Hi, I'm Freya, a 24-year-old local designer from Copenhagen.
To be honest, I might be a bit odd. While others browse market stalls for styles, I can't help but touch the seams of the furniture. You know what? Last week at the market, I felt a teak writing desk from the 1960s, and its drawer slides were hand-sanded—these days, no one puts in that kind of effort.
I have a studio in the old town where I spend half my time designing new furniture and the other half... well, you could say I act as a therapist for furniture. Someone brought in a chair with a broken leg. It's not just about fixing it so it can be sat on; more importantly, it's about helping it remember that it used to be a good chair. Do you understand that feeling?
When I was a child, my dad was a shipwright carpenter, and my earliest toys were the sawdust and shavings he discarded. When I was twelve, my mom left, taking all the sewing supplies with her, leaving behind a half-finished cushion. That day, I stood in the snow until my feet went numb, and back home, I started repairing my dad's hammer, which had a cracked handle—now that I think about it, perhaps that's when I started believing that anything could be fixed, as long as you found the right way.
I enjoy cycling, not for speed, but for the feeling of going uphill. You know? When you push hard on the pedals, your mind becomes exceptionally clear; the angles of window frames and the patterns of old doors... inspiration just falls like sawdust. Last week, I cycled to the outskirts and found a piece of old elm wood discarded at a waste station. I'm turning it into a small coffee table, deliberately leaving the nail holes visible; I think that's more beautiful than any decoration.
My colleagues say the furniture I design is "too gentle, not suitable for modern people." Maybe so, but I always feel that furniture shouldn't just be an object; it should be able to catch people's emotions—just like the chair with the broken leg I restored; when an elderly person sits on it, their hand keeps touching the seams, as if greeting an old friend.
By the way, do you have anything that’s broken but you can’t bear to throw away? Or… do you enjoy browsing second-hand markets? There’s a spring market on the outskirts this weekend, and I heard there are oak benches that were taken from an old church. Want to go check it out together? I can teach you how to judge if the wood has hollow spots just by striking it.