The Cell
The smallest room in the house and the one we’re proudest of. Eighteen square metres of board-marked concrete, a platform bed, a single steel-framed window onto the courtyard. Nothing on the walls. Nothing under the bed.
Twenty-four rooms wrapped around the atrium on three floors. Four types. Each was once part of a printworks, a press room, a paper store, a foreman’s office, and each keeps its concrete, its steel, and the scale it was built at.
The smallest room in the house and the one we’re proudest of. Eighteen square metres of board-marked concrete, a platform bed, a single steel-framed window onto the courtyard. Nothing on the walls. Nothing under the bed.
Where two outer walls meet, with windows on two sides and the city pressing in. North light all morning. A long concrete shelf instead of a desk; you work standing, or you don’t work.
Built under the old crane gantry, a five-metre ceiling and the original steel I-beam left exactly where it was, running the length of the room above the bed.
The only suite. The former foreman’s office on the top floor, with its own glazed wall onto the atrium and the glass roof above. A freestanding bath cast from the same concrete as the building. You watch the weather move across the roof from the bed.
the atrium · glass roof · 13:20The building was a printworks until 2009. When we took it on, the architects’ first move was to take a chainsaw to three floors of office partitions and leave the centre empty, a single concrete shaft, twelve metres to a new glass roof.
Every room opens onto it. The stairs wrap it. Breakfast happens at its foot, the bar sits in one corner, and the light changes all day across the board-marked walls. It is the reason there are no elevators: the atrium is the circulation. You walk through the idea of the hotel to get to your room.
A concrete counter in the corner of the atrium, open to the street and to guests until late. Six things, written on the wall in chalk, changed when we feel like it. No table service, no reservations, you stand, or you find a step.
A bare 90m² space off the atrium, lent four times a year to one artist at a time. Free, always open, lit until midnight. Guests have the keys.
Two nights minimum. We confirm by hand, front desk writes back within the day, Berlin time. One night’s deposit; the rest settled at check-out.
Two-night minimum, three on weekends. Pick a first date, then a last; click again to start over.
No card charged now · free to cancel up to 7 days before arrival
The front desk will write back within the day, Berlin time, to confirm the room and ask your arrival hour. There’s no lift, so we’ll tell you which stair is yours. Bring less than you think.