Ville Hänninen
The secret recipe of Finnish comics
What makes Finnish comics interesting to international readers? The secret of many Finnish comics lies in their ability to depict worlds where something is "wrong". This sense of something being out of place seems to be the reason for the success of many of our most popular comics.
The first Finnish daily newspaper cartoon was Herra Pulliainen by Akseli Halonen (Helsingin Sanomat, 1927–33). Most Finnish comics, which depend on topical issues or are just boringly conventional, tend to be forgotten. However, the grouchy anarchy personified by Pulliainen is something else. Halonen did not seek to educate children on how to live properly as many of the educational books and comics of the age did. Instead, he showed the world in all is grotesque glory.
Pulliainen is a small, fat bundle of nerves with thinning hair, who cannot get along with his immediate surroundings. For all his lack of social graces, he is full of ideas. He pours a pot of hot water into the cold sea to make it warm enough for swimming. He tears at his head, and screws come loose. Irritated by his thinning hair, he solves the problem by drawing on a few more locks.
Herra Pulliainen could of course be thought of as traditional madcap humour with a small twist. Finnish underground comics from the 1960s and '70s, meanwhile, do not fit into the same category. During the 1960s, Finnish comics began to break free of their reputation as children's entertainment. The culture was in transition, as in many other countries. The walls between popular and high culture came tumbling down. While pop art brought everyday imagery into art, many comic artists included artistic influences into their work.
Timo Aarniala's (1945–2010) comics encompass all this at the same time: topical political commentary, slapstick humour and poetic stream of consciousness. Another key underground artist was Kalervo Palsa (1947–87). While barely published during his lifetime, this artist from Northern Finland has been a major influence in comics through his posthumously published, seemingly nihilistic and strange stories. Finnish comics have never shied away from the grotesque.
A typically northern frankness is apparent throughout; both in artistic and commercially successful comics. The most successful comic strips of this millennium are odd through and through. Juba Tuomola's Viivi and Wagner depicts the relationship between a woman and a pig. The cast of characters in Pertti Jarla's Fingerpori includes an exhibitionist, a double-entendre-spewing coffee lady – and Adolf Hitler.
A pipe is not just a pipe
Even though Juba Tuomola and Pertti Jarla have found commercial success, it is difficult to survive in Finland on comics alone. In a country with a population of five million, a comics industry has failed to materialise.
Cartoonists have no illusions about their future. They know that they will most likely have to do something else to make a living. This way, drawing comics can be both a job and a passion. The artist draws comics out of sheer personal inspiration. And since there is no money in comics in any case, any thought of compromise would essentially be pointless.
Nevertheless, or precisely because of this, Finnish comics have risen to new heights of both domestic and international acclaim during this century. There are more serious cartoonists around today than ever before. The best comics combine strong visuals with a robust story.
One of the keywords of Finnish comics is defamiliarisation. If a cartoon character is smiling, they are probably crying on the inside. Nothing is as simple as it seems.
Tommi Musturi, the winner of this year's Puupäähattu award for Finnish comic artists, is in many ways typical of the Finnish comic avant-garde. He creates stories with few or no words, engaging the reader with imagery and unsettlingly bright colours. This type of intentional minor irritation is common among Finnish comic artists.
Marko Turunen's use of colour evokes a beautiful nightmare. Matti Hagelberg challenges his readers by subverting the established structures of narrative and page layout. The bent-over, downtrodden characters of Jyrki Heikkinen are meek but unyielding in the face of the toughest adversity.
Samuelin linnut by Tommi Musturi
Everyday absurdity
Many contemporary Finnish comics may seem somewhat unpleasant. Where do I laugh? Is this nihilism, black humour, or is the artist passing a stark moral judgement on the nature of humanity?
Often it is all of the above. For example, Marko Turunen's comics often seem cold on the surface. The language is laconic, as if from a news bulletin or a hospital report. Originally trained as a sculptor, comic artist Turunen often combines banal everyday aspects with surrealism. The albums Tiskipäiväkirja (2002) and Kuolema kulkee kintereillä (2004) include autobiographical elements, while the 2007 Lihat puntarissa features newspaper clippings from Turunen's father's wrestling career.
Many of Turunen's albums depict a world which is simultaneously fascinating and terrifying. People are seen as macabre creatures. We may not be prisoners of our subconscious, but we are certainly guided by it.
Finnish comics are not exclusively macabre, however. Many conjure an everyday dream-state instead of darker themes despite generating strange moods or peculiar worlds.
Jenni Rope, for example, describes the small details of everyday life like Scrooge McDuck would describe the details of his beloved bank notes, with warmth and sensitivity. Rope elevates ordinary life – like drying your hair or soaking in the tub – to previously unknown heights. Small things become huge and wonderful. The more time we spend attempting to solve the unsolvable, the stranger the mystery becomes. Similar themes – mystification of the conventional and praise for the powers of the imagination – can be found in the comics of Terhi Ekebom and J. Tilsa.
In and out of time
The white-collar elite of Finland identifies visibly with the moneyed factions of the United States and the gold-tinged circles of Central Europe. It devises reports on the brand-identity of Finland and "creative insanity" for its own purposes.
Reading Finnish comics would provide a better foundation for such aspirations. Just beyond the marketing jargon and the Cheshire cat grins you can find artists who are the very personifications of creative insanity without subscribing to superficial nonsense.
One might even describe their works as controversial or political. When the defamiliarisation of the everyday is carried out with sufficient skill, it inevitably evokes thoughts in the reader. The stories often leave the reader with the unpleasant feeling – quite intentionally – that things in this world are not what they seem.
Art that speaks to us most strongly is art that is connected to our times but not dependent on it. A good example of this is Matti Hagelberg's 2010 masterpiece Silvia Regina. Hagelberg's heavy scratchboard technique contrasts with the ostensibly light narrative. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that the references to both popular and high culture are only the frosting on the cake. The stories cover both moral pathos and its parody – a very typical feature of Finnish comics.
One of the opening images of Silvia Regina features the "wonderful Christ of neo-liberalism" preaching: "Blessed are the greedy." His disciples bow to him and exclaim: "We're lovin' it!" They are presided over by a smiling Ronald McDonald sitting on a cloud.
Could there be a more precise description of the power corporate finance holds over western societies or the process through which reality – whatever that may mean – turns into signifiers of reality? Art can depict things we all know but of which we may not be aware, without lapsing into humourlessness or moralising.
Above all, Finnish comics are fun. They may be strange, but they are sharply funny. The humour may not be obvious, but it is always sharp.
To be honest – Finland is a bleak country. The weather is gray nine months of the year. During the darkest time of the year the sun does not come up until Finns are already at work. Come quitting time, the sun will already have gone down.
If this is what your future looks like and belief in the hereafter provides no help, you must find refuge in the imagination.
Ville Hänninen is a journalist specialising in comics as well as a non-fiction author and the manuscript writer for the exhibition Revelry, rambunctiousness, rough stuff. He was the editor of the English-language Finnish Comics Annual 2011 (Huuda Huuda, 2011).
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Kekkonen
by Matti Hagelberg
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