Close to Gilleleje, where Denmark’s great island of Sjaelland faces north, lies a site that is long and narrow. It begins just inside the sand dunes and extends almost all the way up to the road.

Three courtyards – two enclosed and one open. A rectangle that precisely measures out the property. Two of the three courtyards are formed around four great pines, creating small outdoor spaces dominated by the tall trees. From down here we can’t see their tops, only the rough bark of the trunks. Lying on the ground and looking up now, we see those enormous trunks swaying in the breeze, while the building inscribes a stable square around us. There is shelter from the wind here at ground level—a good place for contemplation. The last courtyard is open to the sea.

The building itself is low and dark. A little tectonic labyrinth that leads ultimately to the open horizon. Simple, yet intricate.

The blue-gray tone of the stone walls resonates with the needles of the pines. Every stone is meticulously anchored into the concrete wall behind it. The stones are stacked vertically, one on top of another, relying only the force of gravity—no mortar necessary.

Slowly nature begins to take over the site, erasing the signs of our interventions. It is once again a kind of non-form, a solved equation of needs, rules, and materials. No feelings, only opinions.

Simple, precise.