Recently, I was visiting my good friend Daniel, in Eugene, OR, and had the fortune of being able to help him put the final touches on the sauna he has been building in the backyard of his urban utopia. He moved there seventeen years ago from Ithaca, leaving behind the sauna on the family homestead in Podunk, just outside of Ithaca (yes, that really is the name of the hamlet). That little weathered building was where I was indoctrinated in the way of the sauna; it was the catalyst behind my sauna building career. As was typical with the Finns, Willie Uitti (the property’s first chicken farmer owner) built the sauna at Podunk was built first and it served as rudimentary shelter while the house was being built. Daniel has had to dream for the past seventeen years before he was able to build his sauna.
We worked together for a day and a half installing the heater, hanging the door, and getting it ready. Needless to say, the first firing of the new sauna was nothing short of perfect. It reached a good temperature, it made good löyly, the reclaimed cedar boards gave off a rich odor, and most importantly, it reached down to the pit of our sauna loving souls and transported us back to that cherished time and place on the banks of Taughannock Creek.
To the Finns, Sauna is not just a building or the simple act of sitting in a hot room, it is a quotidian ritual, a centuries old tradition, and a centering of one’s soul. The beautifully funky little shed behind Daniel’s house isn’t just a man shack, it is his identity. My role in helping was more midwife than carpenter, the honor of sharing the first sauna more like best man.
So it goes in the sauna building business, I don’t just make little buildings for people, I help them hold onto their identity, their heritage, and their dreams. It’s an honor and a privilege—and always a joy to share that special excitement of the first heating.
My latest project came about because of the enthusiastic insistence of the client, who, with typical Finnish ingenuity, decided that her tiny “garden shed” needed to become a sweet little sauna. Typically, for the electric saunas I build, I carve out space in the recesses of a dark basement or some other unused corner of the house. This space had its own bright little shell for me to work with, perfectly placed a few paces from the kitchen door. The exterior had charm, so I left that alone except for the new galvanized metal roof, which mirrors its surroundings. It is clandestinely tucked into the yard, so that unbeknownst to the neighbors, there is a whole world of warmth inside.
It immediately reminded me of a Tardis. For those of you not up on Dr. Who, of the popular British TV series, a Tardis is a time machine in the form of a phone booth. And Tardis is an acronym for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. When the door is opened, an enormous interior is revealed. My challenge was to make this 64 sq. ft. shed completely functional as a sauna and feel larger than it is. So far it has surpassed my expectations. It feels roomy, airy, and comfortable for two or three people with a heat that burns deep and a löyly that lingers just long enough. I even fit in a foyer/disrobing area. Stepping out of it in a cloud of steam, it is hard to reconcile the size of the outside with the comfort of the interior.
Like the Tardis, the sauna is a time machine. Once inside, the heat takes you to another dimension as minutes turn to hours and worries melt away like the face on a Dali watch. Sometimes, I want to thank my clients more than they thank me, for the inspiration to create something so perfect and for taking me out of my world and into theirs.
My family name, Licht, came from my German ancestors who made candles—the family crest features a candle—so it’s no wonder that I think about lighting a lot.
The most important thing about building a sauna is creating the right atmosphere. It’s not just about temperature, it’s about engaging all of the senses in a soothing way. The sauna is a sweat bath, light therapy, aroma therapy, and talk therapy session all rolled into one.
With that in mind, I think hard about the quality of the light in the sauna room.
Although all sorts of colored LED and optic fiber lights are available, I try to avoid any electric lighting. In fact, if it is a traditional woodburning unit, I avoid electricity entirely. Not only is it not needed to run a woodburning sauna, but if there is an electric line to the building then there will be a temptation to add outlets and harsh outdoor lighting. The next thing you know, someone is plugging in some beeping device or the light is blotting out the night sky and the whole experience is compromised. What you want is dim light that will let your eyes adjust to the darkness and that will make even the most modest bather feel comfortable, even if their towel happens to slip off. A few candles can be just enough to light the sauna room. The problem with candles is that they will melt in the sauna—even if you don’t light them! To solve this, I install a candle window above the mantle so the candle (or lantern) stays in the dressing room and lights both rooms.
I also consider daylighting and place windows to allow for natural light without compromising a sense of privacy. When rough framing the windows, I leave space so that the window placement can be adjusted to frame the perfect view when seated on the bench (but not the perfect view from outside).
In an electric sauna, I will often put a light under the bench, with a dimmer, so that there is no harsh light, only a soft glow that sweeps across the floor. No one wants to stare at a glowing light fixture (which is exactly the situation in most commercial units). Whatever the situation, I work with the light to create just the right ambiance.
THANK YOU for you enjoying my blog about saunas and sauna building. If you value the info you glean from my sauna blog consider dropping me a TIP via Venmo or via PayPal @RobLichtStudio or writing a google review. For press Inquiries please contact me directly.
