Strawberry fields and apple thieves

from Turku Times 1/2020

Welcome to Turku

Written by Kari Tuomi T he strawberries are available everywhere from Midsummer to late July. The season is not very long and it ends as suddenly as it began. Finnish Strawberries are sweeter and smaller than the varieties you might know, so it’s really worth tasting them. Unless you are reading this in August, when they have gone. Or become too expensive to buy.

New potatoes and their popularity in Finland is somewhat of a puzzle. The French would hardly describe them as the ”delicacy worthy of best asparagus”, but that’s exactly what they say of new potatoes in Finland. The traditional diet of millions of Finns from 1960’s through 1980’s was potatoes with a simple meat sauce. I belong to a generation extremely bored of the tuber during rest of the year, but the appearance of those small beautiful potatoes at Midsummer is still a miracle. It’s all about how long you cook them and what you eat them with. Start with a dab of fresh butter and lots of fragrant local dill in the cooking water.

Plain ordinary fresh peas are a popular vegetable, which is eaten in an unordinary way. Finns enjoy them uncooked, straight from the pod. We are one of the few nations in the world that enjoy sweet peas without cooking. Remember to pay attention to the technique! You can do everything with your lips, teeth, thumbs, using one hand or two hands. Advanced pea-eaters can casually eat hundreds of peas in a minute, without even looking at the vegetable. An art in itself. Strawberry Fields What do Finns eat during high summer and early autumn? Besides the usual, new potatoes, cauliflower, French beans, broccoli, salads and smoked fish, there are many hugely popular local sweet delicacies. Colourful berries are always a favourite, especially the different varieties of open field strawberries and small blue bilberries from the forests. They are sweet yet healthy and highly tongue staining.

ADVANCED PEA-EATERS CAN CASUALLY EAT HUNDREDS OF PEAS IN A MINUTE, WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING AT THE VEGETABLE.

and Apple Thieves

Wild mushrooms slowly start to come out during summer months (after a brief appearance of False morels in the late spring) and the season peaks during autumn. Just like grapes, we are at the mercy of weather, dry weather being less than ideal, rain a bit better. Finns talk about good bilberry years, good lingonberry years and good mushrooms vintages just like any serious wine producer.

One thing tourists are always amazed at is the act of mushrooming itself. There’s nothing to it. You can just step into any forest and pick some. No training required, no licences or permits from the landowner. You need a basic knowledge of the poisonous mushrooms (most people use a reverse tactic and know the three tastiest types) and an hour or two. On a good mushroom year, it’s amazing what you can find in half an hour. Bucketloads of funnel chanterelles or ceps. Believe me, there can be such a thing as too many mushrooms to pick. Hundreds millions of euro’s worth of nature’s goodies, including berries, rot in the forests every year. A fact our media is keen to remind us about every autumn: we have become lazy. The first delicious heirloom apples appear during early autumn. You cannot find any in your local supermarket and the best ones are never sold at the market place either. You need to go to your own garden or “borrow” some from your neighbours overhanging branches. The varieties have been around for centuries and some of the most succulent ones are only found here in Finland. On a really warm summer, the abundance of juicy apples can be amazing.

The taste of these local fruit can be so unique and deeply tied to your childhood memories, that finding a substitute abroad is practically impossible. Of all the foods a Finn might miss abroad: rye bread, salty liquorice or pea soup, apples can be the most difficult ones to substitute. s

FINNS TALK ABOUT GOOD BILBERRY YEARS, GOOD LINGONBERRY YEARS AND GOOD MUSHROOMS VINTAGES JUST LIKE ANY SERIOUS WINE PRODUCER.

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Birger Kaipiainen - the prince of ceramics

Written by Mia altia, Curator at Turku Art Museum

This fall Turku Art Museum treats the public to the fabulous work of designer and ceramicist Birger Kaipiainen. One of the most prestigious and internationally successful ceramic artists in Finland, Kaipiainen is best known for his stylised nature motifs and romanticism. But how did the designer of the beloved Paratiisi dishes and Kiurujen yö wallpaper become the prince of ceramic art and a popular favourite among collectors?

Birger Kaipiainen (1915–1988) was born in Pori, but the family moved to Helsinki just a year after his birth. The mother’s support was important for the artistically talented boy, and summer holidays spent with the family in Sortavala on Lake Ladoga had a great impact on his craft. Young Birger was fascinated by the lushness of summer, the visual exuberance of Russian Orthodox culture in Karelia and the Valamo monastery. As a result, natural motifs, exuberance and decorativeness later found their way into his ceramic art.

Curlews and violets are motifs Kaipiainen is best known for and which also made him famous. Pearl Curlew from the 1960's, ceramics and steel. Collection Kakkonen.

IN THE MODERNIST PERIOD, WHICH PUT AN EMPHASIS ON PRACTICALITY AND ASCETICISM, KAIPIAINEN TOOK A PATH OF HIS OWN.

The clock often appers in Kaipiainen’s imagery, always stopped at a quarter past twelve. As a bohemian, Kaipiainen was in the habit of showing up at work after noon. Wall plate from the 1980’s. Collection Kakkonen.

photo: Rauno Träskelin

Kaipiainen graduated as a ceramic and decorative artist from the Central School for Applied Arts in 1937, and the same year he was hired by the art department at the Arabia factory. A haven of fine art within the industrial art factory, the art department played a key role in the international triumph of Finnish applied art in the 1950s and 1960s. Kaipiainen was awarded an honorary award at the Milan Triennale (Diplôme d’Honneur) in 1951, the Grand prix in 1960, and the Grand Prix at the Montreal Expo in 1967.

From the very start of his career, Kaipiainen distinguished himself from other ceramic artists with his highly personal style. He saw himself primarily as a visual artist, even while working under the roof of an industrial enterprise. In the modernist period, which put an emphasis on practicality and asceticism, Kaipiainen took a path of his own, and his imagery came to be characterised by sensuality, romanticism and fairy tale wonder.

Birger Kaipiainen in his studio c 1945.

Useless, comforting beauty

In his early career, Kaipiainen designed decorative dishes and plates painted with bright colours, and the escapism and romantic nostalgia of the motifs resonated with art audiences in the war-ravaged nation (Finland was in war with Russia 1939–1944). Music, opera and ballet were important for Kaipiainen, and their influence could also be detected in his own work. The history of art, early Italian Renaissance in particular, was an important source of inspiration for him. The graceful, garlanded female figures in his work remind one of Botticelli’s Spring (1478) as well as of ancient Greek mythology. The idea to use nature’s springtime exuberance as a theme was spurred by the post-war yearning for beauty, yet it also contained a more symbolic aspect: the anticipation of spring reflected the spirit of the day – let life vanquish all wilting and death.

Painting was the perfect medium for Kaipiainen, who on account of polio was unable to work at the potter’s wheel. Although the dishes and plates changed in appearance over the decades, they were Kaipiainen’s principal medium early on. Kaipiainen used the classic technique of sgraffito, popular during the Renaissance, in which a painted surface is scratched or drawn upon, thus revealing an underlying layer of colour or the substrate. In spite of employing elements reminiscent of Italy, Kaipiainen did not get to visit the country until 1949.

Stylistic renewal

The 1950s witnessed a profound stylistic renewal in Kaipiainen’s art. The war was followed by a new period of greater freedom and increasing internationalisation, and that was also reflected in applied arts. The romantic style Kaipiainen had cultivated in the 1940s had become quite popular in Nordic applied art, and had reached the end of its road.

In 1958 Kaipiainen married Maggi Halonen, an economist employed in the fashion business. His first solo exhibition at the Arabia gallery on the Esplanade in Helsinki in 1952 was a resounding success. Human figures continued to occupy centre stage, but his 20

Kaipiainen distinguished himself from other ceramic artists with his highly personal style. He saw himself primarily as a visual artist, even while working under the roof of an industrial enterprise. Works by Birger Kaipiainen. Collection Kakkonen.

SEE GREEN NUMBER 11 ON MAP (PAGE 13). BIRGER KAIPIAINEN AT TURKU ART MUSEUM 18 SEP 2020 – 17 JAN 2021

Most of the works in this extensive exhibition belong to the art collection of commercial counsellor Kyösti Kakkonen. Open Tue–Fri 11–7 pm, Sat–Sun 11–5 pm. Due the COVID-19 epidemic changes may occur, please check the latest information on turuntaidemuseo.fi/en style became frontal, more graphic and three-dimensional. The colours, too, became darker and more intense. Critics, however, were at a loss with where to place Kaipiainen in the triumphal story of Finnish applied art, which was being used to bolster national identity at the time. They considered Kaipiainen too luxurious and un-Finnish in the straitened circumstances of the post-war reconstruction period, which raised up everyday life and the home as key values.

No wonder that Kaipiainen began looking abroad instead. We may assume that working at the Rörstrand factory in Sweden 1954–1958 was rewarding for him, for there he was a respected artist who was given free rein. Sweden provided just the right kind of soil for Kaipiainen’s works, where they were seen as an exotic breath of fresh air and idiosyncratic, in a positive sense, to the extent that critics warned copycats: don’t bother. A period of blossoming Kaipiainen’s art literally blossomed in the 1960s, his works overwhelmed by flowers, fruit and berries. Butterflies, dragonflies and birds were also recurring motifs. This period also marked the return of decorated plates and dishes, although Kaipiainen designed monumental works as well, including the award-winning “Sea of Violets” (Orvokkimeri) exhibited at the Montreal Expo in 1967. The ceramic beads Kaipiainen had included in his repertoire back in the 1950s now reappeared for good, serving as an integral part of his rebellion against the demands of form and functionality. Another new genre was multisensory work, which invited the viewer not only to look but also to touch, taste and smell. Kaipiainen’s flower-trees are in fact not trees at all but overflowing confectionary constellations.

Curlews and violets are motifs Kaipiainen is best known for and which also made him famous. Next to the clock frozen in time, these motifs have invited the most interpretations based on his persona. The blue violet is a common symbol of faithfulness and permanence and is a popular motif in expressions of love. Kaipiainen once said, “Chopin loved violets, and I love Chopin.” The clock had appeared in Kaipiainen’s imagery during his time in Sweden, always stopped at a quarter past twelve. Flowers, fruit and clocks can all be interpreted as vanitas motifs, symbols of the inevitable passage of time and of the impermanence of all things. Yet, the clocks also have a more mundane explanation: as a bohemian, Kaipiainen was in the habit of showing up at work after noon. The final act Objects designed by Kaj Franck, Timo Sarpaneva and Tapio Wirkkala found a place in the kitchens, on the dining tables and in the living rooms of Finns. By contrast, Birger Kaipiainen’s works reached beyond the everyday, towards a never-ending party and the constant clinking of champagne glasses. Works by Kaipiainen were given as official state presents to the Shah of Persia and to India, Belgium, Sweden and Denmark. The artist had found favour among the power elites of the nation and became a member of the narrow celebrity society in Finland.

Magnificent parties hosted in the Bökars Manor by Kaipiainen’s good friend and Marimekko founder Armi Ratia were legendary. Kaipiainen was a welcome and frequent guest there, among many other celebrities of the day. He was in fact so much at home at the manor that he had his own room with red décor, called the Red Room (Röda rummet) and nicknamed Bordelli, the Brothel. In the 1980s, a stage-like hall made its appearance on Kaipiainen’s plates, which with its chandeliers and rustic furniture was an unmistakeable echo of Bökars.

Work was Kaipiainen’s passion, and he continued to work almost daily, even in retirement. He died in 1988 at the age of 73 after an ordinary day of work. His colleague Oiva Toikka once recalled Kaipiainen, saying, “Aristocratic Birger Kaipiainen was the prince of ceramics. He is inimitable; he cannot be compared to anyone.” s 21

TURKU TIMES COLUMN

Spending nights in hotels was not something I got used to as a child. My parents worked as photographers in a small district in northern Finland and to accommodate a family of seven in a hotel would have cost far too much. Hence, on the rare vacations were got used to spending nights on makeshift beds on the floors of friends and relatives. And what I had learned as a child, I carried on as a student. On occasional trips to other towns, I would crash on the spare mattresses of my local friends. We would laugh, talk and make the world a better place until four in the morning and then empty the refrigerator for breakfast.

Therefore I was truly seduced by hotels only as an adult. They whisked me away from a day-to-day life, into a totally different word where daily routines, such as cleaning, making breakfast and changing the linen would be done for me by someone else, all I had to do was to enter. At home I would fantasize how my messy one-room flat would one day become clear and contemplated as a hotel room.

A little luxury to balance a lot of every day life. That was the kind of hotel relation I yearned for. To be able to take a weekend away, see a play in a strange city after a working week. To be able to stay in an elegantly decorated room and to enjoy the difficulty of multiple choice at the sumptuous breakfast buffet. We all recognize the tingling joy of entering a new room for the first time. One is compelled to draw the curtains and check the view, open the door and inspect the bathroom. It’s almost annoying to open the suitcase and start unpacking the mundanities of one’s normal life into that beautiful utopia. Then our relationship changed. My work as a novelist started to take me to hotels more often that I thought was even necessary. Our relationship turned habitual. There always seemed to be the same rainy street-view behind the curtains and the same indifferent beds and tables in the room. The only cause for a slight excitement was whether there would be a tub or a shower in the bathroom.

Suddenly we were no longer lovebirds but in a steady relationship. When previously I had wanted a hotel to be the unordinary non-home, nowadays when a hotel room functions as my home base during the author visits, I quite unexpectedly yearn for likeness of home from it. Instead of a hotel in the luring pulse of the city centre, I prefer a quiet location. I, too, keep to my room, having no interest to go nightclubbing. Instead of the abundant breakfast buffet a middle-aged man appreciates the light vegetarian choices. And rather than room service he prefers the possiblity to iron his outfit before making a public appearance. What will the next step be? Are we to become an old married couple, knowing each other’s needs without words. There will be a thin pillow and a thick duvet for my aching bones waiting for me on my arrival and I will know my way around the building and into the breakfast room without instructions. Perhaps later on we will grunt on my grow-up daughter’s relation to hotels: her stories about the exciting weekend trips, spectacular lounges and beautiful decorations. Who knows.

At the moment, however, she is just six years old and has very little experience in hotels. And although the 800-kilometre drive to see grandmother requires us to stop overnight, we have a habit of spending the night in the guestrooms of the relatives. s Written by Tomm i Kinnunen Translated by Anna Eloaho Tommi Kinnunen (b.1973) is an author and a school teacher of Finnish literature. He was born in Kuusamo, north-east Finland and currently lives in Turku. His debut novel, Where Four Roads Meet (Neljän tien risteys, 2014) was shortlisted for the Finlandia Prize for Fiction and awarded with several literature awards. Where Four Roads Meet has been adapted to theatre as well. Kinnunen’s second novel, the Light Behind the Eyes (Lopotti, 2016) was also shortlisted for Finlandia Prize. His third, The Glass River (Pintti, 2018) was awarded with the Bothnia Literary Prize. Kinnunen’s works have been translated into 20 languages. His fourth novel will be published in autumn 2020. P ho t o: S u v i-Tuuli Kan k aanpää Hitched to hotels