Finland is repeatedly named the happiest country in the world. You, in turn, speak of architecture as an “infrastructure of happiness”. What does that actually mean?

Perhaps it also reflects how we live in contrasts—long, dark winters and bright summers, warmth and cold, saunas and icy water. It is precisely these opposites that give life rhythm and balance. Architecture plays an important role in this. We have learned to create quality and environments for everyday life from limited resources. It’s not about the buildings themselves, but about what happens between them—about relationships, movement, and shared time. Architecture alone does not create happiness, but it can support the community where it arises. In practice, this means working with a place as a whole and connecting architecture, public space, and everyday use.

This is how we approach all our projects. For Dance House Helsinki, we designed a new building that connects to the original industrial complex and expands it with open public spaces. The glass-enclosed foyer functions as a shared hub for the entire complex and naturally invites people inside without dictating how it should be used. At the Seinäjoki City Library Apila, on the other hand, we created a fluid interior space where individual functions flow into one another without sharp boundaries. Organically shaped interiors, the use of light, and clear orientation create an environment where people can move freely, pause, and meet.

Your architecture feels calm and focused. How do you think about space?

Alvar Aalto already spoke of the “little man” and everyday experiences, and Frank Lloyd Wright of the connection between material, space, and environment. We build on that. A building shouldn’t explain everything; it should leave room for interpretation. When not everything is predetermined, people can form their own relationship with the place. Architecture is thus not a finished script, but rather an offering of possibilities.

Today, architecture often finds itself under pressure from the market and the speed of development. Does the architect still have a realistic chance to influence the quality of the environment?

Today, the key is the ability to connect various stakeholders and seek a shared vision. The architect is no longer just the creator of form, but also a facilitator of the process. At the same time, however, it is necessary to balance the strong influence of the market with a greater emphasis on culture, quality, and long-term thinking. In Finland, anonymous architectural competitions play an important role in this, where ideas—not names—are what matter. They help maintain the quality of the environment. Even under limited conditions, it is possible to create architecture that makes sense and stands the test of time.

Let’s look at some of your projects. With Amos Rex, you created a gallery that is hidden underground yet very much present in the public space. Do you see this as a shift from “object” to “experience”?

Yes, definitely. Architecture is ultimately about human experience and social life. We are sensory beings. We perceive architecture with our bodies—through light, texture, sound, and proportions. Yet atmosphere is often underestimated in the current architectural debate, as attention tends to focus on visual form or iconic appearance. In reality, however, what we remember most is how we felt in a place. Materiality still plays a role, though, because the immaterial always exists in relation to the material. In the case of Amos Rex, we didn’t want to create a dominant object in the city. We worked with the existing urban fabric and expanded the public space. The gallery is largely underground, but its presence is revealed through the domes on the square above it. These function as skylights as well as a new urban terrain—people sit on them, walk across them, and meet there.

Another of your projects, the Tammela Stadium, combines a soccer stadium with residential housing and urban infrastructure. Is this hybridization a necessity today?

Hybridization often stems from necessity, but it can bring new qualities. At Tammela, we weren’t just addressing the stadium, but the entire complex urban situation. We had to preserve the soccer function while integrating housing into the structure without disrupting the logic of the city block. This required both separation and integration. The functions are divided horizontally but unified vertically. When different, and even contradictory, elements are carefully combined, they can create synergy. The result is something more diverse than just a single-purpose building. We describe this as “subtle monumentality”—architecture that is present but does not dominate.

The Architecture and Design Museum in Helsinki, currently under construction, features a facade made of recycled bricks. How do you approach sustainability in this project?

For us, the most sustainable building is one that people appreciate and want to preserve. Technical solutions are important, but cultural sustainability is even more fundamental. The use of recycled bricks is both an ecological and a cultural statement. The goal of the project is to reuse a large amount of demolition material, thereby reducing the carbon footprint associated with the production of new bricks. At the same time, it demonstrates that even reused materials can possess high architectural quality and aesthetic value. The façade is not merely a technical solution; it carries memory within it. Every reused element connects the new building to the city’s history.

The museum itself is more than just an institution. It is conceived as an open, accessible “house of design”—not only a place for experts, but also for families, visitors, and the general public. It brings together Finland’s leading architectural and design institutions, creating a new cultural platform that emphasizes education, participation, and public engagement.