2017-

Finnish National Museum
Sound design for the permanent exhibition of the era of Finnish independency.

Work Group
Director: Juho Kuosmanen
Set Design: Kari Kankaanpää
Light Design: Jenni Pystynen

The permanent exhibition at the Finnish National Museum delves into the era of Finland’s independence and its journey as an independent nation. We divided the exhibition into seven rooms, each with a distinct theme, and wanted to focus on storytelling while avoiding an overload of information. Here, sound design plays a crucial role, as it allows us to create the right “tone” for each exhibition room.

I wanted to use authentic sound effects, so I spent a lot of time in Yleisradio’s sound effect archive, listening to historical recordings. The remaining sound effects, I recorded myself.

Since Finns view nature as a key part of national identity, I wanted to use nature sounds as the thread running through the sound design. In the first room, there is an oppressive thunderstorm, with footsteps echoing in a stairwell. Occasionally, lightning strikes are heard, which visitors might associate with the gunshots that led to Bobrikov’s death. Incidentally, I recorded those very stairs in the Government Palace – though I didn’t have access to the original boots, I borrowed similar ones from the wardrobe department of the Finnish National Theatre.

In the second room, we hear Finland’s national bird, the swan, singing as it flies overhead. In the third room, the sounds of war are present, but the sound design also incorporates the breaking of boulders. Adjacent to the war room is an “attic,” where we gave a voice to people whose stories are often overlooked in war narratives. These individuals seem to “haunt” the attic so I came up with the idea to use exciter speakers placed under the wooden floorboards to create the illusion of someone pacing back and forth, as if searching for something.

The next room’s theme is presidents, and the sound of clinking coffee cups can be heard. Finns consume more coffee per capita than any other nation, and coffee plays an essential role in negotiations. We even have a coffee brand called Presidentti! For the recording, I borrowed my grandparents’ coffee set. My grandfather, who was a war veteran and a coffee lover, made this connection particularly meaningful for me.

After this, we move into the welfare state/reconstruction room. This was perhaps the most thematically challenging room for me. What does welfare sound like? Finns have always been avid sailors, so I wanted to incorporate sailing sounds. I also aimed for a sense of tranquility, achieved through authentic recordings of children playing in a suburban setting, and the sound of sheets and flags fluttering in the wind. Additionally, since we’re also a rally nation and the reconstruction era was full of activity, the sounds of cars fit well. This room also features some “ready-made” music, with a few hits from the 1970s playing occasionally.

Adjacent to this space is a sauna, where visitors hear traditional Finnish landscape: a warming sauna stove, the gentle splashing of an evening lake, and the occasional call of the black-throated loon. On the wall are ladles donated to the museum, including one I made myself in sixth grade.

From wellness and sauna, we transition into the depression room, where welfare crumbles under the weight of economic collapse. For this space, I used the sounds of chainsaws and falling trees, symbolizing the harsh and painful cuts to society during that time.

The audio below is from the final room, which focuses on giving hope for the future and inspiring individuals to feel part of the larger Finnish community. I created this sound by stretching Finlandia, a composition by our iconic composer Jean Sibelius, and layering five stretched versions to play simultaneously but at different time positions. I thought it would sound chaotic, but after some mixing, it turned out to be surprisingly calming, with the harmonics blending quite well! It was a fitting ending piece for the exhibition, as it takes a legacy from the past and gives it a new twist—just as we always rely somewhat on the past when looking to the future.