Deep within a forest just two hours’ drive west of Helsinki lies the strikingly preserved Paimio Sanatorium (Paimion Sanatorium in Finnish). A masterpiece of modernist architecture, the building stands as sleek and enigmatic as a finely crafted medical instrument.
To many, a night in a remote, abandoned hospital might not sound like the most appealing getaway. Yet, for enthusiasts of architecture and design, certain experiences are simply irresistible, especially when time is of the essence. Plans are underway to convert part of this historic space into a hotel and spa in the coming years. The Alvar Aalto Foundation, guardian of the legacy left by Finland’s most revered architect, has owned the site for three years, rescuing it from state control while actively seeking funds for its preservation.
In the interim, the foundation has opened Mäntylä, a block of former nurses’ quarters, as self-catering holiday rentals. Luxuries are few; there are no spas or pools here. But those seeking a taste of untouched art deco splendor and a serene escape will find plenty to admire.
Arriving under the cover of night, we leave the Helsinki-Turku motorway and wind into the small town of Paimio. Just three kilometers down a winding track, the sanatorium emerges from the forest like an illuminated ocean liner. Its imposing white facade, marked by towering elements and flowing curves, creates a stunning contrast against the pitch-black Nordic night.
Above the entrance hangs a concrete canopy that recalls the silhouette of a lung. Inside, the décor remains faithful to the original designs of 1933—a beautiful, silent expanse of cold white walls and canary yellow floors, punctuated by a reception desk protected by glass, reminiscent of a grand scientific experiment.
Mäntylä, my home for the night, is surprisingly sparse yet impeccably maintained. The room, stripped of unnecessary embellishments, echoes a monastic simplicity. Original woodwork meets modern plumbing, while Alvar Aalto’s high-modernist furniture and textiles are offered as contemporary reproductions.
Currently, Paimio lies in a state of disuse, yet remains a vital piece of Finland’s architectural tapestry. The country, renowned for its equitable policies, has put forth a bid for UNESCO World Heritage status for 13 Aalto-designed modernist landmarks. These sites include a diverse array of buildings set to enhance society, featuring housing, government offices, a university, and the Finlandia concert hall, all culminating in Paimio, which Aalto deemed his early career masterpiece.
The sanatorium was envisioned in response to a pressing public health crisis in the late 1920s—a tuberculosis epidemic that claimed about 10,000 lives annually, a staggering loss for a fledgling nation.
In its early years, treatment for TB relied on rest, sunlight, fresh air, and strict hygiene. Sanatoriums sprang up across Europe, strategically distanced from population centers to contain infections. The prevailing belief was that the cool, invigorating air would aid in recovery, a notion that Finland held true as it constructed eight large facilities, with Paimio standing as the most advanced—and ultimately the last. Within a decade, the discovery of antibiotics rendered Paimio somewhat obsolete, leading to its conversion into a general hospital. However, challenges linked to its remote location persisted, ultimately resulting in its closure in the mid-2010s.
Modernists believed that closeness to nature was paramount for healing, yet this very natural world was something to be contained. Stunning vistas were framed by human-made windows, providing comfort while keeping wild beauty at bay.
Thomas Mann’s 1924 novel, *The Magic Mountain*, explores the insular world of a sanatorium, reflecting the modernist aspiration to triumph over disease through human creativity. As I gaze out the window the next morning at a brilliant sky and an expanse of pine trees, I can’t help but think of Castorp, Mann’s protagonist. Initially visiting as a guest, he gradually finds himself ensnared by the comfortable rhythm of recovery, eventually becoming a patient himself. It’s time, too, for me to embark on my own exploration.
The foundation offers guided tours led by architectural historians, who delve into how a young Alvar Aalto won the commission in 1929 with a vision that embraced the principles of functionalism. At Paimio, architecture and practicality are inextricably linked. Both Aalto and his wife, Aino, who designed the interiors, spared no detail in their pursuit of a healing environment, considering everything from the quality of light in the wards to the quiet operation of plumbing, hygienic light fixtures, and adaptable furniture—all designed as instruments of recovery.
Dust posed a significant threat to recovery, necessitating meticulous design. The canary yellow floor eliminated dark corners. Windowsills, skirting, and shelves were rounded for simplicity in cleaning. Even lampshades and the joints in metal railings were fitted with protective dust shields.
Some patient rooms remain as they were left, including one from the 1930s. Among the exhibits is a charming wraparound hospital gown crafted from shell-pink silk. It’s paired with a metal spittoon flask—an essential accessory for any patient, updated nightly for sanitation.
According to our guide, Paimio’s lift was one of the first in the Nordic region. Aalto deliberately designed it with a transparent mechanism, instilling a sense of hope and belief in future technology among patients. The crown jewel of the facility is Aalto’s rooftop sun terrace—a sweeping concrete expanse where patients would recline on sunbeds wrapped in their cozy lambskin blankets for hours, soaking in the healing sunlight.
Mirkku Kullberg, chair of the foundation, shares that renovations to convert Paimio into a hotel could commence next year, contingent on upgrades to the energy and electrical systems. “We’re striving to balance preservation with self-sustainability,” she explains. “It should reflect the original use of the building. While it can no longer be a hospital, creating a hotel seems fitting—an opportunity to rest and recharge with a conceptual flair.”
For the time being, Paimio’s short-term rental rates are affordable, beginning at €90 per night. There’s just enough time to explore the grounds before we depart. The dense forest beckons, and after the tour, we head out on a marked trail, only to find the path growing eerily silent.
As we wander through the trees, glimpses of the sanatorium’s vibrant orange, red, and green awnings flutter in the sunlight, lending it a semblance of a holiday retreat. With the enchanting atmosphere surrounding us, we find ourselves drawn back toward the sanctuary of its quiet comfort. We have indeed been won over.