Daddy and Santa Claus"

I received the above postcard from Suomi, Finland in 1993 from my dad who was visiting Santa Claus and traveling around the Arctic Circle. And that's pretty much all I knew about the region until I came across Celine Clanet's project entitled Maze, which was shot in the Norwegian province of Maze at the very north of the world, not too far, they say, from Santa Claus's residence in Finland.

Celine lived there for months and developed incredible relationships with the locals of this small community whose rugged beauty becomes a melancholic reality through her lens, stark and triumphant. Their territory was almost destroyed when the Norwegian government proposed a dam project that would have flooded this incredibly picturesque territory and ravaged the already small population of Samis living in the region. As it stands now, these people may be completely gone or assimilated in the generations to follow. Their everyday life is as remarkably, peacefully striking as their love of heritage and home.

Why were you drawn to the polar north so fervently?
It started as a kid, when I discovered the polar world and Lapland through books and TV. Since then, it kept my mind busy, and I started to travel to Northern Europe as soon as I was able to.

I fell in love with the white desert tundra and its purity. Everything there is so raw and simple. Visually speaking, it is a very "intelligible" place, and its simplicity makes it instantly striking. It gets physical, something your eyes and body will never forget. 

Then, of course, the people that settled in such a place over a thousand years ago can be just as amazing too! I am fascinated with how there are so many ways to be a human being. Cultural globalization literally freaks me out.

The stark and often lonely beauty of the landscape is quite remarkable. Was that the initial allure for you or did you have more romantic notions in your photographic quest?
Probably both... But in the first place, it's definitely my fascination with this desolate arctic land that led me to start this work.

I was often surprised to see how few people knew about Sami people--the only arctic natives of continental Europe--even in Scandinavian countries, and this was also another motive. And I guess there might be some kind of latent personal quest in it, something about fulfilling a youthful dream, and also confronting myself with extreme otherness.

Did you know about the Sami people before you went? 
Yes, I have been interested in Sami culture for many years. But I studied it really seriously for about a couple of years before going to Máze, researching a lot, meeting ethnologists and people related to Sami culture. I also got in touch with many Sami people through mail and internet. I didn't want to come there like a tourist: ignorance would have been arrogance. While looking for a place to stay in Lapland, I discovered Máze village and history and knew it was the terrific place I was looking for. I am very lucky to have met Máze.

It's incredible that while this is Europe, the Sami remain a people apart.  Was this dichotomy your specific point of interest?
It is a very important point, yes. But you have to know that Máze is an exception. Today, most of the Sami live in big Scandinavian cities, don't speak their mother tongue, and have nothing that relates them to Sami culture anymore. Only tundra Sami culture is still vivid (Sami maritime culture has definitely vanished, for instance) but on a very, very small scale, and that is why a place such as Máze is so precious and fragile.

Sami people spread over the 4 northern european countries: in a way, what other people could be more european than that? Each of them is either a Norwegian, Swedish, Finnish or Russian citizen. But they have no German or Latin roots at all. They belong to a Finno-Ugric branch. That makes one big difference.

Máze people feel much apart from the rest of Europe because they are apart indeed, living in a very peculiar, remote land, one of the last wild areas in Europe.

How much time did you spend there? Were you only there in the summer months?  How cold does it get and what do you drink to stay warm?
I was 3 months in Máze during my first journey, spring 2005. Spring is the best time to experience the tundra, and is everyone's favorite season in Máze. Therefore I had a lot of shooting opportunities. Because people are so happy to finally come out from dark and cold winter, they are outside most of the time, fishing, snowmobiling, etc. Reindeer herders are always out, whatever the season is.

I have never been there in summer actually, but it is in my plans. I want to shoot Máze at every tempo.

I was there this winter, and the temperature went -40°C at some point, but to get warm, we drank shitty homemade alcohol prepared in a friend's garage, added tremendously fake Cognac flavouring bought at the supermarket.

How did your relationship with these people develop?  What language did you speak?
Some inhabitants were really curious about me, and actually came to me first, but I had to make the first step with most of them. The funny thing is that I became a sort of trophy at some point in the village, like, "I had a visit from the french artist, how about you?" I was very amused at that, and it actually made things easier. Most of Máze people that welcomed me into their lives and were sweet and I still visit all of them. I now have several genuine friends there, and some even come to visit me in Paris from time to time. I have news from Máze almost everyday, by sms or email.

I speak basic Norwegian with a very bad accent, but that still helps when talking with reindeer herders and people from older generations, as they don't speak English at all. We both speak bad Norwegian in our own way... Young people speak fluent English. I cannot speak Sami, it is a complex Finno-Ugric language that will take years to acquire, but I am working on it!

Did you try any new crazy food?  How did learning about their day-to-day life affect your perception aesthetically?
Even if I studied their culture and daily life a lot, I didn't know what to expect before coming. And my photo project was quite vague at the first place. I just wanted to go there, make it happen, and shoot pictures.

One of the tougher things was--and still is--to [avoid shooting] an easy exotic postcard. Everything was so new and spectacular to me that I was tempted to shoot everything, without distance. 

But day after day, I realized that their relationship with time and territory were essential things to show, and were under my eyes all the time. So I focused on that, on how they endlessly watch the land, how they spend much time doing nothing, being contemplative or meditative, etc. I always try to shoot as simply as possible, avoiding what is not necessary, making "silent" pictures, which, luckily, resonates with their slow, lonely and quiet way of life, in a way.

To answer to your food question, well, I am afraid food is never crazy up there! It is just "meant to feed." Nevertheless, high quality reindeer meat is the best meat ever, and cold reindeer tongue is a delight! But if I were to spend my entire life eating in Maze, I would quickly turn into a boiled potato with reindeer legs.

The Norwegian government was going to place a giant hydro-electric plant over their territory, which would have destroyed Maze with water. How did they mobilize resistance and did this act of protest and resistance change or strengthen their community?  Do they speak about this today?
This dams project would not only have flooded Máze, but also a huge reindeer territory, with the waters of the Alta river. People say that "only the top of the church steeple would have remained visible."

Máze inhabitants, helped by ecology activists and the press, managed to get this project aborted through peaceful but firm protests. They even welcomed the king of Norway in the village, traditionally dressed, demonstrating silently, with "Vi Kom Først" placards. One dam was still built in the Alta area, but Máze was spared.

This was actually one of the first steps of the "identity awakening" that the Sami community experienced all over Lapland in the 70's. That was over 35 years ago, but of course everybody remembers it in Máze, and proudly tells that story, especially the people that took part to the demonstrations and protests.

I feel I am picturing a place that was about to disappear under water and was spared, and at the same time I document this vanishing culture that is highly threatened by cultural integration and global warming, and will probably end or radically transform during this century. To me, Máze is the ambivalent symbol of resistance and helplessness.

Part of the beauty of your images is the fragile and fleeting nature of this land. Do you think the Samis see it as such as well?  Do you think the latent sadness in your photographs stems from this fragility?
What I know is that they are absolutely not blasé as to the spectacular beauty of it, as they endlessly watch it, paint it, picture it, talk about it, and spend much time outside. Máze people surely know that their identity is tightly linked to their territory, even if they are no longer nomadic and now live in houses.

Sami herders, who are actually a minority within the Sami minority, are the last guardians of Sami culture today. They know better than anyone else that if there is no more grazing territory for the reindeer, what remains of Sami culture will disappear for good. Unfortunately that seems to be the case, year after year, for many reasons, so I guess the latent sadness you're talking about might partly come from that.

How often do you go to Maze? Will you photograph these families over successive generations?
Next spring trip will only be my third stay in Máze. I would love to go every year, but it is quite an involved trip as it is far, and very expensive each time.

This place is not only about photography, it has become part of my personal life, too. I will keep up the photo work over the coming years, and will surely picture the coming generations, as some of my Máze friends became parents recently. There are so many things I still have to learn and picture there, anyway. I will also try to keep a close eye on the difficult evolution of their fragile culture and land, which beat at the rhythm of globalization, cultural integration and global warming.