Notes from a Recording Booth in Copenhagen

There’s a particular kind of silence that lives in a recording booth. Not the absence of sound — more a stillness that hums just beneath the surface. I’ve grown to like it. It reminds me of early mornings in the city before people are fully awake. That pause before the day begins.

A portion of my voice work takes place in that quiet. Standing behind a microphone, shaping tone and meaning through the voice alone. It doesn’t demand the full-body inhabiting of film or theatre acting, but it requires the same attention — the same honesty.

Recording during a voiceover session in Copenhagen.

In a way, sound has always been part of the background. I come from a musical family on both sides. On my mother’s side, my great-grandmother’s cousin was the pianist Johanne Stockmarr, and tracing the family further back reveals a long line of musicians that reaches into 18th-century Germany.

On my father’s side, music has also always been present — my dad, for instance, played the piano entirely by ear and as a teenager, I sang backup vocals on my uncle’s blues recordings in his small home studio in Copenhagen. Later, in London, I performed as June Carter in a Johnny Cash duo, singing songs like Jackson and Cause I Love You. Before that, during a period in Los Angeles, I spent evenings layering harmonies in a friend’s studio on Gower Street. None of it was planned. It was simply part of the journey — learning how sound moves.

That early comfort around microphones and soundboards probably helped me segue into voice work later on.

Most auditions and test reads I record from home, using a simple setup — a microphone, headphones, and a quiet corner of the room. Final recordings, though, are usually done in collaboration with a studio here in Copenhagen, working in both Danish and American English.

There’s something strangely intimate about the process. You speak directly to someone who isn’t there — someone who may not hear your voice for days or weeks. You shape words meant to be absorbed invisibly: guiding, narrating, or sometimes simply staying out of the way.

As an actor, voice work has made me more precise — more aware of how sound moves, and where emotion lives in the breath. It’s also become a kind of anchor between larger shoots and travels. Acting, pared down to its core.

For voiceover enquiries or to hear samples, you can find more details on my voiceover page here.