I am a craft artist, a handicraft instructor, and a master’s student in art education from Espoo. I study at the University of Lapland but my current home is in Espoo. So I wanted to go as far from home as possible — to a place unfamiliar to me. So I was very happy to be accepted into the Rievdan project. In March 2026, we traveled to Sápmi (Sámi homeland), to Vuohčču (Vuotso, Finland) and Kárášjohka (Karasjok, Norway), where the art teaching took place.
Because of my previous education and my interest in craft art and multi-material art, I had the opportunity to be part of the craft workshops in Vuohčču for children 4-6 graders as well as for adults. The theme is/was Rievdan-Muutos-Change in the workshops. In the workshops and teaching, we approached the theme by reflecting on change in Vuotso — who experiences change, and how it is understood. The techniques included handicraft methods such as embroidery and other yarn-based techniques. The colors and themes of the works were meant to emerge from the makers themselves. I met such wonderful people and personalities of all ages that I can only feel grateful for those meetings and teaching moments. I thank each of you for welcoming me, (a strangely speaking person from Espoo), with such warmth and for letting me glimpse a small part of your life.
However, in this blog post I will not focus on teaching, the villagers’ craft-making, or those encounters. Instead, I will focus on my encounters outside the teaching moments—my encounters with fellow students. Is this aligned with the core idea of the Rievdan -project? Perhaps not necessarily. But is it meaningful to me as an educator? Absolutely. In this text, I want to focus on shared experience and my own learning experience, because that is why I wanted to join the Rievdan-project in the first place.
What matters to me is important to me both as a teacher and as a human being. As an art teacher and perhaps also as a person, I have always been drawn to moments where people reveal pieces of themselves, whether verbally or non-verbally. These moments may be meaningful to the person sharing them, but they are also meaningful to me. To receive small glimpses of the unknown. The most beautiful ways of sharing are those that come when one is tired, unguarded, or when there is finally time to pause—when something is said because there is space, time, place, and someone willing to listen. Things may come out a little unfiltered, and that is beautiful.
Those meaningful moments were when we all woke up in the morning and we made the morning coffee to tired and more tired project participants. They were the moments during teaching when I could observe how someone else teaches and reflect on what I could learn from that, whether in encountering others, teaching techniques, or in what I would like to develop in myself as a teacher. Spending four days and three nights closely together in a small group also led to sharing pieces of ourselves. I was moved, I related, I was confused, I felt ashamed to be so unaware and I loved every bit of all of that. Oh, how fascinating people and their stories are! I learned so much from you, and it all went deep beneath my skin. I learned about Sámi culture, felt ashamed of my lack of knowledge, learned about insecurity as a teacher, about sleep rhythms, about pupils’ favorite ways to enjoy a boiled egg. I learned many beautiful things and much about life experiences. I felt grateful for my sensitivity and learned once again to appreciate that ability a little more.
The most valuable part of this Rievdan-project journey for me, as a pedagogue and a student, was the encounters and conversations with fellow students. In life, everyone should be met, heard, and valued. How much more kindness would we feel toward others and ourselves if we could hear each other’s stories and share our own? These moments do not change history or make us the same, but the experiences we share help us understand and appreciate our differences. We are all just pupils who fear being misunderstood and left alone. Don’t we all want to feel like we belong as we are?
-Marja “Taidehiippailija” Koskela