Frederik Bille Brahe's Artful Appetite

February 22, 2018

Elegant, intriguing, and exquisitely presented. This is the essence Nordic cuisine— as evidenced by chef Frederik Bille Brahe’s food. Although, unless you’ve dined at one of his restaurants— Atelier September or Apollo in Copenhagen— it’s harder to picture the attention to detail that goes beyond Frederik’s food, and can be found in the very environment you’re eating it in.

The custom art pieces and deliberate selection of furniture elevate the spaces to enhance your dining experience, never to distract from it. Everything, from the food to décor, seems to have intention. The intention of being enjoyed, talked about, and ultimately bringing people together.

After chatting with Bille Brahe, it’s clear that there’s a wanting to do more with the traditional ideas of food and restaurants. He considers the impact of the creation and consumption of food on society, how it is affected by our political climate, and his goals to change the way we approach food. office sat with him as he told us about his upcoming projects and reminisced about his path to becoming a chef.

Interview by Justine Hwang
Photos by Jesper D. Lund

What are you up to at the moment?

Currently I’m in the process of opening a third restaurant in Copenhagen. It’s kind of a new project. In some way, I started with fine dining in the beginning, and I’m consistently moving away from it. I’m trying to put food in a different spot where you still have to make delicious food but it’s also about making functional food. The new place is like a cafeteria inside the National Gallery of Copenhagen. And the idea is to make something where you work in between the border of food and art. It’s this cafeteria which is created in a super democratic way, where its cheap food, organic food, and accessible to everyone. It’s done with Danh Vo, so it’s in some way trying to use these artistic approaches and processes to food and social relations to make a new space. Also, for me, it’s important for me to work with something political. So of course, the whole idea of becoming more and more green and 100% organic from the start is also sending a message to the mainstream since it is the National Gallery. In some collaborative way, I don’t know if they are aware of it, but they have a very central position in society, and can try to form society with those thoughts, which is quite important. At the same time, it’s also important to inspire people to use public institutions. Of course, in Denmark, we have a super fine or sophisticated tradition of having open source art and public service art. So, I think in a society where people get more and more scared, alienated, and nationalistic, it is also important to push in the other direction and assemble all the people that are sensitive and artistic and want to be inspired.

When is it opening?

The first of March.

And what’s the name?

Kafeteria.

How is Danh Vo involved?

We came from different art directions and met. He was super interested in doing something with 70’s craft, and the whole idea of craft and design. So, it’s going to be Noguchi lamps, and some Mari furniture. Mari did these open-source, do it yourself furniture. Which is like the poor man’s Donald Judd, but it’s also humanistic in the way that everyone can make these designs. All the furniture is by him and FDB. FDB has this kind of Danish-Japanese chair which is something that most Danes think is kind of a stupid item, but I thought it was interesting to bring in something which was totally unexpected in terms of design because the Danish design tradition is somewhat perfect or overdesigned. So, there’s also something interesting about sourcing items which were a little bit off. It’s becoming this quite tactile place with a cafeteria inside. It’s trying to branch into art and the art scene, and at the same time this collaborative space with journalists doing talks and creating content for the museum. Also in some way, I see a little bit of an opening a new market, or a hybrid market where you bring things that have quite a big synergy. I think there’s something interesting in the branding of these synergies. A little bit like going to Dover Street and there’s Rose Bakery. Delicious food and shopping. It becomes this individual experience.

Any plans to expand to New York?

I don’t have any specific ideas of doing anything in New York yet, but I think slowly I would like to do something with the same values. New York is such a huge city, there are so many people here, so much bad food, and bad food traditions. And there are so many people working all the time, and they need spaces to hang out. And again, on the political side, if you could cook for people together, if you could create hubs where people hang out, meet people, and share thoughts, you could at the same time reduce the amount of energy spent.

What does the future of cooking look like?

Basically, if we should save power, we could cook together instead of cooking individually. And in New York there’s the opportunity for it. It’s kind of a dream of mine. I don’t necessarily see it as food activism, more just like a very nice way of working with food and maybe also working with people who want to make a difference in some way. I remember as a kid I thought things were quite boring. We were living in a perfect society. All of the sudden, I started seeing that there’s actually things we need to fight for to improve society and to sustain society. And that’s in many directions. With the right partners, you could make these food hubs all over the city where you could work with food waste and communal cooking. It would be like a hack on society which would be quite interesting. In some way, moving away from fine dining into collaborative dining. I like that. Also, because on the other side, as an art form, food is super beautiful. But I feel like to be capable of conceiving that kind of art you need to be in a small kitchen, everyday, doing your routines. For me it feels like sometimes being an art director of ideas of food and restaurants.

What’s your favorite museum restaurant here?

In Neue Galerie there’s a Viennese saloon that’s amazing because it’s so true. I also think the more contemporary Flora Bar is super amazing. I really like this idea that you can go and see some very high standard contemporary art. You don’t even need to go to the restaurant, you can just have super delicious coffee, made by people who are really good. Why have bad coffee when you can have good coffee?

It seems like art has a huge influence on everything you do.

There’s a very big reason for that. When I was young, I didn’t want to read or go to school. I loved school, I went to a very nice hippie school, but I didn’t want to do anything. I also tried to outsmart things. I just went to public libraries and listened to audio books while I was drawing or playing. I didn’t really have this desire to focus on practical stuff. Of course, you can’t actually outsmart being capable of reading or writing. So after grade school, I couldn’t go to high school, and I always loved to cook, so I decided to do that. I started as a dishwasher and started working at these awful restaurants where the chefs were total drunks. And I actually got really scared because I felt that I wasn’t that type of person. So I got into an alternative high school which was a disaster, so when I finished that, I said I’m going to be a chef for sure.

I started cooking at this restaurant where Rene Redzepi was sous chef called Kong Hans Kælder which was the finest restaurant in Denmark, as an apprentice. I had this mindset that if I just keep doing one thing, I’m going to be the best. If I ignore everything, feelings, just keep on pushing, you’ll arrive at being good. Of course, that didn’t work for more than a year and half, I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I stopped and went to London, finished my education. I was working for a while in restaurants but I never really felt happy about it. Restaurants are quite often like being in the army. You say “yes chef”, if you don’t do things correctly you get punished, you get bullied. I was always very sensitive. The reason why I loved cooking was because of that feeling when you smell something and it’s nice and you want to be a part of it. For instance, when you fry sage, and it creates something, and you want to share it afterwards, and you want to talk about it, and make it even better. And that was never a part of it. It was a huge lack of the intellectual process of being a chef, which I thought was quite important.

Because I had no money, I got back to cooking. I was super lucky that I got a job just around the corner from where I grew up. There was this very special chef named Erwin Lauterbach, the initial founder of Nordic cuisine, and he was actually an artist. All of the sudden I found someone that understood feelings and could explain why I should do things. I remember one day he was standing with a cauliflower. He plunged a knife into the cauliflower and broke it up and took a piece and said “this piece is for the lady on table 7, and this bigger one is for her husband”. And he was about transferring energy to people. He could be standing over these chefs, doing a new dish, putting two pieces of peeled tomato together and said “put it as a pussy, like a women’s vagina”. The chefs didn’t know what to do with themselves, and I thought, this guy has a language. And I realized I misunderstood everything. I was always trying to see what other people did, and thought that’s what I had to do. I just needed to do my own thing. So, from that point, everything was pretty easy. And I made an agreement with myself that I would always have an interest in art, music, science, everything. It was not about becoming anything, it was about involving everything into my own process and getting inspired by it.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

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Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.