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Time is a fundamental element that shapes and pushes the relationship between food and culture onwards. Inspired by Kvitnes Gård, I try to translate the cycle of cultivating, harvesting, conserving and composting. Josephine Sassu Oslo National Academy of the Arts, 2024 To Cultivate , to Harvest , to Preserve , to Compost Translating Time Time is a fundamental element that shapes and pushes the relationship between food and culture onwards. In cuisine, time can be investigated in various scales, from the natural cycle of seasons giving a rhythm to the human cycle of cultivating, harvesting, conserving and composting, to the time one spends eating dinner. Time, as expressed through the seasons, becomes the driving force behind the cultivation and harvest of produce, influencing not just what is available, but also how it is prepared, preserved and cherished and eaten. Halvar Ellingsen , chef at Kvitnes Gård in Northern Norway, centres his culinary practice around the natural rhythms of the land. At Kvitnes, cultivating, harvesting, conserving, and composting are fundamental and structure-giving principles that guide the rhythm of the restaurant and the dinners (Kvitnes, n.d.). Seeing that a cyclical rhythm is the natural force behind what can be conceived as the essence of produce, I wonder whether interior architecture could give the guests a glimpse of this rhythm. How can space tell the story of cultivating, harvesting, conserving and composting? Graphic: Kvitnes. Retrieved 29 November 2023, from https://www.kvitnes.com/ To Cultivate The word “cultivate” comes from the Latin verb culturare , which itself derives from cultus , the past participle of colere , meaning “to till, tend, or care for.” This root word colere also gives rise to another closely related – “culture”. The connection between these words highlights a central understanding – the connection of time to place to people , celebrated through culture and care . “Culture” itself originally referred to the cultivation of land but later evolved to describe the cultivation of the mind, manners, arts and also design. And as the most traditional use of “cultivate” refers to the preparing and using land for growing crops, the essential notions of care is expressed in the relation between people and land. “To cultivate” in a cultural sense means to develop or refine intellectual and artistic pursuits, contributing to growth – which to me is a beautiful side effect of design. Cultivating can therefore result in ways that form the understanding and practicing of design. However, at the heart of this idea, the element of care must be present. Caring for the place, the building, the space, walls, the way they meet the ground, the doors and their handles, the windows and how it feels to open them, the chairs and the tables, the way the light shines on them, caring for the plate, the spoon, the knife, the fork, the little vase with flowers. But most of all, caring for the people that the space is designed for. And that is the crucial notion to understand from the idea of cultivating: To design with care and attention. On a different layer, cultivating describes how a space is connected to a place, just like the roots between produce and soil. To cultivate design can then also mean to care for how the space meets its surroundings. This includes considering the cultural, social, historical and environmental aspects of a place. There is of course also an element of time tied to the concept of cultivation. As“culture” and “cultivate” share the same root, cultivating design also involves the idea of preserving culture while at the same time thinking towards the future. Following this train of thought, cultivating can then also be understood as using design to explore the connection between past and future. Essentially, to me, that is a manifestation of design as a means to grow, preserve and care for culture. Essentially, design as the cultivation of culture. To Harvest The Nordic regions experience long, harsh winters and short, summers where suddenly everything happens at once. Traditionally, harvesting was crucial cultural event symbolising survival and celebration. Because of the incredibly short period that one can celebrate the sudden abundance of sunlight, flowers, vegetables, fruits and berries, harvesting in the Nordic context also emphasises the importance of preserving food. The harvest happens in the window of time where produce is mature enough but not too mature. It is a window of time that must be carefully observed and understood and once everything seems to align as it requires immediate action. Translating these findings into design, I want to focus on two qualities emerging within the act of harvesting: 1. Observation 2. The feeling of accepting that one can't really change the weather circumstances and what they do to the land The Sámi people, follow a unique tradition of dividing the year into eight seasons, rooted in their profound comprehension of habitat and season that rests within their culture. Each season marks a changing in the landscape and activities of practical and spiritual quality. After I learned about this way of seeing time, I started to apply it within my own experience of season and space. Following are my observations from my experiences in Oslo. Spring-summer is a love letter to life, it is the anticipation of the abundance of summer and an anticipation comes often with even greater joy than what is being anticipated. The space is full of energy and every guests who visits immerses in it. The space is daring, it is like going for a swim when the joy to be able to swim again is so great that one forgets the water is still cold from the winter. Windows are being slightly opened to hear the flowers bloom and the birds sing. Cool wind blows into the space but hearing the spring is worth it. The space still provides warmth and comfort through materials, just like we still have to wear woolen sweaters in the spring summer evenings. During summer, the space opens up as far as it can and encourages the guests to sense the soft smell in the warm evening breezes. The air vibrates from all the insects flying busy from flower to flower. Evenings seem to never end, the sun never sets. Just like day and night are blurred, the space now blurs the lines between outside and inside. Elements from outside are invited in, the warm wind, the tickling rays of the sun. Flowers and fresh produce create the feeling of a garden inside, there is so plenty of it all. The space is spontaneous in summer. It is as fruity as it is briny. Summer-autumn reflects a melancholic joy. Fruity becomes earthy. Materials that give warmth are introduced to the guests. Wool and comfort for those who wish to the warm long nights would continue, even though it almost is too cold to sit outside now. Others have accepted the end of summer and seek the inside of a space. The space is silent while it takes farewell with the summer, keeping only a few souvenirs for memory. Lights are dimmed to give the guests the chance to part with the natural light. The space marks the ending of summer by slowly secluding itself and gradually getting ready for the long winter. In autumn the forests birth mushrooms and the apple trees carry their dark red treasures, new scents, new sounds, new images, new colours. Trees change their colours and their leaves can be admired one last time before they fall. All the green disappears, slowly. The space takes now its final farewell from the summer. Memories of sitting outside are being caramelised while sitting warm and comfortably on the inside of the space. The space reflects the calmness and and encourages contemplation. It’s not gloomy or heavy, like a Nordic winter; autumn is bright and stormy. Autumn-winter might be darker than the winter. Without the snow, the darkness came quickly and seems so heavy and persistent. Everything seem to get so unbearably cold in the anticipation of winter. Storms tumble through everything that happened over the past year before they make it all fall into place one last time. In the winter, the space is enclosed and becomes a shelter from the cold and grey monotony. Guests are seated in a space of warmth and comfort, reflected in the materials. Outside, ice cold winds are whistling through little cracks and snowflakes are covering the everything under their heavy white blanket. The sounds are dimmed, the light is dimmed. The weighty darkness is being embraced, not fought against. Remnants from autumn remind the guests of summer that now seems so far away. The space takes care of its visitors, it becomes a sanctuary of collectedness and togetherness. Winter-spring starts silently and not knowing whether it's starting or whether it's just hope, the space slowly shifts again. Sun rays seem to reach the inside again, trees and shrubs are showing their first buds, so green and purple and vulnerable. The changes are still so fragile. The floral vulnerability is reflected in the space. Materials are light and transparent, cold but warm up through touch. Some branches with buds are being brought into the warmth inside so they can bloom for us. Just like snowdrops and crocuses, the space too awakens from under its snow blanket. Lighter and fresher colours are being introduced as the snow melts and drips from all edges. Spring is the evidence of the new start, life is now firmly exploding. Every bud wants to bloom, every plant pushes its leaves out towards the sun and everything is being born everywhere. The space reflects this tingling joy. It opens up again, it introduces fresh produce, tart colours and textures that are al dente. It now is grassy, refreshing and blooming. There is a tartness to the space, it tingles, it excites with a new freshness and purity. To Preserve Around the world, different cultures have developed various techniques to preserve food, each beautifully adapted to specific climates. In fact, most existing food preserving techniques go beyond the mere aim of being able to store the produce. Over thousands of years, techniques have been refined that add taste and nutritional value over time while at the same time preserving the produce. In the light of this translation project, I have become particularly interested in the technique of fermentation – preservation through change. Read about how to ferment a building here . To Compost To compost marks another act that happens in the intersection between past and future. Composting is the process of breaking down organic matter, such as food scraps, yard waste and other biodegradable materials, into a nutrient-rich material called compost. This process occurs through the natural decomposition of these materials by microorganisms such as bacteria and fungi and insects in the presence of oxygen. The resulting compost can be used to create soil that is actually alive (not brown dirt one can buy in a bag) and thereby recycle nutrients back into the ecosystem. The word “composting” comes from the noun “compost,” which has its roots in the Latin verb componere , meaning “to put together” or “to combine.” The term “compost” in English was first used in the late 14th century to refer to a mixture of decayed organic matter used as fertiliser. The verb “to compost,” meaning to convert organic material into compost, came into use later (Etymonline, n.d.). “‘We are all compost’ claims Donna Haraway, and this says something about who we are, where we come from and where we are going. It reminds us that humans are part of nature and that we depend on everything around us, particularly soil. Composting brings the human and the more-than-human together and opens a possibility to understand how we depend on the life- creating processes around us.” – Bjørn Inge Melås ( Melås, 2022, p.270) Compost as a composition – another way of reorganising a structure, composing existent elements into something new. Another way of creating newness from what already exists. What I want to point out, however, is that composting not as much of a solution for waste but as a necessity to create and sustain new life. “Composting provides an insight into how all life around us is reproduced all the time. This could be a source of security, or confidence, or humbleness in the uncertain and chaotic world we live in” (Melås, 2022, p.256), writes Bjørn Inge Melås in his doctoral thesis. Through combining theory with practice, he explores the social and ecological value of gardening in an urban setting as well as expressing what an alternative pathway to capitalism can look and feel like. His work dedicatedly centres the meaning of compost. Melås suggests that the process of composting and soil regeneration offers more than just ecological benefits – it can also provide personal meaning and well-being. “The life-creating technology of composting and soil regeneration might also be a source of meaning and well- being. To find joy not in consumption, but in repairing, fixing, maintaining. It is a way to do something tangible and visible, a way of being productive and creative, making something with our own hands.” (Melås, 2022, p.256) Melås explains that capitalism not only depletes the earth’s soils but also erodes our mental and social “soils”—the ways we think, act, interact, and relate to one another. “The practice of composting also holds a potential for regenerating the social and mental ecologies, a necessary part of the transition to a degrowth future. Capitalism exhausts soils of their capacity to function properly, but it also depletes the mental and social soils, the way we think, act, interact and relate, and all these levels needs to be regenerated at the same time, through practices that gives meaning and direction to the people involved.” (Melås, 2022, p.270) I wonder what possibilities the idea of composting could present for architecture. This thought presents many answers and can be discussed through a variety of layers. On the one hand, there is the abundance of outcomes emerging from understanding the act of composting in its concrete appearance and physicality. How do we implement decentralised, democratic composting stations into the daily life of urban contexts? On the other hand, there is the abundance of outcomes emerging from understanding the act of composting as an abstract concept of organic recreation – an idea that grows around the thought of finding alternatives to capitalism. What does a post-capitalist dinner space look like? How do we design the infrastructure of post-capitalism? The abundance of these openings can again be explored on different scales – from the private to the civic to the public to the national to the global scale – and how those interact with each other. “Everything is connected under ground, where the experiences from the projects above are digested, composted, theorized and reflected and nourish the soil from which new projects might grow”, concludes Melås (Melås, 2022, p.492). The act of composting itself opens up inquiries that transcend words, encouraging us to engage with the world in ways that are more intuitive and connected to the earth.

Excerpts from my thesis: Place as a Foundation of Culture and time visible in the materials tas a means of story telling Josephine Sassu Oslo National Academy of the Arts, 2024 Time and Place and Place and Time “Material and construction have to relate to the place, and sometimes even come from it. Otherwise I have the feeling that the landscape does not accept the new building.” – Peter Zumthor (Zumthor, 2006) Place as a Foundation of Culture All in all, place serves as the foundation of culture. Making space for both human culture and the natural culture of the environment. Being closer to the origin of produce not only deepens one’s connection to human traditions but also increases the likelihood of experiencing the micro-organism cultures that thrive in the surrounding ecosystem. These micro-organisms, including bacteria, fungi and other microscopic life forms contribute to the taste of a meal – especially when the micro-organisms collaborate in the fermentation of produce. I therefor wonder whether using the word habitat instead of terroir, would contribute to highlight the aliveness of the land and of place itself. In the context of an ecosystem, a habitat refers to the specific environment or space where a particular organism or community of organisms lives. It includes both biotic (living) and abiotic (non-living) factors. Each habitat supports a unique set of species adapted to its specific conditions, creating a complex web of interactions within an ecosystem. In cities, the built environment, including architecture, infrastructure, public spaces and private corners, forms what could be called the foundation of the urban habitat. These structures create their own nature, their own character, different from city to city. And can be deconstructed and analysed in similar matters as biologists do to understand natural habitats. My thoughts return to a conversation with Anette Krogstad , the artist and designer who made the plating objects for renowned restaurant Noma . In her studio, she shared memories of a restaurant called Pjoltergeist that used to live in the lower floor of an apartment building in Tøyen, a district in Oslo. Pjoltergeist had something unconventional, something seriously striking, something unforgettable that not many restaurants are capable of. The reason I take up Pjoltergeist , is that I believe it must have had a connection to the surrounding, to the neighbourhood, that was truly alive . It was part of its habitat, it reflected it and interacted with it and thereby brought out the essence of the place. It must have truly been place as the immediacy of culture. She said that one never knew what to expect there and suppose that the space carried this very notion of excitement in its essence. Sadly, I have not experienced Pjoltergeist myself, I was in a way late to the party. All I can do now is look through old images that visitors uploaded on google maps and try to imagine how it felt – through the eyes of a distant spectator. There is something warm in looking through pictures on google maps taken with the camera of an smart phone when smart phones didn’t have cameras that work well in low light yet. There is something cozy in looking through blurry, dark pictures, taken for the sake of the personal memory. Often the pictures don’t even depict the food, just a plate or a bowl, carefully scraped for the last bit of its delicious content. The plates are of the type one has with 19, living in a flat share and all the plates and glasses one owns are found somewhere, not bought. Each with of them with their own personality and notches and impossible to stable on top of each other in the shelf. Personally, I think those plates paired with the solidly extraordinary wine choices, is brilliant humour. The problem is – and that is when it hit me – a great culinary space is about the immediacy, the aliveness of experience. Culinary space and the feeling of it cannot be reproduced visually through images. It is an experience of all senses, it has to be felt, heard, smelled and tasted to be understood. It is the act of experiencing that brings and keeps the space alive. Moreover, identity lies within the people and the culture, not within the notion of place alone. While the essence of identity is rooted in the people and culture that make a space come alive, it is also through culinary practices that this aliveness is expressed. Nordic cuisine aims to create the illusion of a living environment being served on a plate. It is about understanding and “deconstructing habitats” (Redzepi, 2015, p.14). This understanding sets the stage for a deeper exploration of the relation between place – cuisine – space – design in the context of time . To Capture Time Materials can be a tool to capture time. Space can act as a time capsule which translates through its materiality. However, some materials reflect time clearer than others. Some materials adorn themselves beautifully with the traces of use and time, they adorn themselves with traces of care – they capture the life of a space. Materials tell a story, their patina reminds us of the past, their physical presence underneath our fingertips substantiates the present moment and their signs of care give us a feeling of reassurance for the future. In the same matter as a chef tries to perfect a dish and its appearance, there is undoubtedly the need for spatial perfection within fine dining. However, the common believe that the perfection is achieved by flawlessness, by newness, irritates me. What is wrong with signs of use, signs of age, signs of care? It’s the small tactile pleasures in finding a piece that has been fixed carefully. It gives the material a certain warmth and value. Patina becomes a tactile pleasure. Growing patina takes time and patience. One can of course control the process as much as humanly possible, but the true beauty often lies in the traces of fate – which we have no control over. Materials are a way of communicating – and through design materials can communicate what lies beyond their physical qualities. The choice of material opens possibilities of making a meaningful statements of social, political and/or nature. Materials is a strong and especially tactile way to say something, to position oneself in the debate of today’s consumerism. Time is a fundamental element that shapes and pushes the relationship between food and culture onwards. In cuisine, time can be investigated in various scales: from the natural cycle of seasons giving a rhythm to the human cycle of cultivating, harvesting, conserving and composting, to the time one spends eating dinner. Time, as expressed through the seasons, becomes the driving force behind the cultivation and harvest of produce, influencing not just what is available, but also how it is prepared, preserved and cherished – and eaten. Halvar Ellingsen, chef at Kvitnes Gård in Northern Norway, centres his culinary practice around the natural rhythms of the land. At Kvitnes , cultivating, harvesting, conserving, and composting are fundamental and structure-giving principles that guide the rhythm of the restaurant and the dinners. How can architecture tell the story of cultivating, harvesting, conserving and composting? Read here

Zu Hause in Berlin, zu Besuch bei Ivo Wessel im Bruno Taut Haus. Wie wohnt es sich in einer Kunstsammlung? Zu Hause in Berlin, zu Besuch bei Ivo Wessel im Bruno Taut Haus.

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.

Thoughts on Exclusive Watches Coming soon!

Artistic research exploring how interior architecture and Nordic cuisine inform restaurant design and shape future dining experiences. Josephine Sassu Oslo National Academy of the Arts, 2024 A guided tour through my thesis: What Is Culinary Spatial Practice? This project investigates how interior design can shape and enhance the experience of eating. Through a series of short essays, I look at Nordic cuisine and explore how ideas as seasonality, locality and emotivity can inform the design of culinary spaces. The work sits between theory and practice and aims to open a conversation about how we design the dining environments of today and tomorrow. The most immediate spaces around food are often plates. In the following I have chosen plates that either symbolically represent a thought or that are aesthetically associated with it. Through this artistic research, I wanted to shift the focus from creating a surrounding based on aesthetics to communicating a coherence that revealed the interconnections between objects, spaces and people and thereby also the cultural narratives the food embodies. In a way this was a project about story-telling. A chef can tell a story through ingredients and composition — and I wanted to see whether I could tell the same story through objects in a space. So in this project, my design is the transposition of values from one domain to another, my design is the act of translation which came down to a collection of essays that can be described as something between conceptual design practice and critical theory. Within this project my conceptual framework focused on the act of translation . To translate means to convert or render meaning from one form or system to another. It derives from the Latin verb "transferre," meaning to carry across. Hence, this project is a “carrying-across” of values, practices and ideas from the domain of the culinary to the world of design. Ethically there was something I had to consider: Most of the book sources on New nordic cuisine and its practices are publicised by haute cuisine restaurants as proves of their extraordinary way of handling and understanding produce. How would that affect my work of translation? I want to introduce you to Flora Danica to explain this thought. In the age of enlightenment, botanist Georg Christian Oeder was sent out by King Christian VII to paint all the flowers that bloom in Denmark. Oeder spent 9 years on the drawings, they were meant as a gift for Catherina the Great. However, she died before the set was ready. That is how it became the royal Danish table service. In its completness, the project Flora Danica took 122 years to completion and contains more than 3500 works. I did not want my project to be a work on the greatness and luxury of haute cuisine. I wanted it to be about the preciousness that can be found in the amount of time some of these restaurants put into research and development for what they perceive as an alternative utopia for food culture. These experimental sites, their urge to understand their local habitat, those were the values I decided to translate. An insight, that started a learning process within me were Jane Rendell’s explanation of critical theory and Ina Blom’s idea behind style-site. Both of those concepts frame an element that has been interesting to me for many years: design as communication. Rendell defines critical theory “as a self-reflective form of practice in its own right, one that is both creative and speculative, that engages with the world and seeks to act to change things”. This understanding suggests a communication between the designer themselves – self-reflective – and a communication with the rest of the world. Ina Blom’s concept of the style-site originally derives from art criticism, however adapting my understanding of it to the field of design, broadened my understanding of how the communicative aspect of design. The translation of Blom’s idea suggests a silent dialogue between the object and the viewer/recipient, and emphasises its role in reflecting social identities and cultural processes.Her concept of “style-site” consists of the interplay between appearance , recognition and social identity . Before understanding what critical theory and the style-site could be, Design to me is the communication of culture – and all the visible and invisible interaction happening between spaces, objects and people. The silent social happenings in different scales: Place, space. object and people and in this case also food. To me this project was about understanding the driving forces behind what can be described as an atmosphere . 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, designers and theorists to continue building ideas on conducted field studies from the perspective of being a guest. The biggest challenge however, was not the field work but organising the experiences, thoughts and input of others into a structure – or narrative. The challenge was to find out how I wanted to structure and communicate my findings : Would it be a handbook? A guide? A personal memoire? What story did I want to tell the reader? And what story did I want to tell myself? Figuring this out took me two attempts. I focused on the act of translation as the cornerstone of my design practice and explored how this process can serve as a research foundation for future designs of culinary spaces. Chapter 1 On expressing purity , freshness and simplicity This is a direct connection to the first and most essential statement in the nordic kitchen manifesto. And just to explain: The nordic kitchen manifesto is a collection of 10 guidelines — basically the 10 commandments of taste and sustainability for nordic cuisine, signed by 12 (male) chefs from the nordic countries in 2004. However, the first statement “To express the purity, freshness, simplicity and ethics we wish to associate to our region “– might need additional explanation regarding the use of the word “purity”. It is not to be read in a ideological or religious way —- more in a “free of what is not essential way” Finding and understanding the essence of a produce through translating purity, freshness and simplicity. Whereas purity describes the quality, the character of a space, freshness communicates an immediacy – a relational closeness within and towards a space, and simplicity is a means to compose a design or a space in the way its character becomes clearest visible. The combination of these three ideas expresses the invisible understanding of the space – a similar concept to what Danish architect Dorte Mandrup characterises as the “irreplaceability” of a place. Chapter 2 Time and Place This chapter thematises what it means to put the essence in a context, being in connection with time and place, seasonality and locality. Moreover, I introduced a new layer with social and ecological qualities to the translation: the circularity of cultivating – harvesting – preserving and composting as concrete ways of enacting time and place. Understanding the act of cultivating in interior architecture led to a close connection between design and culture, revealed design as a means to grow, preserve and care for culture, essentially, design as the cultivation of culture. Through time and place closely connected to cultivating is the act of harvesting. Harvesting describes the needed knowledge to rightly observe to determine the right moment of action and the feeling when the conditions align and everything seems to be just right – and ready to be harvested. In spatial terms that can be understood as the connection of inside to outside to be able to observe the changing of the surroundings. Chapter 3 On finding newness in the existing / Transformation The standing on the intersection between past, present and future is thematised in this chapter. I connect the topic inseparably with the urgency to work transformatively in architecture. Diving into what preserving can mean for design, I wonder whether buildings can be fermented in order to preserve their identity and sense of belonging, and conclude that it in order to ferment a building, on must first design a carescape . Through adding an element of restoration through care with the act of composting, the carescape widened. Transformation now concerns not only buildings but our mindset, asking for alternatives to capitalism and whether transformation can communicate this thought of change. These translation essays resulted in more questions than answers, something that I hope to open a conversation within design and culinary practises with. Let's enter the phase of concluding thoughts, the crumbs that would be left after all. Throughout this project, I moved between the realm of the personal and the professional. I learned that personal and professional experiences are inherently interconnected in the life of a designer. Through sensibilities and intuition, the personal realm informs and shapes the professional realm, contributing to a design that also communicates my own identity. What seems to emerge is yet another possible constellation of Blom’s idea of the style-site: a reciprocal dialogue between my work and me. In the present and for the future. I hope this to be a work that leads to a discussion on what culinary space 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.

"Candide" chair and side table are two objects inspired by Voltaire's Candide. Designed and built by Josephine Sassu. Leather and steel. Candide These two objects are part of a project called Candide which explores non functional creations. Both of these objects are hybrids, objects which share multiple typologies. Besides their sculptural character, the Candide chair can serve as a shelf. Candide side table will assist you being a naively non functional table as well as shelf.

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

Lino-prints, limited to two editions: 2018 and 2019. Shown in a group show in Oslo. Huub26 HUUB26 published in HEADS magazine Nr 7 North Carolina 2018 HUUB26 shown in Oslo at the "Not Your Average Bby Girl Pt.2" exhibition curated by feelings magazine, september 2018 The very first HUUB26 prints created in Krabbesholm april 2018