Waves crash against the side of the boat as the sun slips behind the clouds. Ahead, the jagged wall of mountains that frame our basecamp at Nusfjord Village & Resort fade into a distant smudge on the horizon. Our lines are cast sixty metres below the surface, each of us decked out in windproof flotation suits, weathering the choppy swell of the Vestfjorden in search of dinner.

Whatever we catch will be cooked by the chef back at the resort, but for me – a vegetarian and somewhat reluctant angler – I’m more interested in Svein, the fisherman guiding our trip who has been navigating these Arctic waters for the best part of sixty years. From the brine-scrubbed deck of Elltor, our 60-year-old fishing boat, he reels off stories that read like a Mark Jenkin plotline; weeks spent toiling on storm-tossed seas – all that rigging, baiting, icing. I ask about the biggest catch of his career. ‘A whale,’ he offers, casually, as if describing his breakfast.

What to see and do in Nusfjord, Norway

Fishing has been the lifeblood of the Lofoten Islands since the Viking Age. This archipelago of spindly crags that stretches into the Norwegian Sea from its tether to northern Norway once drew up to 30,000 seasonal fishermen during the region’s annual cod migration. Today, that number is much smaller, but the economic shortfall has been plugged by a recent boom in tourism. It’s no mystery why; so otherworldly are Lofoten’s landscapes that Norse mythology claims they were shaped by feuding trolls.

Between the eagle-scoured peaks of the region’s rugged mountains and the glassy fjords shadowed by orcas, it’s also one of the premier places on the planet to witness the northern lights, which the ancients believed were lit green by supernatural warrior women, the Valkyries.

Though while it may be nature that draws most people here, the islands’ bubbling cultural scene is starting to summon a different kind of traveller. Not least in Nusfjord, where a former salt house has been transformed into Salteriet, a contemporary art gallery displaying the work of HM Queen Sonja alongside a rotating roster of Norwegian and international artists. This year, the resort’s creative momentum accelerates as Stockholm’s Fotografiska takes over Nusfjord for a landmark photography exhibition ahead of the institution’s permanent opening in Oslo in 2027.

Founded in 2010, Fotografiska have established galleries in Stockholm, Berlin, Shanghai and Tallinn, each guided by the uniting belief that photography is the most influential, accessible and inclusive art form of our era. In Nusfjord, the exhibition is split across two historic sites. Across the ground floor of the village’s Salteriet gallery – where roe was once salted and dried – Japanese photographer Rinko Kawauchi presents A faraway shining star, twinkling in hand, a series of works that zone in on the beauty in life’s small moments, our temporality and oneness with nature. In a place like Lofoten, where people have lived at the mercy of nature for centuries, these works have a resonance that goes beyond their frames.

Elsewhere, in an old power station filled with relics from bygone times – vintage maritime radio transmitters, heavy-duty dials, and bulky cathode-ray fishfinders –Elizaveta Porodina’s project The Wall People features uncanny, dreamlike images that speak to the region’s mythological mystique. ‘It was the contrasts that struck me most,’ noted Caroline Krefting, owner of Nusfjord Village & Resort. ‘The rawness of nature against the refinement of art, the silence of the mountains meeting the pulse of human creativity.’

Creativity is everywhere in this peaceful pocket of the Arctic, from the made-over ‘robru’ fisherman huts to the sculptural spa built by the Oslo School of Architecture and Design that mimics the rocks it rests on. It shows up in the kitchen, too, thanks to a programme of culinary take-overs that invites global chefs to interpret the Arctic landscape on the plate. This May, for example, Swedish chef Niklas Ekstedt took advantage of the region’s famous midnight sun to create a four-day culinary immersion where guests were invited to join him and his team to fish, forage and cook together over fire.

This cultural boom is spilling out into other parts of the islands, too. To the east, the village of Henningsvær has repurposed its industrial heritage: an old caviar factory now operates as KaviarFactory, a sleek contemporary art gallery housing works by Warhol, Munch, and Melgaard, while Trevarefabrikken, a former fish processing plant, has found new life as a vibrant gig venue and creative hub (home to the popular Trevarefest music festival every July).

If you’re travelling by car, Artscape Nordland has five site-specific sculptures dotted across the islands and embedded in the landscape. The regional renaissance is set to grow later this year with the debut of Skrei in Storvågan, a museum dedicated to the deep cultural impact of the ‘fish that built Norway’, the Arctic cod. Masterminded by LPO Arkitekter, it marks Northern Norway’s most ambitious museum project to date, cementing the archipelago’s status as a top-tier cultural destination.

For the Vikings who once navigated these shores, the world was inherently enchanted. They didn’t seek salvation from the landscape or escape from strife. Instead, they marvelled at it and found purpose in responding to it. That spirit is alive and well in Lofoten, where nature and culture are parts of the same story, inextricably linked. Back on deck, the wind bites as Svein turns us around.

As we pull into Nusfjord’s colourful harbour, it’s clear that Lofoten is no longer just a place people come to witness the sublime expanse of nature. It is also a place to witness humanity answering back. As Bárbara García, chief executive officer of Fotografiska, puts it, photography – and perhaps culture itself – should travel as far as our curiosity does. And in Lofoten’s rugged perch at the edge of the world, curiosity has found a stellar playground.

Nusfjord x Fotografiska runs from 20 March to 31 October 2026

At Wallpaper*, we love spotlighting incredible homes from every corner of the globe that span the spectrum of modern design.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we present our monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will feature our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, design excellence.

This month, we head to Mexico, North London and Norway, to name but a few, to visit several homes that are doing things differently.

Join us on our world tour as we highlight the best houses of May 2026.

An urban retreat in Mexico

Architect Taller Segovia Molina designed this family home in Santiago de Querétaro, Mexico, as a pocket of calm in an urban environment. Its street-facing facade is almost hermetic, giving nothing away, while the interior opens onto a rear courtyard garden. Inside spaces flow across levels connected visually and acoustically, with a barrel-vaulted staircase leading to private upper floors. Natural light, seasonal change and views of greenery anchor residents to nature despite the dense surrounding neighbourhood.

A reimagined care home

Formwork Architects transformed a dilapidated Edwardian care home in north London back into a generous family residence. Substantial basement excavations created a new kitchen-diner opening onto a sunken courtyard, topped by a bespoke open-tread metal staircase leading to a sitting room above. Original features – namely the stained glass and impressive main staircase – were carefully restored, while a double-height rear extension and new rooflights flood the interior with light.

A Viking-inspired cabin

This coastal cabin in Norway draws on Viking boat-building traditions, using whole tree trunks and roots as structural columns that simultaneously serve as shelves, benches, stairs and room dividers. Helen & Hard designed the undulating roof to mirror the surrounding topography, while panoramic glazing frames the ocean and locally-sourced stone forms the base. The result is a sensory space where timber scent, sea sounds and shifting daylight become central to the experience.

Brutalism in Milan

This brutalist family home in Cusano Milanino, designed in the 1970s by Francesco Castiglioni, stands apart from its Art Nouveau suburban neighbours through its raw concrete construction and sculptural massing. A monumental double-height living room dominates, with a sloping ceiling, dramatic internal ramp and double-sided fireplace. Glazed walls connect to expansive gardens, covered loggias wrap the exterior, and a 20-metre basement pool sits below. Owned by the original family, it is now listed for sale.

An Albuquerque desert home

Antoine Predock's final residential project – nicknamed the ‘dinodactyl’ – is a low-slung concrete home perched on a New Mexico desert ridge with extraordinary eastward views across the badlands. Five bedroom suites radiate from a central ‘amphitheatre’ living space, each functioning as a self-contained casita with its own terrace and fire pit. The building's orientation and form were carefully calibrated against extreme temperature swings, high winds and intense sunlight, while steel roof shingles will patinate naturally into the landscape over time.

A renovated painter’s house

Atelier Vens Vanbelle renovated this former home and studio of Belgian painter Antoon De Clerck, situated between Bruges and Ghent, into a vibrant residence befitting its artistic provenance. Drawing on De Clerck's De Stijl-rooted palette of primary colours and clean geometry, the architects layered Bauhaus and midcentury aesthetics with contemporary touches, including metallic roof detailing and a white brick fireplace. Each room carries its own distinct character within a cohesive whole.

Tetris-like Oaxaca apartments

S-AR's three-storey apartment building in Puerto Escondido treats its concrete, wood and steel grid structure as an inhabitable spatial system. Each of the three 180-square-metre apartments occupies one floor, with translucent wooden boxes providing bedroom privacy within an otherwise open framework. Each unit includes two bedrooms, social areas and a private plunge pool, with geometric detailing punctuating stairs, kitchens and storage, and few external walls interrupting the connection to the surrounding jungle canopy.

An off-grid, on-the-market home 

This off-grid prefab home in California's Eastern Sierra, designed by Linda Taalman and built over eight years by its owners, embodies the architect's desert modernism ethos, comprising open glass-and-steel forms, modular construction and minimal site disturbance. Set between Death Valley and the Sierra Nevada, the house frames sweeping vistas of surrounding peaks, including Lone Pine Peak and the Alabama Hills. Its sustainable design, wildfire preparedness and connection to the landscape reflect both the Taalman's principles and the clients' family ties to the region.

A forgotten Portuguese ruin

Pablo Pita Arquitectos rebuilt a derelict olive press in the Douro wine region into a pared-back country retreat, preserving the original footprint while dividing the plan into four quadrants – living, terrace, pool and courtyard. The house steps down the hillside, with raw concrete interiors paired with stone schist walls and timber cladding – it is deliberately minimal, material-led and rooted in the ruin's memory. Four bedrooms occupy the lowest level, while the uppermost floor offers views across the Douro River.

A robust coastal home

Hollaway Studio reimagined an existing cottage on Kent's otherworldly shingle headland, retaining its original silhouette while completely rethinking its interior orientation. Charred timber with white coating echoes the previous building, complemented by corrugated metal and Corten steel, while a salt-and-pepper concrete floor extends the shingle landscape indoors. The robust facade is built to withstand the coastal exposure of one of England's most distinctive – and challenging – landscapes.

This Norwegian cabin nods to the country's strong tradition of craftsmanship, as well as its wider history – and in particular, its Viking roots. The woodworking and boat-making skills of those seafaring warriors were ahead of their time, their pioneering longboats a true testament to grit and ingenuity. This felt like a natural starting point for architect Reinhard Kropf, co-founder of architecture studio Helen & Hard, as he worked on Cabin Sande, a new home set within the wild, shifting Norwegian landscape.

Tour this Norwegian cabin, a coastal refuge

He explains, ‘A point of inspiration came from the Norwegian boat-building tradition dating back to the Viking era. Traditional timber boats often used the natural connection between tree trunks and roots to strengthen structural frames in their boats. In our project, we applied the same principle by using whole tree trunks together with their roots to reinforce the column-beam connection and structure. This approach creates an organic interior atmosphere as well as the undulating shape of the roof.’

Cabin Sande is deeply connected to the rocky landscape in Randaberg, southern Norway, a site of outstanding natural beauty. With the ocean extending across the horizon, panoramic windows frame the vista of sea and sky, while the roof reflects the shape of the surrounding natural topography. Meanwhile, the home's base is made from locally sourced stone.

The 112 sq m cabin was designed to echo the feeling of being immersed in the shelter of a canopy of trees. The space is divided across two aisles, as Kropf tells Wallpaper*: ‘On each side of this funnel-like central space are two aisles: one containing the kitchen and the other two working rooms. One of the workspaces is positioned half a level above the living room, with the bathroom located underneath. This arrangement allows visitors to experience the cabin as a continuous whole while simultaneously creating spatial depth, variation, and a rich sequence of experiences.’

The architects’ trunk-to-root use of whole trees goes beyond the purely structural, and it’s one of Kropf’s favourite elements of the project. ‘These structural elements do much more than support the building – they also integrate furniture and architectural functions such as shelves, sofas, benches, the kitchen, the fireplace, stairs, room dividers, windows, and doors.

‘As a result, the structure invites people to interact with it, explore it, and engage physically with the space. It creates the feeling that every element of the cabin is interconnected and woven together into one holistic architectural experience.’

The façade's glazing wraps around the cabin. This allows the daylight to funnel through its bones and into the living spaces, creating different light and shadow compositions across the changing seasons. Other sensory elements, such as the rich scent and tactility of the timber, and the sounds of the sea and the wind beyond its cocooning confines, become an active part of the architectural experience. Just like its location, Cabin Sande is ever-changing.

helenhard.no

Come 2027, nature lovers will have one more reason to visit Andenes in Norway, in addition to its existing mix of dramatic northern landscapes, Northern Lights and vibrant wildlife. The Whale, a new visitor attraction designed by Danish architect Dorte Mandrup, is gearing up to open its doors in June next year, offering a purpose-built platform for viewing the majestic animals as they migrate through the Norwegian Sea.

We explore the building site of The Whale by Dorte Mandrup

Andenes sits on the tip of the Norwegian island of Andøya, some 300km north of the Arctic Circle. The town is small, but the ocean beyond it is vast and rich with life – teeming with anything from sperm whales and orcas to humpback and fin whales, who regularly pass through the waters, which hide a deep-sea valley below the blue surface.

Designed to nod to the grandeur and unique natural spectacle of a whale’s tale tipping out of the water as the animal dives into the sea, the centre – the result of a competition win – features a curved concrete roof. Touching the ground on three points, the roof is covered with natural, unworked stones, collected from the area.

The programme will comprise exhibition space, the visitor centre, offices, a store and a café, with glazing opening up the interiors to the landscape – for animal spotting but also so that this low, softly undulating structure becomes one with its elemental landscape. There is one more reason for this shape – the roof's form is designed to mitigate the region's heavy snowfall.

Exhibits will focus on the intersection of culture, nature, humans, and science when it comes to whales and their life and habitat. Meanwhile, weaving the project into its context, an intricate landscape design by Marianne Levinsen Landskab, including a tidepool, a campfire and stepping stones, will encourage visitors to explore the site beyond the main building.

dortemandrup.dk

thewhale.com

Nominated for nine Academy Awards, Sentimental Value is Norwegian film director Joachim Trier's story of family trauma and grief. Stellan Skarsgård plays Gustav Borg, the estranged father to two daughters, and much of the story unfolds around the family home, a red and black Dragestil (or ‘Dragon Style’) architectural marvel in Oslo that is being emptied following the death of the girls’ mother (the meaning of the title Sentimental Value comes from a scene when the pair are deciding what to keep, confronted with a table full of colourful vases).

Wallpaper* caught up with set designer Jørgen Stangebye Larsen, who talked us through the house's many lives within the film, as its design evolves over several decades.

‘Sentimental Value’ film set: inside the Borg family home

The film opens with the story of 11-year-old Nora Borg, who was assigned to imagine herself as an object for a school essay. As the camera hones in on details of her family home's exterior, a wonderfully, realistically lived-in structure featuring chipped paint, cobwebs, and nature taking over, a narrator reads: 'She knew at once she'd be their house. She described how its belly shook as she and her sister ran downstairs and out the back door. That it saw them take shortcuts through the fence and onto the road, where the house no longer could see them. She wondered if the house liked to be empty and light, or full and heavy. If the floors liked to be trodden on, if the walls were ticklish, if it ever felt pain. And she thought that yes, it probably liked to be full.'

Scenes of ordinary family life – children playing, arguments echoing across the house's floors – play in the background, and we get a glimpse of the 1990s interior’s eclectic composition. Some unmistakable icons come in clear focus, from an ‘Arco’ lamp by Achille Castiglioni for Flos towering over the living room, to a Bruno Mathsson chair, a base for the girls' pretend play.

Throughout the film, glimpses of the family's history are told through the house: Gustav's mother playing in the house in the 1930s, and the family's lives unfolding through the 1940s, 1950s and onwards to the present day, when its interiors are bare, as the house is empty.

The set design is rich with details, which include art, tech that evolves with the times, children's drawings and toys; the camera lingers on interiors to let viewers pause on the spaces, and these scenes are interspersed with shots of light and shadow as the sun enters through the wide windows (Gustav, a film director, is said to have been inspired by the light in his family home growing up).

'The house is outspoken,' says Stangebye Larsen, who worked closely with Trier on how the house would develop with the story.

‘Sentimental Value’: designing a home through history

1930s

Stangebye Larsen and Trier agreed that the house had to feel authentic (it was Trier's first time working on a period film), and that they didn't want to romanticise the time period the action was set in. 'I wanted to find out how this very house looked in Norway and why,' says the designer.

Looking through historical archives led him to discover a plethora of pattern, from the wallpapers to the pillows on the upholstered furniture. 'We spent a lot of time getting to know that period, and for each time, we created a mood that was also period-correct,' observes Stangebye Larsen. 'I was surprised by how visually elaborate it was.'

1950s

A decidedly lighter visual theme carries the house into the 1950s, as young Gustav is seen playing around the airy rooms. The idea of light is evident in these scenes, and it is easy to imagine the effect such interplays of reflections and shadows might have had on a young imaginative mind.

The set becomes visually brighter, with a colour palette veering towards neutrals, with yellow upholstery and pale wood signalling the new family's life in the house.

1960s-1980s

For a period between the 1960s and 1980s, Gustav's aunt occupies the house and the visual vibe shifts: colour and pattern become bolder and the aesthetic more eclectic. Art, a key element throughout the set design's evolution, becomes more prominent and includes prints by Norwegian painter Johannes Rian behind the sofa in the living room, while above the TV is a Gunnar S Gundersen composition.

1990s

In the 1990s, the house reaches its most exciting era, with mixes of furniture, art and objects that feel contemporary yet rooted in its history. 'Gustav moves in with his family, and it's not very natural that they would immediately change the house completely, but I thought they would use the house in a very different way,' explains Stangebye Larsen. A shift in layout is accompanied by a combination of new furniture and objects from the past – a red glass vase that recurs throughout the film, an upholstered lounge chair whose pattern recalls earlier iterations of the interiors.

Now, the house feels like a lived-in interpretation of a modern Scandinavian interior infused with global influences: Alvar Aalto furniture and objects, Marimekko flower-print kitchen towels, a Kartell ‘Bookworm’ bookshelf by Ron Arad, plates from the ‘Blue Fluted Mega’ series from Royal Copenhagen drying on the dish rack, a Poul Henningsen lamp above the dining table.

'I haven't really been aiming for having statement pieces, but I find that kind of furniture so well crafted [with] a lot of interesting shapes, [and] beautiful materials; they add so much to a room,' says Stangebye Larsen.

The interior is crafted like a real Norwegian home, with pieces that Stangebye Larsen himself remembers from his childhood home. The library, office of Gustav's wife, a psychotherapist, features the modular ‘BBB’ shelf system, originally designed in the 1950s by Edvin Helseth for Norway's Eidsvoll Rivefabrikk. 'My mom is a psychologist, we had those shelves in my home,' Stangebye Larsen explains, noting how a lot of his personal history inevitably ends up in the film sets he designs. 'You try to create something real and something you can believe in.'

To keep things very real, several Ikea pieces also make an appearance within the spaces, most notably a ‘Klippan’ sofa, a classic from the Swedish company, here upholstered in brown leather in the family's living room, and the modular ‘Niklas’ shelving units right behind, which Stangebye Larsen also remembers from his childhood bedroom.

Art is once again crucial in this time period, with one piece in particular recurring across shots. It is Samoa Remy's Oscillation between the very far and the very close, a black and white composition that hangs on the therapist's office wall and features a pattern of black and white dots and lines communicating throughout the large-scale tapestry.

Stangebye Larsen did extensive research into psychotherapists' offices and a statement art piece seemed to be de rigueur, so he curated the shelves behind the desk with small sculptures, as well as adding the artwork on the wall as a visual anchor. Working with set decorator Catrine Gormsen to gather the art collection for the house, he landed on Remy's piece: 'I connected to it because it was very simple, and I think it was something with all the dots and all the lines that felt like a collection of people through time, like this family.'

It is impossible not to connect with the interiors, and feel sadness for the home’s fate after the passing of its last Borg resident. Reflecting on this moment, Stangebye Larsen sees the property 'like an archive of all the memories and all the emotions that are stored in the material of the house. And you feel the presence of the past.

'I also lived in [the house] where my mom grew up, and I remember feeling that presence very strongly. And it was a comfort knowing that my grandparents had been there: when I was kind of lonely or feeling sad for some reason, I felt a little bit like they had also probably been here, been sad. Here it's the same, perhaps the story of the house is still there, inside the walls.'

Watch Sentimental Value via Mubi.com

Lilløy Lindenberg, the latest opening from the Frankfurt-based Lindenberg hotel group, is a dreamy, elemental escape perched on a fjord-flanked private island near Bergen. Comprising a mint-green clapboard house and an annexe – with just four guest rooms in total – this sustainably focused retreat acts as a portal from the modern world with a strong plant-based ethos, tactile Nordic interiors, and tech-free spaces designed for deep rest and unfiltered connection.

Wallpaper* checks in at Lilløy Lindenberg, Herdla

What’s on your doorstep?

Not much, and that’s all part of the appeal. A stay on this remote island in Norway’s Askøy municipality is an invitation to sink into a slower, more intentional rhythm. Days may be spent drifting along wind-lashed shores, roasting marshmallows over a crackling fire pit, or snorkelling the glassy, urchin-filled waters of the North Sea. If you find yourself yearning for more, the cluster of neighbouring islands provides plenty of diversions for foodies and history buffs. Locals speak highly of the family-run bakery, Bakstehuset, in the neighbouring village of Ask – and for good reason; its apple-topped cinnamon buns and lemon-cream croissants are worth every calorie.

Wartime bunkers and the remains of the Luftwaffe airbase at Herdla serve as reminders that this landscape was once a strategic Second World War stronghold, but today this picturesque archipelago strikes a softer note, with traditional hytter (cabins) dotting the moss-draped crags. Plus, it remains just a 40-minute drive from Bergen. Norway’s edgy second city, dubbed ‘the gateway to the fjords’, may be Europe’s rainiest, but it is also home to top-tier restaurants like Moon and Lola, buzzy natural wine bars such as Bodega and Tempo Tempo, as well as a thriving electronic music scene.

Who’s behind the design?

Renovating a century-old farmhouse on a storm-seasoned island is no mean logistical feat, and the Bergen-based architectural duo Vera & Kyte spent months ferrying materials back and forth across unruly waters in order to shape the property into what it is today. Guided by a low-waste philosophy, the pair sought to restore where possible, allowing the spirit of the original house to shine through its stripped timber walls and reinforced beams.

The duo are the creative force behind Lilløy’s quietly cool interiors, too. In a fitting tribute to their home turf, they have infused each space with a distinctly local flavour, collaborating with regional artists to create a warm antidote to the wild Atlantic weather. Ceramics by Joris-Jan Bos and glassware by Sigrid Rostad capture the island’s mercurial palette, creating a dialogue between indoors and out.

The hotel’s plant-based philosophy extends to the decor; the architects worked with Norwegian textile producers to source hardy wool upholstery over traditional leather or synthetic hides. ‘We had lots of discussions about the ethics of materials,’ the duo note. The result is reverential but alive – a preservation that feels like a continuation of the island’s story rather than a static museum piece.

Outside, the scalloped rooftop tiles are a major aesthetic draw, their pink-tinged granite grey reflecting the moody skyscapes. Each piece was taken down, washed by hand, repaired, and reattached in a labour of love that reaps its own rewards. This liquid sensibility carries indoors; in certain rooms, curved Glas Italia ‘Marlene’ mirrors by Philippe Starck distort reflections to mimic the ripples of the fjords.

The art collection is equally impressive, blending pieces from the owners’ private collection with works commissioned specifically for the project. A standout is the impressionistic forest scene by Bergen local Axel Vindenes, which takes pride of place in the library lounge.

Contemporary works are juxtaposed with framed family photos from the previous owners: black-and-white wedding shots of stern-faced couples in traditional Norwegian dress. Like the art, many of the antiques were gathered organically over time – a rustic assembly ranging from Scandinavian folk headboards and hand-painted trinket boxes to repurposed wooden school desks.

The room to book

Tucked into the eaves of the main house, the Moon Room’s peaked ceilings lend it a den-like quality – perfect for whispering secrets into the early hours, though less so for those over six feet tall. That said, the bathroom is worth crouching for, featuring a deep tub with views over the island. Downstairs, the Four Daughters room makes a nostalgic retreat for friends, with two single beds and two slightly bigger ones nestled into cosy, built-in snugs.

The adjacent Master Bedroom is a classic choice for couples, offering shore views from its king-sized bed, but our hearts are moored to the Ocean Room. Set apart in a self-sufficient, two-storey boathouse, it comes complete with a kitchenette, a piano, and floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the sea, allowing the rhythmic lapping of the waves to serve as a nightly lullaby. Buyouts are also welcome, offering a rare chance to claim this salt-sprayed kingdom as your own.

Across all guest rooms, bathrooms feature large chunks of Larvikite – Norway's national rock, prized for its flashes of blue and silver – serve as sculptural shelves for all-natural L:A Bruket amenities. Meanwhile, yellow-striped bathrobes by OAS and glass jars of condoms and candies add a playful, irreverent touch. Most peculiarly, the beds feature mattresses infused with hand-harvested seaweed, a secret bit of engineering designed to draw guests into a restorative slumber.

Staying for drinks and dinner?

There is no formal restaurant at Lilløy. Instead, guests are invited to play chef in the fully equipped kitchen, served by an on-site shop of ready-to-cook ingredients, natural wines and freshly picked goodies. Better still, you can ask co-host and ecotrophologist Antje de Vries and her team to take over. A quietly charismatic force with a radical passion for sustainable cooking, she is known for plant-based cuisine that marks a bold departure from the traditional fish-heavy fare of Scandinavia. But sea-to-supper is still the name of the game here, and brave guests are invited to join de Vries on her daily dives, where she hand-forages the sea kelp that forms the backbone of her menu.

Her monthly ‘Kelp Club’ is a roaming, nine-course journey that moves from the boathouse to the fire pit, through the dining room, and into the lounge. There is even a course served in the sauna: a fittingly warming miso soup made with deep, seaweed dashi. Whether it’s fish-inspired tacos made with shiitake mushrooms or savoury seaweed-infused waffles, de Vries’ cooking is a masterclass in plant-based innovation.

Where to switch off

Once a wartime electrical station, then a crumbling shelter for the local sheep, the sauna has a peculiar history that’s echoed in its appearance. Vera & Kyte chose to honour its weathered, imperfect spirit, preserving the original structure rock-by-rock to create a sanctuary that feels as though it grew straight out of the earth.

In place of a vast, modern window, the duo kept the two original openings; they act as quiet, intimate frames for the horizon, where you might spot a rare bird or the distant breach of an orca. Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of hand-picked island herbs, inviting you to work up a sweat before letting the chilly Nordic air ground you.

This restful ritual extends to the terrace, where a hot tub is built into a platform of sleek, black bricks that provide a polished contrast to the sauna’s time-worn walls. On mild afternoons, the stone-sheltered fire-pit makes a prime aperitivo spot, with front-row seats to the island’s fiery Atlantic sunsets. Otherwise, the library lounge – a hushed space stocked with a curated selection of books and records – is a stylish shelter from the storm, designed for long, slow afternoons fuelled by homemade cakes and coffee.

The verdict

There is something wholly otherworldly about Lilløy Lindenberg. Perhaps it’s the rare, almost sacred silence that permeates its shores, or the dramatic Nordic light that brushes the sky with magnificent hues of violet and pink. Yet, for all the island’s dreaminess, Lilløy retains a sense of familiarity. Vera & Kyte’s tactile interiors create a grounding retreat, while convivial supper clubs and the warm hospitality of hosts Antje and Magnus ensure it always feels more of a home than a hotel.

Lilløy Lindenberg is located at Midtoyni, 5315 Herdla, Norway

The Iconic Nordic House is a triumphant survey of some of the most spectacular houses built in the last century, taking the reader on a journey from Carl and Karin Larsson’s eccentrically colourful and warm Arts and Crafts domesticity through to the gravity-defying landscape artefacts that define the Scandinavian house in the modern era.

Explore ‘The Iconic Nordic House’

Written by indefatigable chronicler of contemporary architecture and Wallpaper* contributor Dominic Bradbury, with all-new photography by his regular collaborator Richard Powers, The Iconic Nordic House features 40 defining projects from Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland, as well as homes located on Iceland and the Faroe Islands.

Nordic design never really lost its inspirational power, and the assembled structures show why. From Carlsson and Josef Frank, through Gunnar Asplund, Eliel Saarinen, Arne Jacobsen, Alvar Aalto, Jørn Utzon, Sverre Fehn, Finn Juhl and more, the book includes some of the best-known examples of residential design by these influential 20th-century architects. Bradbury traces the origins of these key projects and interviews many of the contemporary architects.

Landscape plays just as much a creative role as the architects, with projects alternatively hunkering down and being absorbed by their surroundings or standing tall and contrasting with the wilderness. Both approaches can be found in the book, from Matti Suuronen’s pop icon, the Futuro House, to Studio Granda’s Hof House in Iceland, a low-lying assemblage of green roofs, weathered oak and dark volcanic stone.

It would take a heart of stone not to identify a single personal domestic dream space within these pages, testament to both the photographic craftsmanship of powers and the enduring quality of these forty examples of unique, idiosyncratic design.

'The Iconic Nordic House: Modern Masterworks since 1900,' Dominic Bradbury, with photographs by Richard Powers, £50/$65, ThamesandHudsonUSA.com

Travel, like taste, is never static. Our preferences shift with context, as changeable as the clothes we pack or the music we move to. For some, a city break is the default rhythm; the thrum of a capital, the glide of a lift to a 20th-floor suite, a skyline stitched with skyscrapers and Michelin stars. For others, the pulse slows, and luxury becomes the absence of noise; cabins on the edge of nowhere, a horizon drawn by mountains and fjords.

Across the world, the act of travel takes on different signatures; in Japan, precision and ritual; in Southern Europe, social ease; in the US, a pursuit of scale. For decades, luxury meant density – more amenities, nightlife, immediacy – but a quieter philosophy is gaining momentum.

In recent years, the definition of luxury has loosened, and a counter-current has emerged. Remoteness itself has become a form of refinement, where ‘quiet luxury,’ a term often associated with fashion trends, has transcended into travel as the ‘coolcation.’ It’s a shift shaped by digital saturation, densely populated cities, and a collective urge to decelerate.

Nowhere does this shift crystallise more clearly than in rural Norway, where wilderness and architecture meet with quiet precision, where remoteness is considered a luxury, not a hurdle. Travellers are increasingly willing to invest in the journey to reach quieter, more elemental places. ‘Luxury is no longer about excess,’ says Elin Engelsvoll of The Bolder Wave. ‘It’s about time, privacy, sensory beauty, and emotional quiet.’ Here, the price of travel becomes secondary to the value of deceleration, to stepping into a landscape that doesn’t compete for attention, but offers a rare clarity of experience.

Norway’s remote retreats are rewriting the language of luxury

Norwegians have long perfected the art of the remote retreat, often confiding in a trusty hytte (cabin in Norwegian). In Norwegian culture, it’s more of an expectation than a luxury, a cultural fixture passed between families and friends. The hytte offers an uncomplicated reset, trading city noise for candlelit evenings, brisk hikes, and the reassuring quiet of the landscape. For locals, it’s routine; for the rest of us, it reads as a coveted interpretation of quiet luxury. In recent years, retreats popping up in rural Norway have also begun to embody this philosophy.

Lodge Havnnes, in Norway’s far north on Uløya island in Lyngen, is a family-led retreat that reimagines the hytte tradition. Hosting up to sixteen guests, it offers a personal, immersive experience, like spending a long weekend at a Norwegian family hytte. ‘The overarching concept was to create a modern and architecturally exciting complex, perfectly integrated into the landscape,’ explains Ole Birger Giæver, the resort’s CEO. Staffed under the careful stewardship of its founding family, the lodge curates tailored experiences: skiing, yachting, and spa wellness by day, followed by haute cuisine crafted from locally sourced ingredients by night.

The lodge also celebrates Norway’s contemporary art and craft. A curated collection across painting, sculpture, and photography, selected by gallerist Sissel Fjærem Giæver, reflects the diversity and creativity of modern Norwegian artists, embedding culture seamlessly into the remote Arctic landscape.

Similarly, Lilløy Lindenberg unites remote-island stillness with a gently choreographed hospitality, where thoughtful dining and discreet activities shape the stay. ‘We think people are tired of chasing heat and crowds, whereas cooler places ask you to breathe differently,’ explains Fanina Karabelnik, consultant of the hotel. The house and annexe can host up to ten guests, and it's also possible to reserve the entire space for an increased feeling of remoteness.

Reimagined by Bergen design duo Vera & Kyte, minimal materials, handmade ceramics and Nordic details allow the landscape to take the lead, while ingredients from the island’s seaweed farm and chef-curated, plant-based menus root the experience in place. Days at Lilløy are shaped by outdoor activities by day, fireside evenings, and slow sauna rituals which ‘remind travellers of something simple they’ve been missing.’ The island retreat thrives on creativity as much as serenity. Its Artist Residency invites musicians to experiment in response to the environment. ‘Nature becomes both a collaborator and a source of inspiration, encouraging participants to explore new ideas.’

By contrast, Vipp Lofoten, on Storemolla island, channels luxury through its remoteness and emphasis on design and architecture. Raised on stilts above jagged rocks, the cabin is designed by Logg architects, nodding to traditional fishermen’s rorbuer while creating a sense of suspension between sea and sky. Inside, soft materials and thoughtful layouts provide comfort without competing with the dramatic surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling glazing frames Northern Lights, Arctic wildlife, and endless summer days, allowing the landscape to dictate the experience. ‘People are increasingly drawn to destinations where nature still feels intact, places unaffected by overtourism, climate extremes, or constant human noise,’ explains Kasper Egelund, CEO and third-generation owner of Vipp.

Similar to Lilløy Lindenberg, art also plays a general role in the experience of Vipp’s remote luxury. In this case, Magne Furuholmen’s pieces and custom interpretations of Vipp’s iconic designs create a dialogue between human creativity and the wild, elemental scenery.

On the other hand, other remote retreats put a greater focus on environmental integration. The Bolder Wave, perched on the North Sea near Stavanger, highlights luxury through environmental integration. Set within a natural basin at the edge of the North Sea, its form emerges from dunes, with large glass façades dissolving boundaries between indoors and out. Guests wake to the sound of waves, bathe in sea light, or watch sunsets transform the horizon into a natural canvas. Engelsvoll notes, ‘Guests often describe feeling both grounded and uplifted, a rare balance of intimacy and space.’ Here, architecture frames nature without dominance, echoing the ethos of friluftsliv, a philosophy of deep connection to the outdoors that shapes both lifestyle and design.

Located at the Arctic Circle, Ytrí Island Retreat in Træna adopts a similar approach, letting the environment and culture dictate the interior’s rhythm. General manager Kine Willumsen explains, ‘remote stays are not just about escaping the city; they’re about finding clarity, presence, and a deeper sense of grounding.’ Ytrí’s close partnership with the local Havfolket community ensures that guest experiences are rooted in living culture, emphasising a luxury defined by participation and belonging rather than ornamentation.

Across these new resorts, which all opened in 2025, a clear pattern emerges: remote Norwegian escapes offer more than scenery; they offer a recalibration of time and a rare invitation to step fully into place. They demonstrate that luxurious travel is not bound to accumulation or spectacle; it can be defined by simplicity.

Because in Norway, the quiet part of luxury is not a passing trend, but a living philosophy. For travellers seeking depth over decoration, intensity over indulgence, Norway’s remote escapes are not just destinations, they are masterclasses in the art of stillness.

Once a month for the past two months, a curious crowd has descended upon Oslo’s arthouse theatre, Cinemateket, to witness a special union of film and fashion. They’re gathered there for a programming series called Fabricated Frames, organised by the International Library of Fashion Research (ILFR) – a burgeoning resource for historians and researchers since its launch in 2020.

The inspiration for the series came during a particularly ferocious blizzard that battered Norway in January 2025. The library had organised a screening of the 2012 ARTE documentary Antifashion, and as the wind and snow whipped around the capital, people emerged from the whiteout to see the film. ‘It was a dramatic moment,’ recalled the ILFR’s founding director, Elise By Olsen, during a recent visit to the library. ‘We wanted to develop that idea further. We understood that screenings were quite popular for our audience.’

At the first event of the new series, over 140 people packed into the theatre for the 2019 documentary Martin Margiela: In His Own Words, accompanied by a post-screening discussion with the film’s director, Reiner Holzemer, and producer, Aminata Sambe. ‘Not everyone could get in, so we had to do a second screening,’ Olsen told Wallpaper*. ‘It was a big luxury problem.’ A month later, the poet Arve Kleiva introduced Notebook on Cities and Clothes, Wim Wenders’ experimental 1989 doc on Japanese fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto.

The film series is more than just a monthly meeting point for Oslo’s cinephiles and fashion obsessives; it’s also a major step toward expanding the influence of the project Olsen has spearheaded for the last five years. ‘An institution today doesn't need to be so physically bound to our headquarters,’ she said. ‘I like to say that a very small part of what we do is collecting and archiving, and a very big part of what we do is mediating and making the objects come to life.’ It’s a modest proclamation, given the countless hours that she and the team of librarians and guest researchers have poured into establishing and cataloguing the vast archive of materials, which dates back to the 1970s.

The ILFR began not in the Norwegian capital, but in the one-bedroom New York City apartment of Olsen’s mentor, the late cultural theorist Steven Mark Klein. Olsen and Klein were born nearly five decades and a continent apart, but the pair bonded over a love of fashion and print. Olsen became the youngest-ever editor-in-chief of a print publication when she launched her Recens at 13, and went on to produce ten issues of the fashion criticism publication Wallet – culminating in a Gucci-designed box set to send off the magazine in high style. Klein, meanwhile, was a Brooklyn-born hospitality brand consultant and fashion industry gadfly who had been collecting decades' worth of magazines, fashion show invites and other printed material for decades. ‘Steven saw the parallel between promotional fashion ephemera and the tradition of the artist book very early. That's become a blueprint for my work with the library,’ Olsen explains.

After being offered the collection in 2019, it took three years for Klein’s two tons of printed matter to find its home in the historic Station Master’s Building in front of Oslo’s sprawling new National Museum. Since opening its physical space – after first launching as an online database in 2020 – the ILFR has become an integral resource. ‘We’ve had the design team of Balenciaga, Burberry, [and] Norwegian fashion brands coming to do research and inspirational trips. We’ve had industry people and the regular person next door,’ Olsen said. The archive has ballooned to encompass several thousand items, thanks to donations by a mix of private sponors and fashion brands like Acne Studios, Comme des Garçons, Maison Margiela, Jil Sander, and Gucci.

As I sat with Olsen drinking coffee, boxes of Margiela ephemera stacked next to me, three guest researchers sat around a table methodically cataloguing over 200,000 film slides donated by former Swiss trend forecaster Sonja Hugentobler, documenting Paris, Milan, and London Fashion Weeks from 1992 to 2004. ‘There are a lot of very beautiful discoveries. I even found a photo of Martin Margiela’s face in there when I went through it,’ Olsen remarked. It wasn’t an easy ‘yes’ for the ILFR; its collecting mandate usually excludes photo archives (along with VHS and DVD recordings of fashion shows) because the skeleton staff simply doesn’t have the capacity to catalogue it all.

‘The two other people on the core team and I have been working pro bono for five years. It’s not sustainable,’ Olsen said, referring to the head of communications, Else Skålvoll Thorenfeldt, and design director Morteza Vaseghi. ‘I’ll be honest. I’m often overwhelmed and pessimistic, but this space makes me very happy. I get a lot of energy from being around this material,’ she continued, adding with a laugh: ‘I’m hoping one day a brand will sponsor a sabbatical year for me so I can actually sit and read, because I have not had the time since opening the library to just flip through things.’

Running the library has (to put it into fashion terms) meant wearing ‘many, many different hats’ for Olsen. ‘There are some big challenges and some small, daily challenges. The big one is that we’re going to need more space within the next five years,’ she says, hinting at ‘some absolutely amazing donations coming this fall’ that will require more shelves. The team has also been busy applying for grants beyond the project-based public cultural funding they receive, which would secure longer-term operational funding. While these logistical issues loom, the more immediate goal is to complete the film series and develop additional programming that exists both within and outside their physical space.

The library has recently hosted, in collaboration with the National Museum of Norway, a conversation on fashion criticism with Francesca Granata, the Parsons School of Design’s associate professor of Fashion Studies, and the ‘Most Beautiful Swiss Books’ exhibition, showcasing 20 of the most visually outstanding Swiss books published in 2024. Next on the docket is a screening of Frederick Wiseman’s 1982 doc, The Store, paired with a panel discussion between Fredi Fischli & Niels Olsen, the curator duo behind the 2021 book Retail Apocalypse, followed by Veruschka - Poetry of a Woman, fashion photographer Franco Rubartelli’s rarely screened 1971 film on the mononymous European supermodel.

Although the slate of films has skewed toward deep dives, and the series is limited to those who happen to be in the Norwegian capital, this focused approach to excavating fashion history suits Olsen’s slow approach to building an audience. It also, in a way, rebuffs the larger industry trend of ‘nostalgia fever’ that has seen designers at major brands mine the house archives and reissue bygone pieces, from the Chloé Paddington bag to the Alexander McQueen skull scarf.

Fashion is looking backwards, but while many of these revivals feel like cash grabs catered to Gen Z’s ‘vintage Y2K’ obsession, the ILFR’s focus is on more than just showing new audiences some old-fashioned films. ‘The library is a jumping-off point and springboard,’ Olsen noted. ‘It’s a very cliché thing to say, but I think we definitely use the past in order to look forward and to create something that we feel is better for the future.’

The goal is that for every new person introduced to the library through public programming, a new perspective will sprout and, with it, ‘we can have some new answers to big questions that we’ve been grappling with for a very long time’. Olsen recognises that a library of fashion ephemera in Norway might seem niche, but fashion transcends the industry it's part of. ‘Everyone puts on clothes every day. [Clothing] is such a big part of our identity and our collective history, and it’s a great tool for societal criticism. There's a whole spectrum to be explored,’ Olsen muses. ‘We have a lot of plans moving forward that will explore the intersection between fashion and sound, and we have book launches, poetry readings, and stuff that doesn’t have an obvious fashion connection. But then again, what is fashion? It’s everything.’

International Library of Fashion Research, Brynjulf Bulls plass 2, 0250 Oslo, Norway. For opening times, visit the IFRL’s website below.

fashionresearchlibrary.com

Oslo tastemakers craving an intriguing cocktail often settle onto one of the leather stools at pioneering Himkok, the sprawling city-centre bar and distillery that Erk Potur opened in 2015. Resulting from the transformation of a 19th-century pharmacy-appliance warehouse, the bar is known for its cocktails showcasing Nordic produce, served up in dark-wood interiors that are dotted with apothecary-style bottles containing spirits made on-site.

Already beloved by the hospitality industry, Himkok’s memorable menus fuelled by art, photography, fashion and music have also thrust the bar into the cultural spotlight in recent years. The newest menu, launching on 11 September 2025, is a bold homage to Scandinavia’s rich design heritage that reinforces the site’s flair for visual storytelling.

Himkok introduces its new ‘Design by Sipping’ menu, in collaboration with Studio Sløyd

Hatched alongside two local collaborators (the creative agency 2.edition and design practice Studio Sløyd), Himkok’s ‘Design by Sipping’ menu follows a quartet of similarly experimental examples celebrating Norwegian talents. In 2021, a menu revolved around NFT artworks by illustrator Esra Røise; in 2022, imagery from multimedia artist and photographer Olav Stubberud enlivened another. Fashion designer Eline Dragesund (in 2023) and Sony Music Norway artists (in 2024) translated Himkok cocktails into garments and songs for their respective menus.

For the 2025 menu, local design practice Studio Sløyd is building on that buzz by reimagining Himkok’s 13-serve menu into a series of furniture and objects that will be displayed in a gallery setting at Oslo’s Berlin Studio (11-13 September), in tandem with Designers’ Saturday – the city’s popular design and interior architecture event (12-14 September). From 5pm on 11 September, the collectables, some of which may be reproduced in the future, will be sold via an online auction, running through 18 September.

Mikkel Jøraandstad and Herman Ødegaard, Studio Sløyd’s founders, jumped at the opportunity. They’ve crafted products for Norwegian furniture companies such as Northern and LK Hjelle, but partnering with a bar was thrilling new territory. ‘Himkok focuses on local and sustainable production, and that’s important to us too, but we thought we could explore it even more,’ says Ødegaard. ‘Taking some parts of the drinks and making them come to life was an interesting process.’

Himkok menus, which stay in play for about a year, are taken seriously. The team spends six to seven months fine-tuning them, each cocktail – ‘Scandinavia in a glass’, as head of R&D Paul Aguilar describes it – named for its dominant flavour profile. Studio Sløyd also embraced this conscientious mindset, carefully conceiving prototypes for the corresponding designs with the help of local artisans. ‘Himkok let us have total creative freedom, and we appreciated that. After tasting the cocktails, we had initial ideas and then we developed them further, considering materials and shapes,’ explains Ødegaard.

The objects run from small to large, ‘from the obvious to the symbolic’, says Ødegaard. For the Carrot cocktail (Himkok gin, Martini aperitifs, fresh carrot, Mandarine Napoléon, Fireball), a cherry- and walnut-wood candleholder takes cues from the vegetable’s slender silhouette.

Equally stunning in their simplicity are the aluminium bottle opener that nods to the purity of the Cardamom (Patrón Reposado tequila, aquavit, cardamom distillate, fino sherry and Palo Santo cordial); and the epoxy and steel hook that expresses the hushed complexity of Plum (Himkok aquavit, Noilly Prat, Skott Gård plum juice, brewed ginger, chocolate bitters, vanilla bourbon).

For this project, Studio Sløyd delved into ceramics for the first time. Clay spawned the sculptural diffuser that nods to the fresh notes in the effervescent Cucumber (Himkok vodka, cucumber and mint kefir, pandan liqueur, brewed ginger, apple, grape), and also the elegant cafetière that honours rejuvenating coffee break rituals for the Fika (Grind espresso liqueur, Teeling whiskey, Aga Sideri’s non-alcoholic Humlesus cider, Lagavulin 16 whisky).

Glass was another new medium for Studio Sløyd, and it manifested in a duo of sleek vessels that evoke the Cloudberry, a Gimlet riff (Rémy Martin 1738 Accord Royal Cognac, cloudberry liqueur, cloudberry vanilla whey cordial, fino sherry, De Kuyper Dutch Cacao), as well as curving spoons that invite you to plunge into the frothy crown of the Elderflower, a twist on the Ramos Gin Fizz (Bacardi 10 rum, Saint-Germain, Noilly Prat, elderflower liqueur, cream, Greek yogurt). ‘We worked with wood that was familiar to us, but it was also important to try something different,’ points out Ødegaard.

Lighting designs forge a dialogue with three of the drinks, including the Peanut (Himkok Vodka, fino sherry, Noilly Prat, brewed ginger, peanut distillate) and the Raspberry (Himkok aquavit, red wine, raspberry, rhubarb liqueur, Galliano vanilla), a spin on the Clover Club. The standout is the cherry-wood and steel floor lamp that is inspired by the soft, velvety notes of the Manhattan-like Cherry (Buffalo Trace bourbon, Merlet cherry liqueur, Carpano Dry, dark chocolate, butter-washed finish).

A pine wood chair, sparked by Studio Sløyd’s observations of a decomposing tomato, accompanies the savoury Cherry Tomato (Himkok x Linie Aquavit, mezcal, green paprika distillate, cherry pepper, Skott Gård plum wine, vinegar). ‘When we saw the fibres inside, it inspired the frame,’ says Ødegaard.

Other pieces draw on nostalgia. A whimsical clock, fashioned out of glass, Douglas fir and steel, is teamed with the Softis, the Norwegian term for soft-serve ice cream (Linie aquavit and Diplom-Is ice cream, Disaronno, white Dutch cacao, fino sherry), hinting at the short-lived joy of ice cream before it melts. The Fruktnøtt (Jameson Black Barrel whisky, De Kuyper Dutch cacao, Himkok almond distillate, PX sherry, Krokan wine reduction) calls to mind its namesake raisin- and hazelnut-studded milk chocolate bar, and Studio Sløyd responded with a fold-out pine and steel seat that suggests carefree bygone days.

‘We build on memories,’ says Aguilar of the connections prompted by Himkok's cocktails. ‘This is the first softis you eat every summer. This is the chocolate your grandparents always gave you when you visited.’

Himkok is located at Storgata 27, 0184 Oslo, Norway.

The splendour of the Norwegian fjord landscape forms an unimpeachable backdrop to this holiday home by Office Inainn. Set high on the slopes above the water in Valldal on the country’s spectacular western coast, the house is designed to follow the contours, a viewing platform that’s also a warm and inviting place to stay.

Exploring the Norwegian fjord through this holiday home's striking vistas

In choosing not to level the steep site, the architects set themselves a structural and programmatic challenge, one that shaped every facet of the design. Instead, a concrete foundation serves as a raised platform on which the single level house is built, flanked by a pair of terraces that are raised up above the void.

The house itself is formed from two rectangular volumes, slightly misaligned, with a taller, narrower volume providing a top-lit entrance and access corridor that runs the length of the site. It’s flanked by a lower structure containing the accommodation, cantilevered out above the slope. Where the tall volume is austere and complete lacking in windows on the entrance façade, the view is revealed via a long run of glazing looking across the fjord. At the upper level, a band of clerestory windows brings light into the main corridor.

At the ends of the house, the two volumes are intertwined, with cladding that wraps around the structures to create an enclosed entrance porch, reaching down to the ground to root the house in the landscape. This sense of something that has grown out of the slope, rather than been imposed upon it is further heightened by the dark wood cladding.

The entrance sequence, along a narrow path between the rock and the building, is effectively continued by the tall, top-lit entrance corridor, with its polished concrete floors. The architects describe it as a ‘gentle transition from wild landscape to warm interior.’ Visitors pass a cloakroom and the doors to the three modest, cabin-like double bedrooms and one of two bathrooms before they reach the linear living/dining space and the dramatic reveal of the fjord and mountains beyond. Careful framing enhances the drama of the landscape, with a separate vista provided off the kitchen, which also has access to another terrace.

Dark wood cabinetry by Limstrand is paired with timber floors and olive paintwork in the main space. Window frames are also dark, with floor to ceiling top-hung curtains to cover the vast panes of glass. Furniture was supplied by Fjordfiesta. All these materials were sourced locally where possible and kept deliberately muted in order to foreground the majesty of the surroundings. ‘We didn’t want to add to the landscape,’ says practice founder Maksymilian Sawicki, ‘We wanted to continue it.’

The client, who has a longstanding connection to the area, specified that nature was to lead the project first and foremost. At a very modest 127 sq m, the holiday house is neither grandiose nor ostentatious yet still conveys a richness of craft and detail that is utterly befitting its spectacular location. Based in Ålesund, Office Inainn describes its work as having a ‘focus on simplicity, functionality, and sustainability.’

The studio is committed to minimising the environmental impact of its projects without compromising a dynamic and spectacular relationship with landscape. With this impressive project they've more than succeeded.

inainn.eu

Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg stir up a host of uncomfortable feelings. Inspired by fairytales, dark children’s stories, and the dream world, their stop-motion animations and sculptures feature a cast of eccentric animals and plants. These creatures are at once endearing and unnerving, players within wider explorations of sex, violence, and the subconscious. Djurberg typically works on the visual aspects while Berg composes the music, and the Swedish pair won the Silver Lion at the Venice Biennale in 2009.

Their exhibition ‘Death or Eternal Delight’ has just opened at Galleri F15 in Norway. Surreal birds, flowers, and beavers weave through the space. The physicality of their sculptures contrasts with the frenetic movement of their animations. The exhibition is split across two floors, with a lighter, calmer selection of sculptures and moving image downstairs, which gives way to chaos above. The idea of good and evil is inherent, though the artists suggest these two things are harder to separate than we might like.

'The ground floor is quite sparse – for us anyway!' Djurberg tells me, while they are setting up the exhibition. 'It’s white, serene, and the animations are quite calm. Then upstairs is very dark. It’s a lot more intense, there are a lot of sculptures. We wanted this mix where the viewer might be overwhelmed when they come upstairs and want to get out of there. But when they stay longer, they get used to the intensity. There’s a dissonance that we wanted to play with. It’s like a feeling you can have in yourself when you’re caught up in emotions and thoughts. That can start to feel like the normal state of being and calmness can feel uncomfortable.'

The sound is important, and Berg has intentionally blurred the barriers between the physical spaces. 'On the ground floor it's very serene but a little bit eerie,' he says. 'It’s got a glassy, cold feeling which enhances the works. Then upstairs its more visceral: trap beats and bass. It’s bodily, you feel it. I like when you hear the music from the next room; we don’t separate it. We like it feeling overwhelming. In an art context, people don’t often think about the music. You think you’re just there to look at things, but it influences your feelings so directly.'

The structure of Djurberg and Berg’s work is similar to that of dreams. It is fragmented, offering a host of stirring scenes without a strict narrative. Like dreams, it allows some psychological freedom, offering up powerful trigger points and bringing deep, sometimes disturbing, feelings to the surface where they can be explored. While their work touches on taboos and nightmare feelings, it encourages an openness to our emotions so we can better connect with them. 'Rage for example can feel horrendous. If you are afraid of it, it becomes scary,' says Djurberg. 'But if you stay with it, it can become almost like ecstasy.'

For ‘Death or Eternal Delight’, the artists have been thinking about folktales such as ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’ and the role of desire. The treasure in the story is stolen goods that doesn’t belong to Ali Baba, but Djurberg points out 'at no time in the story is it questioned if it is right for him to take it'. The illusory fruit and flowers loaded with jewels in the original tale inspired the artists, while the title of the exhibition can’t help but call to mind Bosch’s ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’, which is driven by unbridled desire yet has a violent undercurrent.

The artists are drawn to feelings that exist within the cracks or fringes, many of which are difficult to pin down. 'We think that we can put words on everything, but we can’t, we’re limited,” says Djurberg. 'We have names for certain emotions but sometimes you get in touch with a feeling and don’t even know what it is. I like things that exist outside language, beyond what the mind can put words onto.'

Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg's exhibition ‘Death or Eternal Delight’ is at Galleri F15 in Norway

In the Norwegian coastal city of Trondheim, an elegant art nouveau post office building from 1911 has been transformed into a new 4,000 sq m museum for modern and contemporary art. Named PoMo – short for ‘Posten Moderne’ (meaning ‘Post Office Modern’) – the structure was reimagined by French-Iranian architect and designer India Mahdavi, in collaboration with Norwegian architect Erik Langdalen.

‘We wanted to make this an inclusive, joyful space,’ says Mahdavi, who with PoMo marks her first museum project. Alongside this ambition lay the responsibility and desire to honour the heritage of the Grade I-listed building. Originally designed by Norwegian architect Karl Norum, the four-storey building is clad in rusticated granite and mint green-painted plaster with a crowning corner turret.

Tour PoMo Museum, a revived heritage building with a contemporary collection

When the post office building opened over a century ago, it was a place where Trondheim’s residents came together, and connected to the rest of the world. This spirit of international engagement, and of a civic hub, underpins PoMo as it seeks to bring locals and visitors together, as well as art from Norway and the rest of the world.

Mahdavi and Langdalen navigated the restrictions of the listed architecture to create a new bright pink entrance door, alongside an adjacent wheelchair-accessible entrance, clad in shiny copper. Perched on the roof, a beacon for the museum, is an illuminated rainbow sculpture by Ugo Rondinone, bearing the words of its title, Our Magic Hour (2003).

Once inside, visitors are welcomed into the main hall – an arcaded yet free-flowing space with high ceilings. It is bright: painted white, with new pale terrazzo flooring, and lit by abundant windows, as well as an octagonal illuminated skylight. Arranged around the space are large and playful sculptures by artists such as Franz West and Katharina Fritsch.

The hall’s original columns – some of which required restoration – bear highly decorative, carved iconic capitals, featuring symbolic heads of kings and a postal horn motif. A wooden public bench wrapped around one column recreates original post office seating.

Mahdavi has saturated the entrance corner of the hall salmon-pink for the gift shop, one of many pops of colour throughout PoMo. Another is a large, bright orange spiral staircase, immediately visible upon arrival. With sweeping steel curves, this punchy and sculptural gesture is the primary connection for the four public floors. Its form references spiral package chutes, while its hue was inspired by vernacular, painted houses nearby.

The staircase and accompanying lift occupy a space that was originally a courtyard but was filled in after the post office closed in 2011 and the building was used as private offices. Langdalen and Mahdavi removed floors and installed a glass roof to create a bright, unifying space dedicated to circulation.

In the basement, a flexible project space features a gridded, illuminated ceiling, stainless steel wall panels and hulking concrete columns. It is a more contemporary and minimalist design than the rest of the museum, void of bright colours; Mahdavi calls it 'dramatic and cinematic'.

Ascending to the first floor, a sequence of gallery spaces is punctuated by a new ‘bridge’ insertion. Featuring a panoramic window, the corridor-like space invites observation of an outdoor artwork and completes a circulation loop, transversely connecting the tips of the otherwise U-shaped floor plan.

Gallery spaces continue on the second floor, with the journey concluding in a show-stopping reading room, where Mahdavi has leant into her love of colour. An attic space clad in pine wood, the walls and ceilings have been painted by Dutch artist duo FreelingWaters with colours and images reflecting local nature, as well as Nordic folkloric art: fish, squid, crustaceans, flowers, shells and books, in green, pink and yellow. The domestic atmosphere, enhanced by soft seating designed by Mahdavi, contrasts with the traditional formality of a museum.

PoMo’s opening coincides with the launch of an adjacent theatre, designed by Skibnes Arkitekter. With both owned by Trondheim resident entrepreneurs Monica and Ole Robert Reitan, the ambition is set to activate this block of the city into a buzzing cultural quarter.

india-mahdavi.com

eriklangdalen.com

This Norwegian summer house peaks out between rocks and green foliage a few steps from an old pier, southeast of the town of Lillesand. Fittingly titled Cabin Lillesand, the project, which was designed by Oslo-based architecture studio Lund Hagem, enjoys a restored, protected beach suitable for bathing and offers the perfect environment for an idyllic Nordic escape.

Cabin Lillesand: a contemporary Norwegian summer house

Made out of timber and concrete, the retreat was crafted as five separate buildings - aiming to remain low and inobtrusive, allowing the surrounding, glorious nature to be the protagonist of every stay.

A main wing contains the open-plan living room and kitchen/dining. A connecting roof reaches out to the bedroom section, which includes two rooms (the primary suite and guest accommodation), all linked up masterfully through changing levels and outdoor circulation areas.

'What is special here,' says Lundhagem partner Svein Lund, 'is that there are no hallways inside the house, which has the benefit of saving space.'

The client was after a getaway fit for every season and focused on framing life and context in this part of the country. Responding to this, the architects paid special attention to looking after the existing site and not only causing minimal intrusion to its natural setting but also restoring it where required.

With the help of old archive photos and an engaged client and builder, Richard Modalen, the shoreline was moved closer to the cabin (as it once was) and now, everything feels like it's always been so. 'We were able to restore the coastline as it originally looked,' says Lund.

lundhagem.no

The home of the new Kunstsilo, the 130,000-strong city of Kristiansand in southern Norway, may be modest in size, but it’s now home to a vast collection of Nordic art. It seems fitting that the collection, which focuses on the 20th century, should find a home in a 1930s building – an old grain silo. 

Kunstsilo

Kunstsilo is the result of an open international competition, won in 2016 by Barcelona- and Oslo-based Mestres Wåge, working together with Spanish firms Mendoza Partida and BAX Studio. The key part of the brief was to create a venue for the 5,500-strong private collection of Kristiansand native Nicolai Tangen, a former hedge-fund manager who has bankrolled much of the museum’s £50m build. 

The grain silo was already considered special locally, and had listed status. It was designed by leading figures in Norway’s functionalist movement, architects Korsmo and Aarsland. Unused since 2006, it stands on the waterfront on Odderøya, an island where wild camping is encouraged. Over the water is the dock where 150 cruise ships arrive each year, and bang next door is the 2012 Kilden Performing Arts Centre by Finnish firm ALA. 

Converting 30 closely packed, 41m-tall concrete cylinders into an art museum involved some drastic surgery. Originally, the cylinders extended downwards to head height, so that the grain could be collected at ground level. Now, most of the length of the central cylinders has been removed, creating a wow-factor atrium at the top level. Other cylinders around the edge have been sliced in half lengthwise, leaving a semi-circle of tube. Magnus Wåge, who co-founded the Mestres Wåge in 2005 with Maria Mestres, calls it ‘a 220sqm basilica space’.

The three floors of exhibition space hug the exterior walls and are designed as plain, differently sized boxes, painted mostly white. Wåge describes these areas as 'more passive architecture where the art can stand out'. Each floor has a landing with views of the atrium.

At the back, the architects have added a boxy, metal-clad volume, containing exhibition space, workshops and a lift for artwork. 'We were preoccupied with revealing the character of the existing building and the new additions are in contrast to that, so it’s a sort of duet,' Wåge says.

The bar and roof terrace on level nine are quadruple aspect, in contrast to the darker exhibition spaces below. Here, the aesthetic is Scandi-comfortable, courtesy of the building’s interior designer, Scenario in Oslo (which also did the Munch Museum’s interiors, which include furniture by Vestre).

Up on the terrace, there are intentional narrow gaps between the panels of glazing surrounding the balcony, so any wind coming off the North Sea strait of Skagerrak is part of the experience. 

Visiting outside Krisitansand’s busy summer tourist season, the city’s low-rise architecture, low traffic levels and countless views over water make it feel like a sleepy town. If Kunstilo is going to put it on the map, then it will compete with or complement its existing delights: wide streets of centuries-old timber houses, and a few residential buildings by German-born Bauhaus member Thilo Schoder. 

Would this cultural venue be getting as much attention if it were a new-build? Probably not. There’s something about grain silos that captures the imagination. Thomas Heatherwick proved that in 2017, with the transformation of Cape Town’s former silos into Zeitz MOCAA art museum.

Or maybe adaptive reuse just feels right these days, though it isn’t always without its problems. 'When we work with an existing building, we don’t always know the technical condition, so there’s a risk,' says Wåge, 'But the upside is it has character.'

kunstsilo.no

'Aarestua’ Cabin means quite literally 'log' cabin in Old Norwegian, and it is this simplicity and link to local heritage and tradition that this project, a holiday dwelling designed by Gartnerfuglen, was conceived to convey. The Oslo-based architecture practice was invited to create a retreat for its clients, a family of four, in Norway's Eastern Telemark region. 

Discover Aarestua Cabin by Gartnerfuglen 

The typology's historical predecessor featured an open roof instead of a chimney. Here, Aaerstua Cabin is reimagined for the 21st century but aims to retain this link with its genre's past. At the same time, it sets out to forge a strong connection with the outdoors. 

The Telemark region supports this unification with nature. The plot is set in a remote, forested location, while the entire area is 'known for its impressive nature and traditions of building and handcraft,' the architects explained.

As a response, the architects designed a cabin that opens to the outdoors through large windows. It also brings this feeling of being among trees inside, as it's made of wood. The material also supports the home's role in providing a warm and comfortable shelter from the country's harsh winter conditions. 

In terms of its arrangement, the cabin is organised around a central volume that houses the main living spaces – dining, kitchen and family areas. Around it, four adjacent ‘outhouses’ fan out. 

Two of these volumes are reserved for sleeping; one marks the main entrance and its storage and mud room; and the last is the 'tower', a 'vertically organised space for retreating, especially loved by the family’s two young children and their friends'.

What in old times was a fireplace has been replaced by a modern wood-burning stove that has become the heart of the living space. Right above, instead of the 'chimney' opening, a large skylight helps illuminate the interior. 

Paying equal attention to the outdoors, the architects flagged how important spending time outside was for the owners – and how they brought that into their design: 'The spaces formed between the “outhouses“ become sheltered areas for sitting outdoors, eating, or enjoying the sun in the snow – a favourite Norwegian pastime.'

gartnerfuglen.com

Since 2017, Norwegian manufacturer reMarkable has made modest but impressive inroads into practical, sustainable technology. The company’s reMarkable 2 tablet is one of our firm favourites, an e-ink device that really does remove distractions and streamline your writing style.

reMarkable’s headquarters: a space for focus and collaboration

When it came to shaping the firm’s new office in Oslo’s Majorstuen neighbourhood, it was important to convey a sense of calming, analogue warmth. ‘We drew inspiration from what we know best: starting with a blank sheet of paper,’ says Magnus Haug Wanberg, founder and executive chairman of reMarkable. ‘We wanted to create a unique space for collaborative and individual focus – where better thinking always takes centre stage.’

Created with Oslo-based Grape Architects, the new workspace is an interior refurb across eight floors of an existing office building, totalling over 19,000 sq m. That means plenty of space for break-out areas, special ‘focus zones’ and even an area inspired by a Japanese Zen garden.

The principal space is dubbed the ‘campus library’, a multipurpose communal area with room for up to 550 people set beneath 7m ceilings, art installations, reading nooks, and lamplit desks. A spiral staircase leads up to a gallery, all set beneath a vaulted ceiling.

Certain design elements recur, such as the rounded arches that lead from one area into another, enhancing a sense of discovery, mystery and privacy. In total, the new offices have space for up to 1,000 employees, with dedicated breakout rooms on each floor as well as workshop and conference facilities.

On the eighth floor, there’s a 215 sq m communal roof garden, all part of an approach that aims to find a sweet spot for every employee. ‘Some people gravitate toward open spaces, while others prefer more private settings,’ says reMarkable’s CEO, Phil Hess. ‘We’re committed to inclusivity and strive to ensure that our campus caters to the needs of all our employees.’

This extends to a weekly ‘Zen’ session, a completely meeting-free morning, with a dedicated ‘Zen Garden’ space, a place where conventional monitors are banished (but not, of course, reMarkable’s own paper-like tablets) and the carpet patterns evoke raked sand. 

Scattered throughout the building are a series of ‘Rooms to Think’, evoking spaces such as a train compartment, a beach, a cabin, and even outer space. ‘Just as we offer products free from distractions to enable true focus, our headquarters is designed to do the same,’ says Hess.

reMarkable.com

Grape.No

This Norway cabin composed of low, orthogonal volumes linked together by generous outdoor space becomes the perfect setting for a rural escape. The simple, contemporary cabin by architect Erling Berg brings together minimalist architecture and striking vistas of Risør, a seaside region in the country's south.

A Norway cabin with a view

The site's steep incline means residents can make the most of long views of tree canopies and the sea beyond; yet it gave the architect a challenge in terms of the structure's positioning and landing on the ground. Berg opted for raising the cabin on stilts, creating a timber floating platform for it above the lot's sloped terrain of solid rock. 

'The summer cabin is wrapped in locally sourced spruce siding, impregnated with an organic wood protection with grey colour pigments,' Berg writes. This gives it 'a natural and weathered look from day one'.

The single-level home comprises three volumes. One contains the principal bedroom, a single bedroom and the bathroom; the second, a further two guest rooms; and the largest hosts the open-plan living spaces. 

The minimalist interiors contrast with the exterior in their lighter tones, and are mostly clad in white-painted, horizontal wood siding and white oiled spruce. This provides a nod to Norway's traditional coastal structures of this type. 

The cabin's wooden pillars are matched by the deck's cross-laminated timber beams – which continue upwards to hold the roof, offering consistency in material use throughout. 

Meanwhile, the strategically orientated, large, orthogonal openings ensure the verdant setting becomes the main protagonist in every stay. 

It's an intention further underlined by the floorplan, conceived to create a rich 'inside/outside' relationship that feels of its place in this Norway cabin retreat. 

erlingberg.com

You'd be forgiven for thinking this Oslo house sits in wild countryside, surrounded as it is by mature trees and perched above long, green and blue vistas. Yet Villa Nikkesmelle, as the residence is titled, was so expertly designed by local architecture studio Gartnerfuglen, that, blessed with an idyllic site, it feels more like a little cabin in the woods than an urban home. 

An Oslo house like a retreat

To be fair, the home is not located in downtown Oslo. The project sits on a lot on one of Oslofjord's numerous islands – even so, it's not far from the city’s busy centre. But as a result, the architects had to work with a context comprising a protected pine forest rather than the inner city's denser urban conditions. 

Conceived to embrace its privileged setting, the family home was designed to be fully in tune with the nature conservation area around it. Raised on stilts, the structure weaves between existing trees and opens up towards the outdoors through swathes of glazing. 

Meanwhile, crafted as a modern log construction out of solid pine that remained purposely exposed inside and out, Villa Nikkesmelle creates a dialogue with the natural timber around it. It also provides a nod to the region's building traditions, which have always been inextricably linked to the pine forests of Norway.

The residence is made of of three 'towers', which are linked with glass corridors. Each one of these 'hubs' has a different use – the largest hosts the living, dining and kitchen areas, and the other two house a generous en-suite bedroom each.

Meanwhile, the journey connecting each hub feels like walking among the treetops, offering an unmissable experience of the leafy canopies and views ahead. 

gartnerfuglen.com

Perched on the waterfront in Henningsvær, a small fishing village on the Lofoten archipelago, renowned for steep mountaintops and rolling fjords, a four-storey concrete-framed building (which was once an abandoned factory) is ready to showcase its transformation into Trevarefabrikken, a contemporary Nordic escape.

Trevarefabrikken in Henningsvær, Norway

The site, constructed in the 1940s, was once bustling with the production of cod liver oil, a vital addition to Lofoten’s fishing economy. After decades of standing idle, its potential was again recognised in 2014 when a friend group sought to purchase the property. While exploring the rocky terrain, they caught sight of the dilapidated building and pondered the idea of establishing a cultural meeting place for tourists and locals alike.

After careful interventions by London-based studio Jonathan Tuckey Design (no stranger to transforming period spaces) and a group of builders, friends and volunteers, the original open floor plan of the factory was reimagined to facilitate cultural connectivity. Trevarefabrikken now features a small number of guest suites nestled on the ground floor, while the floor above exudes a vibrant energy as a dedicated social setting with a restaurant, wine bar, pizzeria, and café. The third floor operates a makeshift yoga studio with fjord-side views for moments of quiet seclusion.

‘Through the careful selection of materials and considered interventions, we were able to highlight the character and heritage of the existing architecture,’ explains project architect Dan Stilwell. On the first floor, original machinery punctuates the corridor, and slender steel skirting lines the hall. Reclaimed bricks from the factory’s former chimney were repurposed into steps outside guest bedrooms, while industrial references were kept intact to maintain the building’s historical character.

In contrast, modern decor produced by local craftsmen permeates the bedrooms, utilising raw materials sourced from surrounding islands. References to nature can be seen throughout the retreat, exemplified by timber panelling, warm tones of sea-foam green, open windows and large handmade shutters, which also offer breathtaking views of the Vestfjorden sea.

Stilwell, reflecting on the project, describes Trevarefabriken as ‘a celebration of natural light and seasonality’, where Norway’s seasonal extremes and natural wonders are highlighted through ‘artefacts, additional thresholds and international glazing’.

trevarefabrikken.no

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The striking, monochromatic US Embassy in Oslo, which opened in 1959, was one of only three buildings in Europe by Finnish American architect Eero Saarinen. As a result of increasing security concerns from the end of the 1990s onwards, fences, bollards and armed guards were gradually installed around the building, rendering it fortress-like and impenetrable. This was the polar opposite of the original intention, explains Jonas Norsted of architecture practice Atelier Oslo, who worked alongside another Oslo-based firm, LundHagem, on the building’s restoration and extension. 

Modernist US embassy in Oslo restored

'As well as being an embassy, it was initially also conceived as a “cultural house” open to all,' he says. 'It had a public library with American literature and jazz and rock’n’roll records, an auditorium for film screenings and an exhibition hall. It even had a canteen for office workers that was also open to the public. This is where I had my first hamburger ever, back in the 1980s.'

After moving the embassy out, the US government sold the building in 2017 to Norwegian real estate developer Fredensborg, and it was immediately placed under stringent historic preservation orders. From outside, the former embassy stands out for its triangular shape, unusual geometries and rich but subtle detailing. 'The black and white play off one another,' says Norsted, adding that 'Saarinen likened the facade to a gentleman wearing a tuxedo.' 

Indeed, the contrast between the pre-cast black concrete and labradorite on the exterior (made of a single relentlessly repeated module with an in-and-out pattern), and the 577 recessed white windows, make for a handsome and somewhat iridescent building that appears to oscillate as the light changes and moves across it during the day and night. Contrary to the trend at the time, the façade was not just aesthetic but also load-bearing, says Norsted, helping support the weight of the building. An interesting extra detail is the fact that the 12m x 9m steel and concrete canopy over the main central entrance, the only entrance facing the Royal Palace, was designed by Cesar Pelli, an intern in Saarinen’s firm at the time.

The contrast between the austere, dark and powerful exteriors and the bright and airy interiors is also notable and deliberate. The central entrance leads through a travertine marble-clad lobby to a diamond-shaped atrium replete with koi pond that spans the four main floors and is topped by a reconstructed suspended faceted concrete and plaster ceiling featuring triangular patterns and framed by glazing. 

Two of this central court’s walls are built out of white-painted brick, creating a grill pattern, while the other two feature sleek and sophisticated vertical teak ribs that extend from the second to the fourth floors. These 900m of teak slats, and the other 16,000m (or 16 km) of original teak window strips, frames and sills were meticulously restored, sanded and painted or oiled for the restoration.

'When we started the work, the building was in quite bad shape, both technically and in terms of materials and there was little of the original atmosphere left,' says Norsted. 'We studied old drawings and photos to recreate the architectural quality and atmosphere the building used to have and all the new additions were made to fit in with the old. Almost 80 per cent of the interiors are new but reconstructed from old photos or historic references from that period.' 

One totally new and contemporary insertion is a large glass mosaic by artist Diena Georgetti in the ground floor wine bar and café, which like the other dining spaces was designed by interior architects Paulsen & Nilsen. 

More significant insertions and changes to the building are a new rooftop bar and restaurant with a 360-degree terrace built on what was used as the technical floor, and a massive new 14m-deep basement. These two gestures combined have allowed the building to extend its floor space by 60 per cent and its capacity tenfold, and the building now houses three floors of office space used by its owner, Fredensborg, as well as SOS Children’s Villages and Amnesty International, three restaurants and an events and meeting space and state-of-the-art fitness centre below ground. From outside the building has become a great deal more porous too, with new exterior spaces designed by landscape architecture firms LCLA office and SLA.

Creating the basement section involved excavating 16,500 cubic metres of rock and stone and installing 256 steel piles say the architects. The air intake was moved away from the building and doubles up as two light atriums bringing daylight into the new basement floors. Remarkably, this major extension did not alter the building's external appearance. But this wasn’t just important for listing and aesthetic reasons, says Norsted, it was as if the building demanded it. 'The building itself has such a strong character and geometry that each time we tried to “invent” something new, it appeared really out of place. So we always had to go with the building’s logic and not against it.'

atelieroslo.no 

lundhagem.no

paulsennilsen.no

lclaoffice.com

sla.dk

Norwegian architect Tommie Wilhelmsen writes in his recent monograph, published by Risk, that ‘if you are looking for mythical landscapes, there are few places better suited than Byberg beach’. This new cabin to the south of Stavanger was recently completed by the Wilhelmsen. It replaces an existing cottage on the shores of the beach, a place the architect recalls visiting many years before when studying at the Bergen School of Architecture. 

Tour this Stavanger cabin by Tommie Wilhelmsen

He describes the location as part of an ancient landscape, ‘the first place where the ice broke loose in Norway 10,000 years ago’. It is a windswept place that was only tamed in the 19th century when mare straw was planted on the dunes to keep the sand from tainting local farmland. Over two decades later, in 2018, Wilhelmsen was approached by a client who had recently bought a cottage right on the edge of the beach. This is a region where traditional houses are interspersed with bold modern structures and concrete bunkers left over from the Second World War. 

Wilhelmsen – whose Søgne Cabin, a coastal retreat, we have also explored – is fond of attaching personal memories and experiences to his architecture. ‘I believe in a personal architecture, that you use everything of yourself and everything you find in the situation you are in,’ he writes. The story of Cabin Byberg is therefore interwoven with Wilhelmsen’s own tales of its construction, and the thoughts and writings that permeate everything he does, catalogued in the unvarnished prose that accompanies his monograph. 

This autobiographical story of the enduring and endless process of making buildings is sometimes akin to the writings of Karl Ove Knausgård, and it lends a poignant authenticity to his work, taking in not just the architect’s life of securing, shaping and delivering projects, but the minutiae of life lived during the process, from lockdowns to daydreams, Nordic light and myths and even Taylor Swift.

The clients, a free-spirited couple in their sixties, gave the architect a lot of freedom, something that’s ‘not as common as you might think’, according to Wilhelmsen. The design and construction of the cabin were all tied up in the illness and death of the architect’s mother, as well as his own recollections of experiencing the site as a student. 

The plans evolved into a long, horizontal L-shaped structure, with views across the water to the Feistein Lighthouse. Angled stone walls support a wooden roof structure, while ribbons of bi-folding doors open up the living and dining spaces to the elements. The bedrooms are tucked away in the long part of the ‘L’, with an upper-level sleeping deck tucked into the eaves, a wood-lined cocoon for the winter months. 

‘It is [like throwing] a party being the architect for this cabin,’ Wilhelmsen writes enthusiastically, ‘[We have] good craftsmen and an exceptionally trustworthy builder. A plot that alone is an overdose of architect's dreams. At the same time, such a place is undeniably an exam. A place and a time to show what you can do.’ Describing the house as a ‘landscape experience’, he draws parallels with the Aurland Lookout, the award-winning project Wilhelmsen designed with his former collaborator Todd Saunders, and the way the building dramatises the landscape.

The cabin is the result of meticulous, careful choices, right down to the selection of the stone, chosen especially for its iron content. ‘The effect of the iron in the stone in the face of the horizontal golden light exceed[ed] my expectations,’ Wilhelmsen noted when he visited the nearly completed site. ‘It has something psychedelic about it. I have received more than I dream of this May evening… It's my trip, this, my reward.’

Tommie Wilhelmsen: 78-1 is published by Risk 

Riskforlag.no

Tommie-Wilhelmsen.no

Aurora 2.0, a respectful, architectural woodland retreat in the depths of the Norwegian north, is the perfect spot to admire one of nature's most magnificent natural phenomena – the Aurora Borealis, aka the Northern Lights. Architect Snorre Stinessen, the author of the idyllic escape, was after a home that allows for full immersion in the experience, and describes staying there and looking towards the night sky as 'being in the northern lights and not just underneath'.

Aurora 2.0: a home for stargazing

The Tromsø based architect crafted this holiday home as a series of structures, raised on stilts and made from natural materials – predominantly wood – to make sure the building sits comfortably and lightly within its forest setting. This approach allowed the team to preserve existing trees and place the volumes in a way that offers the best vistas of the green (or snow-white, depending on the season) surroundings. 

A larger, main building contains an entrance and cloakroom, bathroom, and a living space, including kitchen and dining areas. This flowing interior can be partially converted into a generous principal bedroom if needed. The home comprises three further bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms and a fold-out workstation encompassed in a bespoke cabinet within smaller, separate volumes. 

The cabins' geometric shapes make for architecturally strong volumes, each featuring large openings, which have been orientated carefully so as to make the most of the daylight in this northern part of Europe. 'The buildings are designed not only to offer complete privacy, but note also how you are constantly ascending to an elevated position well above ground, where the horizon across the sea feels low and the sky above feels infinitely tall,' the architect said.

'The unique location and beautiful nature and views were both a source of inspiration and a challenge for this project,' he continued. 'We had a fantastic interaction with our client, which led us to be able to work with the buildings more as sculptures, carefully designed to and positioned in the landscape, endeavoring to both preserve the natural vegetation and to focus on the unique experience of the surroundings, the beautiful views and of course, the Northern Lights.'

snorrestinessen.com 

A modest cabin on the shores of the island of Ny-Hellesund has become the perfect way to admire the drama of the Norwegian countryside. The retreat, a bolthole of less than 50 sq m for a local couple seeking to escape the city, was designed by Oslo-based KIMA arkitektur, headed by Inge Hareide, Martin Dietrichson and Kristoffer Moe Bøksle. Simple, compact and functional, the space is a celebration of both minimalism and cabin architecture, taking its rocky and green context and placing it centre stage through natural material, unfussy forms and large openings. Referencing local fishing huts in its form and materiality, the cabin was named Krabbebu ('crab shack').

Krabbebu: a modest cabin for a spectacular site

The architect and client, designer Andreas Engesvik (part of the team behind the Munch Museum's furniture) and his family, worked closely on the project – creating the interiors and a bespoke kitchen - they also considered carefully their natural context. The pine wood used was locally sourced and the structure was built by craftspeople from the region.

Moe Bøksle remembers: 'The Søgne archipelago is an attractive place, for cabin dwellers, small boats and kayaks alike. The shape of the headland caters to a good spot for bathing and fishing. There was a small cabin on the site which precedes the 'crab shack' by 60 years.'

He continues: 'When placing the new cabin on site, it was important to nestle it gently in between the rocky landscape letting the shape of the headland and its main feature continue to play the leading role. Together with the rocky knolls, the cabin creates good outdoor spaces to shelter from the wind, rain, and sun.'

The modest cabin may be boutique, but it comfortably houses Engesvik, his partner Jannicke Grung and their family of five. It contains an open plan living room, including the kitchen, a large bedroom and a bathroom. 

A restrained outdoors space ensures the structure sits lightly on its rocky plot and allows residents to directly connect with nature as soon as they step out. Meanwhile, it also acts as a discreet wooden shed, placed as it is nearby the water, serving as storage for their fishing gear.

kimaarkitektur.no 

Snaking through the forests that fringe the edge of Lake Fyresvatn, in Norway’s Hamaren Activity Park, this one-kilometre-long wooden elevated walkway is a spectacular and sympathetic addition to the landscape of Telemark. Inaugurated in June 2023, the Treetop Walk in Hamaren Activity Park opens up the pine forest to all ages and abilities, rising up from the forest floor and winding through the arrow-straight tree trunks as it leads to a circular viewpoint overlooking the lake.

Norway's new elevated walkway

The walkway was designed EFEKT, the Copenhagen-based design studio founded by Tue Hesselberg Foged and Sinus Lynge in 2007. The firm specialises in physical interventions in cities and landscapes, notably the recent Living Places Copenhagen project. The 50-strong team works internationally, with projects across Scandinavia, as well as Switzerland, Germany, Japan and Australia.

The new walkway rises to over 15m at points, culminating in the 50m diameter circular platform that offers a view of Lake Fyresvatn and the Klokkarhamaren mountain. ‘Although it is a small gesture in the bigger picture, we hope that granting people free and universal access to experience the sublime nature of this site, can serve as an example for others,’ says Foged, explaining how the project was about ‘reconnecting people with nature and creating a design that would enhance the experience of the visitors [by] taking them on a slow and poetic walk through the forest canopy.’ 

Made entirely of locally sourced pine, the two-metre wide boardwalk is raised up on wooden columns, with slender slats for the handrails, blending into the sylvan backdrop. The project was six years in the making, working closely with local contractor Inge Aamlid. 

A simple wooden building system was devised, using a number of pre-fabricated components to anchor the columns and tie the whole structure together, as well as techniques of wooden craftsmanship that date back to region’s logging history. In addition to the walkway itself, the project included benches and shelters along the length of the structure. 

The development process took place during the pandemic lockdown, so designers and contractor were unable to visit the site. ‘Instead, we had to send over GPS coordinates from topographic maps to Fyresdal Municipality who in turn took pictures of the landscape, allowing us to adjust the route according to the learnings from the actual site,’ Foged says. EFEKT then generated precise 3D models for the contractor, ensuring a seamless construction process for a structure that already seems part of the landscape. 

effekt.dk

What started as an experiment resulted in Saltviga House – an idyllic timber dwelling on the south coast of Norway. Nestled in a wooded plot overlooking the sea, this family home was conceived with 'gentleness' in mind, explain its creators, the Sweden-based studio Kolman Boye Architects, founded in 2013 by Erik Kolman Janouch and Victor Boye Julebäk.  

Saltviga House: a celebration of timber offcuts

What underlines this approach, and makes Saltviga House stand out, is that it utilises offcuts from the production of Dinesen oak planks. These compose very visibly its roof and exterior walls, giving it its shingle-like appearance. 

Taking their cues from the beautiful material, Kolman and Boye crafted a home that feels at once cosy and environmentally responsible; they are deft hands at creating inspiring architecture using timber, as well as the cabin and rural home typology, as work such as Rotunda Serotina for Wallpaper* Handmade 2015 and Vega Cottage demonstrate. At the same time, every piece of offcut used in the house was checked and tested for its durability against the often harsh Norwegian weather. 

The house's layout was also designed to respect its surroundings. It is divided into two main volumes with a simple outline shaped like an archetypal house. Open timber terraces unite everything, showcasing beautifully its Dinesen oak and Douglas species. 

'It is no coincidence that the house was built from the most beautiful natural material in the world. In fact, the building is defined by the unique properties of wood – its tactile expression and dimensions, the way it ages and responds,' the architects write. 'Saltviga House encapsulates the intention of creating meaningful and enduring projects from the resources afforded by nature and the forest.'

kolmanboye.com 

Sustainability meets immersive design in a new climbing wall by Snøhetta, whose timber new climbing centre in Skien, Norway puts energy efficiency at the forefront.

For Bård Stangnes, lead architect of the Høyt Under Taket project, using timber as the main material allowed for the celebration of bucolic themes. ‘As the design was inspired by nature, it made us move away from thinking of walls, floors, and ceilings in a traditional way,’ he says. ‘We had rock formations in mind, where the distinction between wall and roof is blended, and the bold idea was to create a cave made of timber where you could explore every surface with your body.’

Snøhetta's climbing wall 

It is a vision made possible by the flexibility of the cross-laminated timber, which provides multiple fastening points, enabling the client Høyt Under Taket to easily change climbing grips and routes. By building with wood, the project also has a lower carbon footprint than traditional materials, thanks to its ability to be prefabricated in locations aside from the construction site, reducing the number of deliveries. Light and strong, timber is also a natural choice for projects which require shallow foundations, requiring less piling and simplifying the process.

‘The task was to make a design manual for different sites and sizes, so the building had to be quite pragmatic,’ Stangnes adds. ‘A central spine of structural timber frames makes up the architectural concept, and out from this one would add volumes according to different needs and situations. The timber frames give the brand a recognisable motif that will be part of its future climbing centres elsewhere.’

Resembling a cave of timber, the eschewment of the traditional separation between walls and ceilings and the exposed wood creates an immersive experience for the climber. ‘Understanding the need, understanding the client, and understanding the end user are one of the most rewarding things in architecture,’ says Stangnes. ‘It’s a task of a puzzle, but first, you must find the pieces. After our first workshop, Covid hit, and we had to find this new way of working digitally. It’s great to see that a framework shaped in a home office is now full of life, kids, and activity.’ 

snohetta.com 

Perched atop the new National Museum in Norway is the Light Hall, an iridescent marble box enclosing an open, cavernous space. Used for various group and themed exhibitions, it will also become home to The Fredriksen Family Commissions, a series of five biennial projects in which international artists are invited to create a work or installation – Laure Prouvost is the first.

The whole place was a construction site when the Brussels-based French artist made her first site visit. ‘There were pipes coming out everywhere and I was like, could we let nature take over, stop building, and let birds come in?’ she says, recalling a kernel of an idea that developed over later visits. Flying north from Belgium, looking down upon the clouds, thinking about migration and a bird’s-eye vantage of earth, the artist began to conceive of the Light Hall as a man-made cloud levitating above Oslo, and set about creating an ethereal and experiential world within.

Upon ascending a staircase to the peak of the museum, a narrow passage with a rising and dropping floor acts as a threshold into Prouvost’s new realm. An enormous video wall divides the Light Hall in two, this first side is what the artist calls the valley – ‘the valley of humans, of production, consuming, and consumerism, but also belonging together with nature’. Snaking pipes entwine architecture and artifice, seemingly leaking oil across the terrazzo floor into pools trapping detritus of consumerism and nature. However, within this gloomy environment, there are hints of how we humans might float away from earthly despair and into the clouds.

An intricate tapestry hangs down, decorated with facts about migrating birds such as TERNS FLY 5700KM IN 7 DAYS WITHOUT ANY PAUSE and MOST BIRDS TRAVEL ALONE. Prouvost says it was woven by her ‘Grand Ma’ (a recurring character in her artwork) and cousins in Flanders, and that while it’s limply hanging now, ‘it's really to be carried out by a plane or a big bird to go up and fly off from the museum’. Another tapestry forms an enclosed, dark, cosy space in which the artist’s reassuring voiceover invites us to ‘stay forever if you want, lay down, feel free to nest’.

The looping film projected onto the dividing wall has a recurring and haunting song Prouvost wrote with Ghent musician Tsar B, sung by Singing Molenbeek, a children’s choir the artist has become involved with, whom she says ‘are from a deprived area of Belgium and all come from different migrating backgrounds’. Grand Ma – an ever-present in the installation – also features in the film, flying through the sky naked, grinning and weightless.

We are told by Prouvost that Grand Ma dangles on a rope from her husband’s plane every Sunday: ‘She gets naked, jumps, and feels the elements, the sky, connects with levitation, and becomes something else.’ Like this story, we are never quite sure what is real or fake in Prouvost’s creations, and her world is richer for it.

Architectural trompe l'oeil gives the impression of holes cut deep into the floor under raised bridges and eked behind the screen; voices from the pipes recall dreams of flotation; a rotating sculpture appears to levitate above a chunk of Norwegian rock; and upturned hanging wicker baskets reveal themselves to be VR headsets that offer an uncanny replication of the space, but with naked female sirens gently encouraging the viewer to join them in levitation and ascend to another realm.

A grotto-like tunnel leads from the valley, narrowing as it curves around the vast projection wall, squeezing the body before exuding it into that other realm. Here the space is a contrast, iridescent Nordic light penetrating the marble walls, and instead of oil slicks the floor is coated in wisping mists. This is a brighter, more optimistic world, to which Boschian glass birds – crafted in Murano by Berengo Studio – have also migrated, as have enormous rocks (both real ones from Norwegian valleys and fabricated simulacra) which float with empyrean weightlessness. In the film, Grand Ma is again joyously flying through the air, but this time viewers have joined her exuberant ascent.

A central soft mound of a pattern replicating the terrazzo floor invites us to dwell under twisting chandeliers of consumerist rubbish, as if it had been sucked into a vortex from the valley floor and even it, the worst of plastic waste, could transform into something of delicate beauty. Here there is time to recline, to sink into the cloud and slowly contemplate Prouvost’s delightful provocation to our earthly situations. She has created a landscape – and skyscape – of care and welcome, awash with maternal attention and dedication to craftswomanship – elements which she describes as introducing herstory into history.

Prouvost and her collaborators – human and nonhuman, and whether singing, crafting, or flying – have created a space of fewer frontiers, above the Anthropocene but a place from which to look down through the clouds and imagine a better way, with a lighter touch, more magic, and fewer hierarchies.

‘Laure Prouvost. Above Front Tears Oui Float’ runs until 12 February 2023 at the National Museum of Norway. nasjonalmuseet.no

The Bolder project – kick-started in 2020 and created by Norwegian architects Snøhetta, design brand Vipp, and local property developer Tom Bjarte Norland – comprises four luxury off-grid cabins, overlooking Lysefjord on Norway’s west coast and available for holidays. 

Snøhetta’s Bolder project is enveloped in its landscape

Each cabin appears suspended in nature, its creators taking care to minimise its footprint on the local landscape. The structures are supported by concrete pillars, which lift them above the ground and maximise panoramic views. Glass façades expose the pod-like rooms to the outdoors. Snøhetta architect Frank Denis Foray explains that ‘the goal was to create a total experience for the visitors’, while offering protection from the extreme outdoors, the idea of ‘coming back to a cosy, warm wooden nest with a spectacular panoramic view’.

Reflecting its surroundings, the project uses materials that were cleared from the site prior to construction; granite from the ground is used as aggregate, built into the concrete pillars, and timber from the area has been used in its construction. The cabins’ exterior is in red cedar, chosen for its naturally greying quality, which in time will allow it to blend more seamlessly into the landscape. Inside, oak lines the cabins, with the wood from each treated slightly differently, resulting in a distinctive feel for each space. 

The cabins’ asymmetrical forms work with their varying height to give an illusion of tilting slightly over the fjord, and the Vipp-designed interiors draw in the natural landscape, blurring the line between indoors and out. The design teams have used clean surfaces and simple forms to expand the feeling of the cabins. Three of Snøhetta’s new cabins (which they call Stylten, Myra and Stjerna) offer around 38 sq m, while a fourth (Eldhuset) will provide 60 sq m and is expected to open in spring 2023. 

snohetta.com

thebolder.no 

The Salmon Eye visitor centre rises like a giant space capsule above the rippling waters of Hardanger Fjord in south-west Norway. Completed in September 2022, this offshore visitor centre and art installation explores the future of aquaculture. ‘A place to inspire and inform people on how to better feed the planet with sustainable seafood,’ explains the venue’s manager, Sebastian Lamberg Torjusen.

Salmon Eye visitor centre and art installation

Commissioned by Eide Fjordbruk, a third-generation, family-owned salmon and trout farming company, the ellipsoid building is by Copenhagen-based Kvorning Design, who worked with Kvadrat Acoustics on a custom acoustic solution for the interiors.

While the façade is clad in 9,500 stainless steel ‘scales’ – to mimic the shiny, silvery skin of salmon – the interior, which plays host to interactive exhibitions, called for a softer, more organic material with soundproofing qualities. Here, the curving geometry of the building meant the architects couldn’t use uniformly sized acoustic panels. ‘This means a lot of the geometry had to be custom made,’ says Torjusen of the decision to use Kvadrat Acoustics’ Soft Cells panel system.

Soft Cells panels incorporate acoustic padding behind a textile layer, in this case produced at the manufacturing facilities of Norwegen weaver Innvik Sellgren, which is partially owned by Kvadrat. The panels come with a patented tensioning mechanism to keep the fabric taut, and folds and creases around corners are eliminated by a special insert which secures excess fabric.

The design team decided that the colour of the fabric would move from dark to light from the base of the building to the top, mirroring the transition from the depths of the fjord to the open skies.

Jacob Jørn Riiber, programme manager of Kvadrat Acoustics, reflects on the project’s complexity: ‘The oval shape of the project allows us to optimise panels into groups of similar shapes. But as soon as we meet features in the building like walls, windows and floors, we stop having this ability to repeat shapes. We need to crop panels at different angles, which [has resulted] in 250 unique shapes.’

Kvadrat Acoustics additionally developed a bespoke rail-based substructure for Salmon Eye, which allows the panels to be precisely spaced out and angled relative to each other. There is a consistent 3mm shadow gap between all panels – a simple detail that belies careful design and development.

kvorning.com
kvadrat.dk

Nordic architecture, as well as a spirit of sharing and candid creative exchanges sit at the heart of a new book by Artifice. Share: Conversations about Contemporary Architecture – The Nordic Countries, was co-authored by Canada-born Norway-based architect Todd Saunders, and architecture and design writer, and Wallpaper* editor Jonathan Bell.

The book, which hails the first in what the team says will become a series of publications, each focusing on a specific territory and featuring Saunders in conversation with some of each region’s most celebrated architects, is out this month. 

‘We are architects all the time, whether at the dinner table, in the queue at the grocery store, driving on the highway or lying in bed at night. By asking questions about what matters and why, I hope this book starts a conversation about the processes behind architecture, and how different outlooks translate into the work that we do and the way we achieve it,’ says Saunders, who embarked on the book with Bell to investigate the process of design and open up discussions across the profession. 

In this particular edition, the team talks to key players in the Nordic architecture field, such as Bjarke Ingels of BIG and Louis Becker of Henning Larsen. It spans projects, as well as questions about architecture – 99 of those, to be precise – visiting Finland, Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Iceland along the way.  

The book instantly draws the reader in through vivid, Q&A interview formats, alternated with striking photography and a wealth of projects that cover a range of typologies – from the region's much-loved cabin in the woods, to larger villas and townhouses, but also commercial and infrastructure projects.

The key here, is the dialogue that is the thread to unite all case studies, opening up the typically fairly insular world of architecture to a broader audience – making Share the perfect tool for professionals, aspiring architects and the wider public. 

This book reveals ‘architects’ hopes, fears and aspirations, as well as the real-world challenges of running a modern practice,' the team explains.

The Share series promises to come back with more territory-focused investigations – North America, Europe and the Far East are all on the list to explore and learn from.

Share: Conversations about Contemporary Architecture – The Nordic Countries is available by Artifice, £34.95

artificeonline.com

saunders.no

Vågakallen is the ‘old man mountain’ which stretches out across the bay from Storvågan village. He lies on his back, head pointing towards the sea – crossed arms and raised knees rising in undulating peaks and scarps. Like many of the mountains in the region, Vågakallen was once a troll, his backstory involving a failed pursuit of a young virgin, a horseman, seven sisters baking bread, and an arrow shot into a hat of the king. As the saga concludes at dawn, each of the story’s characters is turned irrevocably to stone. 

Folklore of this kind is the lifeblood of Lofoten, where centuries of fishermen have journeyed to reach these arctic cod-spawning waters, their navigation way-marked by distinctly sculpted geologies; myth and memory settling onto the land with each century of snow drift.

It’s storytelling which steers the ship of contemporary culture in Lofoten, an archipelago in Norway’s Arctic Circle, host since 1991 to Scandinavia’s longest-running contemporary biennale, the Lofoten International Art Festival (LIAF). Themed 'Fantasmagoriana', the 2022 edition’s guiding star is the anthology of German supernatural tales chosen as writing inspiration by Byron, Shelley, Polidori and Clairmont during their infamous gathering at Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva in 1816. (‘The year without a summer’). The fact that Shelley went on to set the first chapter of Frankenstein in the arctic midnight, had not escaped LIAF’s Italian curating duo, Francesco Urbano Ragazzi. Through three chapters of their own (Venice, Oslo, then Lofoten), LIAF 2022 remaps a new archipelago of literary, political, and geographical references, with 37 artists in tow.

LIAF being ‘nomadic’, the curators’ ultimate decision to set the festival in and around the town of Kabelvåg was both for its historical potency — as the place where Kurt Schwitters was confined during the Nazi occupation of Norway — and also for its film school, Nordland Kunst, to whom the entire festival is dedicated. Thus moving image and its history become a wellspring for the ‘cinematic’ in various dimensions: from Sille Storihle’s meta-narrative film on the power play of ‘The Group Crit', 2022, as side-splitting as it is unnerving, to an outdoor mural of collaged fax imagery (‘Panels for the Walls of the World’, 1970-2022), in homage to multimedia pioneer Stan VanDerBeek.

Meanwhile in a solo presentation at the 'Museum Under Destruction’ (the elementary school building due to be razed), LA artist Jennifer West turns to another ruin, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, documenting its demolition against a backdrop of social uprising. “The world was on fire”, the artist recalls of that summer of 2020. “Everything was ruptured”.

Her engagement with American cinema surfaces through a catalogue of “broken technologies”, from 16mm film to ‘holofans’, designed as seductive shopping mall devices. Towering cranes sway amongst palm trees. Piles of rubble are plinths to screens, others cascade waterfall-like from wall to floor, flickering with the lesions of damaged photographic negatives. Then in a room of their own, four crystals of chandelier glass (the only vestiges of the museum) are suspended, spinning like psychotic ghosts in the dark. If Ed Ruscha’s painting ‘The Los Angeles County Museum on Fire’ is a premonition, West’s work acts as a death mask for the museum. “You have to allow for the new. But there’s no sense of preservation”, she says.

Fire, as a source of fear but also comfort and healing, haunts the work of Elina Waage Mikalsen, in Áhcagastá - Tales of the Ember, 2022. Reinterpreting a Sámi weaving method for making belts, Mikalsen’s ‘fire-braid’ installation is fueled by a multi-layered understanding of the role of fire in her community and its history: the World World Two destruction of her family’s land, the burning and erasure of Sámi cultural heritage, and the historical ‘vete’ system of coastal bonfires as warnings of a coming threat. Yet Mikalsen’s resolve is more hopeful: how ‘when objects are burnt and disappear, they can start anew or become something else’, she says. 

Elsewhere, images emerge from the darkness. 'The Museum of the Sun' is a reincarnation of Galleri Espolin, housing a collection of the 20th-century Lofoten artist Kaare Espolin Johnson, who suffered from cataracts and sight loss. At a scale almost troll-like to Espolin’s intricate works on paper, looming black bas-reliefs by Swedish Olof Marsja flank a doorway. Titled A lonesome flower’s dream of the past, 2022, these lumpy flower-headed figures seem to hail from a palaeolithic era, yet manifest via robotic milling and 3D scans.

Relief from darkness of another kind is found in a triumphant series of black and white photographs by Lithuanian Rimaldas Vikšraitis (At the Edge of the Known World, 1978-2008). Pastoral nostalgia up-turned for the darkly comic, Vikšraitis’s shrewd, often lewd depictions reveal both the clutter of rural life and the gaping societal voids following post-Soviet occupation.

Some staged, others candid, his images dare to expose “the wounds of society that are very painful”, he says, wielding humour with surgeon-like precision. Storytelling is a survival strategy, as it was for the fishermen and islanders of these extreme lands.

Four hours of sunlight will be lost during the duration of the festival. The quest for light, for visibility, for the appearance of an image, even lightness itself, is a constant refrain. Emma Talbot’s 30-metre silk hanging, Ghost Calls pertains to the possibility of monumentality without weight. It is a poetry mirrored by filmmaker icon Jonas Mekas’s video statement (Orquestina de Pigmeos, 2017), protesting the gigantism of art world institutions and events.

Escaping the institutional setting altogether, South African Nolan Oswald Dennis voyages to the Barents Sea, to examine the role of black bodies in past and future arctic exploration. Then in the Adjourned Courtroom (the courtroom of the former Nazi-era prison), we encounter the Poupéees poubelles sculptures of Marianne Berenhaut, whose entire family was murdered in Auschwitz-Birkenau during the Holocaust. Here is the radical potential of the weak body: fragile nylon stocking dolls as figures of resistance.

Finally, it’s the trauma imprinted in the spaces themselves. In the ‘Haunted School’ (Kabelvåg’s primary school), Tomaso de Luca questions the promise of modernity, through his series of mock booby-traps quietly installed in the school’s changing rooms and communal showers.

Ridiculing the structures of minimalist sculpture, de Luca lays his mechanisms bare, such that the traps betray even their own horror. Instead, he suggests, we must be vigilant against the ‘violence embedded in architecture’ – in this case, ‘the experience of a queer kid in school’, the artist exemplifies – and against the ‘traps’ of society more broadly. Lest we forget early depictions of the vampire were not as a literary motif, but as 18th-century political allegory: a critique against the authority, or even the critic themself.

Kindred to Polidori’s The Vampyre, there is shifting, fluid ambiguity in the narrative mode at LIAF. And without conclusion, just as the blood-sucking Lord Ruthven escapes at the end of Polidori’s novel, unfound. But soon, whispers and spectres begin to take shape in the dark – and the longer one spends amongst the spaces of LIAF, the more that emerges both from its archive of mythology and its new cast of characters. Even the mountains cannot conceal their stories for long.

INFORMATION

The Lofoten International Art Festival will run until 3 October 2022. liaf.no

The Søgne Cabin is a modest structure on a spectacular site. Designed as a weekend retreat for an Oslo-based couple, the 100 sq m coastal cabin had to abide by strict laws restricting excessive development on Norway’s waterfront.

‘My experience is that in 2022, many Norwegians think that 100 m2 is actually a little too small for their dream cabin, a place for extended family and visiting friends,’ says architect Tommie Wilhelmsen, pointing out that there’s a steady stream of coverage of illegal extensions, dodgy dispensations, and code violations along the coast.

‘Instead, we embraced this project and accepted the limitation,’ he continues, ‘The cabin is small, but feels surprisingly large and airy when you are in it. The quality is not about square meters, but in the way it adapts to the landscape and reveals the horizon.’

Set on a slope overlooking an island-strewn bay on Norway's southern coast, the cabin is built and clad in oak. A new concrete foundation contains a pool and a glass-walled terrace opening off the main living spaces. The bedrooms are contained in a pitched roof structure that is raised up above the rocky landscape on slender concrete columns, while steps lead down to a private bathing platform on the edge of the water.

Wilhelmsen describes the project as an exercise in problem-solving, combining functions and unifying the interior and exterior space so that you never feel constricted by the limited floor area.

‘You walk to this cabin through dense forest and rugged terrain,’ he explains, ‘You go down a steep slope to get to the front door. When you enter, the cabin is like a large stage with the sea and the horizon as a backdrop. Walking through the dark forest and then reaching this open plateau overlooking the sea is a nice little ritual.’ 

Space-expanding tricks are everywhere, from the tall ceilings to the full-height windows. The architect points out spatial elements like the sofa that’s incorporated into the kitchen island, or the way the four bedrooms have vast glazed windows, so they didn’t appear like small ‘cells’.

Not only was the floor area constrained, by so was the height and angle pitch of the roof. ‘The task was then to draw something beautiful [within these limitations],’ the architect says, ‘But even within these strict and formal requirements, a lot is possible.’

Despite the setting and the scale, Wilhelmsen acknowledges that the cabin comes across as a blend of ‘poetic Scandinavian modernism’ and the more contemporary ‘paradise hotel’, complete with infinity pool and Boffi kitchen. ‘There was a long dialogue with the client about how much white modernism and how much ‘romantic wood’ was going into the project,’ he says.

One of Wilhelmsen’s earliest projects was the Aurland Lookout, a jutting springboard above one of Norway’s deepest fjords. Designed in collaboration with Todd Saunders, it marked the start of what he describes as ‘creating architecture that you can experience the landscape through.’

‘The buildings are like a movie, where I get to direct, take a camera and show the landscape,’ Wilhelmsen says, ‘Many people are concerned that all rooms should have the best view, I am more concerned that all rooms should have different views.’

INFORMATION

tommie-wilhelmsen.no

The new Oslo National Museum is the latest mega project to open along the Norwegian capital's increasingly buzzing waterfront in the past couple of years. However, unlike its most recent predecessor, the kookily slanted-at-the-top Munch museum, its arrival and presence is more muted. And this despite its whopping 54,600 sq m size and impressive £510m price tag. Composed of a low-slung structure that gets taller as it moves away from the harbour in line with the surrounding streetscape, it is topped by a translucent volume to the fore and a darker volume behind it. At the front it joins up with two existing 19th-century former railway buildings (one of which is now the Nobel Peace Prize museum), forming a new piazza that leads to the entrance foyer. It is at once a monumental and encyclopaedic museum for the 21st century, bringing together the collections of five existing city institutions dedicated to art, architecture and design – yet it is somehow also modest and minimal.

Lead architect Naples-based Klaus Schuwerk (who won the competition with Berlin office Kleihues + Kleihues), credits the city he lives in, a place where there is no fake architecture, he says, and his architectural forefathers over thousands of years for the building’s design. In particular, he cites Leon Battista Alberti, Karl Friedrich Schinkel and Mies van der Rohe, without which this building would have been ‘unthinkable'. A Norwegian newspaper coined the term ‘low-key monumentality’ in relation to the project and Schuwerk liked this definition because, for him, monumentality is not about something being ‘gigantic' but about something ‘that will remain for a long time', something that has meaning and presence.

A lot of the building’s allure and appeal is in fact its aura of calm and solidity in an urban area characterised by visual and architectural diversity and some messiness. The choice of an often local, sometimes noble, and always durable palette of materials plays an important role. A southern German shell limestone was selected for the floors of the public areas, while oak boards are used in the exhibition rooms. Elsewhere, marble can be seen around the windows in the exhibition areas and the windows and oak doors have bronze casings and door handles and fittings respectively. The real material protagonist, or ‘player' as Schuwerk puts it, is a decorative slate from Oppdal in central Norway that was chosen for the façade and vestibule cladding. ‘This stone is what most of Norway is made of but you don’t see it look like this,' says Schuwerk. ‘Usually, it's cut horizontally and then it's a bit cloudy but we cut it vertically across the grain so you see all these layers inside the stone. Within each layer, there are millions of years of Norwegian history.'

Internally the exhibition rooms feature wooden floors and light-filled ceilings, while the central foyers or atriums on each floor have stone floors and textile ceilings. There are tantalising framed views through the galleries, into internal courtyards that contain sculptural works, or up long and elegant staircases, that provide a visual rest and change of pace, a necessity in a building with some 90 rooms, or 13,000 sq m, dedicated to permanent and temporary exhibitions. As well as a publicly accessible art library, two cafés, a fairly discreet yet large museum shop, an auditorium and several meeting rooms, the building, unusually for a city centre museum, also manages to house conservation studios, a photography studio and storage space for most of the museum’s 400,000-plus collection of objects.

The top floor contains the Light Hall, a 133m-long space with walls made of marble glass (thin sheets of Portuguese marble laminated between two sheets of glass) that will be used for temporary exhibitions and sits atop a plinth of grey slate. With the 7m-high ceilings, the atmosphere here is uplifting and luminescent in the daytime, and beacon-like at night, when 9,000 LED diodes highlight its veined patterns to great effect. Perhaps surprisingly, no art can be hung on the walls here, but it is a space that could accommodate dramatic large-scale sculptures or site-specific installations in a way few other venues can and it leads onto an expansive roof terrace that can accommodate more art and events.

It’s no secret that the architect and museum have had a difficult relationship at times, partly due to the former’s uncompromising approach, and that construction delays and escalating costs have also caused controversy. Schuwerk has asked for a clarification to be published on the museum’s website about aspects of the project he says he didn’t author. It’s mainly things like the wayfinding and signage (inside and out), the benches in the exhibition areas, the digital monitors in the entrance foyer and a lot of the furniture, which he feels don’t fit with the architectural vision. He objects to the first-floor café too, saying this was a last-minute addition and there is a proper restaurant space downstairs. There has been some bemusement about his stance, as these things appear fairly small fry to many. 

Yet despite all the ‘noise’ around the project’s inception, the core idea and tone of the building are intact, inside and out. It’s a credit to both the architect’s determination regarding certain material and design choices (the sumptuous marble-clad toilets on the lower-ground floor are a good example of his perseverance), and the museum’s willingness to see it through, that this is the case. Most importantly, however, this is a building that feels comfortable and even inspiring to be in, and solid enough that it should still be here in hundreds of years’ time.

INFORMATION

kleihues.com

The idea of venturing to Valdres, a remote valley four hours north of Oslo in an EV was nerve-wracking. Where would we charge? How would we charge? What would happen if we broke down in the Norwegian woods? My companion Maija Astikainen, a photographer from Helsinki, was equally anxious.

She drives a VW Transporter that she has converted into a camper van. It runs on biogas and in Finland, she can fill up everywhere. In London, I drive a Volvo XC60 hybrid and outside my house is a charging point that is usually either broken (Camden Council, take note) or being hogged by a non-EV.

My worries, the Polestar team reassure me, are because I’m British. In 2021, 65 per cent of all cars sold in Norway were electric. As a result, there would be charge points everywhere. Of course, we had our own set of cables in the bonnet should we need them, and we could always call Polestar's new Norwegian head office, Polestar Space Oslo, if things got really bad.

The first of many Polestar Spaces to be opened around the world, the Oslo Space takes the same minimalist, anti-auto establishment route as that set by the company's sleek HQ building in Gothenburg, designed by Swedish architects Bornstein Lyckefors. 

Our ride was the Polestar 2, the second car built by Sweden’s newest car company. The Polestar 2’s interior looks faintly familiar, with similar knobs and handles and graphics to my Volvo. (Polestar is owned by Volvo and Geely, a group based in China, where the EVs are made.)

But that’s where comparisons end; Polestar 2 has vegan upholstery, and frameless mirrors that dim bright lights in the dark. It feels cool to drive in comparison to the old-fashioned frumpy cousin that is my own school-run carry-all. I open the door by running my hands along a metallic strip and Maija adjusts her seat straight upwards a bit, to give more of a ‘van perspective’.  

We feel like Thelma and Louise racing into the unknown, families left in our (non-existent) exhaust fumes. Then we pull up the GPS. Oslo to Vang (our stopover point) is a round trip of 453km; there are four charging stations along our route. By clicking on them, we can see how much battery we will have by the time we get to each.

We decide to stop when the battery is on 30 per cent, so that if the charging point is busy or doesn’t work, there’s another further along the route within our charge range. We feel smug that we have a back-up plan.

Maija drives first, as the Norwegians and Finns travel on the same side of the road and the traffic around Oslo is heavy. Before long, we’re soaked in scenery so stunning it’s hard to look at the road. Semi-frozen lakes shimmer in the spring sunshine and dense pine forests are capped in shade; the Polestar hums quietly along without disturbing the peace.

The car can accelerate from 0-100 km/h in just five seconds and we put it to the test as we overtake a tractor on a straight bit. It’s easy to cruise at 90km/h without noticing – until we remember that a traffic fine in Norway can be upwards of 700 euros. And that’s before points. 

Our first stop is at Hallingby, a cluster of newish houses built along the main road. It has a Kiwi supermarket and a Recharge charging station with two empty charge points. There’s not a car in sight, just a few people out on their porches enjoying the sun.

We pull up and plug in, tap a key fob onto the screen, which debits payment from our account, and choose the right kind of plug (CCS). We stroll along to the regular gas station to grab a coffee while we charge and after half an hour, the battery is at 90 per cent.  

Our final destination for the day is Lerhol Farm outside Vang. Our host Knut Lerhol has given us directions: ‘Take the E16 for 3.5 hours. Right at the bridge with yellow railings, pass a sign for the Riddarstøga Museum, a big stone and a huge waterfall, where you drive down to our farm. Good luck!’ 

We pass several wrong stones and wrong waterfalls, but luckily the Polestar is nifty at three-point turns on mountain switchbacks, even with summer tyres. We pull up at the farm next to a tractor and Lerhol’s dog Kvikk skips over and urinates against the 20in forged aluminium wheels. Lerhol’s family has owned 50,000 acres in Vang since 1647, over 16 generations. They also own the Riddarstøga Museum, which holds 15 vintage tractors and items from a Norwegian mountain farm from the last 100 years. 

The museum is open by appointment, but it’s not the reason we are here. Lerhol rents out a summer cabin and a sauna called Eldmølla, which he built with the aid of architecture students from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology – structures that will ultimately appear in a book Maija and I are writing about modern sauna culture.

We need to go 3km up a snowy track to reach them, and the best way is by foot, the way Lerhol’s ancestors have always done it, only they were herding the cows. When we get there, we steam in the sauna, jump into the waterfall beneath it to cool off and have a picnic in the cabin where Lerhol’s family spend every July and August. ‘The goal when I take over the farm is to live off tourism and milk production,’ he explains over a cheese sandwich made from bread baked by his sauna collaborator Hallgrim Rogn.

Before we head back to Oslo, we charge near Vang at the (empty) Tesla Supercharger station. Vang has a population of around 2,000 and at least four electric charging stations, all built within the last five years. ‘Only about 30 per cent of people in Vang have an electric car,’ says Lerhol. ‘It’s a slow take-up because of the climate and topography. You often need a 4x4.’

The Polestar 2 certainly suited our needs. And our journey both ways cost NOK290 (£24) and would have been far less if we had been able to charge at home. 

What I initially saw as the future is fast becoming an everyday reality. Norway has decreed that sales of all new cars and vans shall be zero-emission by 2025. Polestar is one of the manufacturers that will make this possible. The company is committed to creating Project 0, a fully climate-neutral EV, by 2030, a goal that will mean bringing production back from China and removing all greenhouse gas emissions from the supply chain and end of life.

Meanwhile, the forthcoming Polestar 3 and 4 models will be electric SUVs – a good option for the people of Vang, perhaps – with the Polestar 5, due in 2024, reportedly based on the elegant Polestar Precept concept.

Helping keep emissions down will be Norwegian aluminium and renewable energy company Hydro, which uses electricity powered by waterfalls, just like the one we swam in – Hydro’s collaboration with Polestar, e-bike maker Cake, and designer Konstantin Grcic was ushered into being by Wallpaper* in 2020.

Zero emissions is one thing, but climate neutrality is a loftier goal and a far harder trail to follow. Polestar looks set to be lighting the way.

INFORMATION

Polestar 2, from £41,900, polestar.com

Norsk Hydro, hydro.com

Maija Astikainen, maijaastikainen.com

To book Eldmølla and the summer cabin, contact @badstufolk and @Knut_lerhol, eldmølla.no

Semi-naked bathers jumping from jetties and relaxing, toasty red, in seafront saunas are a common sight on Oslo’s waterfront. Cold-water swimming is booming in the Norwegian capital and a floating sauna that started life as an act of rebellion in 2013 has turned into a top seafront attraction. 

Oslo Badsforening is a complex of floating saunas at Bjørvika wharf serviced by steaming stoves, a community of bathers and a tranquil, inviting fjord. All six saunas vary in design, from wooden Estonian ‘igloos’ and homemade hotboxes to elegant architectural versions. Indeed, in 2021, one of these was docked at Oslo’s Astrup Fearnley Museum and Norwegian artist Sissel Tolaas devised a sauna scent entitled Liquid Money. Visitors could steam in the smell of money before ‘purifying’ themselves with a dip in the sea.

This week, Oslo Badsforening opens its first ‘island sauna’. Bispen & Munken is a small floating cabin with a sauna, toilet and double beds, and will be docked all year round in front of the imposing Munch Museum. It costs NOK500 (around €50) a night and up to four guests can row themselves to it from the dock in a small wooden boat. Sleeping bags, supplies and security are not provided, and the façade of the cabin is open to the elements.  

Norwegian architect studio Biotope has collaborated with the Norwegian Trekking Association to create the island. For more than 20 years, the pair have created barely-there hide-outs and shelters for birdwatchers in Norway’s best nature spots. ‘We are testing something similar on the water,’ says Ragna Fjeld, general secretary of Oslo Badstuforening, who is working with Biotope on a second, larger, floating sauna. This will host rituals and Aufguss ceremonies in which a ‘sauna master’ wafts hot air around with a towel. ‘We want to bring sauna to the people,' says Fjeld. ‘We look forward to seeing how they will use Oslo's newest island.

INFORMATION 

oslobadstuforening.no

biotope.no

The Norway-based Canadian architect Todd Saunders has been a firm fixture in our pages since the earliest days of his practice. His studio’s residential architecture has maintained an impressive clarity of vision over the years, often combining folded, twisted and stripped-back geometric forms with traditional construction methods and a total commitment to craftsmanship. There is a stark modernity here that can be traced back to the earliest days of modernist architecture, but also a strong Scandinavian functionalism in his many stunning northern homes.

Many of the houses featured in a new monograph written by Dominic Bradbury stand alone in spectacular wilderness, demonstrating a strength and solidity against the elements. One of the most remarkable things about Saunders’ work is that it maintains purity and simplicity in these challenging environments, often touching the ground lightly and enhancing the landscape, not conflicting with it. 

Bradbury’s excellent text covers many unpublished projects, and the book is copiously illustrated with clearly drawn floorplans and striking photography, much of it by Saunders’ long-term collaborator Bent René Synnevåg. The book also includes a look at the studio’s working process, as well as conversations with clients and the architect’s thoughts on this crucial relationship.

‘It's a real misconception that architects like me want carte blanche, because that's the worst thing. I want someone who is going to question me in an intelligent way and in return we try to make the design process a lot of fun for them,' Saunders writes. On the strength of the evidence within, it’s an approach that delivers impressive results and these northern homes are case in point. Here are five key projects from the book. 

Northern homes by Todd Saunders

Villa Austevoll

Seen from above, the form of the Villa Austevoll becomes clear, with the circular skylight over the staircase sitting at the centre of an irregular cross. This island retreat, located south of Bergen, was designed for a couple who favour outdoor living. The cross-shaped plan generates four precisely framed views over the archipelago. 

Villa AT

The gentle, curving form of Villa AT evolved as a response to the site and setting, but also to the weather conditions, particularly the wind, and the need for sheltered spaces around the house as well as within it. The house seems to perch on the rocks, with steps leading down to a freshwater swimming pool. 

Villa Tyssøy

The round edges of the timber-clad building soften the outline of the house, but also help to create a sculptural form sitting in an open landscape. The formation of the building also allows for terraces and outdoor spaces at key points around the villa. The client’s family have lived on this island for over six generations, and the new villa is a continuation of their history in the region. 

Villa Grieg

Coated in Kebony timber and bordered by mature pines, Villa Grieg rises and rotates, with the main body of the house floating above the ground plane, like a sculpted treehouse. The house, which is raised up on pilotis that mirror the surrounding trees, was built for the musician Alexander Grieg and his family. Grieg is a relative of the composer Edvard Grieg, who had a summer house in the Lake Nordås region in the 1880s. 

Villa S

Saunders’ own house, in a historic suburb of Bergen, is a linear villa, dramatically raised above its site. The decision to elevate the main living spaces allowed Saunders to create a semi-protected entry sequence, terrace and play area under the house, which can be used whatever the weather; additional decks and terraces are also situated on the principal storey and on the roof.

INFORMATION
Todd Saunders: New Northern Houses, Dominic Bradbury
thamesandhudson.com, £50
saunders.no 

Danish architecture practice CF Møller has created an invisible house. Villa Aa, located among the rolling hills and historic farmhouses of the Norwegian countryside, is thoroughly modern, yet seemingly melts into its context of greenery and water in the region of Vestfold. Remaining discreet and avoiding any architectural gestures that would make the house prominently stand out in its setting was a key objective right from the start of the development of this elegant, yet minimalist and subtle family home. 

Set within historic farmland, as a new addition to an existing farming complex, the design negotiates its impact on the pristine natural surroundings with poise. In order to protect views, biodiversity and the wider landscape, Villa Aa is nestled into a slope, partly buried and partly completely open to long views of the fields and water beyond. A green roof, carefully chosen materials, and a low overall volume ensure the architecture seamlessly embeds itself into the site.

At the same time, ‘large parts of the southern façade are covered with glass, which provides good lighting conditions, opportunities for natural ventilation and a fantastic view of the fjord', the architects explain. 

Invisible house: low profile, low impact

The home’s main living space, an expansive open-plan area that flows from kitchen to dining space and lounge, is naturally orientated towards the views. Tucked away towards the rear is a more informal family room, as well as bedrooms and bathrooms. Apart from the usual domestic areas, the generous residence also includes a foyer with space for a small glass display case showing family heirlooms, a home office, a guest room, and a utility room. 

Concrete is used throughout – selected for its durability, given that this remains a working farm. It dominates the interiors and the exterior landscaping, such as terraces and steps. Visible formwork and white cement and aggregate afford a tactile and light feel. Untreated cedar cladding, pre-patinated zinc and steel create accents and add texture, while swathes of glass on the front façade make it all appear lightweight and translucent. 

Outdoor areas here are just as important as the indoors, with a wide range of external living spaces surrounding the property. There is a curated garden by Dronninga Landskap; a selection of sun terraces, featuring sculptures and a pergola; and a strong water presence, including a swimming pool and two water mirrors, softening the hard surfaces of the complex. One of the water elements is richly populated by aquatic plants, highlighting how nature and architecture come together effortlessly in this clever, invisible house.

INFORMATION

cfmoller.com

Its glistening façade reflecting gently on the Oslo seafront waters in Norway, the much-awaited Munch Museum, designed by Spanish architecture firm Estudio Herreros, has just been completed and is gearing up towards its public opening on 22 October 2021. Created to host the extensive body of work of Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, the building, set in the city’s growing Bjørvika district, cuts a distinctly contemporary figure, while adding a key cultural destination to the global art and architecture map.

Upon opening, the project will be the one of the world’s largest museums dedicated to a single artist. With over 26,700 works in its collection and 11 galleries to play with, the institution will, for the first time in its history, have ample space to display Munch’s work – including his large-scale murals (such as, The Sun, completed in 1909, which stretches nearly 8m). The exhibits will also include several versions of Munch’s iconic painting, The Scream.

Located a stone’s throw from another Oslo waterfront landmark, the Snøhetta-designed opera house, the museum stands 13 storeys tall. Clad in perforated, translucent aluminium that was selected specifically for its ability to reflect the colours and weather changes of the Oslo skies, its sharp-looking, geometric shape is mirrored elegantly on the fjord’s surface. Meanwhile, higher up, an outdoor terrace allows visitors to take in the landscape and the cityscape beyond. A restaurant is located on the 13th floor. 

The building boasts strong sustainability ceredentials, created as part of the city’s FutureBuilt programme (an ‘Oslo-wide initiative to halve greenhouse gas emissions across the city’, explain its creators). Recycled materials were used where possible, and energy-saving techniques throughout help lower the scheme’s overall carbon footprint.

Come October, the programme of events at the museum will launch with concerts, literature readings, performance and art workshops; all this on top of the permanent and temporary exhibitions within. The aim is to embed the museum in its community and the wider new cultural district of Bjørvika around it. The first show there, ‘Tracey Emin/Edvard Munch: The Loneliness of the Soul’, is set to explore Munch’s influence on Emin. 

INFORMATION

estudioherreros.com

As a founding partner of Snøhetta, Kjetil Trædal Thorsen has had a hand in some of the finest contemporary cultural buildings. From Oslo Opera House, which rises from the fjord like a glacier, to the King Abdulaziz Center for World Culture in Saudi Arabia, which glistens under the desert sun like giant pebbles (W*212), and to the International Cave Art Centre in Lascaux, carved into the landscape like a ravine (W*216), his architecture takes on imaginative forms that are sensitive to their surroundings and conducive to human interaction. ‘It’s about looking at the context of a project and creating the best project for that particular context,’ he tells us.

The Norwegian architect’s passion for public space, his deep understanding of architecture’s social function, and his longstanding commitment to sustainability have made Snøhetta one of the most influential practices of our time, and the recipient of the Cooper Hewitt’s 2020 National Design Award for architecture. They also make Thorsen exceptionally qualified to judge this year’s Wallpaper* Design Awards. 

It was last December when we reached Thorsen via email. We found him in Oslo, taking stock of the year and thinking about ‘the notion of collective memory and our potential as a society to learn, adapt, and change after this pandemic’. He is convinced that we’re in a pivotal moment, and whether and how we learn from our experience ‘will dictate what sort of buildings and cities we design, and by consequence, what kind of world we pass on to our children and grandchildren.’

‘Experts are warning us that viruses like Covid-19 stem from the compounded impacts of deforestation and habitat destruction,’ he points out. ‘We as architects need to take this time to rethink and expand our notion of what it means to conceive both socially and environmentally conscious design.’ 

At Snøhetta, efforts have included a series of Powerhouse buildings (in collaboration with construction company Skanska, environmental organisation Zero, and a few others) that generate more energy than they consume over the course of their lifetime, including construction and demolition. The eventual goal is to scale up this strategy to the rest of Snøhetta’s portfolio, and ultimately throughout the building industry.

Much has been written about the upcoming Svart, in the Arctic circle: a ring-shaped structure that hovers on wooden piles above the clear waters of Holandsfjorden fjord, which will be the world’s northernmost Powerhouse building and the first energy-positive hotel. But Thorsen is equally proud of Snøhetta’s 2020 Powerhouse Telemark office block, despite its mundane industry park surroundings. The faceted building has a sloping roof to allow more space for solar panels. When it launched, a Norwegian architecture critic wrote that the project shows what the everyday will look like in the future. ‘I think that’s huge,’ reflects Thorsen. ‘First, we need to make what seems impossible possible. Then we can make it ordinary all while we innovate and push industry standards further. It’s a cycle of innovation.’

While Snøhetta continues to create remarkable buildings from ground up, there is an increasing emphasis on retrofitting as well, in a bid to lower cement production, which is a carbon-intensive process. Ongoing examples include the Centre Monnaie/Muntcentrum in Brussels, and the Pirelli 35 building in Milan, which ‘deftly merges architecture, landscape, and urban design to create a generous and publicly accessible building with a significantly reduced carbon footprint.’

Beyond client-driven projects, Snøhetta has conducted cross-disciplinary research on materials for building and production: on new ways to substitute virgin plastic with recycled material, and to transform the clay dug up at construction sites into building material. Thorsen explains: ‘A key ambition is to trigger awareness of this ubiquitous material that surrounds us, and to explore, develop and employ new sustainable ways of building for the future.’ 

He believes that building for the future also means protecting and growing public spaces. ‘During the pandemic, we’ve closed ourselves into clans, into extremely small family groups or communities. In the long run this is not a good foundation for creating a society.’ The responsibility falls on urbanists and architects, to create spaces that inspire behavioural shifts (one is reminded of the rooftop of Oslo Opera House, which all visitors are encouraged to climb in a gesture that enables popular access to high culture). But it is equally up to every citizen, who needs to reconsider what spaces they consider private and public. Opening up the gray areas between the two is crucial to fighting loneliness and isolation, but likewise ‘to make sure that we are not pulling ourselves into nationalism,’ he reflects.

Thorsen concludes that our immediate task goes beyond restoring the damage of the past year. The goal should be to build back better, and to take preventative design measures that reduce the risk of disaster, whether it is another pandemic or the climate emergency. ‘We’re not looking to return to normal, but rather to design for a more resilient and adaptable future.’

It follows naturally that looking to our Judges Awards shortlists, Thorsen would be drawn to projects that help secure our future: among them NMB Studio’s portable handwashing station, which promotes effective sanitation in otherwise poorly equipped medical facilities. 

In the Best New Private House category, Thorsen’s vote went to the Bat Trang House, by Vietnamese architect Vo Trong Nghia. Built for an affluent artisanal family in a village known for its ceramic production, it is wrapped in perforated red clay ceramic tiles that protect it from the elements. The layout combines showrooms on the lower floors and private spaces above, which Thorsen calls ‘an exemplary distribution of functions and spaces’. ‘The design further balances a contemporary and vernacular architectural expression emphasised by both form and material. This makes it fresh, new and old at the same time.’

INFORMATION

snohetta.com

What is even more sustainable than a building that produces zero emissions? A building that actually creates more energy than it will consume over its entire lifespan, says Snøhetta. The famed Norwegian architecture studio, together with collaborators R8 Property, Skanska and Asplan Viak, has just completed the fourth energy positive building in its Powerhouse portfolio – Powerhouse Telemark. 

‘The energy sector and building industry account for over 40 per cent of global industry’s heat-trapping emissions combined,' says the team. ‘As the world’s population and the severity of the climate crisis continue to grow, precipitating global disruptions such as the Covid-19 pandemic, architects are challenged to work across industries to build more responsibly.'

Located in the city of Porsgrunn of the Vestfold and Telemark region, the structure is not only an investment in the country's growing green economy, but also much needed workspace for the historically industrial city's economy. The building spans eleven floors and includes traditional office space and co-working areas, as well as a bar, meeting rooms and restaurant and staff canteen. 

The irregular, geometric shape of the building features solar panels on its roof. Natural shading is promoted and added insulation ensures heat is retained where possible. Heat is stored in the building elements, to be released slowly, while a geothermal well supports heating and cooling. As a result it was awarded a BREEAM Excellent** certification.

‘In striving to keep our planet as healthy as possible, we must take this moment to prioritize sustainable design practices, and specifically consider how our work impacts human and non-human inhabitants alike,' says Snøhetta founding partner Kjetil Trædal Thorsen. 

‘Although the gradual violence of the climate crisis might seem less acute compared to the rapid effects of viruses such as Covid-19, especially for those living in the global north, we as architects have a stake in the protection of our built and unbuilt environments. We need more industry-wide alliances such as Powerhouse to push industry standards for what is means to build sustainable buildings and cities, both on an economic, social and environmental scale.'

INFORMATION

snohetta.com

Bodil Blain: How do you start your day? Do you drink coffee?
Kjetil Trædal Thorsen: The first thing I do, normally, is have a shower. I try to get into this mood of ‘waking up’.

BB: So you’re not pensive, where you start your morning by meditating and writing down all your ideas for the day?
KTT: I usually do that the evening before, so the things I’m dealing with the next morning are prepared in my head already. That’s how I’ve been working for the last couple of years, at least; I wake up and immediately know what to do in the morning. And then I go for the coffee – we have our own little espresso machine.

BB: I think it takes a lot of self-confidence to think ‘I have something special and I will take it into the world’. How and when did you discover your talents and ideas?  
KTT: I don’t think too many people start with a lot of self-confidence, so it’s more based on passion and interest, and getting into the things that you’re having to deal with on a day-to-day basis. When I was 15, I was more interested in art, but I had an art teacher who told me that I should become an architect.

BB: You might have a lot to thank that man for! How did your parents react?
KTT: My mother was a teacher and my father was a biochemical engineer, but my grandfather was a painter. They were used to an artistic environment, but they had more of a romantic perspective of what being an artist is like. When I decided to do architecture, I really started to differentiate between that and art.

Architecture entails certain kinds of actions to influence people and generate perceptions of different things, whereas art is doing the same but in a more enclosed environment, on a more individual basis. Architecture is more collective – there’s a different way of doing things and you have to listen more. I think becoming an artist would have been too lonely for me.

BB: I am very interested in collective creativity. I find Snøhetta’s process very interesting – can you tell me how you work as a team? Is this the key to your unusual and unorthodox results?
KTT: Yes; thinking collectively about very complex issues is an extraordinary driving process. Sometimes, it can be the least important sentence in a meeting room that actually creates a necessary solution. It’s really about reading between the lines and learning how to put yourself in a position where you start listening, where you start developing ideas that can come together in a generative manner. We’ve been quite keen on not sketching and designing throughout [meetings], and instead focusing on drawing similar pictures in people’s minds verbally and diagrammatically. By that, we generate concepts which can then influence future designs.

BB: Under – an underwater restaurant in Lindesnes, Norway that won the 2020 Wallpaper* Design Award for Best new restaurant – looks almost like a tube that just naturally fell into water. How did an idea like that transpire?
KTT: We started [by] looking at tilted surfaces as a transition between landscape and the constructed reality we were building. Architecture is, in many ways, the art of prepositions – everything is a reference system to your own location and position in the world. Therefore, the more prepositions you can introduce, the more positions you can take, and the more intimate you become with the object. Our work is not based on any kind of stylistic approach, because while it’s conceptual, it also needs to be contextual. It’s the combination of concept and contexts that we lean on.

BB: Speaking of which, in my interviews with architects, I have found there is a clear sense of social responsibility. How did this come about?
KTT: Sustainability has been our main driving force since [we established our practice in] 1987. We put social sustainability at the top, then all the other sustainabilities follow. For instance, with the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, we introduced the best working conditions ever for Egyptian site construction workers. Then we’re able to educate people through the art.

BB: What would you be and do if you did not start your practice?
KTT: Perhaps an artist? But I don’t think the way I created would have left me that option. If not, then maybe some sort of investigative archaeologist – that could have been interesting.

BB: Your promise of making your buildings energy positive is ambitious and admirable. Tell me about these plans; how will this affect your work?
KTT: Without losing sight of our social sustainability approaches, it is extraordinarily important to recognise that a [global] temperature increase would really have horrible effects. The building industry is accountable for 40% of all the CO2 that we’re leaking into the atmosphere. That would lead us to think that we should have a completely clean energy mix in the future; that anything going into any type of building needs to be renewable. That way we could actually reverse the situation.

For this to become part of the everyday operations of a global practice, you need to have everyone on board. So it is a matter of long-term education and long-term information. Within the next twenty years, we are hoping and aiming for a production line of buildings that will end up being CO2 neutral, and hopefully CO2 negative, which means that every time we go to an opening twenty years from now, it would be a positive contribution to the CO2 environmental issues.

BB: What is Snøhetta’s latest most exciting project?
KTT: There are about sixty projects at the moment. Despite the lockdown, we’ve continued operations and have even signed on quite a few new projects. It is difficult to choose one [most exciting] project because I am interested in too many things. However, being able to start opera houses in addition to Oslo: Busan in South Korea, and now in Shanghai, allows us to implement accessibility and study what we were talking about earlier – prepositions in architecture in a Chinese environment, with Chinese culture influencing it. So that’s definitely up there on the list. 

On the other side, there are very small projects we’ve been working on for research: establishing small houses in Norway for people who struggle in their living environments, victims of psychiatric drug addiction, for instance. A lot of these patients would come in and ruin their own home simply out of frustration. We’re interested in seeing if architecture can help calm that somehow. Say, the hallway could be twice the size of the entire apartment, simply because you need a longer transition. Some of these transitions, between indoors and outdoors, can be very abrupt and thus not allow them to comprehensively adapt to the situation. We’re trying to build some test housing next year to see if architecture could help with psychology. 

BB: Who has influenced you the most in terms of your career?
KTT: People we’ve worked with, like Olafur Eliasson, have brought a certain level of confidence as we move into the content of things, rather than just the looks of things. Looks and aesthetics are there, and they will come if you have that grounded perception of how you want things to be. Many people can design a beautiful building under the right circumstances, but it needs to be more layered than that.

Through our research, we look for the ‘odd one out’ – we say that it’s a particular situation that gives us a result, whereas others might just look for whatever is right in front of them. For example, if any architectural practice is designing something along a ring road in Oslo, they would be interested in the number of cars driving through. We, however, would be interested in the amount of red cars, or how many people would be in a red car versus a blue car. We would start looking at what other aspects there are in these environments, and how they inform us. A lot of things that we are doing now are catching on with younger generations, which I’m really happy about. Maybe that will even lead to new collaborations.

INFORMATION

snohetta.com

A version of this story featured in the October issue of Wallpaper* (W*258), on newsstands and available as a complimentary PDF download from 17 September

Kjetil Trædal Thorsen will join MIT Media Lab’s Neri Oxman, Google’s Ivy Ross and MoMA’s Paola Antonelli for a digital conversation about materials and circularity on 15 September, 4:30–5:30PM BST. The conversation will be moderated by Wallpaper* Editor-in-Chief Sarah Douglas. Tickets are free, please register here to reserve your space.

The Red Concrete house, a starkly minimalist russet box, is bigger and bolder than its budget would suggest. It was designed by John Sanden and Ingvild Hodnekvam of Sanden+Hodnekvam Arkitekter for three generations of the same family. And there is reason behind its repeated rhythms. Set on a steep hill in Lillehammer in Norway, the house was essentially designed in a kit form, making for an affordable (partly) self-build.

The same arrangement of pre-fabricated concrete elements – with a 50mm outer layer made with an iron oxide pigment – are repeated over and over in the design. That system approach made the house relatively simple to assemble and – with material re-use in mind – disassemble.

MORE FROM WALLPAPER* ARCHITECTS DIRECTORY 2020

The interior is similarly rational and no-frills and was designed and installed by the clients. Knot-free pine panelling has been used on the floors and ceiling of the kitchen and living room while concrete slabs and screed have been used in the rest of the house. 

‘Our projects often have a certain directness,' the pair says, ‘whether it is a strict plan or simple material palette, but we are very interested in trying to create spaces that don’t unfold all of its qualities right away.' And they insist that great architecture can be affordable. ‘Architectural quality does not depend on a big budget. It is challenging and interesting to create quality with limited resources. Housing quality should apply to everyone.'

INFORMATION

sandenhodnekvam.no

On 28 March 2009, Atelier Oslo received a phone call that it ‘would never forget’. The Norwegian firm, along with architecture and urban design practice Lundhagem, had scored a major coup: to design an ambitious new public library for the city of Oslo. Some 11 years later (and its original March launch date scuppered by the Covid-19 pandemic), the much-anticipated Deichman Bjørvika will finally open to the public today.

The architectural concept is based on a ‘large, central continuous space that stretches up through the storeys,’ eschewing the notion of narrow warrens of books that has become almost synonymous with public libraries. Spanning 145,00 sq ft over six amenity-packed floors, Deichman Bjørvika is a climate-focused, state-of-the-art declaration for a library of the future.

Aside from books, of course, the library hopes to reach its visitors through technology: budding musicians, for example, have access to instruments (along with instructional films on how to play them), while the children’s floor has several interactive video installations. A cinema, auditorium, and storage facilities are located in the basement. The library also contains a canteen, restaurant, archive spaces, and workspaces.

Combining translucent walls with glass windows, the building’s façade creates a light and airy dynamic inside. The exposed concrete ceilings – with its striking honeycomb pattern – draws the eye up through the central atrium. The top floor of the of the library cantilevers out, ‘announcing its presence’ to visitors arriving from the downtown and Oslo’s central station (in return it offers spectacular views of the city and surrounding fjords). The interiors were designed in collaboration with AS Scenario Interiørarkitekter.

But it’s not just its heritage as Norway’s oldest cultural institution that the Deichman Library (which has 22 branches) is celebrating. A specially designed room in the new building is dedicated to a forward-looking project by Scottish artist Katie Paterson that will take 100 years to be realised. Each year between now and then, one writer will contribute a text to be held in a trust, unread and unpublished, until 2114, when the manuscripts will go on display in the library.

In the meantime, Deichman Bjørvika aims to welcome two million visitors each year to explore its vast multimedia collection, although it is currently limiting entry to 1,000 people at any given time (the library’s usual capacity is 3,000). As the world readies to turn the page to a new chapter, so too does Oslo.

INFORMATION

lundhagem.no; atelieroslo.no

Contemporary Norwegian design has always had an underlying focus on innovation and sustainability, and since 2015, annual initiative Norwegian Presence (shown during Milan Design Week) has presented an exciting showcase of this modus operandi. This year, the project returns with a new group of designers, whose work intends to spark a dialogue on innovation in the design and production process, shown virtually inside Norwegian painter Edvard Munch’s own studio in Ekely in lieu of the Italian furniture fair’s physical presentation.

Circular production, sustainable design thinking and materials are at the heart of the new edition, featuring 11 designers chosen for their commitment to a serious environmental concern combined with an innovative aesthetic.

‘All the projects in the exhibition show a product that has been created in an innovative way, focusing on low emissions, craftsmanship and processes that lead us into a new century,’ explains Marit Haugen from Oslo-based architecture practice Haugen/Zohar. Together with Benedicte Sunde from Design and Architecture Norway (DOGA), she curated this year’s selection, which the pair describes as ‘sympathetic, thrifty and innovative’.

The collection of pieces speaks honestly about processes and materials, which are clearly reflected in their aesthetic. ‘What does pretty mean?’ asks Haugen. ‘The exhibition is a reaction against the glamour that has dominated the design field for a while now.’ She cites the work of Poppy Lawman, whose Papirstein chair, made of compressed paper in collaboration with a 122-year-old paper mill, is not presented as a traditional furniture piece, the result of techniques normally employed in packaging design.

‘We are done with the aestheticization of the Norwegian landscape, where nature is reflected in the arches of a sofa,’ adds Sunde. ‘Now the raw, Norwegian materials are the products. It’s seaweed plastic, it’s natural stone, recyclable aluminium, wood and paper.’

‘Norwegian farms’ signature stump stool is simply a part of a tree trunk. We are a nation of raw materials’ - Benedicte Sunde

The materials and techniques presented range from digital textile print to stone-cast aluminium, with more traditional fabrication methods in the mix. Some of the objects’ pioneering approach is reflected in their functionality, for example in Philipp von Hase’s Aaltobelli set, comprising a table and stools that can be disassembled and stored in a leather case – an answer to a more flexible way of living.

‘As a nation […] we find things in nature and make something from it,’ explains Sunde. ‘Norwegian farms’ signature stump stool is simply a part of a tree trunk. We are a nation of raw materials.’

This year’s Norwegian Presence roster was photographed by Lasse Fløde and styled by Kråkvik&D’Orazio at Munch’ original atelier. ‘The paint stains on the floor of the studio are visible traces of Edvard Munch’s work and held a special meaning for us,’ Sunde says. ‘They are a symbol of what the exhibition is about: the creative process behind the products, the properties of the materials and the openness of what is required.’

INFORMATION

norwegianpresence.no

The seventh edition of the Oslo Architecture Triennale has opened in the Norwegian capital. Entitled ‘Enough: The Architecture of Degrowth', it is based on a straightforward yet compelling premise – that the pursuit of unconditional GDP growth is leading to environmental catastrophe and that business as usual is failing the majority of our planet’s inhabitants. ‘Studies going back to the 70s show that swelling GDP above a relatively modest level does little to improve life expectancy, social progress, life satisfaction, happiness or equality,’ said one of the Triennale’s four curators, engineer and architect Maria Smith, at the opening. ‘Most of economic growth is just making the rich richer'.

On its opening weekend the Triennale demonstrated how it wanted to do things differently, how it wanted to be ‘an architecture festival for the whole body, not just the brain,’ in the words of co-curator and architecture critic Phineas Harper. Yes, there was the inevitable – and fascinating – main exhibition in the city’s National Museum of Architecture (more on that in a moment), but above all there were workshops, guided walks, performances, talks, debates and film screenings located in four designated ‘degrowth institutions’ (a library, a theatre, an academy and a playground) as well as other venues around town. This programme will continue throughout the full eight-week Triennale with the aim of engaging, demonstrating and, above all, sharing ideas and realities around the degrowth theme.

The more immersive, playful and interactive strand of the Triennale was curated by urban researcher and artist Cecilie Sachs Olsen and includes a series of clever participatory games as well as an audio walk called ‘Place Listening’ created by Sachs in collaboration with artist Nina Lund Westerdahl out of a series of workshops held in Oslo earlier this year. The walk challenges the listener to slow down and think actively about the city they find themselves in and ask why so much of it is designed around consumption rather than coexistence. What would you want to see go up in an empty plot of land it asks the listener/walker as you pass by a vacant lot. Do certain areas make you feel excluded or safe? Have you made any eye contact with passers-by today? Why is play proscribed to playground areas and suitable only for children? 

The main exhibition, called ‘The Library', is located in the National Museum of Architecture, a former 1830s bank adapted and extended with a concrete and glass pavilion by Norwegian architect Sverre Fehn. ‘The Library' celebrates the sharing, de-commodification, and democratisation of goods and ideas and takes the idea of reuse to the next level, to start with, in the exhibition design itself. ‘The first thing people asked us is: you won’t be building anything new then if your theme is degrowth,' says architect and the fourth co-curator of the Triennale, Matthew Dalziel, ‘and the first thing we were faced with, paradoxically, was having to build an exhibition!' The exhibition design is accordingly almost entirely ‘remetabolised’ from elements found in the museum’s basement and left over from a previous landscape design exhibition held in the venue designed by Snøhetta. What’s more, the materials will be made available to others once the Triennale is over.

Within the niches, shelves and spaces created by this simple but effective plywood and cotton fabric structure, devices, materials, drawings, models and prototypes showcased a future that will necessarily be collaborative. The space investigates the life of a well-known Oslo squat for instance, a community centre focusing on ‘Dugnad’ (mutual support in Norwegian) and local self-determination, or an idea for a civic launderette, where an activity now commodified and desocialised might once again become a more collective and less isolated ritual where resources are centralised.

A number of projects showed various ways forward in terms of reuse of existing materials too. One that stood out was a prototype by Milan-based design studio GISTO who had scoured a former army base in northern Italy scheduled for partial demolition for materials that could be turned into simple self-assembled furniture on a semi-industrial scale. ‘A little bit like an IKEA for the recycling era' explained Alessandro Mason, founder of the practice. Windows had been turned into desks, shelves and tables, plywood and ventilation covers into sculptural room dividers, carpet into acoustic walls and slabs of marble into benches, and a manual with a methodology that could be applied to similar future projects had been produced.

‘Enough’ has only just begun, but already it has created a new model of Triennale: one that celebrates the sharing of ideas and knowledge over and above the creation of new products and buildings and that offers inspiration, optimism and ideas for an alternative to our current consumption-centric and growth-based economic system. That in itself is an achievement. 

INFORMATION

oslotriennale.no

Designed by Oslo-based architecture practice Aslak Haanshuus Arkitekter, this sorbet-spruce fir-clad house lands gently upon the forest floor. While it's a relatively large detached house, it’s a surprisingly light landing – it’s four wings stretch out from its core, spreading out its weight over the land.

The sloping plot, with views of Norway’s picturesque Frierfjord, was a rocky base covered in trees – but instead of clearing and leveling, careful topographic studies of the site were made before the designing began. The lower floor of the house is sculpted around the rock beds and the trees, guiding its shape into four wings that wrap into the landscape.

Architect Aslak Krogness Haanshuus, who led the project, is familiar with building in Norway’s landscape – his Z-shaped cabin in the Gudbrandsdalen valley similarly fell into step with its environment. Here at Villa Bamble, which is named after its location in Bamble, Stathelle in the Telemark region, the landscape also defined the way of life.

Because of the plan, rooms could be orientated in a diverse range of angles to reflect their function. The bedrooms face the morning sun to the east for a sunny, energized wake-up. The kitchen and dining room faces south west making the most of the light for as long as possible. While the living room faces, north-west, orientated to appreciate the view of the fjord.

Reaching into the forests like fingers, each wing has an outdoor paved concrete terrace at the end. From the dining room, the terrace extends into a walkway that you can follow to a sheltered spot for a private moment.

Villa Bamble does its best to lie low – the connected wings all have flat roofs, that help to create more horizontality for the architecture to hide behind the trees, embed into the land, and become a bridge for experiencing nature through the house’s large windows.

INFORMATION

ahaa.no

It's no secret that the Norwegians love a holiday cabin. A large part of the population traditionally spends the summer in simple, wooden structures in forests and by the water, which they use as a base to appreciate and enjoy their country's beautiful countryside. This new cabin in Stokkøya, an island off the mainland coast in Norway's north, is an example of such a structure, created jointly by Fur arkitekter and Agraff arkitektur.

Commissioned by a couple with a base in nearby Trondheim, the project involved the replacement of an old boathouse on site with a light, timber building where the clients can entertain guests, creating ‘unique food experiences rooted in Norwegian coastal culture'.

Named, ‘Naustet' (which derives from the Norwegian word for a traditional boat house), the cabin references its origins and the site in more ways than one. The new structure also gives a nod to the older one through the use of traditional timber frames, which were updated to fit modern needs. 

The exterior cladding is made of spruce and treated with linseed oil to appear darker. A jetty for boats, an outdoor kitchen, a sauna and a hot tub complete the composition on site. Meanwhile inside, an open plan, generous main level houses a kitchen and dinning space for 12, while stairs lead up to four different mezzanine bedroom areas. Interiors come courtesy of SJ Design, who worked closely with the architects (commissioned as Tyin Tengestue, before the firm's partners split up into Fur and Agraff architects).

‘Stokkøya was a unique concept for us from the outset and one which was fantastic to see come to fruition. Our brief was to design a food studio with all the facilities of a commercial kitchen, that could also sleep up to eight guests', say the interior designers. ‘So, the logistics of all this in a space this size meant that everything must have a place and a reason for being there. When you are working with a fully bespoke interior you have the opportunity to do this, but the hard part is to always make it look simple and intuitive for the user.'

INFORMATION

tyinarchitects.com; naustetstokkoya.no; sjdesign.no

When designer Morten Hippe joined forces with furniture maker Frode Tingbø and a mutual friend, former professional footballer Jørgen Tengesdal, the trio had a clear idea in mind: to bring classic mid-20th century Norwegian designs back to life, or, as Hippe himself puts it, ‘to highlight the geniality of Norway’s long-lost design history for the world to see’.

They set up Eikund in 2016 with this premise and, after a year of research into the country’s furniture archives, design history, manufacturing techniques and materials, the brand unveiled the first reissues of designs by Sigurd Resell, Torbjørn Bekken and Fredrik Kayser; wooden chairs and tables featuring a distinctive Scandinavian aesthetic and a minimalist sensibility.  More furniture designs are in the works for 2019, and the young brand has also collaborated with hotels and restaurants, such as Stockholm’s At Six hotel, and institutions, such as the Norwegian Consulate General in New York.

‘Norway is the underdog of Nordic design,’ says Hippe. ‘When people think of Norway, they think about our oil and fishing industries, but we are much more than that,’ he continues, citing craftsmanship traditions, which range from boat building to weaving, embedded in a design DNA that still inspires a young generation of brilliant creative minds.

Having established its furniture production, Eikund’s next project takes on a humbler scale – a polar bear figurine by Arne Tjomsland, a somewhat forgotten figure of Norwegian design. Until now, his work has been a well-kept secret outside of the country, and even there, Hippe notes, it is mainly appreciated by rare collectors. A self-taught designer, Tjomsland specialised in small animal figures carved from wood or whalebone. Hippe says Tjomsland’s designs were on their to-do list from the start, but they had concerns about their fit with the new brand. ‘We came to the conclusion that we had to get his collection preserved for future generations, as it’s way too good to be forgotten.’

Tjomsland was born in 1915, the son of a preparator at Oslo’s Zoological Museum. Having lost his mother at a young age, he spent his days at the museum with his father, surrounded by animals; an environment that inspired his creativity. ‘One of his clearest memories,’ says Hippe, ‘was of a skinned bear hanging from the roof, a vision that stayed with him his whole life.’

In the 1940s and 1950s, Tjomsland worked in advertising and as a designer for the Kon-Tiki Museum in Oslo, before setting up his own carving workshop at home. The first piece he created, in 1955, was inspired by his time at the museum as a child: a stylised polar bear, its shape as simple as it was expressive. This marked the beginning of a prolific output of animal figurines inspired by Arctic fauna, as well as Inuits and Vikings, in wood and whaletooth. When demand for his pieces grew, production was partly taken over by a local company, Goodwill, which carried on making his pieces until the mid-1960s.

To get to grips with the full stretch of the archive, Hippe and his team worked closely with collectors all over Norway and with Tjomsland’s son Stein. ‘When I was young, I didn’t think much of all the sculptures he brought home,’ says Stein Tjomsland. ‘But in recent years, I could clearly see his genius in making those objects look so alive.’ One of his most vivid memories of his father involves him carving a piece of soap. ‘I was about eight or nine and I saw my father standing at the kitchen table with the soap and a knife. He started carving and within a few minutes he had turned it into a musk-ox. Then he said: “Now go wash your hands for dinner, and use this musk-ox to do it”.’

All of Tjomsland’s pieces seem to be intuitively carved with a sensibility that combines a deep understanding of natural shapes coupled with a poetic imagination and a touch of humour. ‘They all have their own personality in the way they look,’ says Hippe. ‘Tjomsland was able to catch a feeling in all his pieces, not too serious, not too playful, but just right.’

The polar bear is the first of what Hippe hopes will become a series of pieces by Tjomsland. It also expands Eikund’s scope as it enters into a collaboration with the WWF. ‘Together we will put focus on the polar bear and its diminishing habitat, issuing a special edition to support all the work that’s being done to protect this threatened species,’ says Hippe. And as Tjomsland’s originals were carved out of teak, a material from the rainforest, this has been substituted for a more sustainable wood, alder.

It has been a learning curve for Hippe and his team, both from a manufacturing perspective and for expanding their knowledge of Norway’s design history. ‘Tjomsland was special in that he saw things differently. He wanted to show the beauty of Nordic fauna in a pure and simple way,’ says Hippe, concluding with a quote from Tjomsland himself, which could very well serve as a universal definition of good design: ‘Because life is complicated, it has to be pure and right.

As originally featured in the April 2019 issue of Wallpaper* (W*241)

INFORMATION

eikund.com

‘The energy sector and building industry accounts for over 40 per cent of global industry’s heat-trapping emissions combined, according to the World Resources Institute', explain Oslo-based architects Snøhetta. ‘As the world’s population and consequences of the climate crisis continue to grow worldwide, we are challenged to think how to build responsibly – creating high quality spaces for people while also reducing our environmental footprint.'

Their input towards solving this crisis? A dedication to considerate, sustainable architecture, and their latest offering – Powerhouse Brattørkaia, in Trondheim, Norway – is a case in point. Welcome to the 'world’s northernmost energy-positive building'. 

This innovative building – which houses workspaces – is cleverly designed to actually produce energy, rather than just consume it. In fact, astonishingly, it produces more electricity than it consumes – and that includes the energy that was required to build it.

Solar harvesting (through, for example, solar cells) was a key way to achieve this, while the nearby sea water contributes to both the heating and cooling system within. A sloping roof and top level courtyard were designed towards optimal orientation for solar energy production. So now, the building not only supports its own energy needs, but actually powers neighbouring buildings, electric buses, cars and boats too, through a local micro grid. 

‘Energy-positive buildings are the buildings of the future. The mantra of the design industry should not be “form follows function” but “form follows environment”. This means that the design thinking of today should focus on environmental considerations and reducing our footprint first, and have the design follow this premise,' says Snøhetta founder Kjetil Trædal Thorsen. 

INFORMATION

snohetta.com