A Cabin in the Dutch Woods

Editor Kyurie Shin | Photographer Valentina Vos

Near Groningen, a city in the northern Netherlands, lies Drentsche Aa National Park, where winding rivers still flow through largely untouched nature. The forest looks as if it stepped out of a 17th-century landscape painting. Today it is the canvas for the free-spirited life that Gisele Azad and Rudmer van Hulzen are building together. The way they tend their small house and two cabins, which they share on social media, feels like a scene from a film. Their vibrant life amid quiet nature is, in itself, a life worth aspiring to.

This interview is featured in Issue 7 ‘PK22’.


©Valentina Vos
©Valentina Vos


Tell us how you came to move deep into the forest.
GA We’d both always lived in big cities. Before coming here, we lived in an apartment. At first we had no intention of leaving the city, but during the pandemic we gradually started wanting to live closer to nature. Around then, while taking walks across the Netherlands, we discovered Drentsche Aa National Park, where we live now. Most of the houses here have been in the same families for generations, so almost nothing comes up for sale. About a year later, though, we heard this property had come on the market. We were in LA at the time, so we made an offer without even seeing it, and luckily the deal went through. We only saw the place in person after the contract was signed. The property has a main house, a large cabin, and a small shed-like cabin, and we’re renovating them with an architect. Earlier this year we finished our first project, the renovation of this large cabin.
Moving to an environment so different from city life must have been a big decision.
GA During the pandemic, I realized I didn’t miss city life at all. Above all, I grew excited about creating a space where we could carry out our own vision. For the renovation, we hired the architect who had designed a forest house that made a strong impression on me during the pandemic. I think that’s when the idea of ‘living in nature’ really started to take shape in my mind. RH It isn’t far from the city, but it felt like opening a new chapter in life, so I was really excited. There was a lot to do and a lot to think about, but I think it was actually good that we didn’t overthink it. Now that we live here, it suits us even better than we imagined.
©Valentina Vos
©Valentina Vos
How has life in the forest changed your daily routines? We’re curious how living here has influenced your work as a writer and a graphic designer.
GA I think we both needed a ‘completely blank space.’ We grew up in different environments, but we always felt pressure to fit a certain mold or image. So we wanted a place free of any expectations or standards, a space where we could create something entirely our own. Nature is the perfect environment for that. It’s the only place in the world that doesn’t force you to ‘be something.’ With no outside interference, I can focus entirely on myself, my thoughts, and my vision. So everything we do here feels like it truly ‘comes from within us.’ In a world that moves as fast as ours does today, I think an environment like this is a huge gift. For creative people, it’s a real blessing. RH After more than 20 years as a graphic designer, I started to realize more and more the importance of ‘making things by hand.’ Even when we lived in the city, I found great joy in fixing up our home bit by bit myself. I’ve also always been interested in architecture and furniture. In that sense, this property is ‘a place where we can design life itself.’ The picnic table we used as a living room all summer is one I built for our party for Nowruz, the Persian New Year. I recently started doing ceramics, too.


©Valentina Vos
©Valentina Vos


How do you balance life in the forest with work?
RH I’d worked from home ever since the pandemic, but once the cabin was finished, I decided to clearly separate my workspace. Now I go into the office three times a week for graphic design work. The rest of the time, I’m at home thinking about what kind of life we want to live, what we need to do for that life, and how we want to develop this property. GA I’m a writer, so it’s a bit different for me. I write in the cabin, too. But my way of working has changed since we moved here. We deliberately didn’t install internet in the cabin. That way, I can decide for myself ‘when to connect and when to disconnect.’ So these days I write with a pen instead of a computer. I love those quiet moments in the cabin, writing with a cup of coffee beside me.
You chose the PK22 as the first piece of furniture you wanted in this cabin. When did you first have this chair in mind?
GA When we started thinking about how to renovate the cabin, we made a lot of mood boards. Rather than searching for specific furniture, we focused on gathering images of the impressions, materials, textures, and overall atmosphere of the space we envisioned. Then we came across the ‘cane version’ of the PK22 and felt certain. We thought, ‘However we furnish the cabin, this chair has to be here.’ In fact, the PK22 is the first and only piece of furniture we’ve bought for the cabin. We wanted the cabin to feel timeless, so much so that you couldn’t tell whether it had just been built or had been there for 30 years. The PK22 was exactly right for that. Rather than standing out, it blends naturally into the space, while its distinct presence completes the balance of the whole. RH I originally liked the PK22 with the leather seat. But I thought the cane version would suit this cabin better. I felt the combination of steel and natural material captured both of our tastes. We share the same broad approach to space, but the impressions we’re after are a little different. I like minimal, structural forms, like Donald Judd’s, while Azad has a softer, more delicate and elegant aesthetic. Amazingly, those two sensibilities come together really well in this cabin, and I think the cane PK22 is the piece that shows that harmony most perfectly.
We’d love to know how you spend your time sitting in the PK22.
GA It took about two years to design and build the cabin. When it was almost finished, we brought in a pair of PK22s as our first furniture. The floors and walls were still covered in plastic, and tools were scattered everywhere. It was a mess, but we put the chairs in the middle of the space, sat side by side, and had breakfast with our first coffee there. That was the moment it finally sank in: “This really is our home.” Now the chairs are in my studio. When we take a break from ceramics or writing, we often sit in them together and talk.


©Valentina Vos
©Valentina Vos


Azad has often explored the meaning of ‘home’ and ‘belonging’ in her work, drawing on her experience of moving from Iran to the Netherlands as a child. Moving to the cabin feels like putting that exploration into practice.
GA I had a very different childhood from van Hulzen. He grew up with relative stability in the Netherlands, while mine was the opposite. I moved with my family to a different country and culture. Still, we have one thing in common: we both grew up feeling like we never fully belonged anywhere. So when we first started designing this place, I told the architect, “We want to make our own ‘nest.’” As a result, the cabin was designed as a completely open space. Two large spaces on either side of the kitchen flow into each other without boundaries, and their use changes freely depending on what we need. Even the bathroom door has a hidden handle, so only those who know can open it. I’d say our desire to live in our own way is reflected directly in this space. We imagined a space with room to breathe, one that could change at any time, and it turned out exactly as we hoped. RH The same goes for the main house, where construction has just begun. We didn’t design a separate living room and bedroom there either. Instead, we included one large kitchen and a few cozy corners for sitting. We felt the most important thing in a home is the sense that you can move around and rest freely, beyond the set function of each space.
Since you come from different cultural roots, your backgrounds must naturally show in the home you are creating together and in your work.
GA Yes, that’s right. I’m Persian, so there were always carpets at home when I was growing up. In our culture, carpets bring warmth to a space. They’re a kind of symbol that makes a place finally feel like ‘home.’ The cabin has concrete floors and light wood walls and ceilings, so it feels a little cold. That’s why I laid a wool rug in the writing area, and in the hallway by the kitchen, an old kilim rug my mother brought from Tehran herself. Through these rugs, the sense of home I had as a child connects naturally to the space I’m creating now in the Netherlands. This is just my personal opinion, but any space feels much warmer with a carpet in it. RH I was influenced by my father, who has done ceramics for a long time. In fact, he’s now my ceramics teacher. After the PK22, the first thing we brought in was pottery my father made. At first we just put it on the floor, or in the kitchen and other places. Now it sits on the rug alongside my own pieces. I think we both unconsciously brought objects tied to our families and cultures into this space. In the end, three things became the most important and meaningful to us: the chairs, the ceramics, and the carpets.
How do you plan to develop the cabin going forward?
RH We’ll be staying here in the cabin for a few months while we renovate the main house. For that time, we plan to turn the small loft in the cabin into a bedroom, so we can lie in bed and look at the stars through the window. GA I want to add bookshelves to create a reading space, and bring in a bigger desk along with more of van Hulzen’s ceramics. With winter approaching, I’m thinking about what else we can add to make the cabin warmer and more comfortable to stay in.


©Valentina Vos
©Valentina Vos


Want to dive deeper?

Magazine C PK22 cover

Issue.07 PK22

Introduced in 1956 by Danish designer Poul Kjærholm, the PK22 is concise and clear. Designed so that material and structure become form itself, every element of the chair—from the steel frame to the leather and screws—works functionally while shaping its sculptural identity. A defining work of Kjærholm's design philosophy, which extended the precision of traditional Danish craftsmanship into a modern formal language, it is a chair that blends naturally into any space while exerting a quiet presence.

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