtly enriching role as educators of the grand public in being good-natured, kind souls. Respect, consideration and acceptance are unspoken yet underlying messages to those who read and watch them. Melancholy, dreaming, boredom, intrigue and the threatening situations they come across all serve naturally to enrich the characters and their interactions with each other. Subtle but powerful evocations of life lived close to the elements and nature, of emotions effected by the seasons, and of internal struggle serve to address a wider more complex adult theme which expands throughout the books. One winter, when Moomintroll wakes up and can’t get back to sleep, he ventures out into the snowed-under desolate hills, feeling lonely, sad and scared. The nightmarish Groke with the staring eyes, who freezes and kills everything in her path, is always looming in his mind. On his journey he encounters all sorts of strange new creatures, those who carry on their lives throughout the cold north winds. Despite unnerving circumstances, Moomintroll learns and matures. Jansson lived much of her life in relative obscurity, living on a remote island in the Gulf where her family spent their summers when she was young. She later passed the Moomin baton to her brother Lars to continue. Her lifetime companion, Tuulikka Pietela, a well-known artist in her own right, became the inspiration for the character Too-Ticky. She had several female lovers throughout her life; the certain sexual ambiguity of the Moomins could be a nod to this aspect of her character. With no drastically specific gender traits, all that differentiates Moomintroll from his female counterpart Snorkmaiden, is her little blond tuft of fringe. Their relationship, although fractionally coy, remains more of a brother and sister bickering. However, Snorkmaiden’s girly preoccupations are blown when a Hattifattener singes her blond lock – inspecting herself in the mirror and moaning she

becomes for a mere moment a creature of mystery and intrigue to Moomintroll. What is striking about watching the television adaptations of her books, are the moments of quiet. Richard Murdoch’s thick voice warmly narrates; however there are many surreptitious moments when we just watch. Moomintroll pads around his cosy looking kitchen finding something to eat, the whole family sit and enjoy their breakfast with only occasional slurping sounds to pepper the air, Little My toboggans down the hill for what seems like minutes. These moments are significant pause points that act subconsciously as the books did, giving the eyes time to dwell dreamily over the character, and drawing you in wholly. When people have the gift of constructing a whole other universe in their minds, like Tolkien with his Ring world, and Jansson with her fat quirky Moomins, it can become almost timeless. Instead of identifying with reality, we buy into imagination – it is a comfortable, exciting place to be, and difficult to leave.

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Red sun just above the horizon, pink light kisses the fells designed by the last ice age. Scenery continues until at last dissolves into sky. As the wind changes direction, the reindeer turn their heads against the blow and start moving. Their natural instinct leads to new pastures.

Finland Lapland Samiland For centuries reindeer herders have followed their stock with their dogs and handmade skis. The reindeersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; yearly migration leads the people to move along with the stock. When reindeers are doing well, people are doing well. Reindeers make the people live, they offer shelter, food, transportation, and clothing. Nature has offered everything needed. There was no waste.

Words & Photographs Jussi Saastamoinen

CENTERED

ALAÏA

P H O T O G R A P H Y A N D S T Y L I N G - M A R K O ’ S U L L I VA N

MAISON MARTIN MARGIELA

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H AT J O H N G A L L I A N O DRESS MAISON MARTIN MARGIELA.

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C H R I S T I A N L A C R O I X ( L E F T PA G E ) â&#x20AC;&#x201D; C E L I N E ( R I G H T PA G E ) Model: Ulla Lauska at M Management.

KAIHO

There is longing. There is leaving. There is coming back. There is leaving again. There are the faces of loved ones, always a bit changed. A new line here. Couple of kilos there. The boobs have boobed out, or in. A hair is getting longer, or the hairline higher, sometimes there is no hair. And sometimes there just is no more. Past away, beyond â&#x20AC;&#x201C;i donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know what. There is the blue moment, just before the darkness all is blue. There is a rotten coloured ground, that shimmers when the frost arrives. There is this everywhere reaching whitness, that leaves nothing, but a naked nature. There is the green that comes through all the death. And everything is full of the bright life again. Sometimes i and the silent lake wonder about the circling monoghramy of the landscapes. If all that would be the macrocosmos of a living being, if the nature would be the body, would the colour be the spirit ?

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TEXT & PHOTOGRAPHS — SANNA SAASTAMOINEN-BARROIS

PHOTOGRAPHY & ART DIRECTION SUSAN CONNIE MARSH

C H R I S T I A N B E R N A R D - C E D E R VA L L ( M U S I C I A N )

S A N N A S A A S TA M O I N E N - B A R R O I S ( A R T I S T )

HAIR RAMONA ESCHBACH WITH BUMBLE&BUMBLE MAKE-UP AKIKO SAKAMOTO CLOTHES S U L K AWA

PIHLA HINTIKKA (WRITER)

FOR THE LOVE OF CALF INTERVIEW - PIHLA HINTIKKA PHOTOS - JEREMY BARROIS

Miina Äkkijyrkkä is no stranger to controversy. The Finnish sculptor has never followed the mainstream, nor given up on anything she believed in. She says what she thinks and she says it loud. In 2002, the uncompromising artist received a State Art Award for her talent of using contradictory elements in her art. The sculptures of cows are combinations of agriculture and “high” culture. She is famous for connecting her passion for cattle-raising and the visual arts as well as gluing together performance art and respect of traditions. Today, in addition to creating performance and sculptural works, she is involved in a rich collaboration as a textile designer with Marimekko. Still, for some, and especially for officers of Helsinki, she is only a crazy cow woman who doesn’t obey the rules, uses too much space, creates too much noise and damages the town’s property. For the past 44 years she has been an important advocate for the protection of Finncattle, the native Finnish dairy breed. Äkkijyrkkä currently resides in Helsinki, «On the 6th of November, the court announced that Äkkijyrkkä has to leave her home by the end of the year - and probably say good bye to her cattle too. This interview was made a couple of weeks before the verdict.»

Why cow’s? The first steps of a calf are untouched, they are moments of Sisu (Finnish strength) and coming to life. Calves are careless, I’m inspired by their braveness and their power, they fill me with a fanatic joy and drive. A calf bursting into life is more abstract than an elegant gazelle, it breaks all the rules of finesse and that is why it’s at the heart of all my art. I can infinitely use its abstract form. Also, the cow’s status has changed over the years. The cow used to be a part of the family, but nowadays it’s only a number code. We have lost the real contact with the animal. I’ve been researching all the instances in the world where cows have had a direct relationship or impact on a human being. I’m particularly interested in the cow’s ability to learn, I find it unbelievable how little people actually know about it. You’ve been called Äkkijyrkkä (Abrupt) and Lång (Long). What do these names stand for? Liina Lång (Long Rag) is a signature name because I received a State Art Award and lost everything. I wanted to have an anonymous name. I didn’t use it for a long time because it didn’t work for anyone, it was too soft. I am, and I’ll always remain Miina Äkkijyrkkä (Mine Abrupt). I came up with this name because it’s funny, like a fence made of brushwood, visually too with all its consonants. My family has always been all about name-games. A name is never just a name; it expresses the essence of a person. I would never want to have a common name. I’m already indignant that there are two other Äkkijyrkkäs in Finland, and that I’m receiving their mail. Äkkijyrkkä is a big name and it shouldn’t belong to just anyone.

What is your normal day like? Either a normal day doesn’t exist, or every day is normal. It depends on the season. In spring, when the overwhelming steely Scandinavian light spreads everywhere, I draw as much as possible. It’s the time for calving and I run to the cow house all the time to check if new calves have been born. It’s hard, I sleep too little, but I want to be awake. During the summer, I’m welding or preparing my exhibitions. This summer was different since I was trying to find myself a new place to live. I realized that none of the countryside villages attract me anymore because of the fear of darkness and the lack of stimulus that surrounds the spirit there. It’s not my life. I’m in a hurry. I have a burning desire to fulfill myself, to satisfy the intuition I have with cows. How is it to live in Finland as an artist? I’m almost 60 years old now and I have no place to live. Helsinki is trying to evict me and my cows, and to make sure that I won’t find any kind of home in my own hometown. Cows and my work as a sculptor go so obviously together that it’s hard for me to think that they would ever be strewed in different directions. My ideas will probably change if I have to travel 100 kilometers to the source of my inspiration. ‘Operation Eviction’ wouldn’t be excruciating if I was really depressed and slouched in bed all day. In that case it could be good to move for a change. My kids have flown the nest and it would be the perfect opportunity to create art. I’ve recently had exhibitions from New York to Tokyo, and suddenly I have no place where I can unpack my bags, think things through and continue to work. I want to live 45 minutes away from the centre, or else in another country or planet. I often visit Paris but I couldn’t bring my cows there either. I’d love to find a place somewhere in France with pastures, not too far away from Paris. I just want to be somewhere with my cows. People don’t seem to understand that success is always a result of hard work. It doesn’t happen easily or by chance, like a seagull pooping on your head. You have to say no to so many things in order to walk on the right path that will lead you to success. If an athlete wins a golden medal, the town treats him like a hero. As a sculptor I use a lot of space, which is inconvenient, and the town wants to get rid off me. If the police attempt to shoot my cows, it will be a very big deal. Is art a battle? How to keep the artistic spark alive is a personal battle. An artist needs to express himself but he has to be able to reject all the impulses from his surroundings in order to stay focused on the substance. If a creative person becomes famous in a small country he gets approached continuously and in many different ways. This takes a great deal of energy, and may shape the personality. It’s not good. There are always admirers and haters, but every artist should have a safe place to be calm and alone. Sometimes I feel like I’m carrying a vulnerable artistic spark in my arms and I would like to take it home to all my colours and papers, but then somebody interrupts me by asking how many cows I own. They usually get pissed off because I don’t grant them enough time or a proper answer. Unfortunately, I don’t have five secretaries and ten doors like the officers of Helsinki. I can’t sneak out from a back door, I work outside and anyone can grab my arm without any respect for my privacy. It’s no wonder that in Helsinki some people think I’m a “horrible bitch” because I don’t have the energy to explain the simplest things to everyone who asks. I often yearn for the kind of peacefulness that Paris could offer, millions of people around and nobody who knows me. The mass is like a forest, filled with different stimulus, glamorous colors and all in life that strikes me. I can close my eyes and listen to all the noises like a billowing race, a storm. I love metropolitans. If I’m really depressed, I fly to New York.

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Where do you get your inspiration? Cows, light and colors inspire me. The Northern light is cold, shadeless, silvery and aversive as it bounces everywhere. Then again you can see the stars in the frost or in snowdrifts. The light in Asia is the opposite: rich, soft and warm. You can’t underestimate all the different kinds of light in different places; people should have the patience to observe it more. Wind and high places inspire me too. The mysterious sea is the love of my life. It feels like a God’s lap, but then again it’s so cruel I’m forced to be afraid of it. Though I come from inland, I’m born under the sign of Cancer. Finding balance and harmony in the background when my mind is a scattered mess gives me inspiration. What does your cooperation with Marimekko mean to you? I dreamed of working for Marimekko since the age of 20, when Armi Ratia was still part of it. When Kirsti Paakkanen, the managing director of Marimekko, called me in 2007 to let me know that I was chosen to be the head designer of Marimekko for 2008, it was huge, a dream come true. Since then working for Marimekko has been important, rewarding, surprising and wonderful. The company has an atmosphere of creativity and cooperation. The colorful cows I created for Marimekko are different. The only sad thing is that Marimekko is only 10 minutes away from my home and it will all seem so contradictory if I am forced to move away. How does the idea of Finnishness appear in your art work?

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I don’t think of Finnishness too much. I have often wondered if Finland is really something important. The language, especially the eastern Finland’s dialect, is significant to me. In Lappetelä where I come from people used to have voluntary spirits and magnificent spruce forests. Today, people are rotten. They have lost the real close contact to nature because of all the technology. People don’t play anymore, they’re just in a hurry to gain power. What and whom do you admire? When I was young I admired Brigitte Bardot and our President Urho Kekkonen. I also liked the style of Bill Clinton. The Marshal Mannerheim was a difficult kid but found his way as a soldier, a collector and a leader of Finland’s battle for independence. He knew how to handle horses and went to Switzerland to become old – classy. He’s like a father figure to me. As for other sculptors, I admire Louise Bourgeois for her marvelous work. When I saw her art for the first time, my whole body began to tremble. But I wouldn’t want to be like her. Admiration is a very particular way of being in contact with a person. Many times I’ve met someone I admire, and the admiration stopped there. Perhaps admiring remains only a sort of distant dreaming, a bubble. I’ve also noticed from my admirers that they’re not really interested in the real me. What do you dream of? When I get older, I’d love to have lots cows here and there, in Asia too. I dream of having a manager, who would take care of organizing my exhibitions, and of a team that would travel abroad with me and create wonderful things together. I hope my children will be brave and make their lives as meaningful as possible, and that my artwork will be recognized globally before I die. I don’t believe everything will turn out just fine, but there will be a lot of instructive experiences along the way and I have faith in God. I dream of a little house by the sea where I can be peaceful and quiet with some cows, horses, cats and a dog, perhaps even two. A place where my friends could come over, cook a lovely dinner together, watch the sun go down and of course, talk about cows.

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P H O T O G R A P H S M A R K O ’ S U L L I VA N

B I R T H O F WA I N A M O I N E N — T I L L T H E A U T U M N AT T H E E I G H T H Y E A R , W H E N A T L A S T S H E L E AV E S T H E WA T E R S , S T O P S U P O N A P R O M O N T O R Y, ON A COAST BEREFT OF VERDURE; O N H E R K N E E S S H E L E AV E S T H E O C E A N , O N T H E L A N D S H E P L A N T S H E R R I G H T F O O T, O N T H E S O L I D G R O U N D H E R L E F T F O O T, Q U I C K L Y T U R N S H E R H A N D S A B O U T.

CHLOÉ

MIU MIU

CELINE S T Y L I S T S A N D R I N E G O N C A L V È S , H A I R & M A K E - U P A L A N M I L R O Y, M O D E L S I G I T A N E D Z V E C K A A T M M A N A G E M E N T.

Cicerobuck goes by many names in the music realms. Always trying to keep hidden behind the music itself, he’s been sighted as Bertrand Delanowave, AGS, Marylin Moonroad and countless other aliases alongside artists such as Autechre, Ramuntcho Matta, Bernard Parmegiani, Sensational, Prefuse 73, Coil, Bernard Vitet, Black Devil Disco, Otto Von Schirach... He’s been running the infamous Helter Skelter radio show in Paris for around 10 years (myspace.com/helterskelterradioshow), djing for as long, collecting free jazz and musique concrête as if his life depended on it - If it exists, he knows where to find it! «Having spent a lot of time in Sweden, some in Danemark and Norway but none in Finland, I can’t help thinking about Suomi with mixed feelings. The remoteness, the guns, the violent history, the alien quality of the language, well, thank god for the Moomins and the racers!

If you actually listen to this mix (2 analog turntables and a CD), please consider the possibility of hope and hapiness in the cold.» These artists were summoned for this musical journey: Barbed, Robert Henke, Meredith Monk, Hrvatski, Knud Viktor, Alvin Lucier, Kemialliset Ystävät, MV & EE with the Bummer Road, Coil, Jeswa, Gas, Moondog, Sten Cedervall, Matmos, John Beltran, Kjell Samkopf, Mark Spybey & James Plotkin, Crochted Donught Ring.

Finland is so different from other scandinavian countries that it sometimes feels like its got its own little iron curtain. Musicwise, it’s quite the same : great music has come from Suomi, but always at an odd timing. It rarely felt appreciated as it should have when it was actually produced. Weirdly enough, some of the best record shops I’ve encountered in the world were run by finnish guys, so when I’m asked to think Finland and music, it should come quite easy... Hmmm, unfortunately, the great music from the 70’s , the Love label, the experimental techno scene, most finnish music we come across seems to reach out rather than in. So I thought I’d just subjectively project comments and feelings, as if I was about to take a journey through the land of trolls, encountering shamans and bards, embracing the force and stillness of nature, running by night alongside Nurmi around the icy lakes with disquiet and hope.

NURMI MIX BY CICEROBUCK.

LISTEN AT WWW.UNDERTHEINFLUENCEMAGAZINE.COM/MUSIC

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Katja Hentschel

Christophe Pérez

Christophe & Karin

Escaping from the fangs of a small town in East Germany at the tender age of 18, Katja ventured to San Francisco in pursuit of a promising career as a waitress, which she later traded for a degree in psychology from a university in Paris. Traveling over 35 countries and learning 4 foreign languages, Katja wasn’t short of selling bracelets in Goa, but in a natural evolution turned to taking photos instead. As the Kelly Clarkson of fashion photography, Katja started her career in the field taking pictures of street fashion and the buzzing club scenes of NYC, Berlin and London for her blog www.glamcanyon.com. Only later she began shooting fashion editorials. Living between London and Berlin, Katja’s photos have graced the pages of Nylon, H, Vanidad, Attitude and other publications.

Christophe Pérez is a physicist. He worked for 12 years at the Palais de la découverte in Paris (a scientific museum) as a scientific mediator making science accessible for the public. He now lives in Lausanne, Switzerland, and is working at EPFL (école polytechnique fédérale de Lausanne) to animate scientific workshops for children. He discovered the northern lights for the first time 10 years ago during his first trip to Lappland. His long-term passion for photography combined with his career as a physicist enabled him to capture this unique phenomenon. His work led to an exhibition in the Palais de la découverte. Christophe is a specialist in this scientific phenomenon. http://auroresboreales.blogspot.com/

Christophe & Karin, have always been very helpful since our premier issue of under the influence. They recently formed Mmanagement, the new editorial department at Metropolitan Model agency in Paris. Having known each other for over 10 years they describe themselves as joyful. Mmanagement has this season launched rockets such as Yulia Leontieva seen on the catwalk of Lanvin, Nina Ricci, Aida Aniulyte who was on the catwalk of Hussein Chalayan and Chapurin and Sigita who is the cover girl of L’officiel and D repubblica plus she has a feature in French magazine and even sportively found time to pose as a seal for us in «birth of Wainamoinen».

Bryony Harris

Sanna Saastamoinen-Barrois

Sanna Annukka

C O N T R I B U T O R S

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She dabbles in words, works in an art gallery called Riflemaker, and organises independent exhibitions in all manners of peep-holes. Currently a south-Londoner but left a bit of her heart in Paris after their love affair a few years ago; she is lamenting the closure of Walthamstow Dog Track whilst trying to save up to adopt a greyhound.

Sanna Saastamoinen-Barrois is a finnish artist (painter/ photographer) based in Paris. Fanatic of big wide spaces, horses, snowboarding, bio, kungfu and taoism. In her next life she would love to be the guitarist from AC/DC. www.saaroi-lab.com

Sanna Annukka is a half Finnish, half English illustrator/ printmaker with a refreshing love for nature and folklore. Having spent her childhood summers in the nightless Lapland wilderness, the forests, lakes and wildlife of the region have formed and infused her work. In 2006 her work was spotted by the British group Keane which led to a very memorable collaboration on their second million selling album, ‘Under the Iron Sea». The period also saw her joining forces with London based creative consultancy, Big Active, firstly on the design for the album and then as part of their select number of represented artists. She has since been focusing on the development of a whole range of limited editions for her own online shop, www.sanna-annukka.com and has also collaborated with Marimekko on a collection of printed textiles launching Spring/Summer 09. Next year Sanna will be developing her own product range onto printed textiles, homewares, accessories and stationery.

Pihla Hintikka

Raphael O’Sullivan

MGW Lahiffe

Pihla Hintikka is a 26-year-old free lance journalist, columnist, film critic and scriptwriter from Finland. She was born in northern Finland and studied journalism, cinema and creative writing at the University of Turku. She has been living in Paris since 2005 and is currently writing her second play for children. She enjoys reading, old cinemas, music, challenges and good conversations. She is most happy around good people who make her laugh and think.

8 year old Raphael O’Sullivan assisted his father on two separte shoots for this issue. Helping to collect & form the ring of leaves, he also helped with lighting & directing model Sigita Nedzvecka.

MGW Lahiffe is a 25-year-old English writer idling in Paris, working on his second novel, parts of which can be read at www.michaeldemimonde.blogspot.com, along with occasional notes on his fascination with symbolism, the Soviet Union, music and graveyards.

SHOPPING Azzedine Alaïa - +33 (0)1 42 72 19 19 Buddhist Punk - www.buddhistpunk.co.uk Burfitt - www.burfitt.com Céline - www.celine.com Christian Lacroix - www.christian-lacroix.fr Chloé - www.chloe.com Corpus Christi - www.corpuschristi.fr Disaya - Dorothee Simonnet + 33(0)1 46 51 13 96 Harvey Nichols - www.harveynichols.com Dreamandawake - www.dreamandawake.com Dries Van Noten - www.driesvannoten.be Eres - www.eres.fr Hélène Zubeldia - www.helenezubeldia.com Ikou Tschuss - www.ikoutschuss.com Ines and Marechal - www.lappartpr.com Jean Charles de Castelbajac - www.jc-de-castelbajac.com Jean-Luc Amsler - www.jeanlucamsler.fr John Galliano - www.johngalliano.com Josep Font - www.josepfont.com Lutz & Patmos - www.lutzandpatmos.com Maison Martin Margiela - www.maisonmartinmargiela.com Malene Birger - www.bymalenebirger.com Miu Miu - www.miumiu.com Moutoncollet - www.moutoncollet.com Paule Ka - www.pauleka.com Pierre Hardy - www.pierrehardy.com Scott Ramsay Kyle - www.scottramsaykyle.com Soaz - www.soaz.fr Spijkers en Spijkers - www.spijkersenspijkers.com Steve & J Yoni P - www.doorsbyjasbm.com Sulkawa - www.sulkawa.com Sylvia Rielle - www.sylviarielle.com Tanja Malo - www.tanjamalo.com Wolford - www.wolford.com Xuan Thu Nguyen - www.x-tn.nl

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POSTCARDS — «FINLAND HAS AN ESTIMATED 56 GUNS FOR EVERY 100 PEOPLE, MAKING IT THE 3RD LARGEST GUN OWNING COUNTRY AFTER THE U.S.A AND YEMEN.» ILLUSTRATION: KRSN

MIILA KANKAANRANTA MIILAKANKAANRANTA@GMAIL.COM

POLAR NIGHT When a bicycle lamp is brighter than the sun, the whole world seems to be full of light.

CLOUDBERRY Royalty of the swamp, the cloudberry gets people to kneel down. Yet only 10-20% of the berries are harvested every year.

SNOW The day when the ground and the trees turn white, the air gets a new color. The snow gives variety to the winter.

LAPLAND Constant negotiations between mysterious authenticity, supposed peripheries and ordinary practices give shape to Lapland today.

FELL A quiet silhouette, sounds of the future.

REINDEER About 700 000 reindeers are running around the Fennoscandia. Now and then they get run over by a car.