Introduction

Death is a village in Finland. I saw it for the first time during a working trip through the back window of the taxi I was in. As the taxi driver drove into the courtyard of a small shop and exclaimed, "Welcome to Death!" I thought to myself: only in Finland can a village be called Death( In Finnish Kuolema). For me, it's this relationship to death that separates the Swedes from the Finns. In Finland, you are born, then comes a long period of suffering, and then you die. In Sweden, you are born, everything is Jätte bra ! (very good) and then you disappear. Like to Spain.

I am born in Sweden. When I found Kuolema, I had lived in Finland for seven years and been photographing for five. As we stood there on that courtyard, the title Life in Death came instantly to me, and I decided then and there that I would work on Life in Death for a year. This was the summer of 2002. Jorma the cab driver told me about the twin sisters who worked in the store but I wasn't paying attention. Maybe the sisters would be a part of my project, maybe not. I had decided that even if I ended up taking pictures of walls and grass, I would photograph Life in Death. And that was that. Piste .

Death, The Village.

There are two legends about how the village got its name. It either comes from the innkeeper Juha Nygård who was killed by a passing gypsy in 1888, or from an old wartime rhyme from 1808-09: Frost, Famine, Death, Broken Neck to Heaven. The rhyme not only gave this village its name, but the names of the neighbouring villages, as well: fb

The village itself is not big. You can easily drive by it without ever realizing you have just been to Death. It's situated in Ostrobothnia, east of Alajärvi, along route 16. Ten houses are scattered around an indistinct crossing. There's no sign to tell you where you are. The only noticeable thing about the village is the local store K-Extra Pitkänen with the two, antique and still functioning gas pumps out front.

The First Visit

I drove five hours to the village from Helsinki in a dilapidated car (the exhaust pipe fell off in Tampere), without knowing whether the families would agree to be a part of my yearlong photo project or not. That was in September 2002. The only time I ever saw the cashiers in the store appear hesitant was the first time I walked in and, in my faltering Finnish, tried to explain what it was I wanted to do. They looked suspiciously at me. But then I said the timely words " Onks teillä kahvia? " "Do you have coffee?" and they were suddenly all smiles. Coffee was brought to the table, and I took out my camera. That time, I stayed in a hired lodge for five days and photographed in and around the store.

Working the cashiers were the twin sisters Arja and Airi Pitkänen, 50 years old in the fall of 2002. They are married to Kalevi and Keijo, who are brothers. The store doubles as their home, and is in the front half of the building. The four bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen are in the back. The store is open 364 days a year, and only closes for Boxing Day, when they go visiting relatives. The family also includes their children Annika and Joni, born seven weeks apart. During my later visits, I bunked on a sofa in Annika's bedroom. In-laws Samuli and Asteri Pitkänen live in the neighbouring house. Arja's and Airi's sister Aulikki lives across the street with her husband Kalevi.

I have mostly photographed the life and home of the Pitkänens. In all, I visited them 10 times during that year, and I was almost like a member of their family. It turned out the sisters didn't really understand what I was up to, and funnily enough, they still let me into their lives and home with my camera. It is rather unusual for people to have such trust in strangers. But the penny dropped (regarding the project) after my third visit.

After a while, I was given rides with a bunch of construction workers.   They were from around Kuolema and drove all the way to Helsinki every week for work. They worked 4 days a week, drove up to Kuolema on Thursday, with me in the backseat, and drove back to Helsinki on Sunday evening.

A Typical Visit

I usually arrived at the Pitkänens on Thursday evening, at round 10 or 11 pm. The men had already gone to sleep, but the ladies were up waiting for me with a plate of sandwiches. We hugged and chitchatted. On Friday morning, Annika went off to school, unless it was a holiday. I woke up at 8 or 8.30, put on my clothes, had porridge with strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, and a cup of coffee. The sisters darted in and out of the kitchen to see if everything was ok. The men had gone off to work many hours ago. The sisters divide their chores in weeks: one week working the till, one week unpacking, preparing food and doing the laundry.

After breakfast, we started waiting for lunch, which was often elk meat with a brown sauce and potatoes. We drank coffee, philosophized and took pictures. After lunch, we drank coffee while we waited for Annika to come back from school.

In the evenings during the week, they taped the soap opera "The Bold and the Beautiful". The store closed at 6 pm, or 8 pm during the summer, but The Bold and the Beautiful came on at 5.30 pm. Then they closed up, we had dinner and the ladies and I went on some adventure together. We usually went over to friends for coffee; drove around to look at some nice scenery, had some snacks or bought a pizza in the neighboring village. In the summertime, we often had a sauna, swam and grilled some sausages. When we got back home, we watched The Bold and the Beautiful and then went to bed. Kalevi joined us on our outings sometimes, but Keijo never did. During the weekends, Kalevi slept in and then hung around the house, while Keijo and Joni often disappeared before I had awoken and took off on a motorcycle or went hunting or something. On 5 pm on Sundays, I headed back to Helsinki. They filled my bags with elk meat as I waited for my ride to pick me up. With 10-15 rolls of film in my bag, I happily curled up in my seat for the five-hour drive back home.

Eva Persson