The Arrival – Finland artists’ residency

• by Miranda Gavin
• in artist residency nature photography writing
• posted May 7, 2019

The Finnish language is known to be difficult to learn, not least because it does not have the same origins as many of the Indo-European languages I am familiar with. Its ancestor is Proto-Uralic, which was spoken about 2000-7000 years ago. For those of you who like to know about languages, here is an article from Scientific American, Finnish Roots, which traces its origins.

I have boarded the S47 train too far back and, as I walk through the carriages towards Coach 10 seat 5, I find myself unable to pass any further ahead as there is a locked door between the two sections of the train which indicates the carriage where the train will eventually divide. Fortunately, many of the Finns on the train speak English and reassure me that although the next stop Tampere is over an hour away (my stop) I will be able to get off the train there. In the meantime I can simply find another seat for the journey. The only word I learn on the first day is Kiitos, which is pronounced KEE-tohss, and means thank you. I learn it from the man who I end up sitting next to as the train pulls out of Tikkurila train station towards Tampere. On the train, I make a note of the pronunciation, repeat it to myself a few times, and am happy that it is the first phrase I have learnt.

I am heading towards a rural area near Hämeenkyrö, or Ham and Eggs, as it is sometimes called by residents. The two timber houses where I will be staying and working on creative projects, as part of a guided residency at Arteles for the next month, are The Blue House and The Yellow House, or Yellowsville, as a writer in The Blue House refers to it.

First impressions are the erratic weather—it is almost freezing—and the rows of silver birch. This is one of my favourite trees and it is also the national tree of Finland. In a matter of hours snow falls in staccato bursts and is punctuated by northern sunlight. From my window I can see a huge lake and I am told that it may be possible to see moose too. In fact one of the residents, who I take a two-hour walk with, turns out to be an adept tracker and she points out different types of poo, including that of the moose. The pellets, she tells me, look like small chocolate eggs. Later, when we find a pile of them this is exactly what they look like.

I use my iphone to record my first walk in a new terrain. It is spring and new shoots are emerging everywhere amongst the debris of winter.