Sou Fujimoto

Arch-Architecture: Sou Fujimoto’s Conceptual Simplicity

Few architects have redefined the relationship between nature and the built environment as profoundly as Sou Fujimoto. Renowned for his fluid approach to space, Fujimoto’s work seamlessly dissolves traditional architectural boundaries, embracing organic structures and human-scale interventions. From the ethereal transparency of House NA to the forest-like complexity of the Serpentine Pavilion, his projects challenge conventional notions of shelter, privacy, and spatial fluidity. NR spoke with Sou Fujimoto to explore the inspirations, philosophies, and evolving vision behind his groundbreaking work.

Jade Removille It’s truly a great pleasure to interview you. Your work has been such a significant source of inspiration for me, especially during my studies in Spatial Design at the Royal College of Art a few years ago and your approach to design is something I deeply admire. Your design ethos, particularly in its emphasis on the interplay between nature and architecture, resonates strongly with me. I would like to delve into the genesis of your architectural vision. Could you share how your childhood experiences in Hokkaido have influenced or shaped your perspective on architecture?

Sou Fujimoto I grew up in Hokkaido, and as a child, I often played in the wild forest. At the time, I never considered architecture, but as I began to study it, I realized that my experiences in the woods carried many meanings related to scale, diversity, and something beyond mere functionality. The contrast between Tokyo, where I studied architecture, and the natural environment in which I grew up, was particularly striking. In the heart of Tokyo, in its residential areas, we don’t encounter vast wildlife spaces. However, wandering through the narrow streets of the city, with their meandering paths, felt almost like walking through the woods.

I think this connection comes from the presence of small elements in both environments. In the forest, there are leaves, branches, and small bushes; in Tokyo, small artificial objects, including even the electricity cables, seemed to float in space. I came to realize that the forest is not just a forest—it’s a structure with a human-scale design. It’s a place where you are surrounded and protected by small elements, yet it’s also an open field where anyone can choose their path, their activities, and their way of experiencing the space.

In this way, the forest became an iconic concept for me, representing the essence of architectural thinking and the relationship between architecture and nature. It serves as the foundation for creating something that goes beyond the typical functional approach to architecture.

JR Your first project, the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation in Hokkaido, Japan (2006), introduced the concept of ‘openness and protection,’ a theme that has recurred throughout your later works. The design aimed to create a space where patients and doctors could interact without hierarchy, offering both openness and privacy. Despite the seemingly accidental nature of the layout, the design process was meticulously planned, resulting in a space that appears spontaneous and unplanned. This deliberate ambiguity allowed for the creation of selectivity and contingency, providing children with irregular alcove like spaces for privacy and freedom. These spaces, while seemingly without function, were embraced by the children who utilised them for play and relaxation. The absence of a central focal point allowed for multiple relative centres to emerge, depending on the occupants’ perceptions and the changing conditions of light and space. Why was it significant for you to design a space where patients and doctors could interact without hierarchy? What impact do you think this approach has on the overall atmosphere and effectiveness of the rehabilitation process?

SF When people hear the term “psychiatric facility,” they often view it as a special, isolated place. However, rather than designing a traditional psychiatric facility, we saw ourselves creating a “place where people live,” a home. It is also a small society, encompassing 50 to 100 people, including staff, where diverse relationships constantly unfold—essentially, an urban space.

In the case of the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation, one key concept was “a place to hide,” especially since the focus is on children. I envision it as a space where one can “escape” or “hide” for a while, perhaps a “dent” in the middle of a corridor. For example, there are individual rooms where children can retreat to if they wish for privacy. But these “hiding places” are not completely isolated; they are still connected to the overall space, yet slightly hidden. Children, in particular, want others to recognize that they are hiding.

This project is not about confinement but about creating an open, supportive environment. It was designed to offer various emotional possibilities, allowing individuals to choose what they need. Instead of sticking to the conventional notion of a mental hospital, we aimed to create a comfortable residential space based on the necessary functions while breaking away from traditional concepts.

JR How do you perceive the integration of trees and plants in your projects as enhancing the architectural experience, and what challenges do you encounter during the design and construction phases? Inspired by organic structures like the nest, the cave, and the forest, your signature buildings often explore the relationship between architecture and the built environment.  How do you believe this integration contributes to a higher quality of design, and what role does coherence with the existing environment play in shaping your architectural vision for the future?

SF Incorporating more nature into the urban environment is not just a trend; it will become a fundamental prerequisite for architectural and urban design in the coming era. This integration will bring diversity to the living environment that cannot be achieved by architecture or artifacts alone. As respect for diverse lifestyles and consideration for the global environment become more common, it will be essential to explore new ways of fusing nature with architecture when envisioning how to create urban spaces that are both diverse and interconnected with the planet. I believe this fusion of nature and architecture will become increasingly necessary.

JR In your design for the Final Wooden House, Kumamoto, Japan (2005-2008), you described the concept of creating ‘ultimate wooden architecture’ by mindlessly stacking 350mm square lumber. Could you delve deeper into the rationale behind this approach, particularly in regard to your decision to eschew traditional differentiation of lumber according to various architectural functions?

This minimally processed lumber helped create a refreshing variety of spaces. What inspired this unconventional approach, and what key design considerations did you address?

SF In this project, we aimed to create the ultimate wooden structure. Through the design of this bungalow—a small, primitive house—we sought to create new architecture that is both primitive and contemporary.

Wood is surprisingly versatile. It is used in many conventional wooden constructions, not only for structural elements like posts and beams but also for foundations, exterior and interior walls, ceilings, flooring, insulation, furniture, stairs, and window frames. We thought that if wood is truly multifunctional, we could create architecture that fulfills all of these functions with a single process and a single material. This approach is a reversal of versatility.

The 350mm square cedar wood has a significant impact. It transcends the usual concept of “wood” and becomes the “presence” of a completely different material. The 350mm dimension is exactly equivalent to the human body, fully expressing the materiality of the wood. These 350mm increments create a three-dimensional space that acts like a stairway to the floor. This staircase-like space has fascinated me for years because it introduces spatial relativity and creates new sensations of varying distances—something a traditional flat floor cannot achieve.

There is no strict classification of floor, wall, or ceiling here. Spaces considered floors are transformed into chairs, ceilings, and walls depending on one’s perspective. The level of the floor becomes relative, and people reinterpret spatiality based on their position. Occupants are placed three-dimensionally within the space, experiencing a new sense of depth. Rather than dividing space, elements fuse together by chance, creating it. The cedar 350mm squares are endlessly stacked, and in the end, a prototypical space emerges before the architecture becomes fully realized.

I believe this small hut touches on the archetype of what things can be.

JR The House N, Oita, Japan (2008) design features a gradation of intimate private spaces and semi-public spaces. Could you discuss the thought process behind this nested multi-layered design and how it fosters connections between inside and outside environments, expressing the richness of what lies ‘between’ these spaces?

SF In House N, we combined three boxes, carefully considering the relationship between inside and outside. With enough space for a garden, we treated the garden as part of the interior, creating a modern version of a porch. Inside the house, another box was nested within the first to blur the boundary between interior and exterior. When you reach the corner, you find an enclosed space, yet above, you can see countless fragmented pieces of the sky. The combination of feeling both free and protected is similar to the concept I expressed when designing the Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation.

JR I would love to talk about the ORDOS 100 #9 project that you have done in 2009. Located in Ordos, Inner Mongolia and curated by contemporary artist Ai Weiwei, the project challenges the traditional notion of a house as an object, instead conceptualising it as a totality of frequencies within a living space. Could you delve deeper into how you translated this philosophy into the design, particularly with the innovative approach of creating ‘walls of voids’ to blur the boundaries between interior and exterior spaces?

Given the unique environmental context of Mongolia, could you discuss how the surrounding landscape and cultural aspects of the region informed your design approach for the Ordos Project?

SF The idea of creating walls of space originated from House N. The boundary between inside and outside is reimagined as a gradation, producing a variety of spaces through its inherent ambiguity. The relationship between inside and outside has always been a central theme in my work. It questions the very roots of architecture while exploring the connection between nature and architecture. It also examines the relationship between private and public spaces, offering a redefinition of the dynamic between the individual and society, making it more diverse.

For the Ordos project, the vastness of the site was the initial inspiration. The site is expansive, yet it carries the contextual ambiguity of a desert center. It also boasts a rich, beautiful, and sometimes harsh natural environment. In response, we chose not to sharply separate the interior from the exterior. Instead, we aimed to create a range of spaces with varying gradations between them, allowing the entire site—and the house as a whole—to function as one small, interconnected social space.

JR Now delving into one of the most radical residential projects I have seen: House NA, Tokyo, Japan (2015) stands out as a remarkable fusion of transparency and privacy, blending seamlessly into its Tokyo neighbourhood although in contrast with the usual concrete block walls, while redefining residential living. House NA acts both as a single room and a collection of rooms, offering a unique spatial experience. Could you elaborate on how the unconventional layout and integration of the floor plates at various heights contribute to the inhabitants’ sense of connection and privacy within the home?

How did other residents in the neighbourhood react to House NA, considering its radical design featuring transparency throughout?

SF House NA was built on a relatively small site, so we decided against creating traditional, independent private rooms like a living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Doing so would have resulted in just another small house, typical and uninspiring. The client was drawn to creative, unconventional styles, so, through discussions with them, we explored the idea of breaking free from the traditional “this room is for this function” approach. Today, people work on their computers and smartphones in the living room and often move to the kitchen or bedroom with them. There’s no real need to move back and forth between specific rooms all day long, especially in a conventional house with private rooms designed for a single purpose, which can feel claustrophobic and difficult to navigate.

Instead of separate rooms, we created multiple “corners,” offering flexibility. In this design, residents can choose whether to be with others or alone. House NA, in a sense, shares a quality with a “Children’s Centre for Psychiatric Rehabilitation,” where space encourages varied, personal use.

Structurally, the furniture is stacked in a nested arrangement, each piece connected by a staircase (which also serves as a chair). There are steps throughout the floor, but no walls to divide the space. Once inside, all the areas are interconnected, and with ceilings reaching 5 to 6 meters high, the space feels open and expansive. At the same time, the many small elements floating around you create a sense of being enveloped in a soft, airy atmosphere. Living in this house feels less like being in a glass box and more like inhabiting a small, artificial floating object.

JR Your installation The Cloud at the Serpentine Pavilion, London, United Kingdom (2013) seamlessly blends architecture with nature through its translucent structure, reminiscent of a cloud. Relocated in front of the National Gallery of Arts in Tirana, Albania, since 2016, the structure, inspired by organic shapes present in nature, has served as a modern art space for cultural events. 

Once again, man-made and nature merge, in an “artificial nest”. Formed by 20mm diameter steel bars, it is a flexible, semi-transparent structure, where visitors become an integral part of nature and the landscape yet at the same time remain protected inside. What inspired the concept behind this pavilion, and how do you see it redefining the boundary between interior and exterior spaces?

SF In designing the Serpentine Pavilion 2013, we envisioned a topographical space where people could discover new and diverse ways of interacting with their environment—an architecture that was semi-transparent. The lush greenery of the surrounding area, with its vibrant hues, blends seamlessly with the geometric forms of the pavilion. Initially, I imagined a design where the geometry and architectural forms would naturally integrate with the human body.

By repeating simple cubes that matched the size of the human body, we created a form that straddles the line between the organic and the abstract. By smoothing the edges and making the structure ambiguous, we blurred the boundary between interior and exterior. The use of thin steel rods helped create translucent, irregular shapes, while simultaneously offering protection and allowing people to become part of the landscape.

While the grid forms the overall topography, its depth varies across the space, at times creating a thick layer of air, other times a thin one, and occasionally almost transparent areas. The walls, roof, and seating areas were constructed from similar steel frames. The pavilion, as an organic structure, creates an ever-changing topography, allowing people to experience the architecture at their own pace. Each person can find their own favorite spot inside or outside the pavilion, making it feel as though visitors are drifting through a space that exists somewhere between architecture and nature.

JR In the design process for L’Arbre Blanc Residential Tower, Montpellier, France (2019), you’ve collaborated with Manal Rachdi, Nicolas Laisné, and Dimitri Roussel, drawing inspiration from nature to create a building that reimagines the concept of tower living. Could you discuss how the idea of incorporating elements of nature, such as its balconies cantilevering like branches from a thick trunk, influenced the overall design concept and the experience for residents?

How did you achieve a sense of lightness and fluidity in such a tall residential tower, and what were the structural challenges you faced during its design and construction?

SF Collaborating on the L’Arbre Blanc project involved bringing together the visions of multiple architects, each with their own unique perspectives and inspirations. Could you share some insights into how this collaboration initially formed and how the diverse contributions from yourself, Manal Rachdi, Nicolas Laisné, and Dimitri Roussel were integrated throughout the design process to create a cohesive and innovative architectural solution?

L’Arbre Blanc was a design competition organized by the city council of Montpellier in 2013, calling for bold proposals featuring eco-friendly stores and residences that would serve as a beacon to honor the city’s architectural heritage. We were approached by a young architect from Jean Nouvel’s office to participate. I didn’t know them at the time, but after speaking with them on Skype, it felt like a good match, and I was eager to collaborate.

We began with an open discussion about lifestyle and how to adapt the traditional lifestyle of Montpellier into a high-rise building. The city enjoys a warm Mediterranean climate, and I learned that people often eat outdoors, even in winter. The community also enjoys spending time outside to eat, nap, and converse with friends, so it became clear that indoor spaces weren’t the priority. From there, we decided it would be important to include plenty of outdoor space, with large balconies. Rather than jumping straight into artistic inspiration, we focused first on the essentials, and the result was a rich, expansive exterior space.

JR Are there any architects or artists in particular with whom you would love to work with. Who are some of your major influences? Architecture and none. 

SF The artists who have influenced me are innumerable. From Picasso, Brancusi, and Duchamp to Andy Warhol and Richard Long, I have always admired innovative art. The Beatles and Bob Dylan have also played a significant role in shaping my perspective.

I have been deeply influenced by the creativity of natural science, from Einstein to Heisenberg. And, of course, Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe, who revolutionized modern architecture, have been a constant source of inspiration for me since the first day I began studying architecture.

Collaborating with Leandro Erlich at the Shiroiya Hotel was a wonderful experience. His perspective on the world, always full of fundamental questions, has been truly inspiring.

I deeply respect Tadao Ando, both as an architect and as a human being.

JR Working in both Tokyo and Paris, you encounter vastly different architectural contexts. How do you approach the challenge of integrating your designs into these distinct urban landscapes?

SF Not only in Tokyo and Paris but across the world, lifestyles and landscapes have evolved over centuries, shaped by ethnic heritage, history, climate, and culture. I believe the most important aspect of architecture is recognising and respecting these diverse cultural accumulations, incorporating this rich history into our projects.

An architect’s true ability lies in understanding the weight of culture and history and finding ways to connect them to the future while remaining sensitive to the local climate and way of life. The essence of my approach is to listen carefully to the incredible diversity of the world, paying close attention to the unique conditions of each context. This attentiveness is what allows me to integrate architecture seamlessly with the surrounding landscape.

JR Cross-cultural influences seem to play a significant role in your work. Can you discuss how you draw upon both European and Japanese cultural elements in your architectural projects, and how do you balance cultural nuances without compromising your design vision?

SF One of the defining characteristics of my architecture is its ability to move beyond cultural differences, returning to the fundamental physical, sensory, and social aspects of human nature. From this foundation, it seeks to reconstruct the relationship between space and people in a new way. Even when a proposal may initially seem unconventional or radical, it ultimately resonates with the core of human experience. I believe this primordial aspect of our work creates a cultural balance that is universally understood across different contexts.

JR I would now love to discuss one of my favourite projects of yours, the House of Hungarian Music, Budapest, Hungary (2021): it defies conventional museum design by prioritising interaction and integration with its surroundings. Inspired by the abundance of trees in City Park, the museum’s circular volume seems to float among the treetops, inviting visitors to engage with music and nature simultaneously. The architecture blurs the boundaries between inside and outside, creating a fluid and immersive experience as visitors meander through the museum. Concerts and events take place under the floating volume, attracting crowds and fostering community around music. How does your approach differ from when it comes to architecturally design a music venue especially in terms of creating spaces that foster engagement with music and sound on a deeper level? What challenges did you face in harmonising the built environment with the surrounding landscape?

SF Since the beginning of the competition, we have been listening to the music of great Hungarian musicians and exploring their cultural backgrounds, as we felt that the House of Music would be a deeply significant place for the people of Hungary and Budapest.

The site’s location within a beautiful forest was a crucial starting point. We asked ourselves how architecture could be seamlessly integrated with nature—how the experience of walking through the forest could gradually transition into an architectural space. We also considered how the glass music hall on the ground floor could foster new activities inside while remaining in harmony with the surrounding forest.

As a result, the large roof—pierced with countless openings—serves as both an architectural translation of the forest and a means of facilitating a gradual transition from the natural landscape to the building’s interior. The outcome is a transparent music hall that extends into a semi-outdoor space, allowing visitors to engage with both music and nature, listening to beautiful sounds amidst the trees.

The greatest challenge was designing a music facility that could coexist respectfully within this environment, preserving and honouring the natural surroundings.

I believe this project has become a powerful symbol of my ongoing exploration of the fusion between nature and architecture.

JR How do you perceive the relationship between music, sounds, and architecture? Specifically, could you share your thoughts on the concept of creating soundscapes within architectural spaces? 

SF This architecture is composed of multiple elements—the whole and its parts, the surroundings and the interior—all in harmony with one another. In this sense, I would say it is very musical.

In particular, the “music hall open to the forest” at ground level—from the outdoor plaza beneath the large roof to the entrance and main performance space—is a special place that seamlessly blends into the surrounding park. Its expansive roof, made of soft golden fragments, appears as a fusion of artefacts and nature, rippling gently into the forest.

For the acoustics, we collaborated with Nagata Acoustics, a world-renowned acoustic design firm, from the competition stage of the project. Throughout all phases of design, we worked to enhance the acoustic quality, creating a space where architecture, soundscape, and landscape harmonise and resonate with one another.

JR Your architectural work often embodies a profound connection between nature, space, and human experience. In light of Goethe’s notion that ‘architecture is frozen music,’ which reveals a universal theme of expression underlying all creative disciplines, how do you perceive the relationship between architecture and music? Are there any musicians or genres that you find particularly inspiring or that resonate with your design philosophy?

SF I am not an expert on music, but I have always loved the Beatles and listened to them often. As a boy, they taught me how wonderful it is to create something new—an idea that still underpins my creative roots.

Glenn Gould’s interpretation of Bach, meanwhile, offers a beautiful connection between the cosmic scale and the human experience.

JR I would like now to delve into the Sky Mountain Haikou Bay No.6 High Standard Seaside Station, Haikou, China (2023).providing a space for travellers to transition between the city and nature. Could you elaborate on how the design concept transforms a nature valley form into an innovative stage for new experiences and social interactions within the pavilion?

SF We believed the Haikou Seaside Stop pavilion would serve as a focal point, offering travellers the opportunity to meander between the city and nature, with spaces designed for social interactions. A valley-like natural form became the stage for a new type of experience and space.

The Sky Mountain design features a gently sloping, valley-like rooftop that transitions smoothly from the city side to the seaside.

All visitor services and TV support programs within the stop pavilion are housed under a single roof, sharing an open floor space.

JR How do you foresee the role of your architectural vision in inspiring future generations of architects, as you continue to integrate natural and architectural elements, even in futuristic projects beyond Japan? Furthermore, what legacy do you aspire to leave through your work as it evolves and influences the architectural landscape of tomorrow?

SF I believe that the integration of nature and architecture is the vision of the future. Various attempts will be made to achieve this. I will be happy if my project can be an inspiration for future architectural thinking. It won’t just be about architectural styles, but will influence deeper thinking about the relationship between nature and artifacts, between individuals and society, and between people. It will also influence more philosophical ideas such as simplicity and complexity, change and eternity, the moment and eternity.

Credits

Talent · Sou Fujimoto wears th products.
Photography · Yuichiro Noda
Styling · Reina Ogawa Clarke

Mesura

Mesura and architecture that returns to genius loci 

Heritage is the guiding force behind Mesura’s work. Inspired by the Roman concept of genius loci, the Barcelona-based architecture studio is drawn to places rich with history—UNESCO heritage sites, towering castles, or even the discarded stones of Gaudí’s Sagrada Família. Working within the spaces history has left to modernity, Mesura brings together fragments of the past with contemporary techniques, creating projects that span the globe.

The studio emerged during a turbulent time in Spain’s architectural landscape. In the early 2010s, amid the recession, a few university friends with a shared design philosophy began to work together in a small space in Barcelona. Their turning point arrived when they entered the EUROPAN 2011 competition, choosing the historic walls of Dubrovnik as their site. What started as an experiment soon became a defining moment—designing with history, rather than just around it.

That realisation shaped Mesura’s identity. Rather than following the traditional model of a singular architect at the helm, the studio’s co-founders— Benjamín Iborra, Carlos Dimas, Jaime Font Furest, Jordi Espinet, and Marcos Parera Blanch—built a space for collaboration, research, and a reimagined approach to design.

In conversation with NR, Mesura co-founder and partner Benjamín Iborra discusses some of the studio’s defining projects. 

Were you always called Mesura?

We just started doing stuff together, but then at some point we said, ‘okay, there’s a little money coming in. So, we need to have a name just to receive the money.’ So, we first used the name of the street that we were based on. It was just a number: a pre-name without any thought behind it. We were called 311 … something ridiculous like that. 

In 2015, the name Mesura was born. The word ‘mesura’ has a lot of meanings. For us, the first important thing was a name that could be understood in many languages. Next, it had to make sense in terms of being something specific to measurement: working in architecture is very technical. 

Nevertheless, what’s most important is what it means to work ‘with mesura’ in Spanish! It means to work with respect. It’s not about doing whatever comes to mind; it’s about taking the time to think things through—twice, three times, even four times. 

Your research is very visually oriented, almost like a pictorial collage of your thinking and the resources you encounter. Walk me through how you start this process: Where do you first go for references? Who are some of the people you interact with to immerse yourself in the environment?

We believe it’s much more interesting to see the process and not just the final result. We really enjoy it! We have this passion for using graphic design and narrative to explain process. At the beginning, we did it just for pleasure. In fact, it happens to be pretty unprofitable because it takes a lot of time. But eventually, we realized that when we spend to genuinely show what we do, the money comes back. 

We like to focus on our communication, but we actually do this in our daily life— we look to research, to investigate, to make models, to try things out.  It’s an atmosphere that we’re generating at Mesura. You’re not just seeing a result: you’re seeing research, trials, and a mix of things that go beyond architecture that are related to design and to culture.

The people that work in-house have great abilities and are very cultured.  We’re involved in universities and there’s always people coming in and out of the studio.  We do these things called ‘Tuesday Talks’ where we bring people that are not architects to the studio every Tuesday to talk about whatever they want. It’s ideas that are totally crazy that contribute to the culture of the people in Mesura. It gets us thinking beyond architecture and to have an open mind in all our research.

To create the Aesop Diagonal store in Barcelona, Mesura sourced KM0 (Kilometer Zero) stones, originally from the Montjuïc quarry.  You describe deploying a “pseudo-archaeological effort” when found the stones that eventually would make its way into the final design. What does “pseudo-archeological” mean and what did this process look like?

We ended up calling this process ‘creative anastylosis:’ I’m going to explain more later. And we’re not just using zero-kilometer stone, we’re reusing zero-kilometer stone. 

For Aesop, we started from [Barcelona’s] local identity. We learned that, whenever they create a stone for La Sagrada Familia that’s not perfect, they throw it back into the mountain. Our first idea was: let’s use these discarded stones to represent the identity of the city. But obviously, La Sagrada Familia, in the name of Gaudi, said, ‘no, this is not possible. You cannot use stones from Gaudi to do your shop.’ 

At first it was a pity, but it opened up another opportunity. La Sagrada Familia was initially done with stone from the Montjuïc quarry in Barcelona: here, a lot of stones were extracted to create buildings in the city. This quarry was closed 60 years ago because it wasn’t possible to extract more from the little mountain. La Sagrada Familia was originally started with these stones, but in the sixties they also stopped. 

We called a lot of people who worked with stone in Catalonia to ask if they had stones from Montjuïc. We ended up finding a family business that, for the past 30 years, had been gathering Montjuïc stones from all the buildings that have been demolished and gathering them in their quarry. 

They said, ‘come to our quarry and just see whatever we got!’ That was amazing. Here is the part about ‘creative anastylosis’. After a historical building has been demolished, anastylosis is the art of gathering those pieces and remaking it in the exact same way. For us, it’s a creative anastylosis, because what we’re placing the stones in a unique, creative way for new purpose. 

It was very interesting because I think we found about 100-200 stones in this quarry. We didn’t need that much so we decided to be more ambitious and use the ones that have memory.  Not just a square block, but one with a shape that you recognize because it has been in another building before. 

The pieces that had some “memory” of an architectural past was a striking choice. It’s interesting to hear that the first approach involved The Sagrada Familia. It has such a strong architectural language—it’s extremely recognizable and particular. 

You’re right. We saw the thrown-out Gaudi pieces, modelled them, and then arranged them for the store. In the end, we had a proposal for a concept. It was really powerful. It had a lot of shape, color, and character… maybe too much. But we’ll never know!

Regarding the Sundial House, given its unique location in the parks of AlUla in Saudi Arabia, what was the client’s motivation for building here? Has it been built?

Our first project in Saudi Arabia was done maybe more than 10 years ago. It was a retail shop in Riyadh. It was one of our very first projects. Since then, there have been many paths that have taken us back to Saudi Arabia. It’s a country that’s changing a lot and we want to be part of this change. They are developing projects in a good way while being respectful to the space. 

One of the projects Saudi Arabia proposed was to create 100 houses. This was a competition, where the result was 100 designs created by all different architects in different places within Alula. We won and received an amazing site: it was a mountain carved out from the inside. With it, we proposed a house that made the niche into a unique courtyard within nature while working with raw materials like the sand and the rock that surround the space. 

We hope that this is going to be done in the future, but we still don’t know. It’s in standby at the moment.

This house in Alula touches on how privacy and protection are two essential aspects of Saudi houses. How did these values end up in the architecture?

Our approach goes back to that initial project in Dubrovnik. Our first intuition was to create respectful design. This meant not competing with the space but observing it. Also, often working on tight budgets taught us to work with what’s available and appreciate vernacular architecture. In the north, buildings invite sunlight in; in the south, they protect against it. There’s some very basic and logical decisions that modern architecture has moved away from. In the end, these logical decisions can greatly reduce the energy that the building should consume. 

Protection from sand and heat often results in enclosed, private, inward-facing spaces, which then influence cultural norms. There’s a deep connection between architecture, environment, and lifestyle. We believe in the concept of genius loci—the Roman idea of a place’s protective spirit. Not every project needs to follow this path, especially in urban settings without a lot of historical context. But in places like Jeddah and Riyadh, where we work alongside heritage architecture, respect for the environment is essential.

Ultimately, we’re continuously learning from the past, seeking the right balance between contemporary design and vernacular traditions. That middle ground is where we find meaningful, sustainable architecture.

In terms of preservation, when describing the Peratallada Castle project, Mesura said: “While, like the artwork, architecture has aesthetic and cultural value (it makes us reflect concepts and see things differently), it can never escape its functionality.” I’m interested in a moment during this project where you felt this tension most—between historical preservation and modern utility.

I’m glad you asked about this project—it was one of our first. What was realized was the landscape project with the swimming pool. Although there were concepts made, we didn’t end up touching the castle itself which held the historical parts.

Functionality in this project started with material choices. “Peratallada” comes from piedra tallada—literally “carved stone.” The village was built from the very quarry where the castle’s stone originated. We went to a specialist to understand the castle’s history. From the outside, everything might look equally old and worth preserving. Nevertheless, the expert revealed some stones dated back to 200 BC, while others were just 50 years old. 

Our initial approach to the landscape project, considering the budget we had, was to work with local stone. We went to people in a nearby town that worked with the material. Like we discovered later on, they had a lot of leftover stones in their quarry from a previous project. 

In Casa Ter, located in Baix Empordà, you built a “Catalan vault.” Why did you choose this typology of structure? What were some of the technical challenges you encountered while working on it?

The site is incredibly beautiful, so we wanted the project to feel calm, grounded, and not aggressive. To do this, we created a single-story structure, with long, extending horizontal walls that connected to the landscape. But the client was set on having a second floor to capture views of the sea.

The Catalan vault became the perfect solution for two reasons. First, it allowed for a smooth transition between the ground and the next floor up—rather than a stark, boxy structure. Second, it honored the idea of genius loci, protecting the spirit of the place.

This project made us realize how important of a decision the vault was, not just in terms of its form, but also in its techniques. It’s the kind of thing that will be lost if architects stop pushing to have them used in their projects. When we saw an old, expert artisan executing this vault technique, and alongside him was a young kid learning the craft, we understood that by incorporating this method, we weren’t just building—we were helping this skill get passed from generation to generation.

Technically, the vaulting process is a highly specific local tradition, typically done by layering locally made ceramic pieces in a way that creates structural integrity. However, we pushed it further by using an atypical shape. Instead of the conventional vault, we created a half dome. It was creating something new while still rooted in tradition.

The materials were equally important. From the start, we committed to using local ceramic and stones from the nearby River Ter—hence the name, Casa Ter. The entire process was beautiful, balancing the old with the new in a way that felt both respectful and innovative.

Credits

  1. Mesura, Vasto Gallery. 2023. Photography by Salva López.
  2. Mesura, Aesop Diagonal. 2024. Photography by Maxime Delvaux.
  3. Mesura, Sundial House. Photography by Beauty & The Bit / Alba de la Fuente.
  4. Mesura, Peratallada. 2016. Photography by Salva López.
  5. Mesura, Casa Ter. 2019. Photography by Salva López.

All images courtesy of Mesura

Vincenzo De Cotiis

Vincenzo De Cotiis: Navigating the Intersection of Analysis and Experimentation in Architecture and Art

Vincenzo De Cotiis, an architect and artist from Milan, Italy, has built a career that blends the past and future through his unique design philosophy. After studying at the Politecnico di Milano, he founded his studio in Milan, which serves as both his home and the center of his creative work. De Cotiis’ designs result from continuous analysis and experimentation, merging space and time, cultural layers, and unexpected leaps. His projects, though complex, are powerfully expressed through their materials.

Your architectural philosophy is deeply rooted in a continuous process of analysis and experimentation. Can you elaborate on how this approach shapes your work?

My work is an ongoing dialogue between analysis and experimentation, where each project is a journey through layers of cultural and temporal significance. This process allows me to create spaces that resonate with history while embracing future possibilities. By continuously challenging conventional boundaries, I strive to evoke emotional responses through the interplay of materials and forms.

How do you select the materials for your projects, and what role do they play in your creative process?

Materials are chosen for their ability to convey stories and emotions. Each project requires careful consideration of how each material can contribute to the overall experience. I do not limit myself to a fixed list of materials but allow the concept and context of each project to guide my choices. This flexible approach enables me to explore new possibilities and create unique designs.

Your studio in Milan is the heart of your creative endeavors. How does the city itself influence your work?

Milan’s rich cultural heritage and dynamic contemporary scene provide a constant source of inspiration. The city’s architecture, art, and vibrant design community encourage me to blend traditional craftsmanship with innovative techniques. This fusion of old and new is reflected in my work, creating pieces that are both rooted in history and forward-looking.

If I asked you to take me to a place in Milan that holds special significance for you, where would it be and why?

I would take you to the Brera district, which is a hub of artistic and cultural activity. The juxtaposition of historic buildings with modern galleries and studios embodies the essence of Milanese creativity. It’s a place where tradition and innovation coexist harmoniously, much like in my own work.

Your work often balances between the future and the past. How do you achieve this equilibrium in your designs?

Achieving balance involves a deep respect for the past while being open to future innovations. I draw inspiration from historical contexts and reinterpret them through a contemporary lens. This approach allows me to create designs that are timeless yet progressive, embodying a sense of continuity and evolution.

Can you give us an example of a project where materiality played a crucial role in shaping the design?

It is difficult to choose a single series, as all my projects hold deep importance for me, and each explores materiality in unique ways. Every project is an intellectual exploration of how materials can interact and transform each other. In every work, I seek to discover the intrinsic properties of the materials and bring out their expressive potential, creating a dialogue between material and form that transcends time and space.

Your work often involves unexpected interactions within spaces. How do you approach creating these unique experiences

Creating unique spatial experiences involves a meticulous process of layering different elements to provoke curiosity and engagement. I aim to disrupt conventional expectations by integrating unexpected materials, forms, and textures, encouraging viewers to explore and interact with the space in new and meaningful ways.

What are some of the intellectual and artistic challenges you face in your design process?

One of the primary challenges is maintaining a balance between artistic expression and functional design. While my work leans heavily towards sculptural and conceptual art, it must also serve practical purposes. Navigating this dichotomy requires continuous experimentation and refinement to ensure that both aspects coexist harmoniously.

Looking ahead, what directions or projects are you excited to explore in the future?

I have a profound appreciation and understanding of the history of art, which deeply influences my work. Each of my series is rich with references to the past, yet my aim is always to reinterpret these elements in a contemporary way. I am excited to continue this exploration, blending historical influences with contemporary art principles to create innovative and timeless pieces. I am particularly enthusiastic about projects that allow me to delve deeper into this fusion, bringing forth new and unique interpretations that resonate with today’s discerning audience.

In order of appearance

  1. Vincenzo De Cotiis Foundation. Photography Wichmann + Bendtsen. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  2. Vincenzo De Cotiis. Installation View, Archaeology of Consciousness Exhibition, Venice. 19 April – 24 November 2024. Photography Wichmann + Bendtsen. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  3. Vincenzo De Cotiis Foundation. Photography Wichmann + Bendtsen. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  4. Vincenzo De Cotiis Foundation. Photography Wichmann + Bendtsen. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  5. Vincenzo De Cotiis, DC2316 VENICE, 2023. Hand-painted recycled fiberglass, German silver, fabric. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  6. Vincenzo De Cotiis, DC2310 VENICE, 2023. Hand-painted recycled fiberglass, Murano cast glass, German silver. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.
  7. Vincenzo De Cotiis, DC2312 VENICE, 2023. Blown Murano glass, cast brass. Courtesy of Vincenzo de Cotiis Foundation.

Yellow Nose Studio

From Architecture to Design: The Impact of Background on Yellow Nose Studio’s Approach

We recently met Hsin-Ying Ho and Kai-Ming Tung, the creative minds behind Yellow Nose Studio, a Berlin-based design venture founded in 2017. With backgrounds in architecture and a shared passion for handmade objects, this Taiwanese duo embarked on a journey to explore the intersection of space, materiality, and emotion. Inspired by a desire to infuse raw materials with new life, they craft organic forms from typically inorganic elements, guided by an intuitive logic rooted in emotional processes. Through their work, they seek to capture the essence of slow living, offering living tools that invite us to savour and appreciate the spaces we inhabit each day.

Hi Ying and Kai, it was really good to see you in the Milan scene during the last design week. Could you tell us about the journey that led to the founding of Yellow Nose Studio?

We were classmates when we were studying architecture in Taiwan. However, the idea to work together came only after we came to Berlin to study for our Master’s degrees. Ying studied Scenography, and Kai studied Product Design.

We wanted to do something that combined both of our professions but was also based on our backgrounds in architecture. That’s why we showed our first collection as a tryout then. We didn’t want to show them as products but as a holistic lifestyle vision.

Could you share the story behind the name “Yellow Nose” and what significance it holds for your studio?

After completing our architectural studies in Taiwan, we went to Berlin to pursue our master’s degrees in Product Design and Theater Design, respectively. Then we outlined our creative direction of “Surrounding Space and Objects” to establish Yellow Nose Studio. “Yellow” represents the color of light, which is the most important element in a space, while the “nose” reminds us that apart from vision, designers should be more sensitive to all senses. As an extension of this, the series of works on space starts with Y, and objects with N.

As a Taiwanese native, how does your cultural background influence your work and creative process?

In fact, Taiwan itself is a multicultural country, so the influence of multiple cultures creates how we constantly look at the same thing from different perspectives. It also creates a sense of collage that is unique to our design.

Your studio is known for its focus on finding balance within space through handmade objects. How do you approach this quest for balance, and what role do handmade objects play in achieving it?

We aim to create objects that have their own personality but can still fit into spaces with subtle emphasis.

Berlin serves as the backdrop for your studio. How does the city inspire and influence your creative process and the aesthetic of your designs?

Berlin is a really good place for us to be creative. It’s a big city, but not as busy as others. We both got highly inspired by it, which shows how we work. Sometimes, it’s a chair people left on the street to give away, and sometimes, it’s the texture of a tree that fascinates us. Also, the city has this gap (time and space) somehow in between the city that allows us to recharge.

Yellow Nose Studio has a distinctive approach to using raw materials in unforeseen ways. Can you share some insights into your creative process and how you transform these materials into unique pieces?

We define perfection by showing the character of the materials themselves. Our furniture is made of industrialized and simple forms. For our latest collection, INDERGARTEN, we picked up standard wood materials meant for architectural construction and played around with their original sizes and textures.

Still, with the ceramics, we wanted to emphasize the rawness of the clay, so we left the rough details instead of polishing them perfectly. It’s interesting to see how strong the contrast is between them, but it gives each piece its character when separated.

Your work often bridges the gap between organic and inorganic elements, displaying a logic rooted in emotional processes. Can you elaborate on this philosophy and how it manifests in your designs?

In life or in work, people try to pursue this ‘perfect circle.’ But it will never be a perfect circle naturally—if you do it by hand. This has become really symbolic in our work, so our logo is actually not perfectly round. This represents us.

In the same way that allowing for these imperfections opposes the uniform nature of mass production, we further imbue our pieces with individuality and warmth through the handmade nature of our process.

You emphasize the principle of embodying a slow life through living instruments. How does this concept resonate with you in today’s fast-paced modern world?

We really enjoy the process, no matter how long it takes. We try to stay as calm as possible and not be influenced by how fast the world goes. People can really see the connection from each object through our hands, even with a little finger mark on the clay or some imperfection from the wood. The slow process brings warmth to the home of the pieces.

Having transitioned from architecture to design, how does your background inform your approach, especially regarding spatial planning and user interaction?

The most important thing we learned from architecture was not the technical part. It’s how architecture naturally becomes the base of our lifestyle—how you look at things and how you focus on the details.

Architecture inspired us greatly during our studies in Taiwan. We were taught to be wild and to make mistakes. This really special education system definitely flipped both of our lives upside down. Architecture is no longer a simple academic topic that we need to learn but rather a lifelong philosophy that influences us daily.

So we don’t see ourselves looking away from architecture, but instead using it as a foundation to pursue our aesthetic. We keep trying to bring many different aspects into our projects and to accept the impact that our architectural studies have brought us.

Looking ahead, what are your aspirations for Yellow Nose Studio, and how do you envision the evolution of your craft in the years to come?

We are keen to expand into large-scale spatial design projects so we can combine our sculptural objects in a space.

Credits

All images courtesy of Yellow Nose Studio.
Photography · Daniel Farò

Studio MK27

Brazilian Architecture: A Poetic Exploration with Marcio Kogan

Architect Marcio Kogan, a native of São Paulo, brings a fresh perspective to Brazilian modernist principles through his minimalist design approach. Established by Kogan in the early 80s, Studio MK27 has emerged as a prominent player in contemporary Brazilian architecture. Situated in the vibrant atmosphere of São Paulo, the studio seamlessly integrates traditional building techniques with innovative design concepts, providing refined and elegant solutions. Kogan’s remarkable achievements extend to his status as an honorary member of the AIA, his role as a professor at Escola da Cidade, and his recognition among Brazil’s top 100 influential individuals.

Marcio Kogan, your accolades are as impressive as they are extensive. From being an honorary member of the AIA to your contributions to esteemed institutions like Politecnico di Milano and MASP. Could you share shortly with us the journey of Studio MK27 from its inception to its current stature?

It’s been practically a lifetime dedicated to architecture and a body of work built slowly and consistently, with the help of an excellent team.

The studio was founded in the early 80s, right after my graduation, and turned into a collaborative practice in the beginning of the 2000s and today is composed of 60 collaborators internally. Since 2010, Studio MK27 has constantly grown and globalised its activities, creating a larger and more diverse group of consultants and partners around the globe. The team members are great admirers of the Brazilian modernism generation and seek to fulfil the task of rethinking and giving continuity to this iconic architectural movement.

I like to think that Studio MK27’s architecture represents attention to detail – we give the same importance to a master plan as we do to a doorknob – and the effort to create a flawless architecture. This quest for perfection fascinates me.

If you had to describe Brazilian architecture with a poem, what would it be?

Instead of a poem about Brazilian architecture, I will choose a phrase from a Brazilian architect, Oscar Niemeyer, which is my motto: life is more important than architecture.

Speaking of poetry, we were fascinated by Casa Azul. What were the main challenges in designing the house amidst the lush and protected nature of Serra do Guararu?

Because Serra do Guaruru is an environmentally protected area, there was a tight delimitation of where the house could be deployed. This demand led the architecture to raise the house on pilotis, generating a 12-meter span and with 3 meters cantilever.

The newly configured terrace became the main social and leisure area of the house. Also, by raising the house, the living area could linger amidst the treetops and enjoy the sea view. I visited this house last week, and I was happy to confirm that it’s still one of my favorites.

Could you provide further insights into the Casa Na Mata project, which appears to be another compelling case study? Looking forward, how do you envision the relationship between architecture and nature evolving in future projects, considering the success of this organic integration in the current design?

The Jungle House clients, a couple with four kids, wanted a house to be used on weekends and holidays, as the plot is located on Sao Paulo state’s coast. They also wanted a nice social space to gather friends and family. The site is in a rainforest region and has a mountainous topography with dense vegetation, the idea was to insert the house into the landscape as unobtrusive as possible while maintaining the connection to the existing vegetation surrounding it and allowing for the sea view.

The placement of the house, in between trees and in such topography was a great challenge, but what at first appeared to be a limitation, actually, prompted us to seek a bolder and more creative architectural solution. In that sense, nature never limits us, it always drives us. We always seek to give maximum importance to the site. How to get the maximum feeling from the space? How to extremely integrate the landscape? How to be delicate with which surrounds us? These are constant concerns of our team.

What makes C+C House unique, and what motivated the choice to integrate revolving windows into the facade design as a significant feature? 

The C+C house is one of our urban houses, and as São Paulo is a very dense city, the plots are mostly narrow, so we need to get creative when developing the architecture. No matter the size of the plot, there is a constant search for enlargement of spaces.

In this house, the upper volume appears to float, supported by a linear wall that extends throughout the plot, connecting all living areas. A white-painted mashrabiya makes up the freestanding façade system, with pivoting windows that are totally imperceptible when closed. It also works as a light filter, allowing for a controlled transparency. These camouflaged openings balance the notions of empty and full. The entire project revolves around this dilution of limits between the interior and exterior, creating an intense and spatial dynamic.

What aspects of working on private homes have fascinated you the most? 

When I graduated I wanted to work with social housing, which was challenging, because they are mostly governmental projects, and here in Brazil everything was poorly made, with no desire to do better. I ended up migrating by coincidence to the opposite side, extremely luxurious houses, which gave me the possibility of doing something that I really like, deep detailed, and the possibility of doing everything with perfection, from the architecture to the interiors, from the large to the small scale, and sometimes, even contributing to the house’s soundtrack.

Marcio Kogan, your contributions extend beyond design practice to academia, where you inspire future generations of architects. How do you see this mentorship aspect influencing the studio’s legacy? 

For me it is very clear that teaching is a two-way street. Every time I go to workshops in Mantova, Italy, the mission is to teach, but end up learning just as much.

What are the challenges and opportunities faced by young architects in Brazil today, and how do socio-political factors influence their work? 

São Paulo is currently undergoing a huge transformation due to an enormous  boom in civil construction, and this unrestrained onrush upon the city profoundly disturbs me. The restaurant where we used to have lunch near Studio MK27 was demolished so that a building could be raised. And so was the bakery, the café and the florist’s, which means the destruction of what I hold dearest in my neighbourhood. Everything is disappearing. On the one hand, we have a lot of work ahead of us, but on the other, the city’s history is fading.

The ethos of Studio MK27 is deeply rooted in formal simplicity and meticulous attention to detail. How do these principles translate into your approach towards sustainability and environmental consciousness in architectural design?

We are always pursuing sustainability goals. For us, sustainability reflects a cultural deepening, an improvement of values and an understanding of our performance in space – the environment itself.

In order of appearance

  1. Blue House (Casa Azul), Guarujá, São Paulo, Brazil. 2015-2020. Architecture Studio MK27. Architect Marcio Kogan. Co-Architect Samanta Cafardo. Interior Design Diana Radomysler. Photography by André Scarpa. Courtesy of Studio MK27.
  2. Jungle House (Casa Na Mata), Guarujá, São Paulo, Brazil. 2009-2015. Architecture Studio MK27. Architect Marcio Kogan. Co-Architect Samanta Cafardo. Interior Design Diana Radomysler. Project team Carlos Costa, Eline Ostyn, Laura Guedes, Oswaldo Pessano,  Fernanda Neiva, Mariana Simas and Ricardo Ariza. Photography by Fernando Guerra. Courtesy of Studio MK27.
  3. C+C House (Casa C+C), São Paulo, Brazil. 2011-2015. Architecture Studio MK27. Architect Marcio Kogan. Co-Architect Samanta Cafardo. Interior Design Diana Radomysler. Project team Carlos Costa, Eline Ostyn, Laura Guedes, Mariana Simas and Ricardo Ariza. Photography by Fernando Guerra. Courtesy of Studio MK27.
  4. Hotel Fasano Itaim, São Paulo, Brazil. 2018-2023. Architecture and interiors Studio MK27. Architects Marcio Kogan and Diana Radomysler. Co-architect Luciana Antunes. Project team André Sumida, Carolina Klocker, Giovanni Meirelles, Gustavo Ramos, Letícia Lacerda, Luísa Vicentini, Oswaldo Pessano, Regiane Leão, Renato Périgo and Ricardo Ariza. Photography by Fran Parente. Courtesy of Studio MK27.

Paul Cournet

The Genesis of CLOUD

Paul Cournet, an architect and researcher based in Rotterdam, has carved a unique path in the world of architecture. From his formative years studying in Bordeaux and Paris to his tenure at OMA, where he played a pivotal role in diverse projects, Paul’s journey is one of exploration, creativity, and innovation. In 2022, he founded CLOUD, an international architecture, research, and design studio, marking a new chapter in his career. We had the privilege of sitting down with Paul to delve into his experiences, insights, and the fascinating intersection of architecture, education, and research.

Paul, thank you for joining us. Can you share with us the inspiration behind founding CLOUD, and what drives your vision for the studio?

Right after COVID I felt the world was in a different place. Honestly, COVID was a wake-up call for me. The world has been changing so rapidly in the past few years and I felt it was time for a different approach to architecture. An architecture driven by a new generation. I was also having so many conversations with so many inspiring people that, after a decade working at OMA*AMO, I thought it was the right time to start a new project – a multidisciplinary practice, at the intersection between architecture, research and design. This is how CLOUD was born. At CLOUD our interest lies in the materiality of architecture, both for its intangible as well as its tangible aspects, and the tension between them. We work on buildings as well as many other projects such as books, curation, scenography, and objects. We are currently working with clients such as the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam for which we are renovating the public areas of the museum, furniture pieces for galleries and brands, a modular timber housing concept in Belgium, as well as self-initiated research projects exploring innovations in materials.

It’s fascinating how interconnected our paths can be. For six years, I had the opportunity to collaborate with AMO on several fashion projects while working through a creative studio. I’m intrigued to learn how your experience in that realm has shaped your perspective on architecture and research.

Originally I come more from the art side of things. When I was a teenager I used to spend my time painting murals in abandoned factories and train stations. This got me interested in architecture and cities. I then studied architecture in France in the early 2000s and it was a moment of cultural explosion thanks to the internet where all of a sudden it was really easy to download any kind of movie, music and book online from across the world. This really opened my mind. At this moment, Rem Koolhaas had just published his new book ‘Content’ (2004) and AMO was developing all kinds of research-based projects with exhibitions, lectures, and installations which appeared to me so inspiring as a practice, and radically different from the architecture scene in France at that time. So as soon as I could, I applied for an internship and started working there at the end of 2010. Today I am still very interested in the possibility of working at different scales. I see architecture in everything and I believe that you can make a point with a building as much as with a chair.

When discussing Rotterdam, a city I once called home, I always admired its ongoing social evolution and its uniquely pragmatic approach, distinct from other European cities. How do you envision Rotterdam evolving over the next decade?

Rotterdam has changed a lot in the last decade that is for sure but for me, it has been the perfect place to start an architecture studio for different reasons: It is still the largest harbor of Europe which has made the city truly embracing diversity in its history. The city is also still relatively affordable and is not yet overly-saturated compared to Amsterdam or other larger European cities. In short, it is still pretty easy and affordable to start a studio here. Our studio is located in one of the ‘antikraak’ buildings which allows us to rent a space way under the market value. There is also a lot of industry around the city making it easy to produce things with manufacturers locally. And to finish, Rotterdam is pretty much in the center of Europe which makes it central and well connected to Paris, Milan, Brussels, Amsterdam, London, for work. Also overall I love to be in Rotterdam because it is a city pretty much under the radar, and we can simply focus and work without being too distracted. But yes, indeed, the city is changing rapidly and I bet in 10 years the city will be very different.

Could you elaborate on the ‘Datapolis’ research project? I’m interested to learn more about its objectives and how it fits into the current architectural landscape.

Datapolis is a project I initiated at the architecture faculty of TU Delft in 2019 as a research and design studio with Negar Sanaan Bensi. The central question was trying to understand what the ‘CLOUD’ is and how it operates. You know, the ‘CLOUD’ is this thing that we talk about every single day when we send emails and photos to each other, order online, use social media platforms and work from home; but that we can’t grasp how it truly works nor where it is or what we should share or not with each other online regardless of time zones or political borders. The ‘CLOUD’ is a metaphor but also a reality. Our intuition was that this immaterial CLOUD is indeed made of a tangible infrastructure with a vast physical footprint on our planet – think for instance data centers, connected satellites, automated distribution centers, undersea internet cables and humanoid robots. This intriguing complexity made this project an urgent research for us considering the discussions on climate change and ecological footprints of this data infrastructure. As the university studio grew into a bigger project and we expanded the conversation outside of the school, we then turned the research into a DATAPOLIS book in June 2023. The project now continues in different forms and we are now working on a series of DATAPOLIS exhibitions that will open later in 2024.

The recent design week showcased your involvement in numerous activities. Although we didn’t get a chance to chat, I expressed my gratitude to Sabine, with whom you collaborated on the scenography for promoting design and culture during the AlUla opening. Could you share more about your role in this endeavour?

Sabine and I were invited to curate and design the scenography of Design Space AlUla for Salone del Mobile 2024 in Milan. The show presented the outcomes from the latest design initiatives in AlUla. Here we wanted to create an immersive experience to translate some of the magical features that one can find while visiting the oasis: the stargazing and the moonshine in the desert, the visit of the old town and the historical Hegra sites that we translated in different features for the exhibition, respectively: a suspended light box changing colors during the day, the ‘urban carpet’ painted on the floor of the basilica that organized the exhibition layout and the monumental entrance that opened the exhibition to the streets of Milan.

We also visited Capsule Plaza during design week, now in its second edition. What distinguishes this unique concept?

This year we unveiled the second edition of CAPSULE PLAZA, the design festival that I have co-curated with Alessio Ascari, and launched the third issue of CAPSULE, the design magazine. A hybrid between a fair and a collective exhibition, Capsule Plaza brings together designers and companies from various creative fields, bridging industry and culture with a bold and multi-sensory curation that spans interiors and architecture, beauty and technology, innovation and craft.

This year the event took over two iconic Milanese locations: Spazio Maiocchi and 10 Corso Como. What is really exciting is to be able to create projects between all of these different industries and create a collective experience under a single roof. On top of the exhibitions, we also curated a dense program of live activations with talks, dinners, performances, workshops etc during the whole week which allows us to program both the hardware as well as the software of the event. This year the event was sub-titled ‘Radical Sensations’ as for us design is much more than a bunch of chairs and sofas, and design should call to activate all our senses.

As a guest teacher and lecturer across various universities in Europe, how do you approach educating the next generation of architects?

The world is changing rapidly and therefore education should also rethink completely how it operates more than ever. I have seen so many schools that claim to think outside of the box and promote a free and utopian thinking for their students but when you look at academia, they operate in a complete echo chamber. At the end of the day, they are the box. The relationship of ‘master and slave’ between students and professors should completely be abolished and schools should operate in a more collaborative process. There are some great examples in the past, look at Black Mountain College for instance. Education should be horizontal. We should also impose on anyone with a professional activity to go back to school every 5 years for a semester for instance. It would really change the dynamics for the better I think.

It might seem like a straightforward question, but I believe that our deepest passions often drive us to explore research and undertake projects. Can you share a situation or project where your emotions played the most significant role?

Just quit the job that you had built for over a decade with a stable position and all the benefits that goes with it. Call it quit on Friday and jump into the void. Start your own studio with no masterplan in mind, just because you have this feeling this is the right thing to do that day and that you believe something positive will come out of it. Focus on creativity and surround yourself with people that are smarter than you. Just take that risk …

Fifty-two years ago, the Club of Rome issued its seminal report, ‘The Limits to Growth,’ alerting the world to the finite nature of our planet’s resources. As an architect and researcher, could you share your perspective on what has been achieved in the past five decades and what remains to be addressed? Most importantly, what steps should we be taking now?

Architects are probably the best at giving lessons, but also probably the worst at taking them. Over the last 100 years, the modern movement embraced industrialization in the name of standardization and cost efficiency without taking into account the costs their actions would have on our planet. Today, the construction industry is one of the most polluting industries. If you look at any city in the world today, we still build architecture using almost exclusively concrete and steel. We are so short sighted that any of our buildings are fully climatized and contemporary architecture has become disposable in 90% of the cases. Architecture has lost any meaning for our society. We need to create a world based on new radical regulations where architecture has become non-extractive, where our cities produce more energy that they consume and where our society truly coexists with the environment. We also need less things and focus on quality instead. Only then we will be able to claim that we have properly read the Club of Rome’s report and learnt our lessons …

In order of appearance

  1. CLOUD / Studio Sabine Marcelis. Design Space AlUla. Milan Design Week 2024. Photography by Alejandro Ramirez Orozco. Courtesy of CLOUD.
  2. Paul Cournet. Photography by Nikola Lamburov. Courtesy of Paul Cournet.
  3. Datapolis: Exploring the Footprint of Data on Our Planet and Beyond, Paul Cournet, Negar Sanaan Bensi. Published by nai010 publishers, 2023. Photography by Riccardo De Vecchi.
  4. CLOUD / Studio Sabine Marcelis. Design Space AlUla. Milan Design Week 2024. Photography by Alejandro Ramirez Orozco. Courtesy of CLOUD.
  5. CLOUD / Studio Sabine Marcelis. Design Space AlUla. Milan Design Week 2024. Photography by CLOUD. Courtesy of CLOUD.
  6. niceworkshop. Capsule Plaza. Milan Design Week 2024. Photography by CLOUD. Courtesy of CLOUD.
  7. Panton Lounge. Capsule Plaza. Milan Design Week 2024. Photography by CLOUD. Courtesy of CLOUD.
  8. LC2 Chair. Paul Cournet. Photography by Titia Hahne. Courtesy of CLOUD and Titia Hahne.
  9. Barcelona Foam. Paul Cournet. Photography by Titia Hahne. Courtesy of CLOUD and Titia Hahne.

studioutte

Exploring the roots of studioutte: a conversation with founders Guglielmo Giagnotti and Patrizio Gola

In the heart of Milan’s Central Station area, the modern charm of rationalist architecture is experiencing a renaissance under the touch of studioutte. Led by the dynamic duo of Guglielmo Giagnotti and Patrizio Gola, who established the studio in 2020, studioutte is not just about architecture—it’s a multifaceted practice that delves into interior design, decoration, and the creation of collectible designs.

Deriving its name from ‘hütte’, a term that evokes images of huts, cabins, and shelters, studioutte’s ethos is rooted in a blend of distinct Italian tradition and harmonious, integrated design principles. The studio’s approach is informed by a deep engagement with vernacular architecture and varied regional influences, striving for a design language that eschews redundancy and extremity for clarity and expressiveness.

Guglielmo and Patrizio, nice to meet you. It’s exciting to learn more about studioutte, which you established in 2020. To start, could you tell us what inspired the founding of your Milan-based practice?

We were led by the idea of restoring a certain cultured and gentle minimalism that have always been present in the Italian history but recently disappeared in favour of an eclectic ultra – decorative approach. 

If I asked you to show me a place uniquely Milanese, where would you take me?

We are truly fascinated by the powerful presence of the Angelicum by Giovanni Muzio in Piazza Sant Angelo.

The name “studioutte” is quite unique. Can you explain the meaning behind it and how it reflects your approach to design?

Hütte means hut, shelter. We are always linking the idea of architectural composition to a sense of protection and retreat.


Your work emphasizes a hybrid design of architecture research and influences from various regional practices. How do you incorporate these diverse elements into a cohesive design language?

It is a kind of spontaneous digestion of an infinite accumulation of images, observations, travel experiences that naturally flow towards the final object. Always guided by a precise research of proportions and materials.

What does the idea of a “waiting room” evoke for you?

A sense of suspension and tension towards something assertive and definitive, that for us means timeless Architecture.

I understand that studioutte aims for a design aesthetic that reaches beyond simple forms to express a primitive essence. Could you expand on what this means in your creative process?

It is an instinctive path towards simplicity  and mute forms of a space or an object. It is taking a lot of energy and time while aiming to reach a balance of shapes and material that leads to a sense of metaphysical anonymity.


Lastly, how do you envision Milan’s evolution over the next decade as a cultural hub for designers and artists?

Milan is a great hub, the challenge will be being more and more open to different cultures and paths intersection without loosing its own rational introvert dark and magnificent identity 

In order of appearance

  1. Milan Design Week 2023, studioutte x district eight. Photography by Vito Salamone. Courtesy of studioutte.
  2. Bedroom, Viale Brianza Apartment, Milan, studioutte. Photography by Paolo Abate. Courtesy of studioutte.
  3. Entrance, Viale Brianza Apartment, Milan, studioutte. Photography by Paolo Abate. Courtesy of studioutte.
  4. Rootine Wellness Club, Munich, studioutte, , Photography by Romain Laprade. Courtesy of studioutte.
  5. Master Bedroom, Antwerp House, studioutte. Courtesy of studioutte.
  6. Stair View, Moncucco House, studioutte. Courtesy of studioutte.
  7. Steel Lamp, Milan Design Week 2024, studioutte. Photography by Romain Laprade. Courtesy of studioutte.
  8. Milan Design Week 2024, studioutte. Photography by Romain Laprade. Courtesy of studioutte.
  9. Bathroom, Via Volturno Apartment, Milan, studioutte. Photography by Vito Salamone. Courtesy of studioutte.
  10. Entrance, Via Volturno Apartment, Milan, studioutte. Photography by Vito Salamone. Courtesy of studioutte.

Studio HAOS

Through the Lens: From Photography to Design with Studio HAOS

Sophie Gelinet and Cédric Gepner didn’t have formal training in furniture design, but they shared a passion that led them to create their first lamp. That lamp became the foundation for a collection, and in 2017, Studio HAOS was born.

They believe in keeping things simple, using materials like oak plywood and sheet metal to create thoughtful furniture and lighting. They focus on clarity and proportions, avoiding unnecessary complexity. Now based in Lisbon, their work is recognised worldwide, and they’re represented by galleries in major cities like Paris, New York, and London.

Sophie and Cédric, thanks for being here with me. Could you narrate the journey of Studio HAOS, from its inception with the creation of your first lamp to evolving into a fully-fledged design studio?

We had the desire to work on something together, on the side of our regular jobs. We had a shared interest in photography, and that led us to a few personal projects in France and in the north of India. At some point I wanted to try something new and started working on the prototype of a first lamp, and Cedric soon joined me. It was just something we were doing for fun on the side of our regular jobs. From what was initially a single lamp we made a small series, we then reached out to the press, got some publications, started getting some orders, etc. It started like that, quite randomly. We created the studio in 2017, and a couple of years later reached the point where we could both work full time on HAOS. 

How did your previous exploration in photography inform or shape your approach to design?

Looking back at it I think it helped in three ways. The first one was learning how to collaborate on a creative endeavour, which is not simple especially when you are also partners in life. The second was that it helped us develop our understanding of what makes a good picture: just as much as in photography, design is about arranging shapes, finding harmony, playing with light, shadows, shades, textures… The third and maybe most important is that it’s usually fruitful to be exposed to as many fields as possible. It’s often at the intersection of seemingly unrelated interests that cross pollination or creativity happen. Trying to understand and replicate the appeal of pictures by Stephen Shore, Joel Sternfeld or Alec Soth, to name a few, that must have permeated into our practice of design in many positive ways that we don’t necessarily understand.

Your design ethos revolves around elevating humble materials such as plywood and sheet metal. What attracts you to these materials, and how do you integrate them into your designs?

One key feature of photography is that the most vernacular subject matter can be transformed into singular, poetic images. And this kind of transmutation can be achieved with the most basic equipment. All that is required is an understanding of colour, form, and composition. We believe design should work in the same way. Very intricate and time-consuming savoir-faire applied to opulent materials, that’s where craftsmen can shine. In our view the focus of designers should be on shape and form. The more accessible the materials and techniques, the better, as it is the thinking process that then takes center stage. If a piece is thought-out, it doesn’t need to be loud to catch attention. On the contrary, we believe there is a particular form of elegance that lies in the ability to express or evoke emotions with restraint and with purposely limited means. It’s not exactly a new idea, it has been exemplified by many designers and artists for more than a century, just think of Gerrit Rietveld and his crate chair, Achille Castiglioni’s floor lamp based on a car headlight, or the works of minimalists such as Donald Judd or Charlotte Posenenske. But this conversation is not over and it’s especially relevant today.

What does the concept of “slow design” signify for you, and how does it manifest in your creative process and final products?

Actually our practice tends to go in the opposite direction. We are now trying to experiment faster, because the more experiments we undertake (with new processes, new materials, etc.) the more chances we have to stumble upon something worthwhile.

How has the environment and atmosphere of Lisbon influenced your creative process and the direction of your designs?

Lisbon happened by accident. The initial plan was to relocate to Tangier in Morocco, but as the pandemy picked up again late 2021, we decided to make a stopover in Lisbon until things settled. It’s a city that’s hard not to like, and the stopover turned into a long-term installation. Being here enabled us to open a large-scale workshop, where design, prototyping and production can happen side-by-side. We can go from an idea to a finished piece in a matter of weeks instead of having to wait months for a first prototype. And we now have a lot more freedom to play with materials, processes and finishes. 

Studio HAOS is known for embracing simplicity while eschewing unnecessary complexity in design. How do you navigate the delicate balance between minimalism and functionality in your creations?

It can be tempting to free oneself from the “functionality” constraint, and make pieces that have more value as a work of art than as a functional object, and some do it very well. As for our way of practicing design, we feel it’s important to keep it because ultimately constraints are essential to the process of creation. Paradoxically the more constraints you have and the more creative you have to be, and besides functionality, we don’t have that many of them. We indeed have to balance this with quite a minimalistic approach, but they are not necessarily opposites. Minimalism for us is not about stripping everything out, it’s about achieving the desired effect with restraint, trying to be subtle rather than loud, leaning away from frivolous complication. In that sense ornament can be necessary, and functionality is not a cross to carry.

Reflecting on your journey so far, what advice would you offer to yourselves when you were first embarking on this path?

We were quite self conscious when we started, not having a product design background, and we would spend way too much time on each object. It usually doesn’t make them better, quite the opposite in fact. Looking back I would tell myself to be more confident, build more pieces, because with each new piece we make mistakes, learn, and get better at what we do. In other words, “it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey”.

As Studio HAOS continues to evolve, what are your aspirations and goals for the future of the studio?

I hope we’ll always have the curiosity to experiment with new ways of doing things, and that we will keep doing so surrounded by a team of talented and fun people. And above all, I hope that we always get to keep the immense privilege of being allowed to spend our days making beautiful things, and be paid for it. 

In order of appearance

  1. ANTIMATIÈRE Exhibition, 2024, Paris. Photography by Depasquale and Maffini. Courtesy of CONTRIBUTIONS Design
  2. Aluminium Side Table. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  3. Aluminium Dining Table. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  4. Grid Chair. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  5. Leather Chair. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  6. Aluminium Lounge Chair. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  7. Aluminium Arm Chair. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  8. Aluminium Bench. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  9. Steel Lamp 3. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.
  10. Steel Lamp 1. Photography by Inês Silva Sá. Courtesy of Studio HAOS.

Frederik Fialin

From Denmark to Berlin: Frederik Fialin’s Unique Approach to Furniture Design

Today, we have the pleasure of sitting down with Frederik Fialin, a designer hailing from Denmark but based in Berlin, specialises in crafting bold yet whimsical minimalist furniture using durable, frequently recycled materials. He enjoys playing with contrasts, blending elements like sturdy construction steel with vibrant velour upholstery. Despite his traditional training as a cabinet maker, Fialin consistently challenges conventions and explores new possibilities in his work.

Frederik, your furniture pieces are characterized by their bold yet playful aesthetic. Can you tell us more about your creative process and what inspires your designs?

I’m usually content with my work when it makes me laugh and wonder at its oddness. I aim for it to be disproportionate or unexpectedly shaped, yet maintain a clear and simple structure. I find great beauty in simplicity and honesty, and I strive to infuse these qualities into my furniture. I often make only minor tweaks to the original concept, mainly to address functionality and overcome technical hurdles. I enjoy exploring extremes and using the full range of sizes available, whether from ready-mades or custom fabrications. Why stick with a 50mm pipe when you can use a 270mm one? It might be unnecessary, but it’s decorative and adds a touch of humour.

How does your background influence your approach to furniture design and craftsmanship?

Clearly, my background as a classically trained cabinetmaker must have some importance, but never in any directly noticeable way. If anything, not having a theoretical background has probably benefited me in some ways and has potentially given me a more naive approach, which I think is clear when you look at my furniture. Starting out not knowing design history, theory and the mere fundamentals has both been challenging and rewarding. I think not taking it all that seriously is probably the main one. After all, it’s just furniture, and theorising on a particular piece or subject is generally pointless. Either you like it or you don’t.

Your pieces often challenge the notion of industrial design. What other design categories or influences do you draw inspiration from?

Do they? I don’t see it like this at all. My furniture makes use of very well- known and often basic materials. I usually try to simplify as much as I can and remove all unnecessary elements. I don’t take inspiration from anyone or anything in particular and I work based almost solely on gut feeling, but almost always to make myself happy. I like the framework that using mainly common geometric shapes gives me though. For me, it’s about combining these well-known shapes and placing them in unusual ways, adding or decreasing thickness, changing the diameter, or something else that can turn a simple circle or cylinder into something interesting, aesthetically pleasing, and most importantly, a functional piece of furniture.

How has Berlin’s dynamic cultural scene influenced your creative process and the development of your designs?

I doubt that Berlin has had any particular influence on my work. It’s more a place I happened to be while maturing and realising how I want to spend my time professionally.

Could you tell us about any specific challenges you’ve encountered while experimenting with materials or pushing the boundaries of design?

As with everything; finding the balance between beauty, functionality, humour and self-interest.

What role does sustainability play in your work, particularly considering your use of recycled materials?

I haven’t used recycled materials in quite a while; instead, I try to make use of materials that are not transported thousands of kilometres and should they eventually be thrown out, it would probably be aluminium (which is infinitely recyclable) or wood. I don’t believe that what we do in my studio has any particular influence on the status of the world. We produce furniture in very small quantities, sometimes in exotic materials, sometimes not. It doesn’t matter in the greater scheme of things and is not something I worry about.

Looking ahead, what are your goals or aspirations for your furniture studio, and how do you envision the evolution of your designs in the future?

At the moment, we are planning the next year. There will be some shows and design festivals as well as further developments of already existing pieces and new ones. I simply hope to be able to continue doing what I do and have fun with it.

In order of appearance

  1. Flagpole Lamp, Elephant Tripod Table, AC01 Dining Chair, Spaghetti Shelf System, Monteverdi Daybed. Courtesy of Frederik Fialin.
  2. Flagpole Lamp, 2023. Courtesy of Frederik Fialin.
  3. Elephant Tripod Table, 2023. Courtesy of Frederik Fialin.
  4. Springloaded Light, 2024. Courtesy of Frederik Fialin.
  5. Hefty Table, 2024. Courtesy of Frederik Fialin.

MOCK Studio

The Art of Furniture: Insights from MOCK Studio

Upon encountering the products of MOCK Studio, a palpable aura of tranquility enveloped me. The seamless blend of wood and aluminium spoke volumes of the meticulous craftsmanship behind each piece. Specialising in bespoke furniture and interior installations, MOCK Studio boasts a diverse portfolio that spans from individual items to entire interior environments.

What sparked MOCK Studio’s foray into crafting furniture and interior installations?

We are architects who wanted to create a furniture line for our commissioned projects that follows our design ethos, we simply wanted to extend our design thinking into furniture that was rooted in simplicity, proportion and material selection. Once we started making our own pieces we received an overwhelming response and so we decided to launch a furniture brand. Our focus has always been on accessible and easy to manufacture furniture.

MOCK: each letter an adjective.

Modest, Obvious, Clean, Kind

Could you walk us through the process of ideating and crafting your pieces?

We tend to start with a material we like and think of ways that it can be manipulated with the least amount of effort, our process is very intuitive but we are always striving for effortlessness. We are constantly questioning our processes and how they can be simplified to achieve the most satisfying results with the least amount of physical effort. 

Given the shifts in the human-home dynamic observed during the recent Milan Design Week, how do you foresee the role of furniture and interior installations evolving over the next 5 years?

We feel like this is both overdue and inevitable as the design community struggles with notions of sustainability and resource scarcity. Where it will go in the next 5 years is anybody’s guess however we can only hope that it only continues to grow in prominence because it is an ethos that really resonates with us and the way we approach design. 

If you had the chance to gather three influential personalities for a dinner soirée, who would you extend the invitation to, and what draws you to them?

Donald Judd because we are so inspired by his work and how it was able to make such simple things be so iconic. Dieter Rams because of his commitment to intentional design thinking, functionality and reason. David Attenborough because of his ability to engage our curiosity about the natural world. 

Could you spotlight a project that serves as a prime example of MOCK Studio’s guiding principles and ethos?

There are moments that embody our ethos on a project called TBSP and some more in our 2023 NYC X Design installation but we are still evolving as a practice and there is still a lot left unexplored which we are very excited about.

Peering into the future of MOCK Studio as it strides into 2034, what visions do you behold?

We behold a strong vision of life in the Mediterranean, we mean that both metaphorically and literally, as we are starting to shift our focus towards Europe, specifically Greece, and we are continuously drawing inspiration in the way we design from aspects of life in that part of the world.

Credits

Photography · Sean Davidson
Courtesy of MOCK Studio

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