Kult Books

In 1929, Jenni Toivonen’s great-grandparents left everything behind and relocated their family to Brazil. They were part of a group of Finns, led by pastor and gardener Toivo Uuskallio, who hoped to separate themselves from capitalist society and live in harmony with nature. They settled on land surrounded by the Atlantic Forest in the state of Rio de Janeiro, where they founded the community of Penedo. Penedo went on to become one of the most well-known examples of Finnish utopian migration, a movement of similar instances occurring from the late 1800’s to the early 1900’s. Many memories from this time in Jenni’s family are preserved through her grandaunt’s writings, photographs, Brazilian music and stories- which continue to circulate and evolve through generations. Prompted by the nostalgic but vivid world her grandaunt had depicted, Jenni set out to experience it herself. She longed to plunge into the clear mountain rivers and feel a deep, radiant connection with the forest. In revisiting the location her grandparents had inhabited, she strove to experience a shimmer of the utopia Uuskallio spoke of a century ago.

Delving beneath the surface of everyday life, Andrea Simonato explores a world of underground caves and stone quarries in his second monograph, Antro. Historically prompting a wide array of interpretations -such as sacred boundaries between the human and divine, practical places of refuge or dwellings of the supernatural- caves have attracted countless cultures due to their distinctly ambiguous qualities. Today, these underground structures offer a stark contrast to the precisely defined nature of our above-ground surroundings. The entanglement of corridors and caverns seemingly strip themselves of worldly notions and, in their presence, ask us to do the same. Wandering through a cluster in the hills of South Vicenza, Italy, Andrea delicately approaches both the intricacies and magnitude of these spaces. “During the time of the pandemic, I made a habit of climbing the paths leading to the caves and abandoned quarries in the hills near my home. I couldn't say exactly what drove me to go all the way back there each time, perhaps it was just a way of distancing myself from what was happening. There was a calmness and a sense of stability in those places that somehow contrasted the uncertainty and emotional chaos of those months. Entering them and surrendering to their silence and shadows was like stepping into another world and leaving everything else behind, at least for a while.”

La Soufriere captures a poignant reunion between a father and son after 25 years apart. Swedish photographer Kristian Krän travels to the island of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean to meet his father, Arthur — a meeting that turns out to be both their first and their last. Arthur had left the family when Kristian was just two years old. It was only years later that Kristian learned of his father’s existence and his longstanding mental illness. To meet Arthur and gain understanding, Kristian journeys to Basse-Terre, the capital of Guadeloupe, a quiet town with a shrinking population of around 10,000. Over the course of a week, they explore the island together, visiting places Arthur wants to show Kristian. Communication is difficult, as Kristian’s understanding of Guadeloupean Creole French is limited. Instead, they spend much of their time bonding through music. Kristian’s camera becomes an essential bridge between them, serving as both a means of connection and a source of comfort. One day, they hiked to the top of the volcano La Grande Soufriere. Arthur, dressed in a blazer and flip-flops, kept vanishing and reappearing in the mist. The volcano, a place where some of their most significant memories were made, inspired the book’s title. The word “soufriere” comes from the French “soufre,” meaning sulfur or to sulfurize—a kind of sulfurous condemnation. Phonetically, it closely resembles “souffrir,” the verb meaning to suffer and endure.