Dear reader, before presenting the map I created to illustrate the spaces of hygge in 2019, I would like to talk to you about this phenomenon known as hygge as the Danes put it, which may seem very mysterious to non-Scandinavians. This aspect of Scandinavian culture must be approached by reviewing the various approaches and nuanced definitions, based on the perceptions and feelings of the people I interviewed for this research project.
Hygge has fascinated me for a long time; it is virtually untranslatable into English or French. But it can be defined in a sensorial and emotional way: it is an atmosphere of comfort, a state of well-being and conviviality, linked to simple, warm moments that can be enjoyed individually or with loved ones. It is not just a specific activity, but rather a moment, an episode in life, a collective emotional experience, where the group promotes the “pleasure of small things”, relaxation and affection.
Hygge can be captured in those moments when the pleasure of small things, relaxation, unwinding and emotional warmth are expressed. Small groups of people who know each other get together with the idea of “having fun” in a cosy and warm atmosphere, where everything is gentle and preferably slow-paced and kind. Although this practice can take place anywhere — outdoors or indoors — gatherings considered hyggelige (warm or friendly) usually take place in charming settings, with soft lighting, candles, comfortable seating with cushions in cosy interiors — bars, tea rooms, but also in private homes and flats. The aim is to share happy, stress-free moments over coffee or a meal, a board game or a film, with the main objective being to have fun in a warm and comfortable atmosphere. For those who participate, it is a search for inner well-being.
This practice also exists elsewhere in Scandinavia: in Sweden, where it is called mysig, an adjective that can be translated as cosy, comfortable or warm depending on the context, evoking a pleasant and welcoming atmosphere that promotes both physical and emotional well-being; and in Norway, where they kose seg, a verb meaning “to enjoy oneself, relax, enjoy a pleasant moment (implied”with others"), which evokes comfort and relaxation. In Germany, they talk about gemütlich and in the Netherlands, they say gezellig. The experience of hygge, which is not unique to Denmark (even though in Danish culture hygge is thought of as a phenomenon unique to Denmark), is simply a way of being, an attitude that anyone can adopt, anywhere in the world, without necessarily being Scandinavian. However, it is difficult, if not impossible, to find an equivalent term for this expression in other languages.
Hygge is therefore simply a way of being, in other words, something completely ordinary, like normal life passing by without anything really special or extraordinary happening. And it is precisely for this reason that I wanted to study the dynamics, which stem from a “mysterious ease”, of an intimate and local movement that has nevertheless spread throughout the world.
In 2019, I travelled to Aarhus, Denmark with my colleague Robbin de Jong to study hygge ethnographically, with the idea of exploring two areas of research in more detail: firstly, how Danish identity is expressed in hygge, and secondly, what influence globalisation—and more specifically neoliberalism— might have on this phenomenon.
This map is a “first draft” and shows all the spontaneous notes I took quickly during my fieldwork. Cartographic representation was an essential part of the research in that it revealed elements that would otherwise have remained invisible; it also allowed me to acquire a deeper, more intimate knowledge of the subject. Curiously, I never included it in the final version of my bachelor’s thesis; it remained for several years in my journal, along with my field notes, gathering dust on my bookshelves. The idea of doing something with it lay dormant in the back of my mind until I mentioned it to Philippe Rekacewicz, a geographer and cartographer who is an associate researcher on the Embodied Ecologies project led by anthropologist Anita Hardon in the Department of Social Sciences at Wageningen University. Intrigued by the elements I had submitted to him, he insisted that I formalise all of this material into a descriptive methodological contribution.
This article is not a direct account of the results of the ethnographic fieldwork conducted with Robin de Jong, it focuses on the process of map creation. I will first outline the methodological approaches before summarising the results of our empirical data. Then, I will present the map of the Studenterbaren (the student bar) that I drew, a bar that is very popular with students, staff and residents of the Aarhus University campus, and finally tell you what I learned from it.
Methods
We used tools from ethnography: “participant observation”, which involved taking part in activities with people rather than observing them from the outside; hanging out , where we simply shared moments in bars near people without being quite with them, which is a more informal and discreet approach than “participant observation”; and finally, we conducted a series of qualitative interviews. We mainly spoke English with people, but as Danish is one of my two native languages, I was also able to conduct interviews in Danish.
We chose the “city of smiles”, as Aarhus is described on the tourist website, because it is home to an internationally renowned university that welcomes both Danish and foreign students. At first, we thought that our “research sample” should consist only of Danish students, but we realised that the international context would offer us more perspectives, because hygge, although “practised” mainly by native Danes, was also “commercialised” by professional players who, by bringing in foreigners to give them a “taste” of this phenomenon, saw it as a source of income.
We explored places that our participants and their networks considered to be hyggelige by definition and where the atmosphere was cool. As we were studying public spaces, we were advised to visit different types of bars. But we ended up mainly hanging out at the Studenterbaren (the student bar), which is the setting for the map I present in this article. This establishment was not exclusively reserved for university staff and students, but was open to everyone.
Overview of our research
In 2019, as we were scouring the bars of Aarhus, hygge was becoming a buzzword around the world (perhaps linked to the publication of Meik Weiking’s book The Little Book of Hygge [1]). And we wondered if this was the reason why Denmark has been considered one of the happiest societies in the world for decades.
We were curious to know whether hygge was really a dynamic specific to Denmark and, if so, what made it Danish. We asked students in Aarhus what “being Danish” and “Danishness” meant to them, what they thought of hygge and whether they “practised” it, and finally, whether they felt that this mindset specific to their country had been somewhat distorted since it had become a marketing practice that seemed to be selling rather well.
We defined hygge a little earlier, but for the students, talking about hygge remained a complicated exercise and they found it difficult to formalise their thoughts. They often said that it was like an atmosphere or a dynamic that offered everyone a space to relax and recharge their batteries, without fear of judgement or social expectations. This atmosphere, experienced alone or shared with loved ones, aimed to provide a refuge where external tensions and pressures could be momentarily suspended. After rereading my thesis (2019) to write this article, I would add a more political note: hygge offers an escape from the neoliberal system, a break from everyday life away from our connected devices; it offers time and a moment to be fully present with oneself and one’s loved ones.
In the era of globalisation, the concept of hygge has somehow split in two: on the one hand, there is hygge as it is experienced in Denmark, where it also conveys aspects of ’Danishness’; on the other, there is a more recent, commercialised version, aimed at tourists and promoted internationally. It often manifests itself through various practices: lighting candles, reading a book, etc. Although these practices are not unusual for Danes, this variant of hygge has been deemed problematic in that it establishes a kind of “standard of excellence” implicitly oriented towards the pursuit of hygge. In other words, it is about achieving a result rather than enjoying the process.
Students find this idea difficult to accept, believing that presenting a “standard of excellence” gives the impression that there is a right and wrong way to practise hygge, whereas in their view, “practising hygge” is an inherently personal, spontaneous experience, focused above all on the pursuit of simplicity, even humility. One might also think that Denmark has a monopoly on hygge, but the students clearly pointed out that it can be experienced by anyone in any way they choose, without any rules or protocols.
Through our discussions with the students, we realised that hygge carries elements that are deeply rooted in three essential aspects of Danish culture: trust (particularly social and political trust), equality and privacy.
Our data showed that these components were not only rooted in Danish identity, but also in hygge practices in Denmark: hygge, in its many manifestations, seems inseparable from these underlying values. It therefore seemed more accurate to speak not of a single form of hygge, but of a specifically Danish form.
I was able to connect these concepts by drawing a map of the Studenterbaren, the student bar at Aarhus University. The map illustrates the importance and deep-rooted nature of privacy in Danish identity, as well as how this is reflected in interior design.
Map of the Studenterbaren
At the beginning of our field research, we went to the basement of one of the buildings on the Aarhus University campus where the Studenterbaren (student bar) is located. This place has a rich history [2]. Created in 1965, it was designed as a “cognac lounge” with an open fireplace. At the time, smoking was allowed everywhere except in the small “non-smoking room” at the back — a name that still remains today, even though the bar and campus are now entirely smoke-free.
The Studenterbaren has always been open to everyone. Since its inception, it has hosted jazz concerts, drink tastings and fairly quiet evenings. The bar gained popularity in the 1980s when the Hell’s Angels bikers started frequenting it. In the 1990s and 2000s, it gradually attracted a clientele of students, staff and local residents. Today, the Studenterbaren still offers a wide selection of speciality beers, organises tastings, quizzes and meals, and provides board games free of charge to all its visitors.
It was a fairly quiet Tuesday afternoon, and only eight students were present, spread out throughout the space. The students sat far apart from each other, as if they had deliberately chosen corners to have as much space between them as possible. It was only when two of their friends entered the bar that they got up; they hugged each other and went to sit alone in isolated corners. The silence was such that the music (always kept at a low volume so that customers could talk) seemed louder than all the conversations in the room. Even my colleague had isolated himself to check his messages, leaving me in an unsettling solitude. Nothing was happening anymore; the atmosphere was “filled” with a vast emptiness.
Anthropologists love nothing more than observing people in their activities and movements, provided they are active, of course. Conversely, if people are quiet, at rest, or quietly going about their own business in their respective corners, one might think there is nothing to study. Sjaak van der Geest and Geert Mommersteeg expressed this in their plea for the study of the bed as a cultural object: “the bed is associated with sleep, which is generally considered to be a time away from conscious life and social activity” (Van der Geest & Mommersteeg 2006, 8), rendering a person “irrelevant to the social scientist”. The authors emphasise the importance of sleep for the social sciences, as a cultural practice shaped by specific habits, rituals, customs and economic contexts. While the authors associated the bed with sleep, thus making the bed a relevant cultural object to study, I associated bars with spaces where certain atmospheres and dynamics (potentially specific to a culture) could occur – such as hygge – thus making the bar a relevant cultural space, even during its quietest moments.
At the time, while preparing our fieldwork, I read an article written by an anthropologist who conducted research in a bar in Latin America. I was very inspired by her approach. I didn’t reference it and, despite extensive research, I haven’t been able to find it again. So I’m unable to cite the author correctly, but I’ll do my best to describe her work!
In this article, she had drawn a map to track people’s movements in a bar in order to determine whether a bar is a social space in its entirety or whether the creation of social spaces is due to certain areas of the bar. She used the map to track people’s movements within the bar. The basis of the space was simply to trace the contours of the environment: the bar area, the support beams, the tables (high and low), the doors... Then, to illustrate how people moved around, the author drew small footprints to trace movement patterns. Some footprints on the map were drawn with denser ink than others, indicating that people stayed longer in that area to chat with the people sitting there.
We did not use this article for our theoretical framework, but it has remained etched in my memory since I read it, so that the spirit of this work still accompanies me today in my fieldwork. So, on that quiet Tuesday afternoon at the Studenterbaren, when nothing in particular seemed to be happening, I drew a map of the environment to explore the space from a new perspective.
Mapping was a completely new practice for me and I didn’t feel capable of drawing anything relevant, but, determined, I followed in the footsteps of the South American author’s study, starting by drawing a very basic map of my surroundings. I looked in every corner to make sure I captured everything.
My map therefore includes tables that are not perfectly symmetrically aligned: it is a realistic representation of the layout. I was struck by the fact that each table was positioned in such a way that it was difficult to see the neighbouring tables directly. This was evident in the way some tables were placed diagonally, but side by side, and how the larger tables were nestled in the corners. In other words, the arrangement of tables and chairs created small private islands, and within each small island, one had one’s back turned to the other small islands.
Since the Studenterbaren was an informal space, it was easy to move the furniture around as one pleased. Clearly, at the time this map was drawn, the space was very empty and the few visitors present had no need to move the furniture. On other visits to this bar, we found that most students seemed to respect the layout of the space and, at most, used a chair from another table, but rarely moved the tables from their designated locations.
After making this observation, I wondered whether Studenterbaren was the only space designed to create small private islands or whether this was common practice in cafés and other bars in Aarhus. In a café that I frequented solely for writing, and not for detailed observation, I realised that the same principle applied.
Even the large armchairs were arranged to create a private bubble: there were no tables or chairs on the other side of the space. So even though visitors could walk past the seats to move further into the café, you and your companions could keep your little private island.
This map was my first experience with a type of mapping that was not geographical in nature, but rather “sensory” or “emotional”. Although I was discouraged from using this map in my thesis, it still gave me a whole new perspective and helped me ask more specific questions of the students throughout the fieldwork period. At the time, I prioritised my degree by limiting my desire to apply creative research methods, as I had been advised to do!
To conclude on a more personal note: I sometimes get so focused on the result that I forget to enjoy the process itself. This has been especially true with new experiences: I focus solely on the result, then blame myself when it doesn’t immediately match what I had imagined.
Returning to this map encouraged me to adopt more creative and playful research methods, such as sensory, perceptual and emotional mapping. I therefore invite you to try mapping in every way possible, according to whatever inspiration comes to mind, regardless of the place or subject, no matter how mundane. And above all, have fun with it! Whether you are a novice or already very experienced, new horizons will open up for you.
And to stay in the spirit of hygge: never forget to enjoy the process!
References
- Geest, Sjaak van der, and Geert Mommersteeg. 2006. “Beds and Culture: Introduction.” Medische Antropologie 18 (1): 7-17.
- de Jong, R. D., & van Dalen, E. T. 2019. “What’s all the fuss about: de ervaring van hygge in relatie tot identiteit, mondialisering en plaats, onder jongvolwassenen in Aarhus,” Bachelor’s thesis, Utrecht University, Netherlands.
- Bille, M. 2014. "Lighting up cosy atmospheres in Denmark" Emotion, Space, and Society, Volume 15, May 2015, Pages 56-63.