DIARY
Here’s some cool shit I saw at the 3 Days of Design in Copenhagen.
One such exhibit that captivated my imagination was from Danish innovators, Søuld who have developed an incredible new building material made from a marine grass that was traditionally used for roofing applications on the island of Læsø. Through sheer curiosity, I was compelled to attend their story telling and roof weaving workshop in the ‘industrial harbour-turned-cultural hub’ of Refshaleøenan. Their gallery exhibit was on a charming old boat moored in a picturesque canal, with sustainability icon ‘CopenHill’ serving as a dramatic backdrop (I still can’t decide if this was serendipitous, or masterfully deliberate).
As the gently flowing water lapped against the boat, founders Kirsten Lynge and Henning Johansen shared the story of the Eelgrass rooves of Læsø
'The Forager' is an homage to the essence of creativity. It's a sanctuary where community and the wilderness converge in a delicate ballet of sustenance and serenity. This landscape architecture vision marries the utilitarian with the mystical, elevating the simple act of gathering nature's offerings into an enchanting communal observance nestled in an otherworldly setting.
In design there’s a tendency to mythologise the individual: the architect, the visionary, the mind behind the landmark. We see it in names etched on the walls of skyscrapers, in glossy magazine spreads celebrating ‘bold new visions’, and in spaces that are crafted more to make statement than serve purpose. But the world of design is no stranger to contrast, and an alternate approach has begun to quietly emerge; one that posits a step away from self-aggrandising, and a step toward a subtler, yet arguably more important purpose. What if a designer’s real purpose isn’t to showcase, but to serve?