Inside A Copenhagen Apartment Shaped By Instinct, Collaboration and Kerbside Finds

Dronningegården is a monumental modernist housing block in central Copenhagen. Designed by Kay Fisker in collaboration with C. F. Møller and Svenn Eske Kristensen, the block was built between 1943 and 1958, during a period of architectural transition in Denmark. It’s a clear expression of Nordic Functionalism – solid and symmetrical, but softened by generous stairwells, curving arches and restrained decorative gestures. A fitting place, then, for designer Martina Branchetti, whose own work blends utility with warmth, and who sees beauty in what’s quiet, lived-in, and just the right sort of ornamental.

Martina shares the flat with her partner, and though her co-founder, Lewis Graham, lives in London, the home is a kind of second base for Apohli, the studio they run together. Their work – furniture, lighting, small objects – often begins from a place of necessity or memory: the table they couldn’t find, the lamp they wish existed, the shelf reminiscent of one from their childhood. The apartment, naturally, is full of these pieces: the prototype sofa Martina built herself when she couldn’t find one she liked; a coffee table engraved with branching patterns inspired by beetle-eaten bark; a magazine rack based on one her mother always had. Other objects are found or gifted, made by friends or unearthed on Facebook Marketplace. Like the practice itself, the space is intuitive, textured, and layered – a patchwork of making, sharing, and revising.

We spoke to Martina and Lewis about how the space came together, how Apohli grew from a week in the Tuscan mountains, and what it means to build a home from the things you make…

How did you find the flat? What made it feel like the right place?

Martina: It’s in the centre of Copenhagen, in Dronningegården – which was originally built as social housing. It wasn’t always popular. It didn’t fit the style of the city at the time, but it’s become more appreciated. There’s so much care in the design – the light in the stairwells, the curves around the balcony windows. It’s generous in a sublte way.

When I first walked in, I remember smelling food – someone was cooking. That really reminded me of Italy. The entrance feels Italian, too. I’ve moved a lot, but this place felt like home straight away.

And now it’s become a home for Apohli’s work, too. How did the studio begin?

Lewis: We met in 2019 at a design studio in Copenhagen – though only for a week. I was leaving, and Martina was just arriving. But we stayed in touch, and started working together more informally. It felt easy. Our references and tastes overlapped, but we also saw things differently in ways that felt complementary.

Later, we went to Martina’s family home in the Tuscan mountains. Her uncles had this old workshop there. We used it like a mini residency – no pressure, just making things for ourselves. That’s where Apohli really began. We didn’t sit down with a business plan. We just started building things we wanted or needed – a lamp, a table, something for our homes. And slowly, that became a practice.

What are some of the pieces in the flat that came out of that process?
Martina: The sofa is one. I was looking for something simple, and I couldn’t find anything I liked – and didn’t want to spend money on something I didn’t love. So we designed it and built it ourselves. I cut the pieces at a friend’s university workshop, then stained and assembled it in here – in winter, when it was too cold to work outside.

The pendant lamp in the living room came from moving into the space. So did the table we use on the balcony. That one had to work both inside and out – Copenhagen doesn’t exactly have long summers, but it’s nice to be able to sit outside when you can.

Lewis: There’s also a magazine holder that was inspired by Martina’s mum. She always had one growing up. You don’t really see them anymore, so it felt nice to bring that back.

How do you describe the atmosphere of the apartment?
Martina: Eclectic, layered, and curious. Nothing here is too planned. It’s grown over time. There are pieces we made for exhibitions or for fun, pieces by friends, a lot of second-hand things. I love to pick up small objects when I travel – even just a brick or a cup. Everything has a story or a memory.

Lewis: And even the found pieces sometimes feel like Apohli. There’s a shelf that Martina picked up outside a charity shop – someone had just left it out – and it looks exactly like something we would design. It’s even in the shape of an “A”.

You both work from different cities – what’s that dynamic like?
Lewis: I live in London and visit Copenhagen a few times a year, and Martina does the same in reverse. But we speak constantly – texting, calling, sending sketches back and forth. It’s very fluid.

I also think the two cities influence our work in different ways. Copenhagen has such a strong design culture, with a lot of heritage studios and refined output. London feels a bit looser – there’s more space for experimentation. Being in both places keeps us from getting too comfortable.

Martina: And when Lewis is in Copenhagen, he stays here. It really does feel like a shared space.

How do you find most of the non-Apohli pieces in the flat?
Martina: Mostly charity shops, flea markets, Facebook Marketplace. I love the randomness of it. The general taste level in Denmark is very high, so you can find some really interesting things – it still requires lots of diffing around, of course. Sometimes people leave things on the street and you just mobile pay them a few kroner – I’ve found great things that way, like the blue cup on the dining table. The big rug in the living room is made from leftover fabrics my boyfriend sewed together. He’s very creative – a lot of the textile things come from him.

What are some of your favourite pieces in the flat?
Martina: The freestanding shelf, for sure. It’s one of the first things we made together, and it’s very heavy – if there was a fire, I wouldn’t be able to carry it out, but I’d want to. I also love this little bottle opener my great-grandfather made. And plates – I collect lots of different ones, none of them matching. I love hosting dinners, so the dining table is big, with lots of chairs. Even though it’s just the two of us most of the time, that part of the space feels very ‘me’.

Do you design for function or feeling?
Martina: Feeling, mostly. Function follows – I mean, I want to be able to sit on a chair or use a table, obviously – but it’s more about how something looks or what memory it holds. That’s what matters.

Lewis: Yeah, and a lot of the things we make are kind of like characters. We sometimes talk about our objects like they’re little creatures – they have posture, expression, personality. It’s not about perfection. We like things that are slightly odd.

Are there pieces that began as experiments and then found their way into the flat?

Martina: Definitely. There’s a small blue shelf in the corner that started out red – a very intense red – and I repainted it with something I had at home. We designed it in the countryside, just as a place to put an espresso cup. But it gave life to that little corner, and now it lives here.

We also have tiny framed pieces that started as tests. They were just playing with shapes and finishes – but I liked them, so I kept them. And now we’re thinking about developing more.

Do you ever feel pressure to make the space feel “finished”?
Martina: No, not really. It’s always changing. That’s kind of how we work – nothing is too intentional, and it’s nice to let things evolve. I looked back at pictures from when we moved in, and it was so empty. But at the time, it already felt full.

If you had to describe the home in three words…
Martina: Eclectic, layered, curious.

Lewis: I think that fits us as a studio, too. We don’t want our work to feel pristine or overly considered. We want people to stumble across it one day – on the future equivalent of Facebook Marketplace – and think, “What is this strange, lovely thing?”