Open House

Blue­prints of the Unpre­dic­table

Mysterious light and darkness meet endless horizons and perspectives. Trevarefabrikken, the long-term project of two pairs of Norwegian brothers on the Lofoten Islands, may be called a hotel or a social hub, but it is much more.

by Ulrich Stefan Knoll in June 2026

Brave, reckless youth! When two befri­ended sets of brothers decided to buy an old factory while on holiday, some­thing special must have hap­pened. In the case of Martin Hjelle, Andreas ‘B’ Alfsen, Mats Alfsen, and Andreas Hjelle – at that time only 22 to 26 years old – it pro­bably was a mixture of love for the building’s archi­tecture, its loca­tion and natural setting, a good dose of youthful light-hear­tedness, and perhaps a bit of visionary madness.

Having spent ever­y­thing they had to buy the for­mercod liver oil factory in 2014, nowadays known as Tre­vare­fa­brikken, nothing remained with which to begin the reno­va­tions. Con­se­quently, the project required a great deal of long-term per­sonal effort. Luckily, friends, family, and the neigh­bourly local com­munity stepped in to help. This support – in some ins­tances only intended for a few days – con­tinues to this day, as is the case with Nikolai Alfsen, ‘B’s uncle and one of the founding partners at lille frøen arki­tekter in Oslo.

After the Covid rest­ric­tions hit the world, we were forced to rethink and transform the concept.

What had been building up to become a lively cul­tural venue turned into some­thing new out of necessity: a space for remote work, a creative hub – even a music recording studio.

Those years pushed us to explore dif­ferent ways we could use the building and the aspect of com­munity.

Founders of Tre­vare­fa­brikken: Martin Hjelle, Andreas ‘B’ Alfsen, Mats Alfsen and Andreas Hjelle

If, after all these years of con­version, you ask the brothers when they will be finished or whether, in fact, there will even be an end, you will hear either “pro­bably never” or “we still can easily spend another ten years on this”.

Their enthu­siasm and courage remain undi­mi­nished – even after more than a decade.

Mean­while, their ambi­tions to create a meeting place of inter­secting cul­tural expres­sions con­ti­nueto evolve. The last floor of the main building should be com­pleted by the end of 2025, so that Tre­vare­fa­brikken will have a total of 21 guest rooms in addition to a restaurant, a wine bar, an event space, a sauna, and an ocean view terrace. But what it has above all, beyond all the spaces and sophisti­cated design, is a soul and a vitality – the result of a youthful vision that was only see­mingly crazy.

The brothers have already given a lot back to the local com­munity. Their revi­ta­li­sation within the declining old fishing village of Hen­ningsvær is one of the reasons why young people are attracted to this Nor­wegian hin­terland nowadays. Not only did they found a fes­tival, but events such as quizzes, discos, and yoga – deve­loped in col­la­bo­ration with the locals – enrich life.

What surely will remain even after the last major reno­vation phase (at least for the time being): a lot of unused space for appar­ently never-ending ideas. The annex, for example, could host apart­ments, or a climbing gym, even a cinema. Perhaps an old external material shed might be filled with life – who knows?
Time will tell. In any case, they are cer­tainly not afraid of change here.

When you have the extra­or­dinary oppor­tunity of views like that, it is so easy to get over­whelmed by their beauty and want to show them all the time.

What we have learned over the years is that you must reveal these things very slowly and carefully. The build up to them can be just as exciting as the final moment.

Jonathan Tuckey (Tuckey Design Studio)

One of the project’s birth partners was London- and Swiss-based designer Jonathan Tuckey, Director at Jonathan Tuckey Design Studio.

It’s a long way to get there. We took three planes. Finally arriving at Lofoten imme­diately makes you feel that you are in a very remote place of incre­dible beauty.

We went there in the dark season. It was a four days’ stay in twi­light. A feeling almost like being under­water – beau­tiful and mys­te­rious. We would walk into the building in darkness because there was no elec­tricity at that moment – a big storm had flooded the building. There was the sound of Polish techno from the con­s­truction workers echoing on con­crete walls, while the twi­light reflected in the water on the floors.

A pretty extra­or­dinary arrival. Knowing that they would want to make this into a hotel, it was some degree of
trepi­dation, exci­tement, enthu­siasm, madness.

Jonathan Tuckey

He talks about a special kind of col­la­bo­ration and tells us his own story about the location, the cha­rac­te­ristics of the project, as well as the spe­cific light con­di­tions in the far north and their signi­fi­cance for the archi­tec­tural concept.

“The pair of brothers ori­gi­nally cont­acted me in 2019 because they had stayed in a hotel we had done in Berlin, the Michel­berger. Despite the fact that the geo­gra­phies of Kreuzberg and Lofoten are so dif­ferent, they had seen some­thing in the way we had worked with this old ciga­rette factory.I was imme­diately attracted by their cha­risma, enthu­siasm, and a sense of the adventure they were on.

They were already in con­s­truction for some years; so the help they needed from us was more para­meters rather than precise plans. As they were quite vi­sionary and con­fident in what could be built, they just needed guidance.We had to make sure that our design was adap­table to the ine­vi­table con­di­tions of an existing build­ing. So, we deve­loped stra­tegies for approa­ching the walls, the windows, the cei­lings, or the bath­rooms, that were fle­xible enough to allow some freedom. The ground floor had already been convert­ed into a bar and event space. We cared about the first floor, where the guest rooms, wine bar, and restaurant are now located.

Martin, Andreas ‘B’, Mats, and Andreas saw poten­tial in a building, in an area, in a geo­graphy, and a com­munity before almost anyone else did. They have been part of an enormous change in the area.

What we drew, they were going to build. And if they couldn’t, we would adapt plans and make it buildable. We worked tog­ether in a very fluid way.

Jonathan Tuckey

Many of our design ideas came from the fact that the building had hosted a car­pentry workshop after the ori­ginal cod liver oil factory had been closed. We used quite a lot of timber, a gesture to this part of its history.

We wanted the rooms to respond to the extremes of winter and summer. So, it was important that, for example, the shutters abso­lutely close out the light in summer, with only a tiny little line of light coming through — making you feel like you are wat­ching a solar eclipse. We were excited to ex­plore how we could use light as a con­s­truction ma­terial — trying some­times to restrict it, some­times to welcome it. We made many little inter­ven­tions just to make the expe­rience spe­cific to this re­gion. The cor­ridors work in a similar way. We want­ed them to be very dark, like the Nor­wegian sea by night. During the day it feels a bit like being in a chapel, an under­ground station, or under water. Entering the room and opening the shutters sug­gests changing from night to day in only a few steps, thus allowing guests to start cap­turing the texture of the con­crete and timber, and to app­re­ciate the light as a material itself.

It’s my first night in the new rooms. I wake early, excited to remember where I am. It’s pitch black, and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust.

As dawn breaks behind the shutters, long thin beams of light, first blue then white, move across the board-marked con­crete.

We have planned so many things in this room, but this is com­pletely unplanned and it’s beau­tiful.

Jonathan Tuckey

The brothers had clear archi­tec­tural objec­tives. They really loved the big con­crete space and were worried that the con­version might ste­rilize its raw beauty. Con­se­quently, it was important to under­stand the con­crete ele­ments as vital parts of the material canon and to ensure that spaces like the cor­ridor, where the full length of the building is seen, were pre­served. The glazing above the bath­rooms simi­larly leaves as much of the con­crete beams visible as pos­sible while simul­ta­neously bringing light into the room – devices that maintain the maximum of the structure. Insu­lating the building only from the outside also helped to pre­serve its appearance.

This project cer­tainly cata­lysed an exci­tement about darkness, and for the con­trast between light and dark. We have carried lessons from that into other pro­jects since then”.

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Words: Ulrich Stefan Knoll

Photos: Andrea Gjes­tvang, Max Ema­nu­elson, Fanny Holm­ström, Elin Frö­derberg, Private archive by Alf Per Johansen (former owner)
Dra­wings: Tuckey Design Studio

This article first appeared in our book Dream in Pro­gress. The book is available to purchase from our shop.