Winter in a photograph–holiday for the tourist, daily routine for the locals, print version


Winter in a photograph–holiday for the tourist, daily routine for the locals On a postcard of the Finnish Tourist Association from 1942, three figures are skiing in the landscape of Pallastunturi Fell as captured by photographer R. Schauman. The gentle fells in the shadow in the foreground are picturesquely rounded. Farther back is a fell of sharper definition in bright sunlight. The picture arouses the feeling “I would like to be there, too, alone with my thoughts. I would like to feel my body tested by physical strain, to experience the curative grandeur of nature.” “Yes, this is certainly a nice place to spend time”, wrote Lyyli Autti, who worked as a photographer in Rovaniemi, on the card over 60 years ago. “All the best from Pallastunturi Fell. I'm here skiing with my sister. / —/ With lots of soft snow still here, it was fun to zigzag our way down the hills. / —/ The world can really be beautiful, it's as if everyday were a wonderful holiday.” Her sister Hanna cited the words of an unknown poet on her card: “Whoever has the courage to go up into the fells from the valley will see a land of wonder.” At that time, winter was described on postcards much as it is now. Winter is beautiful – and is associated with Lapland, which is often romanticized and exoticized, particularly through descriptions of the Sámi. Jorma Lehtola observes that the touristic image of Lapland has long been colored by Sámi culture. Along with Santa Claus, the Sámi and their world of color have been a strong selling point for Lapland, although the image invoked is a relic from half a century ago: a nomad, who no longer exists in Finland, or a person living in a tepee, which the last Sámi left for houses in the 1960s. Jarkko Saarinen speaks of producing Lapland as an ethnic landscape. It is a landscape whose meanings have been produced in the touristic literature and advertisements. Tourists experience winter skiing, driving dog teams and riding in reindeer-drawn sledges, and all of this has been depicted on postcards. The future of tourism is bright in Lapland, as Arto Haveri and Asko Suikkanen observe in the book Se on sellainen seutu ja sellainen maa [That's the type of country it is], and, indeed, thousands upon thousands of tourists transmit the message of Lapland as a “wonderland” on postcards. One sees a very different winter in the documentary photographs of Marja Vuorelainen, an artist who photographed Lapland. She, too, came from far away but stopped in Enontekiö in 1957 – and stayed. In Vuorelainen's photographs, winter is present as one of the seasons. It is not a focus of activity but a time when people go about their business much as they do in summer. Her pictures reflect the unpretentiousness of the work-a-day world, the poetry of everyday life. Much of her work deals with the life of women and children, women's continuous work and bustle. In one photograph of late winter, a woman form Kautokeino is gathering clean and frozen laundry from a rack of birch branches on which pots and pans and jerky are also hanging. In the background is a woodshed shaped like a tepee, which some tourists have mistaken for a real tepee. Commenting on Vuorelainen's photographs, Jorma Puranen remarks: ”Marja Vuorelainen did not photograph landscapes. She seems to have been too interested in photographing the relation between people and nature in the North. And yet, when I look at her pictures, I think of the landscape – one which is outside, another which is inside of us.” Like Vuorelainen's, Matti Saanio's photographs reflect the trust he has earned in the community. Saanio was also ”an outsider”. As Leena Laakso observes, he is a central figure, an early pioneer in clearing the path that led to the photograph being accepted in Finland as a means of doing art. Saanio is particularly well known for his pictures of life in the North since the 1950s. On the cover of Saanio's first work of photographs, Musta talvi, Valkea kesä [Black winter, White summer] (1996), a bear dog sitting in the front yard of a small farm is observing its surroundings. The picture is taken from the porch, from inside the house. The photographs in the work are graphic, dramatically expressive in their black and whiteness. There are few tones in between. The book is a direct tribute to everyday life in a life now past. It does not try to envoke pity. Amid the pictorial narrative run the philosophical words of Paavo Rintala. In the pictures "—/ you see the long darkness of many winters, heavy as slumber; you see starving hordes and the exhaustion of human limbs, but you also see joy”. For Lyyli Autti, who sent the postcard, photographing winter was not an end in itself in her everyday work as a photographer in Rovaniemi. Winter was present in her pictures just as much as summer. As a tourist on Pallastunturi, her experiences of winter were no better or worse than those of a native; they were different. As Paavo Rintala writes: ”When snow comes and you see fox or elk tracks, follow them: they will most often lead you away from the noise that muddles your thoughts; follow them without hesitation: they will lead you closer to thought itself.” This is an idea offering an opportunity for those experiencing everyday life and a holiday to come together. Mervi Autti
© University of Lapland and Kemi-Tornio Polytechnic, Culture Unit

Winter in a photograph–holiday for the tourist, daily routine for the locals

On a postcard of the Finnish Tourist Association from 1942, three figures are skiing in the landscape of Pallastunturi Fell as captured by photographer R. Schauman. The gentle fells in the shadow in the foreground are picturesquely rounded. Farther back is a fell of sharper definition in bright sunlight. The picture arouses the feeling “I would like to be there, too, alone with my thoughts. I would like to feel my body tested by physical strain, to experience the curative grandeur of nature.”

“Yes, this is certainly a nice place to spend time”, wrote Lyyli Autti, who worked as a photographer in Rovaniemi, on the card over 60 years ago. “All the best from Pallastunturi Fell. I'm here skiing with my sister. / —/ With lots of soft snow still here, it was fun to zigzag our way down the hills. / —/ The world can really be beautiful, it's as if everyday were a wonderful holiday.” Her sister Hanna cited the words of an unknown poet on her card: “Whoever has the courage to go up into the fells from the valley will see a land of wonder.”

At that time, winter was described on postcards much as it is now. Winter is beautiful – and is associated with Lapland, which is often romanticized and exoticized, particularly through descriptions of the Sámi. Jorma Lehtola observes that the touristic image of Lapland has long been colored by Sámi culture. Along with Santa Claus, the Sámi and their world of color have been a strong selling point for Lapland, although the image invoked is a relic from half a century ago: a nomad, who no longer exists in Finland, or a person living in a tepee, which the last Sámi left for houses in the 1960s. Jarkko Saarinen speaks of producing Lapland as an ethnic landscape. It is a landscape whose meanings have been produced in the touristic literature and advertisements.

Tourists experience winter skiing, driving dog teams and riding in reindeer-drawn sledges, and all of this has been depicted on postcards. The future of tourism is bright in Lapland, as Arto Haveri and Asko Suikkanen observe in the book Se on sellainen seutu ja sellainen maa [That's the type of country it is], and, indeed, thousands upon thousands of tourists transmit the message of Lapland as a “wonderland” on postcards.

One sees a very different winter in the documentary photographs of Marja Vuorelainen, an artist who photographed Lapland. She, too, came from far away but stopped in Enontekiö in 1957 – and stayed. In Vuorelainen's photographs, winter is present as one of the seasons. It is not a focus of activity but a time when people go about their business much as they do in summer. Her pictures reflect the unpretentiousness of the work-a-day world, the poetry of everyday life. Much of her work deals with the life of women and children, women's continuous work and bustle. In one photograph of late winter, a woman form Kautokeino is gathering clean and frozen laundry from a rack of birch branches on which pots and pans and jerky are also hanging. In the background is a woodshed shaped like a tepee, which some tourists have mistaken for a real tepee. Commenting on Vuorelainen's photographs, Jorma Puranen remarks: ”Marja Vuorelainen did not photograph landscapes. She seems to have been too interested in photographing the relation between people and nature in the North. And yet, when I look at her pictures, I think of the landscape – one which is outside, another which is inside of us.”

Like Vuorelainen's, Matti Saanio's photographs reflect the trust he has earned in the community. Saanio was also ”an outsider”. As Leena Laakso observes, he is a central figure, an early pioneer in clearing the path that led to the photograph being accepted in Finland as a means of doing art. Saanio is particularly well known for his pictures of life in the North since the 1950s.

On the cover of Saanio's first work of photographs, Musta talvi, Valkea kesä [Black winter, White summer] (1996), a bear dog sitting in the front yard of a small farm is observing its surroundings. The picture is taken from the porch, from inside the house. The photographs in the work are graphic, dramatically expressive in their black and whiteness. There are few tones in between. The book is a direct tribute to everyday life in a life now past. It does not try to envoke pity. Amid the pictorial narrative run the philosophical words of Paavo Rintala. In the pictures "—/ you see the long darkness of many winters, heavy as slumber; you see starving hordes and the exhaustion of human limbs, but you also see joy”.

For Lyyli Autti, who sent the postcard, photographing winter was not an end in itself in her everyday work as a photographer in Rovaniemi. Winter was present in her pictures just as much as summer. As a tourist on Pallastunturi, her experiences of winter were no better or worse than those of a native; they were different. As Paavo Rintala writes: ”When snow comes and you see fox or elk tracks, follow them: they will most often lead you away from the noise that muddles your thoughts; follow them without hesitation: they will lead you closer to thought itself.” This is an idea offering an opportunity for those experiencing everyday life and a holiday to come together.