Sleipnir is an adaptive transformation project of the historic door man apartment at the Norwegian Veterinary School into a neighbourhood restaurant. The concept is simple: preserve the original character of the building while making parts of the campus accessible to the public. Wilson & Kelling: Broken Windows Theory Physical signs of disorder - broken or boarded up windows, litter, or graffiti - served as overt signals the nobody cared about the surrounding environment and this evident lack of caring encouraged crime. Since 1914, the Norwegian Veterinary School has been one of Oslo’s major educational institutions and of great scientific importance for the country. In spring 2021, the faculty moved their campus to Ås. With this relocation, the Adamstuen campus is no longer in use. In other words, an important urban site in Oslo is no longer accessible, neither by the faculty nor by the public. The space had previously served as a doorman’s residence and later as temporary office space. For this project, I worked with the reconstruction of the original plan drawing to understand the building’s historic layout and spatial qualities. The Problem Nybrua is an architecture with different parts built at different times solving different problems in different ways. In 1941 another part was added: a 8,5m wide concrete construction to further broaden the highly trafficked bridge. This construction darkens the space underneath and creates a climate of confusion and darkness underneath. This problem was not much of an issue for pedestrians until the underpass was built in the 80s. Suddenly the space that was never designed as a pedestrian space was used as one. Quickly, the underpass became a necessary connection and used as the shortest way to walk along the river. Where does the fear of walking underneath Nybrua come from? Sexual violence is the only type violent crime which increased at all in the Oslo police district from 2020 to 2021. Furthermore, we can only roughly estimate the number of sexual violence crimes that have not been reported to the police. This number might exceed the official statistics unthinkably. However, not reported does not mean it did not happen. Places of the Heart/ Places of Anxiety by Colin Ellard Whenever we make a decision based on our feelings of anxiety [...] we may choose to drive rather than to walk at night or we may cancel a plan altogether. We may take a longer route to avoid an area that we perceive as risky. We may cross the street or turn around and backtrack to avoid close contact with a group of people loitering on the street. Such choices are economic decisions based on our weighting of the relative benefits of doing what we really want to do and the calculated risk that harm may befall us if we do. Given that we seem to generally overestimate risks, one might argue that we are thwarting our desires unnecessarily. It might simply be the case that the overall costs of choosing behaviors that appear to be safer are very low compared to the costs of discounting our feelings of anxiety too heavily. In empirical studies of fear in urban settings, the most important triggers of feelings of risk are related to spatial properties. We don’t like walking into situations where potential flight paths are blocked, we don’t like walking through areas that contain lots of shadowy hiding places for potential lurking no- goodniks, we don’t like walking toward an area where it’s difficult to see what’s around the corner, and we don’t like walking through areas that are completely empty of people. In some cases, cues of physical or social disorder can heighten anxiety; of course, our knowledge of an area, developed either through personal experience or through media accounts of violence, will also dissuade us from venturing into territory that may be unsafe. The gender difference in both perception of and vulnerability to risk is difficult to overemphasize and should be a key element of successful urban planning. Ellard. (2015). Places of the heart : the psychogeography of everyday life. Bellevue Literary Press. How to design for safety when fear can't simply be designed out? A floating underpass The floating bridge is designed to create a new kind of experience along the Akerselva River. It forms part of the transformation of Nybrua from a neglected underside into a cared-for and inviting public space. With this intervention I aim to strengthen Nybrua’s evolving role as a place for meeting, movement and interaction. Although the existing underpass may appear spacious at nearly three meters wide, beneath the stone arch from 1828 only 73 centimeters of the path can be comfortably used due to the low ceiling height. This narrow section is also the darkest point under the bridge. The new floating bridge, with a width of 2.9 meters, finally provides generous space for its users and invites them to linger. Why floating? By introducing a floating structure, the dark unused corners beside the old path are eliminated. Areas once associated with littering, urination or discarded syringes are no longer accessible. This also enhances the sense of safety — there are no hidden corners where someone could startle or harass a passerby. Moreover, the old pass used to be flooded during times of high rainfall, the new pass simply adjusts to the water level change. Yet the underpass has always held one valuable quality: its intimate relationship with the river. At times, the water nearly reaches the path’s surface; occasionally, it even floods. This closeness creates a tangible connection to the river and invites observation and reflection. The floating bridge preserves and amplifies this quality, maintaining proximity to the water while providing a safer and more welcoming way to experience it. Another issue with the old underpass was the feeling of being unseen, a lack of visibility that created unease. One could not help but wonder: if something happened here, would anyone notice? Would anyone help? The likely answer was no. From the busier street above there was no visual connection and along the path itself only limited sightlines. A blind corner amplified this sense of isolation and fear. As Jane Jacobs famously described, it is the eyes on the street that create an impression of safety — the simple awareness that a place is alive, observed and cared for. With this project I aimed to introduce that same sense of liveliness around the bridge and especially within the underpass.Enhancing visibility happens in two phases. Phase 1: Connecting the bridge to the underpass Establishing a connection between those on the bridge and those below. The intention was for people beneath the bridge to feel seen. The solution was a simple architectural gesture – an opening in the bridge deck functioning as a visual window between the two levels.The opening is placed a few metres into the parking lane, ensuring that the existing sidewalk, roadway and tram tracks remain unaffected. The parking area previously used by taxis could be relocated to a designated space approximately 30 meters from the bridge. Beyond improving visibility the opening allows daylight to filter into the underpass, creating a visual and spatial link to the river below while offering pedestrians above a renewed view of the water. Phase 2: Connecting the neighbourhood The second phase of introducing what Jane Jacobs calls “eyes on the street” focuses on creating a reason for people to stay, transforming the underpass area from a place one hurries through into a place where people want to linger. The intention is to shift the character of the space from hidden and unsafe to open, social and inviting. In 2022, there was no real opportunity to sit and enjoy the sun or the view of the river in the immediate surroundings of Nybrua. The few existing options were cafés, such as Kaffeebrenneriet, which has a limited outdoor seating area that catches the afternoon sun even in winter. However, these spaces are privately owned and accessible only to those who can afford to sit down for a drink. Public seating, on the other hand, offers something different – a sense of shared belonging and inclusivity where everyone can pause and take part in the life of the city. By shaping a seating landscape along the slope leading down to the underpass, the design introduces a new type of urban space that connects the bridge, the path below and the riverbank in a natural flow. The stepped seating invites a variety of activities: people resting, meeting friends, watching the river or simply passing time in the sun. Over time, this will help establish the area as a neighborhood gathering spot rather than a neglected in-between zone. This presence of people transforms the atmosphere entirely. The more visitors sit, talk and interact in this space, the more visible and safe it becomes. The design therefore not only provides a new place to dwell but also reinforces the social and spatial connection between the river and the urban fabric around Nybrua, bringing everyday life back to a once overlooked corner of the city. We can't simply design fear away from somebody's life. Hilde Koskela however proposes following: What can be gained by analysing women’s courage and their ability to take possession of space? For me a feminist city is way more than simply a city free of sexual violence. The feminist city for me is a city where there is equal access to the resources that the city has to offer, regardless of any gender identity, any projective characteristics such as race, class, sexual orientation or physical ability. – Dr. Ellie Cosgrave

Culinary spatial practice is the intersection between food and space. It is space created around and for the experience of food. ​This project, my master thesis, explores the meeting between a culinary experience and interior of a space at the moment of dinner. Through essays – attempts – I focus on the movement of Nordic cuisine wondering how design can enhance the culinary experience of the eater. Josephine Sassu Oslo National Academy of the Arts , 2024 What Is Culinary Spatial Practice? An introduction to my master thesis within interior architecture Food Space Essentially, I wondered how interior architecture can enhance a culinary experience and contribute to a deeper connection to the served dishes and the stories behind them. Culinary spatial practice is the intersection between food and space. It is space created around and for the experience of food. This project explores the meeting between a culinary experience and interior of a space at the moment of dinner. Through essays – attempts – I focus on the movement of Nordic cuisine wondering how design can enhance the culinary experience of the eater. Through the act of translation, I wonder whether notions of seasonality, locality and emotivity can benefit design and capture the essence of a space. Balancing between critical theory, conceptual practice and personal sensibilities, this project serves to open a discussion on how we design culinary spaces of the present and eventually of the future. How can we design spaces for and around food in a more meaningful way? How can culinary values from Nordic cuisine be translated into design? Introduction A meal contains so much more than its ingredients, it contains sentiments of contentment, of feeling home and belonging and fascination for what is strange and new. It contains memories of what have have experienced and memories of what we do not know yet. A meal can be seen as a bearer of culture in its purest and densest form – for the good and for the bad, mirroring the contemporaneity. A meal and the way we eat is closely connected to the way we experience the world. The evening dinner emerges as a focal point of cultural and social importance. Unlike breakfasts and lunches, which are often constrained by the rigours of daily schedules, dinners possess a unique fluidity. They begin at twilight and, and if one wishes, they can extend into the early hours – until breakfast. Dinners have the notion of something ceremonial, an implicit invitation to partake in a shared experience that transcends mere sustenance. They are not just meals but rituals that foster a sense of community at the close of the day. The evening meal serves as a platform for the difficult conversations that demand more room than a lunch break can afford. Here, topics of significance find their voice, from personal dilemmas to global issues. Historically, dinners have been at the heart of pivotal events. In certain cases, a dinner does not simply signify the end of a day, it can mark the end an era while making the guests aware of the transition with a blend of reflection and anticipation. Take for instance one of the world’s most known dinners – the Last Supper. Jesus invites his disciples to dine together one last time, announcing his soon to come death – and thereby symbolising the dawn of a new time. Alliances are forged, tempers ignite, and global politics shift—all over the course of a dinner. Consider also the Rothschild dinner party in December 1972, hosted by Baroness Marie-Hélène de Rothschild. It was not just a lavish feast with a surrealist theme but a gathering of influential minds, where conversations likely shaped the future of cultural and political landscapes. In this light, the evening meal is more than just a part of the day—it is a moment where history can pivot, and the future can be subtly, yet profoundly, influenced. The evening dinner, therefore, sits at an interesting border in time. In this project, I focus on what it can mean in terms of interior architecture to create spaces for the ritual of dining. With the focus being put on the act of experiencing food, I wondered how personal sensitivities could be facilitated within a space and how the how the spatial experience could enhance the culinary experience. I was particularly interested in whether it would be possible to transpose values that we encounter within the world of cuisine to ways of working as an interior architect. As a designer, I see myself as a facilitator, creating communication between objects, spaces and people. In this project it was to facilitate a dialogue between food and space. This is an act of translation between two realms. What could culinary space entail? Looking for answers and possibilities, I approached culinary space from different scales – visible within the research and the result. I listened to farmers, spoke to chefs, artists and ceramicists, collected existing knowledge from writings of architects and theoreticians to continue building ideas on and conducted field studies from the perspective of being a guest. Essays become my way of collecting ways to talk about the atmosphere of a space for dining. Through those descriptions I try to connect language used in culinary contexts with language used to describe architecture and spaces. The result is a collection of essays – attempts – with thoughts and observations exploring the relationship between space and food in the Northern Region, with focus on Norway. Although this work engages with various theoretical concepts, its primary focus is on how these ideas apply to the practical field of interior architecture and design. Hence, the project is meant to be read and understood within the context of design practice, rather than purely as a theoretical exploration. In this project, artistic research is used as a practical tool to build a foundation for design practice. It is a creative combination of research, translation and adaption to strengthen and refine the process of designing spaces for culinary experiences. The project uses a conceptual framework informed by critical theories and ideas to better understand design in the intersection of food and space. My goal was not to create a technical and concrete guide on how to design spaces for Nordic Cuisine. Consequently, this work does not solve a space at a specific site. Moreover, exploring the spatial phenomena of kitchen or eating within the confinement of a home are deeply interested to me, however, I plan on exploring those in other future projects. As of now, the collection is a process or a prototype – fluid and shapable, ready to be discussed, enriched with new perspectives, remodelled and improved. And that is exactly what I want it to be in this stage: a work that leads to a discussion on what culinary place is and what it can be, giving the reader a chance to reflect on their own encounters with spaces built around and for the experience of food. I believe that this artistic research can be of interest for various parties – those from the field of interior architecture, design and gastronomy and those that see space as an ingredient of a meal. Explore the background and referential framework of my work here [While I am working on this site, breaking my master thesis down into quickly graspable key thoughts and outcomes, you are welcome to read it in its wholeness as a pdf. Click on the PDF symbol to open it in another tab.] SASSU: Culinary Spatial Practice

A burgundy space. Speakeasy interior for Botschaft Bar in Ryesgade 25, Copenhagen, with custom furniture, Flos lighting and chairs produced by Fritz Hansen. Bar Botschaft Copenhagen, 2025 The concept was to create a hidden world behind the kitchen. It is dark and comfortable and allows guests to forget the world outside the windows. The space had to support a flexible programme: day-to-day bar service, guests sitting at both the bar and tables, occasional DJ sets and a small dance area when needed. It also had to accommodate pop-up dinners by other restaurants. For this, the prep kitchen is designed to transform into a temporary guest kitchen and the overall layout includes enough dining-style seating to make these events feasible. All built-in furniture is custom made based on my drawings. @botschaft.cph Within this project, I delivered millwork design and made-to-measure custom shelves, benches, bar tops, workstations, and tables, provided FF&E specifications, and guided colour and material selection to reflect the client’s wishes and values. Paint Furniture and Built-ins Walls – Pure & Original : Rare Wine, Classico Doors, floorboards, window frames – Little Greene : Cordoba, glossy Ceiling – Little Greene : Arras, intelligent matte Bathroom – Pure & Original : Moorland, Licetto Custom elements All benches and built-ins designed by me. Benches in oiled oak, upholstered in Kvadrat fabrics: Colline 667 (75% wool), Vidar 4 0693 (94% wool), Raf Simons Noise (96% wool), Raf Simons Pilot 0652 (82% wool), San 0540 (92% wool) Bar top in burgundy Forbo linoleum 3353 (oxidised linseed oil, wood flour, cork dust, pine rosin). Floor Linoleum for extra durability of the bar top that also serves as a work top. Carpenters : Luca Haarnagel, Carl-Felix Lentz Curtains Bar: Kvadrat Vidar 4 0693 (94% wool), Kvadrat Raf Simons Pilot 0652 (82% wool), Gabriel Faith 0010 (cotton, heavy linen); Front-of-House: Kvadrat Heather 343 (97% wool) Loose furniture Table: Fritz Hansen, Piet Hein & Bruno Mathsson Superellipse, walnut with chrome legs Lamps: Flos Taccia in brown, Flos Frisbi (to come), Fritz Hansen Kaiser Idell table lamp in ruby red Chairs and stools: Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen Syveren in oak, walnut, painted beech, chromed legs Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen Myren in oak, chromed legs Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen Grand Prix in walnut with the original walnut legs Fritz Hansen, Nendo N01 in beech Fritz Hansen, Arne Jacobsen Dot in walnut and leather; chromed legs With a warm thank you to Katja Lippert regarding all Fritz Hansen pieces <3

The Tactility of Taste An essay on the symbiosis of Nordic cuisine and interior architecture Clicking on the envelope will open the essay as a PDF document in a new tab in your browser. You can then read it fully and in peace.

Vår uerstattelige, rause og hjerteekte venn Peter er død. Dette er noen setninger skrevet i dagene etter bisettelsen i mars 2026. I kjært minne om vår gode venn Peter Mikael Landstad, 1997 - 2026 10. Mars 2026 Det var så tåkete den morgenen vi gikk til din bisettelse. Sorte trestammer, sorte kvister som strekker seg mot lyset, men forsvinner i det hvite. Min sorg blir ett med tåken. Ved elven er tåken tung og kald. Den morgenen vet jeg ikke enda hvor du døde. Det er den siste gangen jeg går uvitende forbi det stedet. Tåken er grå og hvit og blå, og kisten din er bare hvit. Vi står sammen, Vilde, Anniken, Johanna, Regine, Ella, meg. Jeg bryter nesten sammen av smerte når kisten din ligger i bilen og jeg forstår at dette er farvel. Johanna holder rundt skulderen min og presser meg inntil henne. Det var godt å kunne holde Annikens hånd i kirken. Det var godt å våkne hos henne og gå sammen til kirken den fredagmorgen. Og å kunne gå hjem til henne den ettermiddagen. Jeg møter Sunniva foran kirken, hun sang for oss som nå er uten deg, bilen med din kiste i har kjørt vekk, jeg gråter og vet ikke om jeg skal vinke farvel, det gir ikke mening. Det kjører allerede en trikk forbi, jeg stirrer på de i trikken, noen i trikken stirrer tilbake. Brosteinen foran Paulus kirken er våt fra tårene. Vi vet ikke hvorhen, vi har ikke ord. Vi nikker til hverandre, vi ser hverandres tunge sorg. Christophe kysser meg på kinnet, vi har ikke mer å si. Han sier han må gå, det er for mye. Vi trykker hendene. Tomme, men dype blikk. Samlet, men i endeløs ensomhet begynner vi å gå. Går oppover elven, forbi fossen, forbi Hønse Lovisas Hus. Jeg har aldri hilst på dine foreldre før. Din far har på et oransje skjerf, din mor er taus av smerte og sorg. Jeg møter brødrene dine. Jeg skulle så gjerne møtt dem sammen med deg, ikke sånn. Din lillebror har de samme krøller som du. Hans bakhode gir meg et falskt håp om at jeg kan se deg igjen i Oslos gater. På lørdag går jeg taus gjennom byen, leter etter deg, fra Grünerløkka til Skillebekk og tilbake. Jeg går gatelangs, langsomt, med hodetelefoner på ørene. Jeg forstår at du er borte, men jeg forstår ikke hvor du er. Jeg visste ikke at det var i siloen du bodde sist. Kanskje kunne du se ned på Kubaparken og det som er en geografisk feilbetegnelse av Kubaparken. Kanskje så du trærne og elven. Kanskje så du en annen vei. Jeg vet ikke bak hvilket vindu du bodde. Jeg hater tanken om at du lå der alene. Jeg hater siloen. Jeg skulle ønske tåken kunne gjemme siloen for alltid. Jeg vil aldri se det mørkegråe bygget igjen. Men jeg ender opp å gå forbi der så ofte allikevel. Jeg løper vekk langs elven, så blir jeg stående, ser tilbake for å så se vekk igjen. Hvorfor må man kunne se den fra alle veiene? Jeg går omveier, går i oppoverbakke, prøver å gå veier som ikke går forbi den. Fukten fra den brune gjørmen på stien forbi AHO trenger gjennom mine skinnsåler. Jeg går opp og ned på Vår Frelsers gravlund, gravene er gamle, men fine, på granitten vokser lysegrøn lav. Her hviler Munch og Ibsen og Krogh og Wergeland. Jeg vet ikke hvor din grav kommer til å ligge. Jeg turte ikke å spørre foreldrene dine på Fredag. Det har blitt kveld, jeg går forbi Blå, hører musikken og blir stående. Så går jeg forbi kafe Hærverk, jeg skulle ønske du satt der, vi kunne tatt en øl sammen. Vi kunne gått hjem sammen eller til Anikken, vi kunne gått hvor som helst, bare ikke til siloen. Nå er det tirsdag og jeg sitter på flyet og over skyene skinner alltid solen, men jeg vil ikke se solen. Jeg vil være i tåken, jeg vil gå gatelangs i sorg og huske deg.

“All Eyes on Nybrua” investigates how fear in public spaces is rooted in patriarchal city planning. Inspired by feminist urbanism and Leslie Kern, the project reveals how urban layouts reflect gendered expectations and restrict movement, highlighting the role of spatial design in creating safer, inclusive cities. All Eyes on Nybrua is a project that emerged out of the frustration of being afraid of walking home underneath Nybrua at night. The project deals with the fact that gender roles are fossilised into the concrete appearance of space. The overall layout of cities in general reflect society’s expectations of what types of activities take place where, when and by whom. The project reconnects a neglected underpass with its urban context, transforming it into a public space that invites people to dwell and offers new ways to experience and engage with the river. Wilson & Kelling: Broken Windows Theory Physical signs of disorder - broken or boarded up windows, litter, or graffiti - served as overt signals the nobody cared about the surrounding environment and this evident lack of caring encouraged crime. About the brigde Nybrua is a stone arch bridge built in 1828 in central Oslo. When Nybrua was built, Vaterlands Bridge (from 1654) was the only other bridge over the Akerselva, so the new bridge was aptly named “Nybrua”: the new bridge. Fifty years later, in 1878, the bridge was raised by 2 meters and widened by 5 meters to accommodate a tram line between Stortorget and Grünerløkka, effectively making it a tram bridge. In 1941, it was expanded again with large concrete sections on the north side, becoming the main northern entrance to Oslo via Trondheimsveien. Today, it carries tram tracks and four tram routes pass over it. The current bridge is a two-span concrete frame bridge, 25 meters long, with wrought-iron railings set in granite blocks. It has pedestrian and bicycle underpasses on the east side, while the original 1828 stone arch remains visible on the south side. North of the bridge, the road splits into Trondheimsveien and Thorvald Meyers gate. This intersection was once home to Schous Brewery, now replaced by modern businesses, offices, and restaurants. The Problem Nybrua is an architecture with different parts built at different times solving different problems in different ways. In 1941 another part was added: a 8,5m wide concrete construction to further broaden the highly trafficked bridge. This construction darkens the space underneath and creates a climate of confusion and darkness underneath. This problem was not much of an issue for pedestrians until the underpass was built in the 80s. Suddenly the space that was never designed as a pedestrian space was used as one. Quickly, the underpass became a necessary connection and used as the shortest way to walk along the river. Where does the fear of walking underneath Nybrua come from? Sexual violence is the only type violent crime which increased at all in the Oslo police district from 2020 to 2021. Furthermore, we can only roughly estimate the number of sexual violence crimes that have not been reported to the police. This number might exceed the official statistics unthinkably. However, not reported does not mean it did not happen. Places of the Heart/ Places of Anxiety by Colin Ellard Whenever we make a decision based on our feelings of anxiety [...] we may choose to drive rather than to walk at night or we may cancel a plan altogether. We may take a longer route to avoid an area that we perceive as risky. We may cross the street or turn around and backtrack to avoid close contact with a group of people loitering on the street. Such choices are economic decisions based on our weighting of the relative benefits of doing what we really want to do and the calculated risk that harm may befall us if we do. Given that we seem to generally overestimate risks, one might argue that we are thwarting our desires unnecessarily. It might simply be the case that the overall costs of choosing behaviors that appear to be safer are very low compared to the costs of discounting our feelings of anxiety too heavily. In empirical studies of fear in urban settings, the most important triggers of feelings of risk are related to spatial properties. We don’t like walking into situations where potential flight paths are blocked, we don’t like walking through areas that contain lots of shadowy hiding places for potential lurking no- goodniks, we don’t like walking toward an area where it’s difficult to see what’s around the corner, and we don’t like walking through areas that are completely empty of people. In some cases, cues of physical or social disorder can heighten anxiety; of course, our knowledge of an area, developed either through personal experience or through media accounts of violence, will also dissuade us from venturing into territory that may be unsafe. The gender difference in both perception of and vulnerability to risk is difficult to overemphasize and should be a key element of successful urban planning. Ellard. (2015). Places of the heart : the psychogeography of everyday life. Bellevue Literary Press. How to design for safety when fear can't simply be designed out? A floating underpass The floating bridge is designed to create a new kind of experience along the Akerselva River. It forms part of the transformation of Nybrua from a neglected underside into a cared-for and inviting public space. With this intervention I aim to strengthen Nybrua’s evolving role as a place for meeting, movement and interaction. Although the existing underpass may appear spacious at nearly three meters wide, beneath the stone arch from 1828 only 73 centimeters of the path can be comfortably used due to the low ceiling height. This narrow section is also the darkest point under the bridge. The new floating bridge, with a width of 2.9 meters, finally provides generous space for its users and invites them to linger. Why floating? By introducing a floating structure, the dark unused corners beside the old path are eliminated. Areas once associated with littering, urination or discarded syringes are no longer accessible. This also enhances the sense of safety — there are no hidden corners where someone could startle or harass a passerby. Moreover, the old pass used to be flooded during times of high rainfall, the new pass simply adjusts to the water level change. Yet the underpass has always held one valuable quality: its intimate relationship with the river. At times, the water nearly reaches the path’s surface; occasionally, it even floods. This closeness creates a tangible connection to the river and invites observation and reflection. The floating bridge preserves and amplifies this quality, maintaining proximity to the water while providing a safer and more welcoming way to experience it. Another issue with the old underpass was the feeling of being unseen, a lack of visibility that created unease. One could not help but wonder: if something happened here, would anyone notice? Would anyone help? The likely answer was no. From the busier street above there was no visual connection and along the path itself only limited sightlines. A blind corner amplified this sense of isolation and fear. As Jane Jacobs famously described, it is the eyes on the street that create an impression of safety — the simple awareness that a place is alive, observed and cared for. With this project I aimed to introduce that same sense of liveliness around the bridge and especially within the underpass.Enhancing visibility happens in two phases. Phase 1: Connecting the bridge to the underpass Establishing a connection between those on the bridge and those below. The intention was for people beneath the bridge to feel seen. The solution was a simple architectural gesture – an opening in the bridge deck functioning as a visual window between the two levels.The opening is placed a few metres into the parking lane, ensuring that the existing sidewalk, roadway and tram tracks remain unaffected. The parking area previously used by taxis could be relocated to a designated space approximately 30 meters from the bridge. Beyond improving visibility the opening allows daylight to filter into the underpass, creating a visual and spatial link to the river below while offering pedestrians above a renewed view of the water. Phase 2: Connecting the neighbourhood The second phase of introducing what Jane Jacobs calls “eyes on the street” focuses on creating a reason for people to stay, transforming the underpass area from a place one hurries through into a place where people want to linger. The intention is to shift the character of the space from hidden and unsafe to open, social and inviting. In 2022, there was no real opportunity to sit and enjoy the sun or the view of the river in the immediate surroundings of Nybrua. The few existing options were cafés, such as Kaffeebrenneriet, which has a limited outdoor seating area that catches the afternoon sun even in winter. However, these spaces are privately owned and accessible only to those who can afford to sit down for a drink. Public seating, on the other hand, offers something different – a sense of shared belonging and inclusivity where everyone can pause and take part in the life of the city. By shaping a seating landscape along the slope leading down to the underpass, the design introduces a new type of urban space that connects the bridge, the path below and the riverbank in a natural flow. The stepped seating invites a variety of activities: people resting, meeting friends, watching the river or simply passing time in the sun. Over time, this will help establish the area as a neighborhood gathering spot rather than a neglected in-between zone. This presence of people transforms the atmosphere entirely. The more visitors sit, talk and interact in this space, the more visible and safe it becomes. The design therefore not only provides a new place to dwell but also reinforces the social and spatial connection between the river and the urban fabric around Nybrua, bringing everyday life back to a once overlooked corner of the city. We can't simply design fear away from somebody's life. Hilde Koskela however proposes following: What can be gained by analysing women’s courage and their ability to take possession of space? For me a feminist city is way more than simply a city free of sexual violence. The feminist city for me is a city where there is equal access to the resources that the city has to offer, regardless of any gender identity, any projective characteristics such as race, class, sexual orientation or physical ability. – Dr. Ellie Cosgrave

A photo documentary of the traditional costumes shown at the day of San Lorenzo in a little village in Sardinia. I costumi Sardi a Banari, San Lorenzo, 2025 Sogni Sardi Già Passati A series of portraits from the celebration of San Lorenzo in Banari, Sardinia. Leica Q2. Nei sogni sardi, l’eredità dei costumi e dei riti antichi non resta confinata al passato, ma si rinnova nei gesti quotidiani e nelle feste collettive che uniscono comunità e memoria. Così la modernità non cancella la tradizione, bensì la trasforma in linguaggio vivo, capace di raccontare l’identità sarda alle nuove generazioni. Dreams of Sardinia The traditional costumes and rituals persist not as static relics but as evolving practices that continue to shape community identity. Modernity, rather than erasing these traditions, reframes them within new cultural and social contexts, preserving their relevance for contemporary generations.

Sound sculpture made from wood and porcelain Would You Mind? A sound sculpture that comes alive by either the wind or the touch of your fingers, 2020.

The apartment is inspired by a Berlin approach to living: walls left untouched, no unnecessary interventions, few but meaningful objects. There is a certain temporariness to it, the awareness that this is a space for now, not forever. It’s somewhere between laziness and elegance, doing the minimum and having it be enough. Furnishing Parmagade 4, 2300 København Parmagade 4 consists of twelve apartments that are located above a communal sports hall which again is located above two grocery stores. Designed by Dorte Mandrup Architects, this mixed-use building is a wonderful example for how urban density can be achieved through quality instead of just building in height. As the apartments are long and stretched, they would otherwise only receive light from the south and north. Mandrup therefore added an atrium in the middle of each apartment, introducing an additional source of natural light and a rare quality for apartments in the city: a private courtyard where no one can look in. The apartment is inspired by a Berlin approach to living: walls left untouched, no unnecessary interventions, few but meaningful objects. There is a certain temporariness to it, the awareness that this is a space for now, not forever. It’s somewhere between laziness and elegance, doing the minimum and having it be enough. The pinnacle of this are the USM shelves: simple, cold, functional and sturdy enough to survive the next move. And yet there they are, precise and elegant, a quiet admission that you do care about how it all looks. Storage & Shelving – Opinion Ciatti Ptolomeo, USM Haller, Montana, Kartell Componibili and Joe Colombo’s Bobby shelf. Seating – Eilersen sofa in white linen, Børge Mogensen Windsor chairs, Arne Jacobsen Lily chair in walnut, Arne Jacobsen Grand Prix chair in walnut with Kvadrat lime-yellow wool upholstery, Pernilla chair by Bruno Mathsson (Dux) and a Peter Opsvik stool. Table – Poul Volther Dutch Table (FDB) Lamps – Gubi Stemlite, Kaiser Idell, Poul Henningsen PH5 Textiles – Yves Delorme bedsheets and Lapuan Kankurit linen kitchen cloths, Missoni Home apron, Røros Tweed wool blanket, ancient Polish woven wool blanket TV – Bang Olufsen BeoVision

A photo documentary of the traditional costumes shown at the day of San Lorenzo in a little village in Sardinia. I costumi Sardi a Banari, San Lorenzo, 2025 Sogni Sardi Colorati