Design as emotional architecture

A conversation with Jonas Bjerre-Poulsen of Norm Architects on soft minimalism, material honesty and MONUMENTS at 3daysofdesign.

 

 

In an era defined by noise and novelty, Norm Architects offers something quieter. Based in Copenhagen, the studio — co-founded by Jonas Bjerre-Poulsen — works across architecture, interiors, design and art direction. But what links its disciplines isn’t a look. It’s a sensibility Jonas calls “soft minimalism”: a restrained, human-centred approach rooted in texture, atmosphere and emotional clarity.

It’s about reducing without removing the soul,” he says — not a visual style, but a way of thinking. That thinking emerged in quiet contrast to the visual excess of the late 2000s. While others chased novelty, Norm sought longevity. “Much of what we see today is made for the image,” Jonas notes. “It’s consumed quickly and forgotten. Real design — the kind that stays with you — takes time.”

Norm’s spaces are designed to endure. Over the years, the studio’s interest in atmosphere has only deepened. Rooms are approached not as neutral backdrops, but as environments that shape behaviour and emotion. “People are beginning to crave places that offer respite,” he says. “Not through cold minimalism, but through tactility, soul — a simplicity that carries emotional weight.” That simplicity often begins with material. Stone, wood, clay, wool — elemental and time-honoured, allowed to weather and absorb meaning. “We’re drawn to patina, not perfection,” Jonas says. “These materials feel alive.”

Yet the process rarely starts there. More often, it begins with a question: How should this space feel? “We look at anthropology, psychology — what it’s for, how it’s used. Only then do we look for the materials that can express those answers. It’s not about bending a material to fit an idea, but finding what feels true.”

 

 

That dialogue between context and material played out recently in London’s Chancery House. Rather than impose a new language, Norm looked outward — to the legal district’s brick, metal, and green pocket parks — drawing those cues inward. A sculptural lamp, created for the space and now part of Audo’s collection, echoed the building’s stepped façade. “It wasn’t just a fixture,” Jonas says. “It became a quiet monument, a kind of architecture within the room.

That sense of presence — where form defines atmosphere — shapes everything Norm touches. Even the smallest gesture can anchor a space. “A well-placed bench in a hallway invites pause,” Jonas explains. “A generous form in a compact room can make the space feel larger. It’s about orchestrating emotion through proportion.” In time, these objects begin to feel personal. “They become companions,” he says. “A chair absorbs your posture. A lamp reflects your hours. They evolve with you.

Few collaborations illustrate that belief better than Norm’s ongoing partnership with Audo. Together for over a decade, they’ve moved fluidly across product design, interiors and brand direction. “Audo has always trusted us to work across scales,” Jonas says. “It’s never just about making objects: it’s about shaping a meaningful whole.

Their latest collaboration, MONUMENTS, unfolds throughout Audo House during 3daysofdesign. Conceived with art director Christian Møller Andersen, the installation explores classical ideals — symmetry, clarity, proportion — through the lens of contemporary minimalism.

“Audo House is a contradiction,” Jonas says. “From the outside, it feels formal, monumental. Inside, it’s industrial, raw. That tension became our narrative.” The installation embraces it. Antique sculptures and contemporary pieces are layered with skirtings, bodega curtains and subtly theatrical touches. These interpretive gestures ask what monumentality means today. Each room is a spatial meditation. Some intimate, some saturated. All designed to be felt rather than explained. “We want people to sense how scale, light and material affect emotion,” he says.

In the end, MONUMENTS isn’t about grandeur. It’s about intention. “To be monumental doesn’t mean to be large,” Jonas reflects. “It means to endure. A simple object, made with care, can carry that weight. In a world moving so fast, maybe the most radical thing we can do is slow down — and let things last.

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