When I look at your projects, I get the feeling that you’re often more interested in public space and what happens between structures than in the buildings themselves. Is that true?

Yes, definitely. The three of us who founded ADEPT have known each other since childhood—we met when we were about twelve or thirteen, long before we started studying architecture. During our studies, we each went in slightly different directions. Some focused more on urban planning, others on architecture. When we were founding the studio in Copenhagen, there were many ambitious architectural projects underway there with a very international scope. At the same time, however, we felt that many of those buildings actually contributed nothing to their surroundings. They didn’t create better neighborhoods or a higher quality of life. And that’s precisely what our approach is based on. We always strive to build upon what already exists on site—that is, its history, social relationships, culture, and spatial qualities—and to further develop these layers. We’re not interested in imposing a universal “ADEPT style.” On the contrary, we always try to understand what makes a given place unique and to strengthen precisely those qualities.

This actually ties into the question of iconic architecture. In your opinion, should architecture function more as part of everyday life, or as a standalone object meant to be admired?

Architecture should always be rooted in its context. This could be a city, a landscape, an industrial site, or a historic setting, but it should always build upon something that already exists. I don’t think architecture works best as a standalone structure meant to impress everyone. In my view, it’s most interesting when it becomes a continuation of a particular place’s history and helps develop its character.

That’s why we’ve never been particularly interested in iconic buildings for their own sake. It’s much more interesting to look for ways in which places can respond to contemporary challenges without losing their identity. Historic European city centers, for example, are now facing climate change and the heat island effect. The traditional concept of a square or public space is therefore often no longer sufficient, and we must begin to reevaluate certain typologies. I consider the search for new solutions that respect history while responding to the future to be one of the most interesting tasks of contemporary architecture.

Your project for the School of Architecture in Aarhus feels more like a living workshop than a finished building. Is this precisely how you think about architecture?

Yes. We believe that architecture should be rooted in a certain generosity and humility toward its surroundings. Cities and buildings ultimately come to life thanks to the people who use them, which is why the human scale and a certain degree of openness are important to us.

The new School of Architecture in Aarhus is a good example of this. We designed it as a framework that students and other architects can continue to develop. After completing the main structure, we held a series of competitions in which students and architects proposed further interventions inside the building. In my opinion, that is precisely why the project works. The building does not come across as a finished work of art or an untouchable object. Rather, it is like a living workshop that is constantly transforming.

Do people ever make your projects their own in ways you didn’t expect at all?

Very often. Today, many years often pass between the design and the completion of a project, and society changes in the meantime. That’s why we strive to design architecture that is both very specific and open. This is also related to sustainability and a circular approach. You have to distinguish between what is meant to be permanent and what can change over time. Such architecture is then more robust, yet at the same time more open to people. That’s exactly what happened, for example, at the aforementioned School of Architecture in Aarhus, which has evolved into more of a framework for life than a finished architectural object. We’ve had a similar experience with the Ku.Be cultural and movement center project in Copenhagen. We divided the building into different zones for movement, performance, or sensory activities, but in the end, the most important space turned out to be the “in-between.” The foyer spontaneously transformed into a sort of three-dimensional playground for children. Families now spend time there even without a specific plan, especially during Copenhagen’s long winters. And it is precisely these moments that bring an architect the greatest joy.

In the Czech Republic, Scandinavia is often perceived as a certain ideal, whether in terms of public space, cycling, housing, or urban planning. Do you feel that Scandinavian architecture has become an export brand?

I’d be cautious about claiming that something is perfect. But yes, architecture and design are undoubtedly an important part of Scandinavian exports. At the same time, however, it’s important not to view Scandinavia as a single, homogeneous entity. There are major differences between the individual countries, so I can speak mainly for Denmark. In Denmark, there’s a very long tradition of viewing architecture and design as an important part of public life—from public buildings to public spaces. This is something that has been systematically developing since the 1950s. As Danish architects, we grew up knowing that Jørn Utzon built in Sydney and Arne Jacobsen designed all over the world. So the international reach of Danish architecture is nothing new to us. At the same time, however, the environment in Copenhagen is extremely competitive. Firms are used to competing at a very high level, and I think that’s an advantage when we work abroad. At the beginning of the millennium, everyone used to go to the Netherlands to learn; today, many people come to Copenhagen specifically for architecture. And that’s wonderful, of course.

In Prague, you won a highly publicized competition for the new Miloš Forman Square. A total of 197 architectural firms from 42 countries entered the competition, making it the most competitive architectural competition in the Czech Republic to date. How did you feel when you found out you’d won against such fierce competition? And in what ways do you think your design stood out from the others?

We’re truly delighted with this project. The very opportunity to work within such a rich historical and cultural context is immensely inspiring for us. From the start, however, we didn’t think of the square as a space for a bold architectural statement. We were more interested in how to create a place that would function naturally as part of the city. Climate resilience in the historic centers of European cities was also a major focus for us. We sought a way to work with the landscape, shade, and microclimate without losing the identity of the place. In addition, we’re collaborating on the project with TaK Architects, which is extremely valuable to us precisely because of their deep knowledge of the Prague context. The entire process has been exceptionally professional and inspiring so far. I think it’s precisely the combination of local experience and our way of working that has created a very strong foundation for the entire design.

Prague tends to be very cautious—sometimes even emotional—toward new architecture in the historic center. Do you feel more pressure working here than in Denmark?

To a certain extent, yes. Prague’s historic center carries extraordinary weight and has a strong identity, much more pronounced than what we’re used to in Copenhagen or other cities. This, of course, creates a greater sense of responsibility and the need for a more sensitive approach. Our working method, after all, remains the same regardless of the context. Whether we’re working with industrial heritage or a historic center, we always strive to truly read and understand the site first. In Prague, however, you have to be more subtle. You can’t afford to be as radical as you might be elsewhere. At the same time, though, it’s a very exciting kind of pressure. In fact, it’s precisely because of places like this that one wants to practice architecture.

Miloš Forman Square isn’t your only project in the Czech Republic; you’re working on the transformation of Ostrava’s Žofinka, a new urban block in Florenc, and you’ve also presented a design for a new velodrome in Brno. What attracts you to the Czech environment?

It’s not entirely by chance. We’re not a huge firm that strategically chooses one country and begins to expand there systematically. To a certain extent, we grow through the opportunities and competitions that come our way. At the same time, however, we carefully select the environments in which we want to operate. And working in the Czech Republic has been a very positive experience for us from the very beginning. We’ve noticed the high standard of architecture here, as well as the great ambition behind the competitions we’ve participated in. At the same time, we feel there’s a certain cultural similarity between the Czech Republic and Denmark. Communication here is very direct and open, which is something that naturally suits us. Our experience so far has been defined by a high level of professionalism, ambition, and very fair dialogue. And that is precisely one of the reasons why we enjoy the Czech environment so much. Another important factor is that several talented Czech female architects work in our Copenhagen studio and are actively involved in these projects.