Lumi Tomren

Lumi Tomren‘s spatial story

I grew up between two countries, Finland and Norway, each imprinting itself in my mind. Finland was the dreamscape of my childhood summers, with strange art nouveau buildings, sweet blueberry pies, and wood fired saunas. Norway, on the other hand, where I lived the rest of the year, felt duller, colder, and less indulgent in the small pleasures of life. In Norway, the selection of ice cream flavors was tragic, and the chocolate was never Fazer.

As I grew older, the differences I had so carefully observed began to blur. We were taught in school about the so-called “Nordic model,” a concept of unity and shared values. It was a nice concept, like a warm woolen blanket that said, “It can be cold, but at least we are all wrapped in comfort.” I carried that blanket with me when I moved to Australia, and from a distance, my home countries seemed even more alike—part of a big connected land of welfare, cinnamon buns, and iconic design chairs.

I did not question this idea of unity so much, until I returned to the north and settled in Denmark. Suddenly, I found myself noticing differences again, but sharper and clearer than before. The places I had grown up in were no longer alike, and the ways they were developing made me reconsider everything I thought I knew about the Nordics. It was unsettling at first, feeling like a kid again, tracing dissimilarities, and trying to make sense of them. But I followed that feeling, and it led me to Sweden, to Nordregio—where I get to think about these things all day, knowing very well that the Nordic societies aren’t one big comforting blanket, but a mess of tangled threads.