With projects ranging from clubs to cultural buildings to industrial facilities, Johan Olsson and Andreas Lyckefors show how architecture can create spaces that are both precise and poetic. A conversation about responsibility, materiality and the power of context.

Our collaboration began in 2002 during our architecture studies in Gothenburg. In 2004, we received our first real commission – for a lifestyle store in an old cinema: the Victoria Arena. That was our starting point. What began with interior design projects – clubs, restaurants, small houses – evolved organically over the years. Today, our work spans everything from residential buildings to Sweden’s largest industrial facility: a battery factory in Gothenburg.

From the very beginning, the office saw itself as more than a traditional architectural studio. The desire to collaborate with other disciplines – from politics to landscape planning – still shapes our work today.

We try not to fall into a stylistic corset. Our goal is to create architecture that emerges from context. We want to read the situation – and respond to it.

It’s almost therapeutic: when we sense we’re repeating ourselves, we consciously change our methods. We’re like architectural chameleons – not out of randomness, but because we believe every task demands a new and different perspective.

The complexity of today’s projects practically demands it. Sometimes it's about sustainability, sometimes social issues or marketing – so we collaborate with experts from those fields. We’re a small office with a large network. Sometimes it’s about practical things, like branding a restaurant or conveying cultural heritage in tourism projects. The key is: we bring in the expertise each project truly needs.

Merkurhuset in Gothenburg, a project we realized under our former company name Bornstein Lyckefors, together with our former co-owner Per Bornstein. It’s an office building for the advertising agency Forsman & Bodenfors, and with it we won the Kasper Salin Prize in 2022. The collaboration was unusually close – weekly meetings, shared thinking, designing, decision-making. We designed not just the architecture but also the interior. Vertical circulation is concentrated in rounded, almost sculptural end zones that bundle all functions – while in between, open and flexible spaces emerge.

It’s a building that appears calm on the outside but is highly specific inside and allows for flexibility. Almost like a university building. It reflects our attitude: generic in structure, distinctive in detail. And it shows how closely we develop projects with our clients – we never design something that ends up surprising them. It’s always a shared journey.

Another project that reflects our values is the Späckhuggaren house. The client was a divorced father who wanted to move closer to the water with his children. At first, we thought of a boat shape. Then we discovered that a warehouse once stood on the site, so we changed everything. The result is a kind of architectural Tetris: a small house that feels large – thanks to flowing transitions, varying ceiling heights, and maximum spatial efficiency. Almost like a cross-section by Adolf Loos.

Being inside the house is like sitting under an apple tree: light filters in from all sides, shaping the interior space in dynamic and unexpected ways. The architecture feels interwoven with the landscape, and the spatial experience unfolds in three dimensions.

Absolutely. A good building must respond to many scenarios – today an office, tomorrow a restaurant, the day after something else entirely. For that, you need structural clarity and spatial generosity. We’re currently working on a building in southern Gothenburg called The Tailor, where the program is still completely open: co-working, gastronomy, spa – everything is possible. The design must accommodate this openness, and that’s what makes it future-proof.

Andreas Lyckefors: The future often lies in the right tension between specificity and openness. Merkurhuset is a good example. Originally zoned for residential use, we had to work with ceiling heights that were too low for offices. But that forced us to rethink: what is a good proportion? What does a structure look like that can do both?

How do users respond to your buildings?

Andreas Lyckefors: For us, the key is that spaces remain open to change. Users should be able to recognize themselves in them. That’s why we always develop the architectural concept together with the client. They are co-authors, not just clients.

Johan Olsson: In Merkurhuset, users often say: “It feels like a creative factory.” The spaces are raw, flexible, robust. You can use them without worrying about scratches or imperfections. That gives a sense of freedom, and that’s how architecture should be. We have a diagram that illustrates our thinking: on one end is “raw”, industrial spaces, robust, honest. On the other end is “refined” – carefully designed, elegant. Both can work. But in the middle lies the boring stuff – white grid ceilings, interchangeable details. That’s where we never want to go. Because mediocrity is neither sustainable nor economically sensible. Those who create spaces with character don’t need to constantly redesign them. That saves resources, both material and mental.