Schön! alive | let there be light

It’s hard to remember to pause and reflect in a world that’s inundated with distractions. But learning how to pause is exactly what encouraged Danish designer Lise Vester to create something quietly radical: a bench that invites us to stop, look up, and reconnect. Crafted in Denmark for Danish brand Muuto and inspired by the natural curve of the body, the Dream View Bench’s smooth, sky-facing form is designed to support both solitude and shared presence, encouraging new perspectives through the simple yet powerful act of gazing at the sky.

Vester’s approach to design is deeply rooted in sensory experience, empathy, and care. Influenced by principles of neuroaesthetics and healing architecture, her work explores how objects and spaces can nurture mental and emotional well-being. The Dream View Bench, made of brushed stainless steel that reflects the shifting light of the sky, is a manifestation of this ethos: grounded in function, yet poetic in expression.

Funnily enough, this piece was not initially born in a studio. It began by the sea, where Vester traced her body’s natural posture into the sand and began shaping the first contours of a design that would take months of refinement, testing, and research. From inviting people to share personal reflections on the sky to prototyping with diverse body types, Vester embedded inclusivity and human insight into every curve.

In this conversation with Schön!, Lise Vester shares the story behind the bench, her path into design, and why she believes beauty, empathy, and emotion must be central to how we shape the world around us.

What drew you to pursue a career in design, and how has your journey shaped your approach to creating sensory-focused pieces?

I’ve always been curious and creative – playing music, trying different sports, and exploring ideas through making. But I didn’t set out with a clear plan to become a designer. After taking one and a half gap years, I chose to spend six months at Krabbesholm Højskole in 2014, studying design. It was a gut decision – a place where I could explore both my creative drive and my fascination with people.

What I didn’t expect was to find something that felt truly meaningful: an intersection between design and healthcare. Discovering neuroaesthetics and Healing Architecture opened my eyes to how environments affect our emotions, our recovery, and even our sense of dignity. I became fascinated by how design could be a tool for care – beyond functionality – a way to show empathy through form, light, and material. That realisation has shaped everything I’ve done since.

Can you tell us about a key moment or project in your career that significantly influenced your design philosophy?

A pivotal project came early, during my bachelor’s degree, when I worked on a design brief focused on dignified care. It explored how people with disabilities or terminal illnesses often encounter environments filled with medical aid products that are cold, impersonal, and stigmatising. This challenged me: why shouldn’t design for care be beautiful? Why should aesthetics stop at the hospital door?

That led me to revisit the hospice where my aunt spent her final days. I had been there as a high school student when she passed, and four years later, I returned as a design student, full of questions. I interviewed staff, family members, and therapists connected to the hospice to understand what made that space feel so different – so warm and human, even in the face of grief. It was my first real exploration of sensory and emotional design, and it showed me how empathy, research, and beauty can coexist. It has shaped the values I bring into every project since.

How has growing up and working in Denmark influenced your view on the relationship between design, nature, and well-being?

I grew up in western Denmark, right by the Limfjord, not far from the North Sea. Nature was always part of my every day – long walks by the water with my mother, watching the horizon, collecting fossils, watching my parents hunt and fish. It taught me to slow down, observe, and appreciate silence and space.

Later, moving to Copenhagen, and then to London for my master’s, brought contrast – urban rhythms, endless possibilities, and, during COVID, isolation. That time in lockdown, when the city shrunk to the size of my apartment, really shifted my perspective. I remember how people, especially children, began drawing rainbows and taping them in their windows for others to see – simple, colourful gestures meant to spread hope and solidarity. They were signs of compassion, both for one another and for frontline healthcare workers.

At the same time, public health data in the UK showed that walking in nature became one of the most important ways people coped with lockdown. Many reported feeling more grounded, connected, and appreciative of their natural surroundings. This return to nature wasn’t just physical – it became an emotional and psychological anchor.

I began asking: how can design offer a sense of connection and comfort when everything feels uncertain? How can it help people reconnect to their own inner landscape? That’s where nature reentered my work. I started looking at the sky not just as a view, but as a universal surface – accessible to everyone, everywhere, as long as we remember to look up. The Dream View Bench grew from that: an invitation to pause, look up, and reconnect, even in the middle of a busy city.

Before creating the Dream View Bench, were there particular designers, movements, or experiences that inspired your focus on form, function, and emotion?

Definitely. I’m deeply inspired by the Light and Space movement from 1970s California – artists like James Turrell and Helen Pashgian – and of course Olafur Eliasson – who work with perception, light, and sensory immersion. Their work doesn’t just show you something – it makes you feel it and paves the way to new worlds.

At the same time, I’d been working with healing design principles for some years, drawing from neuroaesthetics and evidence-based design. But when I started therapy myself during the pandemic, I was introduced to cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). That experience stayed with me. I learned how small, intentional interventions – like pausing to reflect, doing something new, or shifting your focus – can disrupt negative thought spirals and open up new perspectives.

That idea of giving people gentle tools – subtle nudges that help them reconnect with themselves – really influenced the Dream View Bench. It’s not just a piece of furniture. It’s an invitation to pause, to breathe, to realign.

The Dream View Bench encourages people to pause and look at the sky. Why do you think it’s important for design to inspire moments of reflection and daydreaming?

We live in a world that constantly demands our attention. Screens, schedules, noise – and so many pressing crises – it’s rare that we’re invited to simply do nothing. But daydreaming is essential. It’s a mental reset where the Default Mode Network in the brain lights up. It helps us process emotions, spark new ideas, and build emotional resilience.

Design can help create those moments. A certain posture, a material, a colour, a change in perspective or light – these elements can gently guide our behaviour and state of mind. With the Dream View Bench, I wanted to design a mental tool, not just a physical object. A way for people to stop, lean back, and let their thoughts drift – using the sky as a canvas for imagination, memories, or simply stillness.

Can you share more about the initial inspiration you felt while sitting by the sea and how that environment shaped the bench’s final form?

The concept really crystallised through a quote by neuroscientist David Eagleman in my research:

“Everything the brain interprets, it interprets in context. (…) When we are looking directly up at the sky and we are missing our normal frame of the horizon and the cityscape, we are just seeing the light itself. What that causes is an out-of-context experience where we feel like we are now part of that atmosphere. We are tied right into that.”

Looking up at the open sky gives a profound sense of calm – a mix of gravity and weightlessness. That bodily sensation, of being grounded yet mentally floating, became the core of the bench’s form.

As part of my research, I invited people to take a photo of the sky and then write down a feeling, a thought, and an action. I also asked them to sketch their own imaginary “Dream View” and respond to questions like: “What does it make you feel, think, and want to do?” and “What does it bring you closer to?”

What emerged was deeply personal. The drawings revealed reflections on happiness, values, and life priorities. For many, connection to nature was central – it made them feel free and relaxed, and also more connected to themselves. Even the drawings expressing frustration or negative emotions often held constructive energy – desires for self-care and visions for societal change.

I also asked participants about their relationship with the sky. Through questions like “What does the sky make you think and feel? What does it give us?” I received profound statements, thoughtful reflections, and personal insights. These contributions felt like gifts – powerful, hopeful, and full of emotional resonance. They helped shape the soul of the Dream View Bench.

You tested the bench with people of different heights during development. What were some surprising insights or adjustments that came from this inclusive testing?

Inclusivity was key. I tested the Dream View Bench with men and women of different heights and body types. What surprised me was how even small variations in back completely changed the experience of the backrest comfort and gaze direction.

That led me to carefully refine the posture so the sky-viewing gesture felt natural for as many people as possible. We also considered how the curvature supports the spine and where pressure points hit. These micro-adjustments helped make the design more universally inviting – still poetic, but physically grounded. The only straight parts are where the body doesn’t touch the bench. This makes it look like a lifted wave or a cloud floating in the sky.

The Dream View Bench has a sculptural, almost playful aesthetic. How do you balance artistic expression with functionality in your designs?

For me, function and emotion are never separate – they support each other. I’m most inspired when asking questions not just about function, but about how the object relates to us and touches us emotionally – through our senses and mind, or even socially or spiritually. A bench can be beautiful, but if it doesn’t feel good to sit on, it won’t be used. And a highly functional object can fall flat if it doesn’t speak to us emotionally.

With the Dream View Bench, I approached it like a piece of public art or a sling that people can physically inhabit. It has a sculptural presence, but every curve is intentional – responding to the body, the sky, and the surrounding space. I always try to design with care: for the user, the context, and the atmosphere the object creates.

Learn more about Muuto at muuto.com.

What if you could bottle that first-day-of-holiday feeling — the sunshine, the style, the sense that anything is possible — and bring it home? H&M HOME’s latest collection does just that, teaming up with Palm Heights, the cult-favorite Caribbean hotel that’s as famous for its interiors as it is for its guest list.

Set on the sugar-soft sands of Grand Cayman’s Seven Mile Beach, Palm Heights is a dreamy time capsule of 1970s island glam — all striped umbrellas, vintage silhouettes, and sun-faded tones. It’s a place where terry robes and beach towels double as design statements, and where the line between hotel and home gently blurs. Now, that effortless charm is coming to living rooms, bathrooms, and back gardens everywhere.

Created with Palm Heights Creative Director Gabriella Khalil and Evelina Kravaev-Söderberg, Head of Design & Creative at H&M Home, the collection mixes bold colour, tactile materials, and a sense of play. There are plush towels and robes in sun-washed yellow and earthy browns, complete with checkered trim — a direct nod to the hotel’s signature palette. Ceramics in teak sandstone echo the tones of the shoreline, while handwoven baskets and fans add texture and a grounded, global feel.

Schön! speaks with Khalil and Kravaev-Söderberg to chat about the collection, the inspiration, and more.

What was the starting point for your creative vision in this collaboration with H&M Home? Was there a specific moment, memory, or design element from Palm Heights that sparked the collection?

Gabriella: The visual and design elements of the hotel design and my inspiration behind that guided the concept. Also, I was trying to translate the feeling of Palm Heights I wanted to create for guests. While it’s luxurious, there’s a feeling of warmth and casual playfulness that resonates with many people. I think people go there, and they appreciate being able to relax and be themselves.

Palm Heights is known for its nostalgic yet contemporary aesthetic. How did you translate that unique spirit into homeware pieces?

Gabriella: It was about creating a balance between the bright colours and stripes and something more understated and elegant, like the glassware and ceramics. This collection exudes both elegance and playfulness.

This collection exudes both elegance and playfulness. How did you strike that balance while designing for such a wide audience through H&M Home?

Evelina: We wanted to bring the holiday feeling into the home, and I think this elegance and playfulness are universally desirable. You want something that is designed beautifully, but there is also the playful aspect, with the games and the stripes, for example.

Can you talk about the importance of materials in this collection — like the teak, sandstone ceramics and handwoven baskets — and what they represent for you personally or culturally?

Evelina: We wanted to create an authentic feeling with these natural materials, a connection to place and a tactile, pared-back feeling that is associated with summer or beachside decor.

Gabriella: For the ceramics, I was looking at a lot of my previous projects and referencing the forms and shapes of objects that I have found inspiring over the years. We decided to go with the sandstone because it was just the stunning, simple colours of the beach. The punchy yellow is iconic to Palm Heights, and we also wanted to incorporate this happy pop of colour.

The yellow and white stripe motif is iconic to Palm Heights. Why was it essential to include that visual language in this collection?

Evelina: It is a big part of the design language of the hotel, but it also captures an idea. We talked about sunset hues — yellow as a key colour in the assortment, along with the stripes. These are significant because it is a beach resort. The Cayman Islands are very much about the sun and the sea.

How do you hope people feel when they bring these pieces into their home? What kind of experience or emotion were you aiming to evoke?

Gabriella: I hope people feel the beginning of summer: the joyfulness, the sunshine and an elegant simplicity. It’s not overdone.

Palm Heights has a strong community focus. Did that sense of connection and collaboration influence how you approached this project with H&M Home?

Evelina: Yes, very much so. We wanted to include elements that bring people together, such as the glassware, which is so perfect for summer entertaining. And of course, the games.

The inclusion of items like the backgammon set and beach tennis kit is quite unexpected for a home collection — what was the thought behind adding these lifestyle elements?

Evelina: These are entirely new product types for us. We wanted to instill some energy in a luxurious, stylish way. What is a holiday all about? It is about moving, gathering, and playing something – thus, the beach tennis and the backgammon (which came from the hotel, as they have backgammon there).

You mention the idea of “bringing the holiday feeling into your home.” What does that mean to you personally, and how do you achieve that in your own spaces?

Gabriella: For me holiday is a feeling of relaxation, slow, meaningful meals and joyful moments together. Through the collection, we choose products that embody this. Items like the towels and robes for quiet, cozy downtime or the amber glassware to create a beautiful tabletop at home for meals with friends and family. The sandstone objects bring an elegant natural simplicity to the home,e while the games encourage playful moments this summer.

The Palm Heights x H&M Home collection will be available on 12th June 2025 in selected stores and online at hm.com/home.

Held across the entire city of Copenhagen, 3daysofdesign returns this June for its 12th edition, featuring hundreds of exhibitions, product launches, talks, and events. Under the theme KEEP IT REAL, the festival unfolds across eight thematic districts, each offering a unique perspective on contemporary design. Unlike traditional trade fairs, 3daysofdesign is embedded in the urban fabric – events take place throughout the city in showrooms, galleries, cultural institutions, and distinctive architectural spaces, encouraging walkability, exploration, and unexpected encounters.

Now recognized as Denmark’s leading annual design festival, 3daysofdesign has grown significantly since its beginnings in 2013. What started as a small initiative by a handful of local furniture brands seeking to create an informal platform during a quiet period in the design calendar has since evolved into a global design destination.

In conversation with Schön! alive, Festival Director Signe Byrdal Terenziani reflects on the conditions that have shaped this unique event, one rooted in authenticity, human connection, and well-crafted design.

In a moment when abstraction seems to dominate conversations and practices across the Western art and design industries, choosing to KEEP IT REAL feels like a necessary countercurrent. It grounds us, reconnects us to what truly matters. What have you observed in the current design landscape that led you to choose this theme as the thread for 3daysofdesign 2025?

You definitely hit the point of what we want to express through the realness concept, informing this year’s festival. In a time of abstraction and noise, it’s more important than ever to create space for design that invites reflection, care, and connection. We’re living in a time saturated with information, opinions, and endless options. In this context, reflecting on what genuinely matters is essential to navigate a world increasingly shaped by technology. With the rise of AI–ChatGPT, for instance – it’s easy to feel that authenticity and original thinking are being undermined by algorithmic systems built on reproductions of existing data. KEEP IT REAL is a call to designers to create meaningful, personal work that feels grounded and honest.

Where do you see AI playing the most prominent role in designers’ workflows?

From the conceptual stage through to production, AI is a powerful – but also complicated – tool that designers are increasingly incorporating. That’s why we’re dedicating a symposium, AI and I, to this topic. It will bring together leading voices in design to discuss how AI is shaping practice and where it may be taking us. My belief is that while AI can support creativity, it cannot generate something truly new on its own. It lacks emotion. And design, at its core, is an emotional, human-driven response to real conditions. That’s something no algorithm can replicate.

One of the festival’s core value propositions is “consciousness.” Would you say emotional consciousness is part of what you’re aiming to highlight?

Absolutely. Emotional resonance is at the heart of the stories we’re showcasing this year. KEEP IT REAL is about honesty – being honest in how we feel, how we connect, and how we create. We’re interested in work that might be awkward, imperfect, or unconventional, but that stems from passion and genuine human intention. Whether it’s a space or an object, the key is that it’s made by people, for people. On a broader level, to me consciousness in design means presence, intention, and accountability – being aware of the social, environmental, and emotional impact of what we make.

In Denmark, I see many designers embracing this kind of awareness. There’s a strong tradition of valuing quality over quantity, of creating things that are built to last, both in function and cultural relevance. That kind of sustainability goes beyond materials; it’s a mindset. A conscious decision to resist trends and avoid producing for the sake of novelty. Transparency is another vital dimension – knowing how something is made, who made it, and under what conditions. There’s a growing movement, particularly among younger designers, toward more open, collaborative practices that actively involve local communities in the process. Care is an often-overlooked but powerful force in design.

Many designers today are shifting from seeing design purely as problem-solving to treating it as a practice of empathy, considering how a space or object makes us feel, how it supports well-being, and how it fosters connection.

Can you share an example of this kind of real, response-driven design?

One issue that has come up in research, and is very present in Denmark, is loneliness. So we ask: how can design help people feel more connected? Sometimes it’s as simple as designing a long communal table in a café instead of multiple small ones, encouraging spontaneous interaction. Or shaping public seating so that people feel less isolated when alone. These small decisions can deeply impact how individuals experience a space and their place within it.

So design becomes “real” when it reflects societal needs, like the example you’ve given. And keeping it real also means being honest about the direction the world is heading, acknowledging both local and global challenges. The idea of “community” is so present in current discourse, but often it’s used superficially. We forget that healthy communities can’t exist if individuals aren’t well and self-aware. Perhaps we’ve over-emphasized collectivity and overlooked the individual. What’s your perspective on individual agency in design?

I think we sometimes underestimate the power of personal perspective in shaping culture. By staying true to yourself, you give others permission to do the same. And from there, a real community can grow. Not a uniform one, but one that’s built on diversity, empathy, and mutual respect. Individual agency is about originality, responsibility, and emotional presence. It also means being deeply conscious of sustainability – not just environmentally, but socially and culturally. 3daysofdesign is a platform that celebrates this kind of engagement. Designers today aren’t just solving problems – they’re responding with empathy, passion, and care.

Building on that, where does heritage come into play in individual expression? It seems to be another important pillar for the festival.

At 3daysofdesign, we see this individual expression that feels deeply personal but is also rooted in place, culture, and history. It provides resonance. Heritage gives context to creativity and makes the expression even more meaningful. It gives us something to build upon — something to reinterpret for the present. In today’s global design world, we’re constantly drawing from different cultures. But this mix of perspectives only becomes meaningful when it’s grounded in context, not used superficially or just to follow trends. Heritage is about honouring local knowledge and culture while making it relevant for today.

This multiplicity of perspectives is crucial to innovation, especially in sustainable design. How is the theme of “perspectives” addressed within the festival?

The Christianshavn district, for example, will host a variety of exhibitions on materials and new design approaches—clay and seagrass are just two exciting examples being explored. And in District Kultur, we’re presenting Peach Corner, a special exhibition focused on personal perspectives that shape culture. These stories draw on values, traditions, and symbols that bring deeper meaning to design. At Peach Corner, it is a Danish perspective that is represented, but in District Kultur, you will also find voices across generations, from different cultures, connecting the local with the global.

Speaking of the local, how would you recommend international visitors have the best experience of Danish design during the festival?

It’s always a bit tricky to describe your own everyday world, but what’s easy to explain is that in Copenhagen, design is everywhere. From public spaces to the smallest urban details, you’ll find thoughtful, human-centred design integrated into daily life. My advice is to slow down and observe the details. Denmark’s design heritage is incredibly rich and accessible. In our eight new Design Districts in Copenhagen, you will find yourself truly immersed in Danish design heritage just wandering the city.

I’d highlight the Danish Art Workshops – a rare chance to see inside the national workshops usually reserved for professional craftspeople. During 3daysofdesign, it’s open to the public, offering a glimpse into high-level craftsmanship. I’d also recommend Nordhavn – a blueprint for the 5-minute city. Especially the rooftop playground on the parking house. It’s a great example of inclusive design – a beautiful space shared with everyone, not just a select few. It offers a fascinating glimpse into modern Danish design thinking.

My simple advice is to ride a bike, take a dip in the harbour, and pay attention to how navigating through the city works. You’ll quickly notice how the design here is not just for show – it’s lived. It’s real.

Learn more about 3daysofdesign at 3daysofdesign.dk.

portrait photography. Davy Denke
words. Ilaria Sponda