Aulis Junes - August 16th, 1938 – September 30th 2023
There is an old, wooden house on the hill over Töölö Bay in Helsinki. It's really huge, 1200 sq. meters, three floors, attic, basement, and innumerable large rooms. I had been strolling past it for more than a decade, but had never walked in. Until today.
Each room in the house is filled with lots and lots of furnitures, books on top of each other, old dolls, flower vases, radios, music instruments, clothes, costumes, toys etc. etc. etc...
The first floor of the house has been converted into a flea market. Endless piles with different objects have been accumulated there, covered with layers of dust and time.
The other floors are incredibly beautiful with old antiques, stuff that has surely seen better days way long into the past. And yet, its beauty remains still alive in Aulis' old house.
I have to thank the gorgeous Scilla siberica on the hill which had paved my way into Aulis'.
The blue flowers spread all the way down and so I climbed up the hill to photograph them. And then, I found myself in front of a door. It read OPEN. I walked in.
An older man was standing there, looking busy sorting different things. It was Aulis, 80 y/o.
"Hello, may I come in ? Is this yours?"
He answered positively to both questions and I walked straight into the flea market.
A few minutes later I decided it was enough and made my way out.
Aulis was still busy by the door. I thanked him and said that he had got lots of stuff in there.
"Indeed," he said, "it's a lifetime collection."
Something in the way he said it made me ask to make a photo of him.
"Sure, go ahead, you won't be the first. Lots of people have been here taking pictures of me... Wait a minute, I'll go downstairs and bring some photos to show you."
I was quite surprised at his enthusiasm and so I waited. A minute later Aulis came up with a magazine and a colour print.
"Awesome photos," I said. "Where were they taken?"
"Here, downstairs," he said. "Would you like to have a look?"
I surely would. And that's when Aulis opened up his home for me. Not only his home, but his incredible life stories came up, rushing out of his memory in a speedy rhythm.
I followed him down the stairs and was amazed by what my eyes suddenly saw. I felt as if I had just stepped into a time machine. I found myself standing a century, maybe two centuries ago.
Dusky light came through the windows giving the room a, somewhat, spooky atmosphere.
There were green plants and orchids everywhere on pot poles and plenty of books on the shelves.
The floor was covered with thick carpets.
In the middle of the room, amidst the plants, there was an old armchair covered with an animal fur and I asked Aulis to sit down so I could make a portrait of him.
He mentioned that it was actually on this very armchair that the photo, he had shown me a bit earlier, was taken.
He then turned on two small lamps and started to play a well-known Finnish melody on the piano.
The first piano was from the 1920s and the second was two hundreds years old, he explained.
"Do you intend to sell them," I wondered loudly and Aulis said that the right price hadn't been offered yet, although somebody from Russia had shown interest in buying the older piano.
However, I felt that Aulis didn't really care for selling and that the issue of the price was only an excuse to hold on to his cherished collections.
A few stories later, we walked up the stairs and Aulis opened the gate to the upper floors for me.
"This part of the house is not for everybody," he pointed out, "but you may go up and feel free to look around for as long as you wish. I will be down here doing some work in the meanwhile."
An hour or so later I came down, although I could definitely have stayed there for a whole day.
The two upper floors were packed with ancient treasures, visual gems of all kinds which totally inspired the photographer in me. It was truly amazing. I had no idea that such a place existed within the old house on the hill.
"You have to convert your home into a museum," I said.
"Well, I am a museum item myself," he laughed.
Aulis has been collecting furnitures for the past five decades. People knew about him and were used to call him to come over and empty their attics. He would bring the content of many attics into his home--where he lived with his family, a wife and two sons--and completely furnished the big residence with these collections.
I asked Aulis whether I could come back and bring along my husband.
"You are welcome," he said, "anytime!"
This is my 249th submission to The Human Family group.
Visit the group here to see more portraits and stories: www.flickr.com/groups/thehumanfamily.
Aulis Junes - August 16th, 1938 – September 30th 2023
There is an old, wooden house on the hill over Töölö Bay in Helsinki. It's really huge, 1200 sq. meters, three floors, attic, basement, and innumerable large rooms. I had been strolling past it for more than a decade, but had never walked in. Until today.
Each room in the house is filled with lots and lots of furnitures, books on top of each other, old dolls, flower vases, radios, music instruments, clothes, costumes, toys etc. etc. etc...
The first floor of the house has been converted into a flea market. Endless piles with different objects have been accumulated there, covered with layers of dust and time.
The other floors are incredibly beautiful with old antiques, stuff that has surely seen better days way long into the past. And yet, its beauty remains still alive in Aulis' old house.
I have to thank the gorgeous Scilla siberica on the hill which had paved my way into Aulis'.
The blue flowers spread all the way down and so I climbed up the hill to photograph them. And then, I found myself in front of a door. It read OPEN. I walked in.
An older man was standing there, looking busy sorting different things. It was Aulis, 80 y/o.
"Hello, may I come in ? Is this yours?"
He answered positively to both questions and I walked straight into the flea market.
A few minutes later I decided it was enough and made my way out.
Aulis was still busy by the door. I thanked him and said that he had got lots of stuff in there.
"Indeed," he said, "it's a lifetime collection."
Something in the way he said it made me ask to make a photo of him.
"Sure, go ahead, you won't be the first. Lots of people have been here taking pictures of me... Wait a minute, I'll go downstairs and bring some photos to show you."
I was quite surprised at his enthusiasm and so I waited. A minute later Aulis came up with a magazine and a colour print.
"Awesome photos," I said. "Where were they taken?"
"Here, downstairs," he said. "Would you like to have a look?"
I surely would. And that's when Aulis opened up his home for me. Not only his home, but his incredible life stories came up, rushing out of his memory in a speedy rhythm.
I followed him down the stairs and was amazed by what my eyes suddenly saw. I felt as if I had just stepped into a time machine. I found myself standing a century, maybe two centuries ago.
Dusky light came through the windows giving the room a, somewhat, spooky atmosphere.
There were green plants and orchids everywhere on pot poles and plenty of books on the shelves.
The floor was covered with thick carpets.
In the middle of the room, amidst the plants, there was an old armchair covered with an animal fur and I asked Aulis to sit down so I could make a portrait of him.
He mentioned that it was actually on this very armchair that the photo, he had shown me a bit earlier, was taken.
He then turned on two small lamps and started to play a well-known Finnish melody on the piano.
The first piano was from the 1920s and the second was two hundreds years old, he explained.
"Do you intend to sell them," I wondered loudly and Aulis said that the right price hadn't been offered yet, although somebody from Russia had shown interest in buying the older piano.
However, I felt that Aulis didn't really care for selling and that the issue of the price was only an excuse to hold on to his cherished collections.
A few stories later, we walked up the stairs and Aulis opened the gate to the upper floors for me.
"This part of the house is not for everybody," he pointed out, "but you may go up and feel free to look around for as long as you wish. I will be down here doing some work in the meanwhile."
An hour or so later I came down, although I could definitely have stayed there for a whole day.
The two upper floors were packed with ancient treasures, visual gems of all kinds which totally inspired the photographer in me. It was truly amazing. I had no idea that such a place existed within the old house on the hill.
"You have to convert your home into a museum," I said.
"Well, I am a museum item myself," he laughed.
Aulis has been collecting furnitures for the past five decades. People knew about him and were used to call him to come over and empty their attics. He would bring the content of many attics into his home--where he lived with his family, a wife and two sons--and completely furnished the big residence with these collections.
I asked Aulis whether I could come back and bring along my husband.
"You are welcome," he said, "anytime!"
This is my 249th submission to The Human Family group.
Visit the group here to see more portraits and stories: www.flickr.com/groups/thehumanfamily.