I was just about to receive my MA when I married and moved to Southwest Finland to become a farmwife – a great shock for my friends and relatives in Helsinki. My doctoral dissertation on että-clauses (subordinate that- clauses) and participle structures seemed to be hardly progressing as I was the mother of two small girls. Luckily, the mayor of my new home town called me and offered me work. I became the first – and unfortunately also the last – cultural secretary of Merimasku.

I loved my work. I had the opportunity to begin developing the cultural life of a small archipelago municipality from scratch, and I was bursting with ideas after my years as a stay-at-home mum. It also felt meaningful to do work which could bring content, joy and experiences to people’s lives. Although the municipality was far from wealthy, especially at the beginning of the recession-hit 1990s, cultural services were within everyone’s reach, and nobody thought of the potential benefits of arts and culture. It was self-evident back then that culture was for everyone.

Finland’s accession to the European Union was like winning the jackpot for rural culture. Suddenly people realised that culture had a significant role in reviving the local economy and could, for example, bring life to the travel industry, which led to many cultural projects receiving funding from EU Structural Funds. I too wanted to utilise the new funding opportunities to promote rural culture, so I began working as a freelance producer and became specialised in regional cultural development projects.

My colleagues and I spent a lot of time pondering how to maximise the long-term social and cultural sustainability of the projects. In my opinion the most important thing was interact with the local people on the basis of equality and respect the uniqueness of each local culture. A good example is the EU funded Saint James of Rymättylä “cultural tourism project,” which was organised in cooperation with the parish of Rymättylä and its members and culminated in a pilgrimage from Turku to Rymättylä, following the example of Santiago de Compostela. Through the project, the locals gained a deeper knowledge of their own church and its connections to Europe’s cultural heritage.

One of the projects closest to my heart was the opening and running of the Volter Kilpi literature week. Every summer during the literature week, Kustavi is inundated with literature and culture enthusiasts attending public lectures, Kilpi dramatizations by the Yövieraat theatre and nature trips in the archipelago. There is a warm atmosphere and the sea glistens in the sunlight. One of the goals of the Volter Kilpi literature week project was to ensure that the inhabitants of Kustavi could forge a personal connection with Volter Kilpi and his works, and we have succeeded in this aim.

I also learned a lot about art and art and culture policy during my 12 years as a member of the Arts Council of Southwest Finland, the last three as chair. The passion of the General Secretary and regional artists for their work compensated for the lack of funding, but the shortage of grants for artists really did make us sad. There is no art without the artists and their work!