“More air, more nature, more space — both around you and within you”
IN RESIDENCE
With Christina Düsterdich
The old former doctor’s residence on Tåsinge, in the South Funen archipelago, drew its inhabitants in with a quiet magnetism. It was the bones, the history, and the character of the house — alongside a lush garden rich with foliage — that led a Copenhagen-based family to reimagine their lives, reaching for something they had long believed belonged only to dreams.
Today, they live in what they refer to as “paradise” — where the light feels softer, the air more breathable, and the garden moves in rhythm with the seasons. We spoke with Christina Düsterdich, Head of Creative at Karmameju Skincare, about the space she inhabits, the rituals that shape her days, and the sensibilities that inform a life lived in closer relation to nature.
What was it about the house that drew you in?
For me, it began long before we moved. I saw the listing for the house two years before we even talked about relocating. At the time, we were looking for a summer house, but something made an imprint. Looking back, it felt as if that listing planted an idea — a realization that you can have more when you dare to look beyond the city. More air, more nature, more space — both around you and within you. I remember sending the listing to my husband with two words: dream house. And when we first stood here, we both knew that we didn’t really have a choice — if we were to leave Copenhagen, it had to be for exactly this.
How would you describe the life you’ve created here?
We’ve created a life that holds a bit of both worlds. Our everyday life feels more free now, and a different kind of presence has emerged within it — a greater awareness of what surrounds us. We still go to Copenhagen for work and are filled by the energy of the city a few days a week — but coming home to the calm, the nature, and a different rhythm, and finding balance again, feels like the most rewarding change.
What does this place mean to you?
For me, this place has become something more than just a home — it’s a place that carries us. A place where I can feel myself more clearly — and at the same time let go a little more.
How would you describe the atmosphere in your home?
The atmosphere here is light and alive, with a sense of calm and a feeling of space. Space for movement, for thoughts, for creativity — simply for being. It is a home that is not static. It changes with the light, with the seasons, with us. And that is exactly what makes it alive.
“It is a home that is not static”
How do materials and textures shape the feeling of your home?
Materials and textures mean a lot to me. I look for the tactile — something you want to touch because it feels real. I find that it’s in the meeting between different surfaces that a space gains its depth and calm.
What makes a home feel alive to you?
For me, a home feels alive when it feels in motion — not constant change, but a development where things find their place over time, and are moved again as the flow shifts. When there is a balance between calm and personality, and when rooms feel like something you step into and become part of, rather than something that is simply styled.
How do you choose the things you surround yourself with?
I choose the things I surround myself with instinctively. It is rarely something quick or planned, but rather a sense that something feels right — in the material, in the shape, in the energy. It is a curated process, but one that is more about deselection than selection. Every piece in our home is considered and adds to the story — each object, piece of furniture, and artwork contributing to the overall composition.
How does nature shape your life here?
Nature is a constant presence in our life here. It is not something we seek out — it is always there. In the light moving through the rooms. In the garden that is constantly changing. In the scents, in the silence between sounds.
It helps me stay in the present, because it constantly reminds me that everything is in motion. Something grows, something dies, something changes — and it cannot be controlled. Only understood, or perhaps simply met.
“Something grows, something dies, something changes — and it cannot be controlled”
I often feel a kind of humility in that, and at the same time a curiosity. As if I am constantly trying to learn its language.
Sometimes it almost feels like an alchemical practice to be responsible for a garden… to be in dialogue with the plants, the scents, the soil — to refine, understand, transform.
We have trees in the garden that are several hundred years old, and that creates a particular sense of time. Of being part of something that extends far beyond oneself.
There is also a sense of purpose in it — in caring for, nurturing, and maintaining. Not controlling, but taking responsibility and being in relation. And it affects the way we live — slowing the pace, opening the senses, and creating a different kind of clarity.
What feels most valuable about living here?
What I treasure most about living here is the sense of ease that arises naturally in everyday life, as if the space around us gives something back instead of just being used. There is time and space for both the intimate and the expansive, and the two are allowed to exist side by side without competing.
What do your mornings feel like here?
My mornings here begin either in deep darkness under a starry sky, on the days when I have to go early to Copenhagen, or with the very first light of the day coloring the world pink outside the window. I register the trees from bed first — whether it’s windy, whether the sun is breaking through, whether the day is clear or soft — and the first thing I often encounter is my daughter and the sound of the house waking up. I walk the dog and take in the first fresh air in all kinds of weather. Then my skincare rituals in the bathroom, breakfast, and in summer the garden becomes part of the morning when it needs watering, with a cup of coffee in hand. In winter, I stay in bed as long as the day’s plans allow.
What rituals guide your day?
Opening the balcony door to the sound of morning birds, coffee in the sun, waking my body with dry brushing, airing out duvets and making our beds, hanging laundry to dry outside, my evening bath, my short walk down to the kitchen garden to gather herbs for tea or dinner. I have an intuitive love for arranging, shaping, and creating things around me. Moving things, cleaning, repotting plants, adjusting the garden…
Where do you find inspiration?
I find inspiration in many different things — in books, films, in the cityscape, and in encounters with people and nature. It can arise very simply, in a flower petal I happen to notice while in the garden, or in an editorial where a mood settles into an idea or a thought. I am also inspired by creative profiles from different parts of the world, where the aesthetic, the perspective, and the cultural context open something new.
What draws you to working with plants and scent?
When I blend my scents, it feels like a process where the gut and the heart often understand what is being created before the mind. Nature’s scents allow you to be intuitive — there are endless combinations that can result in something completely unique. I have studied the frameworks for combining effective aromatherapy or herbal tea, but the rest is based on intuition and experience — what works and what doesn’t.
“The gut and the heart often understand what is being created before the mind”
What continues to fascinate me is a more holistic way of working — the meeting between the sensory and the functional, and how natural ingredients, scent, and effect come together. It is an inexhaustible world of possibilities to work within, and a constant source of inspiration — a way of working between nature, aesthetics, and function, where intuition and knowledge constantly meet.
Are there objects in your home that hold particular meaning?
There are special objects that carry something personal — a painting, found objects, things that have come to us over time and have become part of our story.
What does beauty mean to you in everyday life?
For me, beauty in everyday life is something that is felt more than it is seen. It can lie in the light that changes a room throughout the day, in a scent, in a mood, or in a moment where everything falls slightly into place. Beauty is not something perfect — it is something alive that arises when there is presence in what you surround yourself with.
What do you think we need more of in the way we live today?
I think we need more slowness and more connection in the way we live today. More time to sense what we are in, and less focus on what we think we need to achieve. Where less is more and quality and timeless elegance outweigh quantity and trends. Perhaps also a greater trust in the simple — that what is real and sensory is often enough in itself.
If you were to describe the feeling of this home in a few words, what would you say?
If I were to describe the feeling of this home in a few words, I would say: light and airy, yet soft, warm, and deeply comforting — my husband and I always text each other, “see you in paradise,” when we leave Copenhagen and head home.
“We always text each other, see you in paradise”
What do you hope people feel when they enter your home?
I hope it feels like a place where you can exhale a little — where you feel at ease, and where something in the space gives back.
What does the word “home” mean to you today?
Home, for me, is not just a place you live, but a place that carries you. A place that gives energy back, and where you can be completely yourself.
