Interviews, Issue 4

Dorte Mandrup

Shaping the passage of tomorrow

Words SUBIN ANDERSON

Photography IRINA BOERSMA CÉSAR MACHADO

Dorte Mandrup is a Danish architect who gives life to form to document the world of yesterday, live within the present, and shape the passage of tomorrow.

Mandrup’s practice is led by irreplaceable design combined with detailed research elevating the meaning of the space while addressing environmental and societal issues. Every approach starts with understanding the importance of need and purpose. Mandrup’s architectural practice opens a dialogue of how one can feel, sense, and recall memories through each structure—thus making a special connection with each encounter.

SUBIN ANDERSON: How are your days like these days?

DORTE MANDRUP: Since the pandemic, I feel like I have spent most of my time in front of a screen. It has been challenging, but recently our team has been back in the office and traveling again. Towards the end of last year, I had a chance to visit the opening of the ‘Ilulissat Icefjord Centre.’ It was a wonderful experience to see the building functioning as a natural meeting place for people on evening walks or attending informal cultural events.

Fortunately, we have been staying busy throughout the lockdowns. Currently, we are working on the Exile Museum in Berlin and hopefully will soon start the next phases of ‘The Whale.’ Another project we are working on is in Gothenburg, Sweden; we are working with an incredibly ambitious client on what will become one of Europe’s largest wooden buildings.

SA: You’ve been in different fields before becoming an architect. How did your interest in architecture begin, and how have these studies affected your professional formation?

DM: Like any others, I sought out many different paths before deciding what I truly wanted to do. When I finished high school, I went to the United States for a year to study sculpture and ceramics at Georgia Southern University. At that time, it seemed so untenable because only a few people were accepted to the Academy of

Fine Arts in Copenhagen, let alone became acclaimed artists. So, I returned to Denmark and studied medicine for a year before finally transferring to architecture school. It was an opportunity to combine my interest in art, natural sciences, and social conditions.

Now, thinking about it, it is difficult to say what influenced what. But I feel incredibly at home when working directly with materials. I like to experiment with its limitations [and] possibilities—and explore surfaces, volumes, shapes. These different interests and disciplines have all become intertwined by combining scientific, analytical, artistic, and intuitive approaches relating to the context.

SA: What are you most excited about when encountering a new project?

DM: When I arrive at the point where there is a sense of release—things fall into place and somehow connect within the concept. The possibilities this opens make it truly exciting.

SA: Surely, research plays a vital role in each project as well. I’m curious to know if you have areas of interest that you explore that then find their way into building designs.

DM: We are a relatively small design studio, which means that the research we do is of a smaller scale and from our initiative. Especially in the competition phase, we spend quite a lot of time on knowledge-gathering, analyzing, and testing. We often partner with experts outside the architectural field who can also provide insights from other disciplines. For example, we worked with a marine biologist when developing our proposal for ‘The Whale.’ And we brought in Minik Rosing, a [geology] professor and expert on Greenland, during the competition for the Icefjord Centre.

SA: Inspirations can lead to the start of a creative process in various ways, but I want to touch base on the historical periods of architecture. Are there any specific periods that you come back or currently draw your interest in? Perhaps, do you have a place you would like to visit or a space that holds a special place in your memories?

DM: There are many different historical periods that I find especially interesting. Lately, I have dug into the period around 1900 to the 1920s in northern Europe since I am still puzzled by the political ambiguity. I am also preoccupied with early Nordic and European modernism and on the American Westcoast: John Lautner, and Richard Neutra. At the moment, I am rediscovering some of the Brutalist masters. And then, of course, I have always been very fond of traditional and contemporary Japanese architecture for its un-monumental lightness and poetics. I have traveled a lot, and usually, the whole office goes on a study trip together every two years. But I have so many places on my list that I still need to visit and countless works I’d like to experience. Hopefully, to Mexico and Brazil next!

SA: Your recent project, a part of the UNESCO-protected Icefjord area, ‘The Ilulissat Icefjord Centre’ in Greenland, was completed in 2021. With a distinct exterior shape, the Centre functions as a hub of research, education, and exhibitions exploring the impact of climate change in that region.

DM: The ‘Icefjord Centre’ is closely connected to the landscape. It’s a small building, which makes the landscape even more spectacular. The building levitates over the bedrock, like a boomerang or a snowy owl gently touching the ground. It creates dynamic movement through the building, so you discover the Icefjord as you venture through.

Besides the overall construction, which I will get back to, we felt the importance of the bedrock. The Greenlandic bedrock is one of the oldest in the world, and if you destroy the fragile flora and fauna that grows here, it can take many years to restore it. Also, it is impossible to create a building in Greenland without considering environmental, economic, and social impacts. Therefore, we placed the building as carefully as possible, only lightly touching the ground.

It’s a challenge to design a building under these conditions. You have to comprehend the snow, the wind, and the extreme cold. Since Greenland has no naturally-sourced building materials, everything was designed and planned to be packed, […] shipped, and […]mounted on-site in a short construction window of two or three months to close the building before winter. Most importantly, the central part of the design has been sustainability within the climate and context in which it is placed. The aerodynamic shape prevents snow from building up against the façade, and by lifting the building from the terrain, water can drain in front of the building and down to the lake. And the roof creates its own landscape and a communal outdoor space where you can overview the Icefjord. A gateway between the town of Ilulissat and the wilderness.