A studio in the archipelago: “Here it’s just us, the forest and the sea”
Linn is a graphic designer and artist working predominately with printed matter. Together with a group of other artists she runs Bladr, an exhibition space and platform for artists’ books in Copenhagen. Staffan is known for his long career as an art director, as well as his collaborations with Nordic design brands and Kinfolk.
AS THE FERRY pulls away from the shore in Parainen, a small town in the Turku archipelago in southwest Finland, Copenhagen starts to feel a world away.
On the island of Heisala, just a ten minute boat ride from the mainland, time moves at its own pace. The sauna cabin that Staffan Sundström’s parents built in the early 1990s still stands by the water. Staffan spent his childhood summers on these same rocks, learning the moods of the archipelago winds and the slow turn of the seasons.
Now a new generation is returning.
Staffan and his partner, artist and graphic designer Linn Henrichson, spend their summers on the island with their two young children. City life in central Copenhagen gives way to forest, sea and quiet.
“Since having kids, being Finnish has taken on a new meaning for us,” Staffan says. “We used to think of ourselves more as citizens of the world, but now it feels important that our children have a place to come back to. A place that echoes our own childhoods.”
The exterior of the studio has been coated twice with black Falun red ochre paint, traditionally used to treat door and window frames.
The windows were deliberately positioned to face the forest. Since the building is only used in summer, they were kept simple, without any insulation.
Linn’s nine part image series captures the textures and forms of the island’s rocky surface. The 001 stool is by Vaarnii.
“I feel like I’ve found a good middle ground where art and graphic design meet,” Linn says.
Enzo Mari’s iconic 519 bookshelf was so easy to build that Staffan would happily have made more of them.
IN SUMMER 2025, a new studio building was completed on the property, part workspace, part summer project, part personal statement. Its starting point comes from an unexpected source.
Years ago, Staffan was given a copy of Italian designer Enzo Mari’s 1974 book Autoprogettazione. Part political manifesto, part practical guide, the book encouraged people to build their own furniture from raw timber and nails. The idea stayed with him.
“I’d been doing creative work for over ten years. At some point I felt this huge need to create something physical, something concrete. I was painting, but even that wasn’t enough anymore.”
Staffan started out building wooden chairs based on Mari’s designs. Then the scale began to grow. Eventually, the idea for a studio of his own took shape.
In addition to the chairs, Staffan has also built the 695 table for the studio, following Enzo Mari’s instructions. A wood sculpture carved by Linn sits on the table, and Artek stools serve as extra seating.
Linn had grown a little tired of graphic design, but new, inspiring book projects have since given it fresh momentum. A second children’s book of her own is already in the works.
THE BUILDING came together slowly, over three summers. With only a few weeks of vacation each year, the project moved at the same pace as life itself. When the first foundations were laid, the couple had no children. By the time the building was finished, they had two.
“We’d talked for a long time about how great it would be to build a creative space on the island. Then Staffan just went ahead and did it,” Linn laughs. “It was a bit of a surprise to me too.”
Staffan designed the building himself, with his father’s help along the way.
“A lot of friends were surprised we’d take on building a house ourselves. But there was a time when these kinds of skills passed naturally from father to son.”
The studio was built entirely by hand, board by board, each one hammered into place.
“It was made with the same idea behind Mari’s furniture. If you make a chair, you should know why it exists and where it’s going. This building is, in a way, a large scale version of that same thought,” Staffan says.
Inside, that philosophy shows everywhere. There’s no electricity, no running water. Nothing competes for attention with the work itself.
“Here it’s just us, the forest and the sea,” Linn says.
All the furniture in the studio was designed to be movable, so the space can be completely cleared for work whenever needed.
Staffan hopes that in the future, if life and circumstances allow, he’ll find more time for his own artistic work too.
The multipurpose studio built in the archipelago offers an excellent setting for making art and being together.
THE SPACE shifts to fit whatever’s needed, a painting studio, a workroom, an exhibition space, or the setting for a long dinner. One evening it hosts friends for an art salon, the next, a table set for dinner.
Last summer, they needed three extra chairs for guests.
“Staffan built them in one evening because we happened to have some raw timber lying around,” Linn says. “I once found a chair Staffan had made in the middle of the island. They just keep turning up all over the place.”
Staffan laughs. “I’d build all nineteen of Enzo Mari’s furniture designs right away if the studio had room for them.”
The Vaarnii 001 dining chair on the terrace of the sauna cabin built by Staffan’s parents in the 1990s.
The pine chair designed by Fredrik Paulsen fits perfectly with the studio’s aesthetic.
When evening falls, the traditional cabin sauna by the shore is heated up.
For Linn, nature is one of the main reasons she returns to the island year after year.
THE BUILDING feels more like a tool than a monument.
“Creativity always leads to a certain kind of chaos, but here, on a sunny day, we can just carry everything outside and take over the whole space. That’s not really an option in the city,” Staffan says.
The same thinking shaped where the building sits. The windows face the forest. There are no other buildings in sight, just Finnish landscape.
“In Finland we’re really in the middle of nature. In Denmark, we’re usually more in a park than in a forest,” Linn says.
The couple believes the building would have looked completely different if it had been built in Copenhagen.
“The material is Finnish pine. It was important to us that the house belongs exactly here.”
As evening settles over the archipelago, the studio’s windows reflect the surrounding forest. The building doesn’t aim to be a perfect design object or a striking architectural gesture. It’s a place for making, thinking and being together.
Maybe that’s exactly why it feels so relevant today.
At a time when almost anything can be bought ready made, two creatives chose instead to build their own space from raw timber and nails – slowly, over the course of three summers.
See also:
• New arrivals at Finnish Design Shop >
Published on 3 Jul, 2026
