“I imagined I lived beneath a huge rhubarb patch and the flowers were giants”—designer-artist Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen still taps into her childhood

Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen.

Art-glass pieces, silver jewelry, one-of-a-kind evening gowns, scale models, rya rugs, ceramics, and steel sculptures—the tallest of which rises to nearly two meters. And that is only a fraction of what Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen, 76, has created over the course of her long career.

Behind her lie the golden decades of Finnish fashion design, when Pohjalainen created garments for local household names such as Piretta-PTA, Silo, Kestilä and Finn Flare. The breadth of her life’s work becomes clear once you add the Ril’s designer clothing collection and numerous uniforms, including the service outfits worn by Finnair’s crew.

Over the years the designer has become an artist who, in her search, continually discovers new materials and forms of expression. A retrospective of her work is on view at Heinola Art Museum and the City Museum through 21 September 2025.

How did you observe your surroundings as a child and feed your imagination?

We lived in Raahe, in a house my parents built, next to my maternal grandmother Ilona. She was a tailor and seamstress, and at the far end of the garden there was also Grandpa Jalmari’s carpentry workshop. The homestead buzzed with life and activity: a vegetable patch, flowers, berry bushes. A tall spruce hedge bordered the lot, and beyond it stretched a forest and a rye field all the way to the horizon.

I was terribly shy, and with five siblings the house could be noisy, so I craved my own quiet space. I remember seeing the world as though I were in a fairy tale. I imagined living under a giant rhubarb patch and the flowers being giants. Perhaps that garden sparked my way of thinking about scale—I have made scale models and jewelry yet envisioned them as large, and conversely, I’ve looked at large forms and wondered how they could shrink. That’s how many of my jewelry pieces are born. I often lay on my back on the ground, gazing at the sky through the trees.

My other favorite place was the seashore. There were no islands on the horizon, only open space, and I believe my inclination to distill things down comes from there. My grandpa died when I was seven. I remember Grandma taking us to the beach to explain death: Grandpa is rowing toward the horizon and from there he’ll rise to heaven. I can still see the gentle waves lapping—never a storm.

Only later do I see the links between past and present, between what I’ve experienced and what is new. In Italy I once designed a fabric with an undulating, creped surface; I realized afterward that the shape, too, came from the impressions and observations of my childhood.

The landscapes of her childhood and her grandmother’s rose garden have provided endless inspiration for both Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen’s unique gowns and her glass art. The ‘Like a Rose’ one-off gown is made of dupioni silk, the fabric hand-sculpted into the shape of a rose petal.

What kind of spiritual legacy did your family give you?

I grew up surrounded by creativity. I was encouraged all the time and given the freedom to express myself. Even before grade school I could crochet and sew, and as soon as my feet reached the pedal of the Singer sewing machine, Grandma Ilona let me piece scraps together into cloths and outfits. Grandpa Jalmari, for his part, gave my sister Sirpa and me our own logs and let us learn to use his tools. Sometimes I hit my finger with the hammer, but even that taught me.

The steel sculpture Aallokko kutsuu (Call of the Waves), 2024.

I was deeply moved when my brother Esa, five years my junior, brought to life the steel sculpture I had designed. I had dreamt of presenting pieces in the Heinola exhibition that would look like jewelry grown oversized. I shared my dream and sketches with Esa, a top-level welder, and he quickly said he could make them. Imagine—creating a work together that merges the experiences of our childhood with the skills we’ve each gained over a lifetime.

How did you find your own style as a designer, dresser and decorator?

Perhaps it has always been in me. When I applied to the University of Art and Design, the entrance exam included a two-week selection course. In one assignment I drew a simple white jersey dress with a belt. I finished quickly and, curious, peeked at another applicant’s gorgeous forest landscape. For a moment I thought, I could never do anything like that. Yet we were both accepted. I realized we simply had different styles. Ever since I was little, I’ve stripped away everything that isn’t essential.

Illustrations for the Teinitalo clothing store from the early 1970s.

From the outside it seems you’ve succeeded at everything you’ve taken on. How do you see it?

I’ve always strived for perfection, and I often feel I’m not good enough. Yet my collections have been good—they’ve sold well, and people have enjoyed wearing them. Just think: the outfits I designed for Finnair’s staff have already been in service for 15 years.

Uniforms designed for Finnair.

Whenever I fly with Finnair, someone from the cabin crew often recognizes me, comes over to say thank you and sometimes even brings a glass of bubbly. It’s a beautiful gesture and proof that I’ve succeeded. Creating an ensemble that truly stands the test of time is no small feat.

Which qualities have propelled you in your work?

Wherever I’ve worked I’ve felt I’m at the best job in the world. That ability to get genuinely excited has produced good results. I learned this as a child too: arguing doesn’t get you far. I’m humble and I don’t retort; I listen and filter—I always try to find the best solution. Anyone can have something valuable to say, and that’s how things move forward.

Secondly, it has been important to do things with my own hands so I understand the different stages and the challenges hidden in each. For the exhibition I held at the Design Museum in Helsinki in 2004 I made experimental jewelry. I wanted to test whether jewelry always has to be worn around the neck. First I apprenticed myself to a master— in this case the goldsmith Sakari Timonen—and then I experimented on my own. Even now I work alongside young talents. They know, for example, 3D modeling, which I hadn’t mastered before.

Silver jewelry from the Kuutamo series.

What have been the biggest moments of success in your career?

My first star moment came at the Piretta clothing factory. I found a lovely cotton chintz in the warehouse that the company had received in a trade deal with Russia—in other words, Piretta had exported clothes there and was paid in fabric no one here used. I made a jacket out of the material and showed it to the others. It turned out to be a hit and eventually went on sale even at Harrods in London.

Toward the later part of my career one of the most important moments was when I dared to call the Italian glassblowing maestro Pino Signoretto, whose phone number I had received from a colleague. I wanted to create a series for an exhibition in Shanghai interpreting the life of a Finnish woman, but in Finland there wasn’t a school of glassmaking capable of shaping such precise subjects in hot glass as I envisioned. Yet the dream had grown so big that I had to realize it.

The glass sculpture In the Rosegarden, 2017. It captures the colors of Grandma’s flowers and childhood memories.

Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen in Murano, Italy.

The glass sculpture Firestorm, 2017.

The art-glass piece The Ice Covers the Lake, 2017.

I sent material and references to Italy. The reply came quickly—I was asked to come and show my images. I was terribly nervous, but when I arrived and laid out the drawings maestro Signoretto turned into an excited little boy. He wanted to start working on my designs right away, as soon as he could get clay models. I panicked, because I’d never made anything like that, but he taught me how. I went home and produced the models he needed.

The next challenge was raising the fee for Signoretto. Humbly, I called collectors who had bought my earlier pieces and managed to sell the first three works right away. Once again persistence and determination were key in my life. I enjoy pushing myself.

Have you also faced moments when you were forced to slow down?

Yes, of course. There have been times when life has moved too fast. My husband, Yrjö Möttönen has supported me since our high-school years and made sure I stay balanced. If he noticed my pace was too hectic he would say: now would be a good time to pause and recharge. At those times I might pull back from everything and spend long stretches alone—say in New York, London, Paris or Florence—focusing on inspiration rather than performance. Taking distance and giving space to daydream always helps me.

Have you ever hesitated to leap into something new, and how do you know when it’s the right moment to change direction?

When, in the mid-1990s, I was offered a job as a designer at an Italian textile mill, I asked my husband, “May I go?” The work in Italy sounded tempting. Yrjö said, “Don’t think twice—let’s see where we are in a year.” I enjoyed it, but because the family didn’t want to move to Italy I returned after a while. It wasn’t a retreat, though, because around the same time an idea was maturing in my mind: a clothing line for the modern urban woman—Ril’s.

Pieces from the Ril’s collection, 2004.

We didn’t have the money to launch our own label, so I presented the idea to the Finnish Luhta. The company’s Vesa Luhtanen saw that Finland was finally ready for a domestic designer concept. I was allowed to assemble a team; targets were set and we set to work. The backing of a large company was invaluable then. I designed Ril’s for 12 years.

In 2008 I received the Finnish Cultural Foundation’s annual grant for developing creativity. Around the same time I was invited, along with seven other Finnish designers, to Finnair’s invitational competition. When I won, I dared to leave Luhta and set off to study glass design.

I was nearly sixty when I applied to Savonia University of Applied Sciences. It was a close call, because I had to supply the diploma I received from the University of Art and Design in 1974. I had left it on a café table at Primula while celebrating my graduation that spring. When I remembered, I rushed back, but the certificate was gone. Luckily I obtained a copy from the university archives almost 40 years later.

What does the ability to renew yourself mean to you?

Renewal requires many skills, and above all it requires collaboration. When I designed clothing I worked with designers who mastered computers. During my Savonia days I banged my head against the wall trying to send assignments by computer—but I learned that too. Right now I’m learning new things about working with steel and I’m ready to combine glass with steel. Studying and learning have nothing to do with age.

Oiva Toikka and Päivi Jantunen from Iittala once promised to help me find the best craftspeople for my glass works. Through them I got the glass artists Alma Jantunen and Johannes Rantasalo to work with me. They respected my vision, and we have grown together. Today we create far more demanding pieces than at the start of our collaboration. Succeeding at something new brings tremendous joy. It’s even better when the joy is shared.

I also have an in-house critic—Yki. He sometimes says: you’ve worked in this style long enough; you should try something else. And he’s right. I encourage everyone to write their dreams down on paper and look for people who can help make them real. You don’t have to fear failure, because it may be precisely the moment that points you in the right direction.

Touch of Beauty—50 Years, designer Ritva-Liisa Pohjalainen’s jubilee exhibition at the Heinola City Museum and Art Museum, open through 21 September 2025.

Photos: Heinola City Museum