His finger slid slowly but firmly from one side of the map to the other, finally stopping near the Arctic Circle. Peeking out from under his finger was the village of Posio. It was there that the freshly graduated gymnastics teacher, Topi Pentikäinen, decided to send his job application, even though Anu had never been that far north. Once the children and moving boxes were loaded into the back of the Volvo, the adventure began, far from the city's hustle and bustle, amidst the clear beauty of the northern nature. In Posio, they ultimately found everything and nothing, the true magic of Lapland. Anu gained space to think and be herself; an artist's soul was born. One by one, the people with whom wild dreams began to come true appeared around her. Amidst it all, the world's northernmost pottery factory and much more emerged.

Nature's shape, autumn colors, barren sand, Kaamoskivi (Polar Night Stone). If the slogan was unique, so was the product itself. A ruggedly beautiful hunk, so unusual that no one had ever made anything quite like it. A few Kaamoskivis had made their way to a gas station in Posio, and encouraged by this, Anu went to offer them to a proper gift shop, all the way in Rovaniemi. The lady who owned the place happened to be traveling, so the sales assistant made an independent decision and took six Kaamoskivis on consignment. The next morning, the phone rang. The owner was not particularly thrilled about the new products. "They are awful, you need to come and pick them up," she announced. Anu agreed to pick them up the next day. But the following morning, the phone rang again. "They are beautiful, everything has been sold, please make more," the lady cooed, and Anu did.

"Is this just the headmistress's hobby, or are we going to make a business out of this?" the bank manager demanded, but he still agreed to grant the loan. It was the early 1970s. While others were moving away from Posio, the Pentikäinen family had moved there. The log cabin, which combined a home, a ceramics workshop, and a cafe, quickly became such a popular shopping and tourist destination that the family's only peaceful sleeping nook was under the sauna benches. The reputation grew, and the press praised the self-taught beauty who boldly lived her dream in the heartlands of Lapland. Everything they managed to make was sold. Soon, a shop was opened on Esplanadi in Helsinki, and they even zipped around America with a dictionary in their handbag. Fifty years and many, many stories later, Pentik, which started in Posio, has grown into one of Finland's most successful art and design companies.

A firm handshake and suddenly the factory building felt so large that finding the way out on my own seemed impossible. The year was 1986, with a one-year-old daughter in my arms and a brand new job at Pentik in my pocket. Since then, over three decades of work years have accumulated, and the factory has expanded several times. Outi Mursu's career path has wound from ear attachment to glazing and finally to studio decorator. When morning begins, Outi turns on the radio and dives into the world of colors and patterns. The table is laden with stencils and decorating paints, and experienced hands steadily transform the beautiful into something even more exquisite. After numerous work stages, the moment of truth arrives when the kiln door is finally opened, and the colors have ignited to their ultimate brilliance.

Based on his last name, it's probably not very surprising where Pekka is from. Strictly speaking, however, Pekka Posio is a returnee, as he returned from Rovaniemi to his home village in 2006 to build a new house for the Pentikäinen family. The house turned out so well that Pekka was enticed to work in Pentik's wood workshop, right next to the factory building. In the workshop, Pekka builds furniture for stores, from cabinets and tables to shingle screens. He is particularly skilled at combining new and old. An old, patinated window frame becomes an excellent room divider in Pekka's hands, and old floorboards are transformed into a sturdy table for the store. When new is combined with old, something original and authentic is created.

When the senior model maker had taught Jani Kämäräinen pretty much everything he knew, he still had one piece of advice left. Despite their sense of form and technical mastery, every model maker eventually faces a dead end. The designer's wild idea seems to defy the laws of nature, practically impossible to execute. At that point, the problem just needs to be put aside and patiently wait for the subconscious to work out a solution. For Jani, that brilliant idea strikes best while fishing and enjoying the nature of Lapland. The skilled model maker has thus become a passionate fisherman, or perhaps it's the other way around. And once the problem is solved, Jani crafts the designer's idea into a plaster model, a ceramic prototype, and finally the master mold, the mold of all molds.

At five in the morning, while the village of Posio is still asleep, the lights in the factory hall flicker on. Determined steps make their way towards an oven the size of a room. Anu is nervous, because the oven has no hatch through which she could peek inside. When something is finished, all she can do is wait until morning to see what the previous day's work ultimately turned out to be. A triumphant shriek echoing in the hall indicates that Anu is pleased with what she sees. The shriek is not always heard, as failure is part of renewal and creation. That is why Anu is ready to take flight every day. That is why she works directly with the material, without excessive sketching or pondering for days. When you do a lot and keep yourself in a constant state of creation, intuition begins to guide your hands and create beauty as if by itself. That is why, even after 50 years, she still has to be the first one up in the morning and roll up her sleeves in the evening, plunging her hands into the clay, just for a moment longer.