Writing

copenhagen, denmark, design, scandinavia, Writing, Gestalten, Books, Work

Northern Comfort: The Nordic Art of Creative Living (Coming SOON)


"Northern Comfort: The Nordic Art of Creative Living takes a close look at some of the Nordic region’s most inspiring and insightful ideas and individuals." 

It is well known that the citizens of the Nordic countries (Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Finland, and Iceland) enjoy an exceptionally high quality of life. Furthermore, year after year, the citizens of these five nations are regularly celebrated as some of the 'happiest in the world.'

With his newest book, author Austin Sailsbury goes beyond the statistics and the cliches to profile a wide range of individuals, brands, and regional experts in an attempt to discover what lies at the heart of the 'happy' Nordic life. Through interviews, essays, profiles, and captivating photography of real people at work and at play in the Nordic region, Northern Comfort: The Nordic Art of Creative Living (Gestalten Books) provides an inspiring and intimate introduction to the progressive societies, innovative ideas, cultural quirks, and creative individuals that have so recently captured the world's attention. Featured topics covered in the pages of Northern Comfort include: interior design and architecture, cuisine, family life, Nordic nature, outdoor adventure, and regional traditions.

AVAILABLE IN EUROPE IN SEPTEMBER AND
AROUND THE WORLD IN NOVEMBER, 2018.


2017, books, copenhagen, denmark, design, Summer, travels, Writing

Introducing The New 'Hidden Copenhagen' Website

All images taken from the new  www.the500hiddensecrets.com . Family portrait by  Alec Vanderboom.

All images taken from the new www.the500hiddensecrets.com. Family portrait by Alec Vanderboom.

Summer is Here.

And just in time for your summer travels, the good folks at Luster Books have introduced the official 'Hidden Copenhagen' website by Luster Books, part of their new www.the500hiddensecrets.com.

Along with preview sections from the book, the 'Hidden Copenhagen' page also features a 'Meet The Author' page as well as ways to buy the book online. Each book in the 'Hidden' series has it's own page, so you can get busy exploring Barcelona, London, Lisbon, Rome, and several others. 

**The third edition of The 500 Hidden Secrets of Copenhagen is OUT NOW!**

2017, book launch, books, copenhagen, denmark, scandinavia, Frama, Writing

First Look: Dialogues, A Book From Frama & Our Food Stories

I am very excited to introduce you to Dialogues - a book collaboration between Frama (Copenhagen design shop) and Our Food Stories (food blog) and a project unlike any other I have ever worked on (I acted as editor and creative consultant). Dialogues is full of recipes, architectural case studies, and insightful interviews with a wide range of fascinating thinkers and makers from a wide range of fields.

'This book is our way of celebrating a half-decade of personal relationships and creative dialogues. In three distinct conversational sections, Dialogues invites readers to consider how our natural and built environments become the spaces that define our context, how our food traditions can connect us with both the past and the future, and how a diversity of individual creative voices can come together to form a powerful chorus of inspiration for all those willing to listen. Featuring 6 architectural and design case studies, 14 interviews with craftspeople and innovators from around the world, and 19 new recipes from the team at our food stories, Dialogues is not simply a book about Frama. It’s not another book about design. In fact, Dialogues is not a book about any one particular theme, any single discipline, or any one overarching philosophy of life or art. Instead, this is a book about the value of creative exchange and the power of listening. With Dialogues, we invite you into this conversation' [text taken from the book jacket].

You can learn more about Frama here, Our Food Stories here, or pre-order your copy of Dialogues here (and get a free poster when you do!). 

More to come.

copenhagen, denmark, Interviews, scandinavia, travels, Writing

Hidden Copenhagen on The Snak Podcast

Not long ago, I was invited by the good people at The Snak podcast (a part of the Heartbeats.dk family of podcasts) to talk about the process of researching and writing The 500 Hidden Secrets of Copenhagen.

My sprawling conversation with The Snak's host James Clasper was a lot of fun and is, I think, a pretty good introduction to some of the things that make Copenhagen such a fascinating city (especially for us outsiders). Highlights of the podcast include discussions of local breweries, the New Nordic food scene, the thrill of biking as an adult, and, of course, swimming naked in The Baltic Sea in winter. 

You can listen to the podcast here.

A bit about The Snak podcast:

A BITE-SIZED PODCAST ABOUT SCANDINAVIA. JOIN LENA RUTKOWSKI AND JAMES CLASPER IN COPENHAGEN FOR A LIVELY CHAT ABOUT POP, POLITICS AND PEOPLE FROM DENMARK AND BEYOND. GOES WELL WITH WINE. OR GAMMEL DANSK.

More episodes of The Snak podcast here (English language).

Explore more Heartbeats Podcasts here (English and Danish language). 

2016, Writing, Kinfolk, Camp, Summer

Our Indian Summers | Reflections on Camp for Kinfolk Magazine

But of all the memories from all my years at camp, there is one that stands alone in its clarity and sacredness, one memory that lives with me as a moment of truest perfection. Because it is a ghost of happiness past, it can never be destroyed or undone—it stands like a lighthouse of my childhood.

Our Indian Summers | Reflections on Camp for Kinfolk Magazine

When our parents dropped us off at summer camp, they saw the rows of wooden cabins and the smiling staff; they saw the oak trees arching over the gravel road that led down to the lake and the beat-up camp trucks; they saw the piles of trunks packed with bug spray and swim goggles. They saw campers running every which way chasing footballs, Frisbees, and Gypsy, the faithful camp retriever. They saw the ever-present tribe of girl campers braiding each other’s hair and whispering secrets and shooing away spies who tried to interfere. Then there was always the tinny sound of cheerful music playing over the PA, the brightly colored flags hanging overhead, and the general atmosphere of a backwoods carnival. To them this was, basically, camp. 

When our parents dropped us off at camp they saw a well-oiled machine: people, property, and programs all working together in the spirit of clean-cut American optimism. What they didn’t see, at least not directly, was the magic that came to life as soon as the last minivan or station wagon left the camp gates—the kind of magic that only comes to life in a place where there are cliffs to jump from, campfires to gather around, and tribal ceremonies to perform. The kind of magic that only happens when moms and dads are absent. They too might have experienced the camp magic when they were children—and maybe even longed to experience it once again—but they could not. They were adults now and had to buy insurance and pay for something called a mortgage. When our parents dropped us off, they saw the face and shook the hand of camp, but it was only us kids felt its heartbeat and saw it come fully alive under long days of sunshine and the cloudless cerulean sky of our youth.

For those of us who went to camp year after year, summer was the nucleus around which the whole calendar circled. We believed camp was the best place on Earth (or anywhere else for that matter)—our own private Neverland. Except for video games, camp had everything we could ever want in life: tree houses and ball fields, a lake full of boats, bows and arrows and rifles, card tricks, and unlimited peanut butter sandwiches. 

At camp we didn’t have to wear shoes, but we wore bliss and we wore mischief. 

There in the woods beside the lake, we found a place of profound simplicity, but also of expansive imagination. We were happy castaways who evolved into something perhaps less civilized but substantially more alive than what we were back in the suburbs. There, on a hill named for an Indian chief, we succeeded and failed in the arenas of competition. We bestowed nicknames upon one another. We broke things and built things. We idolized our counselors, those elder statesmen of outdoor do-goodery. We tried our hands at chivalry. We dressed as pirates and spoke in codes. We played the part of little brothers and big sisters and, if we could find the courage, the bravest of us even dared to dance with a member of the opposite sex.

But of all the memories from all my years at camp, there is one that stands alone in its clarity and sacredness, one memory that lives with me as a moment of truest perfection. Because it is a ghost of happiness past, it can never be destroyed or undone—it stands like a lighthouse of my childhood, casting a searchlight over other foggy and darker memories. Even today if I close my eyes the scene materializes immediately and I can see it—I see us, sitting there near the cold lake, gathered around a roaring fire. I can see Rudy and B. Rob and Chris Minor and “Scharr Daddy” and all the boys sitting on railroad ties, weaving tall tales. I see their freckles and well-beaten tennis shoes, their sunburned skin, and the fire reflected in their eyes. I can hear us teasing Rudy. I can hear him tease us back. I can see the fiery dust flying upward each time we stir the coals and I can see kids drawing hieroglyphs in the sand at their feet. I can smell the smoke and seared sugar of lost marshmallows. I can smell that singular “lake smell” drifting over the camp road. How many hours did we sit there? 

How many times did we gather and spin the yarn of our own mythology, our own greatness? How much did we laugh at each other’s clumsiness and our own lame jokes? I can see us then: both innocent and mean, fearless and terrified. 

We sat together around that campfire first as little boys and then as adolescents and then as young men. Like a pilgrimage to the holy forest was summer camp; like a counsel of mighty chieftains were we around the campfire. There in the immortality of memory live the finest moments of my youth, spent with the greatest friends I’ve ever known. 

The kids back at home, who never went to camp, never understood us—not the inside jokes or the camp legends or the songs. They didn’t understand the value of the “Best All-Around Athlete” ribbons that hung on our walls or why we treasured the hand-written letters that came from old counselors and cabin-mates. Mostly, our friends back home were shocked that we would choose to live for a month without air-conditioning. Camp was an enigma to outsiders and we liked it that way. For kids from the suburbs, camp was our Narnia—once experienced it needed no explanation—but you had to step through the wardrobe to “get it.” There we met fantastic characters, set out upon great adventures, and always came home a bit wiser and braver and taller than when we had left. 

Whatever it cost our parents to send us to camp all those years, it was worth it. Their investments have paid us back with the immeasurable richness of a lifetime of golden summer memories that burn warmly through all seasons.

Reprinted with kind permission of Kinfolk Magazine.