Interviews, Issue 9

Fredericia

The Shape of Stillness

Words JAE KIM

Photography DITTE MØRKHOLT

At Fredericia, design is a dialogue across generations. Since 1911, the Danish brand has built its name on timeless craftsmanship and thoughtful innovation. Today, under the creative direction of Head of Design Maria Bruun and the stewardship of CEO and third-generation owner Rasmus Graversen, Fredericia balances tradition with fresh perspective, blending intuition and precision.

JAE KIM: You’ve described your approach as balancing intuition and precision. What first drew you to furniture as a medium where those qualities could meet?

MARIA BRUUN: I’ve always felt a strong urge to create, to give form to something lasting and physical. That instinct naturally led me to work hands-on in the studio, building early prototypes myself. There’s no substitute for the knowledge that comes from direct contact with materials, tools, and skilled craftspeople; it shapes both what’s possible and how a piece is ultimately experienced.

The workshop is where I feel most at home, immersed in the rhythm of making. I’m not someone who feels most alive behind a computer screen; I need that physical dialogue with process and material.

I’ve also long been drawn to how furniture shapes our environments, how it defines space, and evokes feelings of comfort, familiarity, or even alienation. My practice moves between intuition and precision: often beginning with instinct, then refining through careful craft. One deepens the other.

JK: Fredericia is steeped in a legacy of timeless craftsmanship. How do you approach honoring that history while introducing new visual languages into the fold?

MB: Fredericia is more than a manufacturer. It’s a cornerstone of Danish design and cultural heritage. That legacy reflects how we live, create, and engage with material and well-being in Denmark. To stand on such a strong foundation is both a privilege and a responsibility: it gives us the freedom to build, reinterpret, and evolve.

I approach this legacy with deep respect, not reverence. Heritage isn’t something to place behind glass. Even our most iconic designs are treated as living entities — refined, reimagined, and adapted to meet today’s needs, whether through new technologies, sustainable materials, or shifts in daily life.
When curating the archive — from Børge Mogensen and Nanna Ditzel to Hans J. Wegner — I always ask: does this piece still serve today? If not, we let it rest, rather than reviving it for nostalgia’s sake. Authenticity and relevance guide every decision.

JK: In your designs, materials seem to hold their own rhythm and logic. How do you navigate that relationship?

MB: Designing for me is a dialogue, not simply imposing form onto material. Each material has its own character and rhythm, and part of my process is learning to listen. I approach materials with curiosity and respect, letting them guide the project rather than forcing predetermined shapes.

Early on, I imagine how the object will live in a space and interact with light and people. From there, the material shapes the form — some require structure, others invite a more intuitive approach. Knowing when to lead or follow comes from attentiveness to the material’s responses. Ultimately, balance is key: a clear vision that remains flexible, allowing the material’s voice to emerge. The best pieces feel liberated, where form and material meet naturally.

JK: There’s a quiet spaciousness to your designs, as if every element is holding just enough. How do you sense when a form is resolved — when it no longer needs anything added or taken away?

MB: It’s often less about adding than uncovering — revealing the form already latent in the idea. I work toward a sense of inevitability, where the design feels like it couldn’t be otherwise. That takes time: tuning, adjusting, listening. I test proportions obsessively, knowing that small shifts in line or volume can alter a piece’s emotional balance. I think about how a form holds space — how it invites movement, stillness, or touch — and visualizing it in context helps guide those choices. A form feels resolved when it holds quiet authority, not absence, but a contained energy, ready to live alongside people. I also value subtle friction, moments that invite reflection; design can comfort, but it can also question. For me, resolution means space for both clarity and curiosity. That spirit extends to my work at Fredericia, where designers like Hugo Passos, Jasper Morrison, Cecilie Manz, and others contribute to a living dialogue — listening to our heritage and responding with their own vision. My own furniture for Fredericia reflects this: the Islets Tables series is quiet and grounded, with soft proportions and space to breathe, while the Pioneer stools bring a playful energy, inviting interaction yet rooted in lasting craft.

JK: Design today often veers toward spectacle or speed. How do you defend slowness, subtlety, and silence in your process — and in the pieces that result?

MB: Slowness gives ideas, materials, and processes the time to unfold with depth and intention. It supports craftsmanship as a living, evolving practice rooted in care. Subtlety fosters reflection and intimacy, deepening the bond between object and user. Silence becomes a quiet strength, letting a piece speak without noise. This approach isn’t separate from modern life; it’s how we create relevance that lasts.

At Fredericia, we work with designs nearly a century old that endure by transcending trends. For me, slowness isn’t just about how things are made, but how they endure: how they live, age, and continue to hold meaning across generations.

JK: You’ve mentioned being inspired by architecture, sculpture, and emotion. How do you translate something as ineffable as a mood or memory into an object someone can live with?

MB: Translating the intangible is a sensory, intuitive process. I choose slowness, subtlety, and silence, not as resistance, but as essential to meaningful design. It’s not planned, but guided by a quiet inner resonance.

My practice moves fluidly between disciplines. I believe design’s future lies in this openness, drawing from architecture’s sense of space, sculpture’s emotional weight, and craft’s precision and tactility. Each informs the other, allowing my work to be both grounded and open, precise yet emotionally present.