80
FACING THE MUSIC
Left: Part of the
exterior of the Hall of
Culture was made with
wedge-shaped brick,
to form curves. Below:
Lighting on the canopy
that connects the Hall
of Culture’s auditorium
with its office building.
Bottom: The interior of
the concert hall.KULTTUURITALO, OR HALL OF CULTURE
COMMISSIONED BY FINL AND’S COMMUNIST PART Y, A ALTO’S 1958
AUDITORIUM AND OFFICE BUILDING IN HELSINKI IS NOW OWNED BY THE
FINNISH GOVERNMENT. THOUGH THE CONCERT HALL IS STILL IN USE, THE
BOXLIKE OFFICES SIT EMP T Y, UNSUITABLE FOR TODAY’S WORK CULTURE.
81HOME FRONT
Filled with Artek
furniture, one apartment
in the Kauttua Terraced
House serves as an
in-context look at Aalto’s
work. Below left: The
building’s white-stucco
exterior. Below right:
Aalto drawings and tools.
For more on Aalto, watch
the video at wsj.com.KAUTTUA TERRACED HOUSE
A ALTO’S 1938 HOUSING FOR PAPER MILL WORKERS IN
SOUTHWESTERN FINL AND IS ON THE MARKET NOW THAT THE
COMPANY NO LONGER HAS A PRESENCE IN THE REGION.
ONE APARTMENT IS KEP T AS A MUSEUM TO A ALTO’S WORK.Aalto, hired to create apartments for Ahlstrom workers, designed a
building that climbs a nearby hillside like a white stucco stairway.
One of its six units is now maintained by the local government as
a kind of Aalto museum, filled with Artek furniture; the others are
rented to people like Irmeli Virta, a retired nurse who pays 780 euros
a month for her two-bedroom flat. Virta, whose grandfather worked
in the paper mill, had always dreamed of living in the Aalto building,
which, she says, represented modernity. She got her chance about
two years ago when she retired and moved back to her hometown.
Ahlstrom sold the paper mill to the Japanese company Jujo start-
ing in 1992, and it closed its last industrial operation in Kauttua,
a carton factory, a few years ago. Recently, A. Ahlström Real
Estate, part of the Ahlström family’s holding company, the largest
shareholder of what was once the Ahlstrom Corporation, put the
landmarked housing on the market. In an email, Peter Ahlström,
CEO of A. Ahlström Real Estate, wrote that the “company’s indus-
trial era in Kauttua has come to an end. We have therefore after
thorough consideration decided to sell the property. We encourage
serious buyer candidates to contact us in writing.”
Virta knows her home is for sale, but she doesn’t expect a buyer
to appear anytime soon, given the remote location and the need for
extensive repairs. “It will have to be somebody who thinks this is
worth saving,” she says. “Not somebody looking to make money.”
The same might be true, ultimately, of the Paimio Sanatorium.
With tuberculosis in retreat 50 years ago, the building was converted
to a general hospital, which in turn closed in 2014. Its owner, the
Hospital District, has been leasing part of the building to a founda-
tion that helps children with ADHD, autism and other disorders. Most
patients come with their families for a week, living in what had been
staff housing and taking meals in the original dining hall. The founda-
tion receives money from Veikkaus, the country’s gaming authority.
(Surprisingly, given its reputation as a sober Nordic country, Finland
funds social services in part with revenue from slot machines.)
Katariina Pärnä, director of the foundation, says she loves the
building for its airiness and generous proportions. But features
designed for convalescing adults aren’t always right for kids.
Particularly worrisome are Aalto’s vast terraces, designed to give
tuberculosis patients access to fresh air. “I live in fear,” says Pärnä
as she unlocks the door to a seventh-floor balcony. A sign reads, in
English and Finnish, close the door! child’s risk of falling! The
built-in maintenance ladders, made of bent-metal bars attached to
the facades, are now “attractive nuisances.” One boy, who looked to
be around 10, couldn’t resist climbing one, then hanging off it.
Only a little less daunting are the tourists, who sometimes arrive,
unannounced, by the busload. “The children ask, ‘Why are they tak-
ing pictures of us?’” says Pärnä’s colleague, administrative director
Päivi Liukkonen. “We explain that they’re taking pictures of the
architecture.” But the charms of the building are lost on some of the
parents. “It’s OK, just OK,” says one father, a young computer engi-
neer, when asked how he felt about the architecture. Then he had to
run after his son, whose name, he said, was Alvar.
Lindh says the building requires 1.5 million to 2 million euros a
year for maintenance. One way to pay for that would be to sell some
of the furniture designed for the building. True, most of Paimio’s
original Aalto tables, chairs and lamps were auctioned off in the
1970s, according to Lindh. Some of those pieces still turn up for sale.
For example, a metal bedside table from Paimio is being offered by
a British gallery, Zigzag Modern, for more than $3,500. Original
Paimio chairs command several times that much.
But according to the Hospital District’s Setälä, a lot of Aalto
furniture remains. Indeed, news of the sanatorium’s potential sale
created concern, not just for the structure but also for its contents,
and Lindh worries that a buyer might strip out the remaining pieces
for a quick cash infusion. But that might be OK, if the money were
used to renovate the building. Someone has to save Aalto’s architec-
ture, and it might as well be Aalto.