From ruin to reverence: glass artist’s ten-year journey renovating a dilapidated mill
Glass artist Hilkka Rintamäki-Keisanen bought a mill that had stood empty for years in her hometown and revived the unique building. It is now her home and studio gallery.
Strange, ugly-yet-beautiful, fascinating—these were the words that came to Hilkka Rintamäki-Keisanen’s mind as she stood marveling at the abandoned brick building in her former hometown of Alavus. Hilkka, who lived in Turku at the time, was visiting her childhood home, and the old mill captivated her imagination with its peculiar appearance. Even as a child, Hilkka had wondered about the building on the schoolyard on the opposite shore of the lake. Back then, when the building operated as a sawmill, the lot extending to the shore was filled with huge piles of planks. Irresistible Arctic brambles grew in the garden, but entering the area was strictly forbidden. And yet, many decades later, the building still stood there. What would become of it?
The mill before the renovation:
In 1996, Hilkka moved back to Ostrobothnia for work. The old mill still wouldn’t leave her thoughts.
“I decided to ask the taxi driver next door if he had any more information about the brick building,” Hilkka recalls.
It turned out there had been a for-sale ad for the property in the previous Sunday’s paper. Hilkka hurried to find out who was selling it.
Her son disagreed with his mother’s strange whim. They didn’t even have that kind of money!
“It doesn’t cost anything to ask,” thought Hilkka, and marched off to speak with the realtor.
The brick building was completed in 1920 when Sydänmaan Osuuskauppa (“Sydänmaa Cooperative Shop”) expanded its operations by establishing its own sawmill in Sydänmaa. A small canal was dug from the nearby Lake Kuorasjärvi to the sawmill, allowing logs to be floated to the mill. In the first year, a dozen or so people worked at the sawmill, most of whom lived nearby in housing provided for employees.
The sawmill’s last year of operation was 1954, which also turned out to be its busiest ever. At its peak, there were up to 50 employees. The property was sold to Karsinakosken Sähkö (“Karsinakoski Electricity”), and the sawmill operations ceased. A grain mill operated on the premises up until the 1960s, after which the building was used occasionally for storage.
As Hilkka stepped into the realtor’s office, the mill had been abandoned for almost forty years.
“I told the realtor that I was interested in buying both the old mill and the surrounding plot. However, one of my conditions was that they had to conduct a soil survey because of possible preservative residues, and I wanted the seller to pay for this rather pricey procedure,” Hilkka recalls.
Karsinakosken Sähkö agreed to Hilkka’s request, clearing the way for the deal.
“At this point, I could actually see how the realtor was swearing in his mind, thinking he’d worked hard in vain for a client who certainly couldn’t afford to buy the mill,” Hilkka laughs.
But the realtor didn’t know he was dealing with an unusually persistent Ostrobothnian woman. Hilkka went home and sold everything she owned except her bicycle and everyday clothes. When the money still wasn’t enough, she turned to her brother. Her brother agreed for a loan, saying he didn’t want to stand in the way of Hilkka’s dream, although he doubted he’d ever get his money back. With the necessary down payment, Hilkka went to finalize the purchase and became the new owner of the old mill.
Hilkka intentionally separated her work and living spaces clearly.
The shock hit Hilkka with full force as she stood at the edge of the overgrown plot, a giant iron key in one hand and a brush cutter in the other.
“What on earth would I do with an old brick building that was also full of rusty mill-era machines and other junk?” Hilkka wondered.
Pulling herself together, Hilkka told herself that first she needed to clear a passable path through the chest-high thicket of nettles and then start emptying the building. She gave herself ten years for the renovation project. By then, she had to have transformed the abandoned building into a home.
Hilkka spent the first year clearing the garden. She cycled 30 kilometers each way from Seinäjoki to the worksite.
“I realized that I wouldn’t be able to clear out the space alone, so I went to ask for help from the city of Alavus. They praised the area’s great community spirit and promised to announce a volunteer day,” Hilkka says.
The city promised to provide coffee and buns for the volunteers. They would also get to borrow a grill from the nearby Atria factory and snack on sausages.
“When I asked how many people to prepare refreshments for, the official estimated about a hundred people would come. When the volunteer day arrived, the disappointment was considerable as only five people who saw the invitation showed up, along with a few of my friends and relatives.”
Transforming the mill into a residence was an enormous project. Once the excess machinery and other trash were removed, everything inside had to be torn out. The roof needed insulation, and the ground floor would get underfloor heating. Fortunately for Hilkka, two young builders, Reima and Jari, came to help. Hilkka participated in everything she could.
She hauled out pieces of concrete, cleared debris, painted, and procured materials. She had a clear vision for details, like having two sets of stairs to the upper floor and arranging the tile flooring in a specific pattern. The workers grumbled and said that Hilkka shouldn’t be given a pen or paper anymore to prevent more challenging ideas from springing up. Despite that, the collaboration went smoothly, and the results were top-notch.
As for the extensive outdoor work, Hilkka got help from her childhood friend Markku and his son Esa. Hilkka still fondly remembers all her great helpers.
Over the ten years, there were many incidents. Once, when she was returning from clearing work and cycling home to Seinäjoki in heavy rain, Hilkka collided with a truck. Thrown into a ditch, she broke her ankle, leading to an eight-week pause in renovation work.
At one point, she ran out of money and considered putting the project on hold. Encouraged by the workers, she went to see the bank manager and asked him to visit the site since the project was impossible to describe in words. To Hilkka’s delight, the bank approved additional funding, and the renovation continued. There were other obstacles too over the years, such as two strokes, but the resilient woman overcame them too.
The workers said that Hilkka shouldn’t be given a pen or paper anymore to prevent more challenging ideas from springing up.
When the project began, Hilkka didn’t yet have a clear idea of what else the space could be used for besides living. She then realized that as a glass artist, she needed work and gallery spaces, so it became natural to place them in the unique environment of the mill.
Her first interim goal was to get the ground floor ready to open to the public; the glass art and the mill’s essence would go hand in hand from then on.
After three years of hard work, Hilkka was ready to receive visitors. The local tourism officer encouraged her to join a tourism ring, prompting her to open a gallery.
“I thought I’d be happy if three or four people found their way here. After the gallery-studio had been open for four months, there had been several thousand visitors,” Hilkka rejoices.
Hilkka in fact spent the next winter fulfilling orders that she had got during the summer months, in addition to her work as a community college teacher.
The ambiance of the mill creates the perfect setting for Hilkka’s glass art, which sparkles in unique ways under the different lighting conditions of the seasons.
For Hilkka, it has been important that what the exterior of the old mill promises continues inside, as well. The interior is comfortably rugged; old structures and materials have been utilized as much as possible. Coarse bricks, logs from the mill, naturally weathered wood. The unifying theme of the furnishings is the 1960s for a certain reason.
“The millstones fell silent for good during that decade. It was the turning point in this building’s story, and that’s why furniture from that era fits here.”
Hilkka has acquired furniture from flea markets and also had pieces made when she couldn’t find them secondhand.
“I’ve also got wonderful textiles from my customers, like old wall hangings that suit the spacious area.”
In the studio of the home, window decorations and jewelry get to represent Hilkka’s glass art. The house also features another impressive artwork seven meters above. The vaulted ceiling boasts a painting by specialist painter Yrjö Uurtimo that encapsulates the building’s entire story. Finding a painter was challenging due to the location of the future painting. However, Yrjö took on the challenge and created his thesis project for Hilkka, which she likes to admire especially from the open living space upstairs.
“The upstairs is my heaven, which I can reach via my two staircases. I sit at the farmhouse table and watch how colors and lights play in the painting and the curve of the ceiling. There’s something reverent in the atmosphere, like in a church. Here, there’s peace.”
And how did the ten-year deadline turn out? Three months before the set time, the renovation was complete, and so, Hilkka had kept the promise she’d made to herself. In hindsight, the undertaking seems so impossible that she wouldn’t rush into it again.
“When an almost 50-year-old woman embarks on such a fairly irrational project alone, she will encounter many setbacks: a woman is often underestimated in the male-dominated construction world. But I’m a stubborn Ostrobothnian woman, and that beats one lousy man any day.”
Not even the lack of money made Hilkka abandon the project.
“As encouragement to others, I want to say that when you believe in your dream and vision, you can achieve things that seem impossible,” Hilkka sums it up.
