I walk through the exhibition on a sunny November morning, while golden sunlight streams in through the tall, lattice windows. The many impressions make me curious and tempt me to hurry through to see everything, but I force myself to slow down – to linger over each individual project.
I start by stopping at a couple of garments hanging from the ceiling that look as if they are made of thin plastic material, perhaps something upcycled. However, it turns out that I am mistaken, because the garments are self-grown, biodegradable kombucha costumes created for the opera The Girl with the Hurricane Brain. They are a sustainable, biodegradable alternative to traditional costumes, which are made of long-lasting materials, despite only being used for a short time.
I appreciate that visitors are encouraged to touch the exhibits. In fact, they are invited to do so – ‘please touch’ it says, and I am happy to comply, as I believe that the experience of functional objects should include sensory interaction.
Focus on materials
The exhibition places a strong focus on what it means to work sustainably with materials, leading to investigations into living materials, new material combinations, relational materials and materials created from waste. Not only are material solutions presented, but questions are also raised about what greenwashing means and how to work more authentically with, for example, bioplastics.
At the same time, it examines how to take a more circular approach to materials and recycling: Can materials, for example, move across industries with the phrase ‘one man’s waste is another man’s treasure’ as a guiding principle?
Aesthetics as a variable parameter in material-driven design is also examined. If the starting point is, for example, discarded textiles, one must embrace their textures and colours, which can pave the way for a new aesthetic that does not cultivate perfection and uniformity, but instead emphasises the raw and irregular and perhaps embraces changeability.
The open and withered
This way of thinking is reflected in projects that focus on openness: opening up design and architecture so that real life and nature can be co-players that influence design language, functions and life cycles. This stands in sharp contrast to closed solutions that leave no room for traces of use and decay. When a form closes in on itself, it stiffens and becomes unable to follow the flow and changes of life.
The open form, on the other hand, is regenerative and flexible. The focus is therefore not on a picture-perfect end result that needs to be maintained, but on the living and unpolished, and on interaction and well-being.
An example of open design is the interdisciplinary project Adaptive Knit, which works with knitted rib patterns that function as flexible sunshades, challenging static facades.
It is easy to imagine how these knitted elements will add tactility and colour to an otherwise barren building facade.
Another example is the Wetlands project, which views architecture as evolving, dynamic and open, and explores the possibilities of self-sufficient architecture in interaction with nature. The project paints an aesthetically nourishing picture of settlement in a flooded world characterised by relationships – something that one might otherwise easily have imagined as dark and dystopian.
The next age
One may – and perhaps should – ask whether humans must necessarily be the focal point when we design and build. Several of the projects challenge precisely this anthropocentric worldview and explore whether interaction with nature, or even symbiosis with ecosystems, is the next natural step. This points to a movement away from the Anthropocene and into what is often referred to as the Symbiocene: a framework for understanding a possible next age in which nature is seen as an active participant. In one case, nature is even given political influence.
The Host project explores the forest as a political actor. It is based on five months of observations in a Swedish forest, where the two architects behind the project devoted themselves to observations and reflections and arrived at ideas about supportive architecture designed with respect for and in dialogue with nature.
Perhaps it is time for a new philosophy of existence that not only focuses on human life and interpersonal relationships, but also sees nature as an active participant?
The re-enchanted landscape
I sit down in the small, semi-enclosed area where short films are shown, and take particular note of the project Towards a New Perception of the City. The focus is on breathing new life into Denmark’s remote, depopulated towns. The solution scenario explored by the project is a form of rewilding: more nature, more tactility, more flexibility.
At the same time, the project insists that transformation can replace expansion: that we should use the buildings that already exist, rather than expanding with new construction or demolishing and building new. There needs to be more recreational areas, less homogeneity – and far more unpolished, dynamic environments where real life can develop.
Along the same lines, the project Unheard Tales of Mysterious Creatures and Quirky Nature Types (what a wonderful title!) works with the idea of the re-enchanted landscape. The thesis is that re-enchantment can lead to more caring agriculture and new forms of nature and communities.
The November sun was filled with both inspiration and hope
In addition to concrete proposals – from new regenerative materials to inclusive pictograms and community-oriented architecture for the Roskilde Festival – the exhibition also features more abstract, or perhaps rather poetic and philosophical, explorations of foundations, homes, nature and human life. How do we live sustainably? Because sustainability is more than resource optimisation and green consumption; sustainable living is a life that nourishes us and that we can justify. A life that is meaningful, relationship-based and ethically grounded.
Moving from project to project gives us hope for the future: there are simply so many wonderfully visionary ways to work more sustainably with design and architecture and thus slow down – perhaps even reverse – climate change. At the same time, a picture of a dystopian future is also emerging: oceans without fish, few remaining natural resources and far more natural disasters. Along the way, the exhibition also raises the question of our individual responsibility – what can and should we do as individuals?
In addition to concrete proposals – from new regenerative materials to inclusive pictograms and community-oriented architecture for the Roskilde Festival – the exhibition also contains
There is something poetic, human and slightly humble about the exhibition. It does not claim to be able to solve all problems, but aims first and foremost to inspire. You can easily spend an entire morning (or afternoon) in the high-ceilinged room – I did. And what’s more, it’s free to visit.
I would recommend seeing the exhibition with someone you enjoy discussing things with. In any case, I walked out into the November sunshine filled with both inspiration and hope – and with a great desire to talk about what I had experienced.
About the exhibition
3o October 2025 – 16 April 2026.
The Royal Danish Academy. Copenhagen.