Coloring historical photographs is much more than a technical process – it is a journey into Finnish military history and the stories of the past. Each image tells its own story, and my goal is to bring it to life with colors as authentically as possible. Here is a glimpse into how my work progresses from start to finish.

When I find an interesting photo, I first imagine what it might look like in color. I check carefully whether additional information is available about the image. Most Finnish Army photos have short captions, but I often need more details from sources like military literature. I study closely the soldiers' equipment and weaponry. The date also allows me to determine the season, ensuring the colors remain true to life.

Before the actual coloring work begins, much time may be spent on background research. This is rewarding, as I constantly learn more about Finland's military history, equipment, locations, and life in times past.

When the coloring process starts, I often begin with backgrounds and sketches before moving to the focal point of the image. Coloring forests and nature is particularly time-consuming, but these details add depth and life. My work is entirely handcrafted – I do not use AI.

Before publishing, I review the image carefully and make any necessary corrections. Once finished, I write the caption. A good caption highlights the context of military history using books, online publications, and other sources. Translating into English also takes time to reach a wide audience.

When the image and caption are ready, I often create an Instagram or Facebook story to present the release. This keeps the community engaged and sparks interest.

Finally, I publish the finished image on Jhlcolorizing channels. The colored photos evoke interest and respect – they remind us of those who lived and fought for our country. Through color, their story comes alive again.

Guard observing enemy positions in the Uuksujärvi area, 4.9.1944

Close

This photo is one that stopped me when coloring. It shows military chaplain Jouko Karanko writing letters to families of fallen soldiers at Kiestinki in 1941.

The chaplain’s work was not easy – his task was to convey the news of death while offering comfort to the bereaved.

Through the photo, one can feel the psychological weight of such a duty. Chaplains had to write countless letters, often quickly and under difficult conditions. Each letter was personal, finding words that told the truth without completely crushing the recipient.

While coloring this image, I focused especially on Karanko’s expression and demeanor. In black-and-white, it might go unnoticed, but the colors revealed the calm and concentration of the moment. This image reminds us that in war there were also those whose task was to care – not with weapons, but with words.

Somewhere in a forested valley, at a guard post, or on the Tali–Ihantala battlefield, a young man gave his life for his country. His name was later spoken in church as the bells tolled, carrying sorrow and gratitude for all who knew him.

The Winter War claimed nearly 30,000 Finnish lives. In the Continuation War and Lapland War, the number increased further. It is estimated that over 65,000 Finnish soldiers fell or went missing – many in their early twenties. Not all could be brought home. In the chaos of battle, evacuating the fallen was not always possible. Approximately 13,000 Finns remained on the battlefield without funerals or farewells.

Finland, however, was a nation that did not forget. It was the only WWII country to systematically bring the fallen back to local hero graves.

Grief did not come from offices or announcements. It came from person to person. The clergy – quiet messengers – went to homes to tell that a son, husband, or father would not return. Most listened silently. For some, their whole world collapsed.

Military Chaplain Jouko Karanko (14.6.1909 Haapakylä, Valtimo – 17.12.1984 Lempäälä)

Close