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Tag: Interviews

ciguë

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · ciguë architecture
Words · Annalise Kamegawa

From prototyping in France to wooden structures in Jakarta, ciguë’s practice embodies a growing world

ciguë, with their portfolio of projects around the globe, has created a world within a world. Rooted in their Parisian beginnings, each project carries fragments of the places they’ve worked, building a collective vision that continually evolves. In an interview with NR, founding partners Alphonse Sarthout, Camille Bénard, and Guillem Renard delve into the projects and processes that define the spaces that they create.

We heard that ciguë was founded when you all were in architecture school in Paris. It’s almost as if you’ve grown up in the industry together. How have your relationships evolved throughout the years?

A: When we started, there was no topic we wouldn’t share with each other. In the beginning, we could spend an entire day just talking about one project—this helped us a lot to build a foundation of ideas and understand our direction. After 20 years, we now share a common intuition. There’s much less talking than before and more acting with trust in each other.

C: For some people, there is life and then there is work. We [the partners] never tried to separate these things. Our beliefs from our private lives are applied in our professional lives too. For us, it’s all one and the same: life is research; it’s a playground; it’s also a lot of work.

A: Maybe the biggest challenge is having the team grow beyond the partners—we need to employ people. Many journalists still use the word ‘collective’ to describe us, but really today, we are a company with partners and employees trying to keep up that spirit.

We try not to have any hierarchy in the creative process: but we still work toward collective thinking that goes beyond the architect, contractors, craftsmen, and clients. We’ve tried from the beginning to have everyone around the table, working toward a common idea. We strongly believe that the best projects we’ve done were not just us in a corner having nice ideas—it’s best when we can build relationships.

Your work with Ace Athens is one the firm’s largest projects to date in terms of both scale and scope. The Hotel & Swim Club is a 120-room property with a pool, gallery, and café. Notably, the project works around the renewal of the Fenix Hotel. What was one part of the space that challenged you? One part that inspired you?

A: Ace Athens is actually not the biggest project we’ve worked on, but at the moment, it is the biggest project to be realised and delivered.

A big challenge: The balconies on the façade make the building very particular. The rule was one balcony to one room, so we had to preserve the rooms’ partitions. Additionally, there were legal restraints. If we demolished something in the hotel, we couldn’t rebuild it as a hotel, because current urban planning regulations only permit housing developments.

We also had to find a way to give the exterior a certain elegance. Unfortunately, it was a very fragile structure that required reinforcing the concrete with very specific techniques. When we found the hotel, it had a very 80s-90s style of mixed material with these ugly plastic additions. It was not very inspiring, so we had to strip it to the bone to revive the structure.

C: I see two major things in this rehabilitation. First, it reflects the kind of architect we want to be. Existing buildings are everywhere, and our focus is to take something that’s falling and give it a new life. This belief has guided our company’s history.

Second, once you give life to the rehabilitation, the question then becomes how to connect it to the city and make it embody the place it’s in. We partnered up with a friend of ours, Matthieu Prat, who has spent a lot of time in Athens finding artists in the local scene. This collaboration [which resulted in showcasing the works of 18 Athenian artists in the hotel] was an essential part of this process.

In the Aesop Nashville store, there’s these tall wooden beams with shelves mimicking an ax intersecting a tree. It’s noted here that you were inspired by the American legacy of “first growth pine.” We’re interested in your first interactions with Nashville and what led you to the discovery of this site-specific phenomenon?

G: With our projects, we try and find a way to blend with the locals. We walk through the streets, finding some materiality to ground us. But this is a good question because, being French, it’s not so easy to casually navigate a place like Tennessee.

We ended up finding this guy who was a kind of collector in what seemed to be a sawmill factory. We pushed open the doors to his space and we discovered these crazy old wood beams and dismantled logs from the beginning of the 20th century. They were super nicely refurbished. That’s when we said, “here is our project.” For us, it expressed the historical legacy through a material – we could work with it as a starting point.

C: It brought all these archetypes of America into one gesture, or one scene.

A: What Guillem described is a process we’ve been doing for every project abroad. If the conditions allow it, we request to withhold from designing until we get a chance to be on site for a few days. Of course, it’s not easy to say to the client, “in order to design, we need you to pay for a trip first.” But for us, this is very important.

We did this for Isabel Marant in Tokyo. We spent almost a week walking around the city, going to the harbor, finding factories, people working with local materials. We do all this to get inspired and immerse ourselves in the culture.

C: In general, we don’t want to find ourselves imposing our French culture onto a project. Rather, what interests us is discovering how cultures can blend. That’s where we’re seeking to design from.

Your work is known for its connection to craftsmanship and prototyping. There are a lot of fixtures (including elaborate systems and contraptions) within the Aesop stores that are made by the team at ciguë. Given your emphasis on craftsmanship and custom design, but with a growing international presence, how has your process for creating custom pieces evolved? Are your prototypes still primarily developed in France, or do you now collaborate with local artisans in different regions?

C: Overtime, the tools of architecture have been reduced to the lines on AutoCAD. We didn’t recognize ourselves in this. Our practice was born from the will to make things as well as to design them. We prototype because it’s very evocative and allows us to get rid of words and drawings. So many ideas can be summed up just in one piece.

Sometimes we also use prototypes to discuss with the makers that execute the designs. We’ve found that it’s a super rich and fast way to exchange ideas without language.

A: At the beginning, we were designing and building everything ourselves systematically. When we started to have projects abroad, we were obliged, almost forced, to have our project built by others—at least that’s how we perceived it. But after a few projects, we discovered that collaboration with local makers made the process so much more interesting.

For one of the first stores we did abroad, we built everything here in France. We shipped it, installed it there in three days, and then came back to Paris. It was a challenge. We made it, but then we just realized we couldn’t see the city or meet anyone there. In the end, it was just like any project done in our workshop in France.

One or two years later, we did a project in Tokyo for Isabel Marant. There, we discovered Japanese craftsmanship, and it was amazing. The first meeting we had, we didn’t say anything. We were at a table filled with materials and samples. There was a language barrier, but through the materials, we could see there was a deep understanding between us. After this, we took a bit of distance from systematically building everything ourselves

In the Arabica coffee space in Jakarta (2023), the architecture pulls from both Javanese crafts, traditional Indonesian dwellings, and the heritage of Dutch colonial architecture – all influences that are palpable in the city. I’m interested in understanding the process of building this wooden structure.

G: On this project, carpentry was a big challenge because there is a lot of wood available for use within Indonesia. All the wood from the country is going abroad now for furniture and other uses. They are struggling a lot to keep the material in their territory. Because of this, it was a big challenge for us to get the clients, the engineers, and the other stakeholders to understand the idea behind having a wood building.

We wanted to integrate into the neighborhood’s old wooden construction. This area was a historic neighborhood, and we wanted to emphasize that.

A: Playing with the archetypes of the Javanese house, with its big, airy, ventilated structures, made sense to us. It wasn’t in a nostalgic way. It was more because, if it’s been this way for centuries, then there must be a reason. Unfortunately, with modernity, there have been so many aspects of traditional architecture that have been erased through technology. With air conditioning and concrete as fast building methods, there has been a loss of the specificities of certain architecture that makes it rich.

C: Such as was this case in Jakarta, sometimes we build new buildings. This isn’t a light act for us—we feel a strong responsibility. That’s why we look to invoke a certain culture or link it to local knowledge about buildings.

Working so much in the public-facing retail sector, your spaces have more foot traffic than say an office or private residence. Are there any standout memories you have of the public interacting with your spaces in an unexpected way?

A: I’m reminded of what we did for the Citadium project. It is a department store, mainly for young people, kids, and teenagers. The funny story is that the manager of the place had always been a fan of music and radio, so he decided to create a radio station in the space. The renovation happened during COVID.

G: It was a DJ booth and a welcoming radio station for Rinse, Paris. It plays electronic music and everything on a web radio that’s strongly resonant in the young generation.

A: During COVID, all the clubs in Paris closed, but Citadium was open because of capacity rules. They could still welcome people. This radio station became the only place you could hear live music, DJs and performances. The initial intention to create a radio station is already cool, but then during COVID, it became an important communal place.

In every city, project, and prototype, Ciguë’s work is about a unified voice—not singular, but a composition of many stories, colors, and textures gathered over their years of practice. Reflecting this ethos, in NR’s conversation, Alphonse says, “Throughout our projects, we want to feel like we’re still on the path of discovering who we are. If we realize one day that we’re just repeating the same style because we’re Ciguë and that’s what Ciguë should do, then we just won’t make sense anymore. Every project is a new story. Every project is an occasion to reinvent ourselves and meet new people, new materials, invent ways of doing things.”

Credits

  1. ciguë architecture, Isabel Marant Store, Tokyo-Omotesando. Photography by Koyo Takayama.
  2. ciguë architecture, Ace Hotel, Athens. Photography by Pasquale De Maffini.
  3. ciguë architecture, Aesop Store, Nashville. Photography by Aesop.
  4. ciguë architecture, Isabel Marant Store, Tokyo-Omotesando. Photography by Koyo Takayama.
  5. ciguë architecture, Arabica Coffee Shop, Jakarta. Photography by Ricky Adrian.
  6. ciguë architecture, Citadium, Paris. Photography by Maris Mezulis.

Entrance Gallery

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Louis Shannon
Words · Andrea Bratta

NR and The Salon by NADA and the Community are excited to introduce a media partnership for the novel invitational fair’s first edition.

Spanning three floors of 30 bis Rue de Paradis in the 10th arrondissement of Paris, a historic location that once housed the Baccarat crystal factory, The Salon is designed as an alternative cultural experience during Paris Art Week, showcasing a dynamic selection from over 50 galleries, art spaces, and non-profit organizations spanning 18 countries and 24 cities, including Basel, Cologne, Dubai, Glasgow, Oslo, Guayaquil, Los Angeles, Mexico City, New York, Paris, Tokyo, and Warsaw.

NR’s comprehensive media coverage will highlight The Salon’s unique model and amplify the fair’s vision for a cultural experience that challenges standardised models, emphasizing the importance of supporting new voices and underrepresented creators in the art world, while bringing together new, and established, voices in contemporary culture.

As part of our coverage, we spoke with Louis Shannon, founder of Entrance Gallery, one of the most interesting Lower East Side spaces in NYC.

Let’s start by taking a little step back. This is not the first time you work with The Community, right?

We had a show in The Community’s space in Pantin last November, titled LA RENTRÉE. It was the first of The Community’s invitationalformat, which I guess they also expanded, in a way, with The Salon. It was a beautiful, very spontaneous show –the reasoning behind it was bringing everything that fitted into a single suitcase. [laughs] 

This time, with more preparation, we brought a fuller range of works reflecting our gallery’s vision in a more organic, and complete, manner. The selection gives an overview of what we’re aiming to accomplish in New York—primarily supporting artists ready for their debut solo exhibitions. I love working with emerging artists, and here at The Salon, we’re showcasing artists who’ve never shown before. For instance, Ethan Means, a remarkable oil painter from Flatbush, Brooklyn, is showing his work for the first time here, at The Salon, and it has been an exciting experience to see the public’s response.

Alongside him, we have pieces from more established artists in our program, like Hannah Lee, whose work references Caillebotte, whose work is currently being exhibited at the Museeè D’orsay. Having these artists side by side captures the essence of our program, emphasizing new voices and ongoing dialogues. 

How’s working with artists who are just starting out?

It definitely adds a layer of curiosity and collaboration, allowing us to nurture meaningful relationships from the outset. This approach aligns with the salon’s ethos and its conversational format, fostering open interactions, much like NADA’s broader mission to connect communities in art.

As we’ve already said, this isn’t my first collaboration with The Community—I’ve known them for a long time—and it’s always been about intellectual curiosity, introducing fresh voices and keeping things innovative. 

Was supporting emerging art always part of your mission from the start? Since you began collecting, has that focus always been there, or do you feel it developed over time as you gained experience?

It is a mission, 100%. Since opening our gallery in 2017, our goal has been to elevate emerging art. It started as a DIY space, driven by an underground spirit, and that ethos remains central to everything we do. For instance, Pat McCarthy is one of the artists I brought to the salon; his background in zine culture and punk aesthetics reflects our gallery’s roots in alternative art scenes, and his work blends high and low art in a way that resonates with our values.

I see each show as a collaborative journey that connects me with the artist on a deeper level. The Salon has been especially rewarding because it feels less like a conventional fair and more like a community of art lovers sharing ideas and engaging in meaningful conversations.

And those conversations become part of the story. Just like the way you work with artists, that same deep involvement in their practice. The way you described Pat’s work really shows the thoughtful, long-term relationships you seem to cultivate with artists. Is it challenging sometimes to keep that up?

Honestly, it’s good. It’s my everyday, my whole life—I live and breathe it, so I don’t think about anything else. For me, it’s all about the relationship, and when your work becomes your life, that’s when it’s truly rewarding. That personal, enduring connection with the artists and their work is central.

Speaking of connections, have you had a chance to attend any talks or activations here?

Not yet, but I’m excited to see Nick Sethi and pick up one of his books. He’s a friend and a talented artist, also involved with The Community for years.

Is there a particular medium you’re interested in curating right now? Or that perhaps you wanted to specifically focus on for a fair setting?

Not really. For me, it’s more about the artist’s intention. I enjoy working with artists at various stages of their practice, especially when they’re deeply engaged and obsessed with their chosen material. If they’re passionate about oil painting on panel, that’s fantastic. If they’re drawn to English porcelain ceramics or performance, I’ll support that too—as long as it’s an authentic pursuit. It’s not about creating what sells; it’s about creating because they have an undeniable drive to express through their art. Also, The Salon’s format is less costly than larger fairs, allowing us to take more creative risks. 

How’s your feedback on The Salon experience so far? How would you describe it?

I think that there’s a more relaxed environment that lets visitors, including collectors, approach the works with an open mind, which fosters a greater receptivity to new perspectives. It’s refreshing compared to the high-stakes, high-commercial settings of other fairs. Plus, it’s nice to see students and young creatives engaging with the art, it’s different.

What are the next steps for you after The Salon?

Right now, we’re in the midst of our season, with several shows lined up through the end of the year, including a fair in Miami. I’m also working on a sculpture garden in Red Hook in collaboration with the gallery, an exciting new project focused on expanding our sculptural offerings.

Credits

  1. Entrance Gallery booth at The Salon by NADA & The Community, Paris, 2024. Photography by Gabriele Abbruzzese.
  2. Ethan Means, Fashion parents, 2024. Oil on wood panel. Photography by Stephen Faught.
  3. Ethan Means, Doing some rooftop reading, 2024. Oil on wood panel. Photography by Stephen Faught.
  4. Lizzy Gabay, Building at Night II, 2024. Oil on linen. Photography by Stephen Faught.
  5. Lizzy Gabay, The Water Statues, 2024. Oil on canvas. Photography by Stephen Faught.

Discover more on entrance.nyc

The Salon by NADA & The Community opens on Thursday, October 17. Please use the link here to RSVP. and confirm your visit

Opening Hours
Thursday, October 17, 6pm-8pm
Friday, October 18, 11am-8pm
Saturday, October 19, 11am-8pm
Sunday, October 20, 11am-6pm

Address
30 bis Rue du Paradis
75010 Paris

Foreign & Domestic Gallery

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Alex Meurice
Words · Andrea Bratta

NR and The Salon by NADA and the Community are excited to introduce a media partnership for the novel invitational fair’s first edition.

Spanning three floors of 30 bis Rue de Paradis in the 10th arrondissement of Paris, a historic location that once housed the Baccarat crystal factory, The Salon is designed as an alternative cultural experience during Paris Art Week, showcasing a dynamic selection from over 50 galleries, art spaces, and non-profit organizations spanning 18 countries and 24 cities, including Basel, Cologne, Dubai, Glasgow, Oslo, Guayaquil, Los Angeles, Mexico City, New York, Paris, Tokyo, and Warsaw.

NR’s comprehensive media coverage will highlight The Salon’s unique model and amplify the fair’s vision for a cultural experience that challenges standardised models, emphasizing the importance of supporting new voices and underrepresented creators in the art world, while bringing together new, and established, voices in contemporary culture.

As part of our coverage, we spoke with Alex Meurice, founder of Foreign & Domestic Gallery in New York.

Hey Alex! How’s it going?

Last day vibes, you know? I guess we are all more relaxed, and tired. [laughs] But I am definitely happy. 

Should we start this with a little introduction about your work?

Sure. The story actually traces back to 2018. I first used the project name “Foreign & Domestic” when I participated in The Salon de Normandy’s first edition, back in 2019. The name originated from an exhibition I held in London in 2018, titled “European Foreign and Domestic,” which was inspired by a road sign advertising mechanic services in Los Angeles. You see signs like “Foreign and Domestic” throughout the U.S., often referring to parts from both Europe and America. But the phrase sparked a question for me: What’s truly foreign nowadays? So, everything kind of revolved around this theme and wordplay.

I held the show in a big abandoned hotel in London, and one of the artists showing was actually The Community. There’s an exact replica of an English town in China, It’s called Thames Town. This town, a near-exact recreation, even down to its decor, served as a fascinating setting for their work. Replicating European architecture like this isn’t allowed in China anymore, as recent policies under Xi Jinping restrict European-style designs. But back then, they were able to create almost identical replicas. 

The Community contributed with a video filmed in Thames Town. They sent two of their members to stay in an Airbnb that looked like a stage set for an English home, complete with decor that imitated traditional British interiors. The effect was surreal—like a TV set with three walls, furnished to mimic a scene straight out of the UK. That’s what they brought to my space, capturing this unique blend of cultural imitation. 

How did, from there, Foreign & Domestic become what it is today?

In 2020, I moved to New York. I kept the original name, dropped European –The shadow of the old continent. One of the first artists I showed in NYC was Michael Iveson, a British artist whose work I had shown extensively in London. He created a significant installation there, featuring double-wrapped sculptures and smaller prints. It felt right to bring Michael back into focus, and his work is also here at The Salon. Now, five years on, in 2024, things have evolved. I’ve been running a more established gallery program since December 2022, with Michael set to have his next show in November. My presentation at the Salon this year is straightforward, showcasing snapshots of recent gallery highlights: the previous show with Joseph Brock, the upcoming one with Michael Iveson, and the show I did with Greg last year, which I also curated for another exhibition. 

You were there for the first Salon de Normandy, The Community’s project that served as the baseline for where we are right now. How would you say the project evolved?

It’s definitely more professional now, but the spirit remains the same. NADA and The Community might operate slightly differently, but they share the same mission. There’s a special energy of support and innovation. They even had artists giving away work for free—a beautiful gesture. I’m referring to Nick Sethi’s performance. I think they managed to elevate and translate to a bigger framework what the original Salon was. A very diverse mix of people visited the fair, and the presence of music and art roaming through the halls adds a unique touch.

Would you say your role as an exhibitor, or perhaps how audiences interact with your work, has shifted over these years?

Yes, in some ways. It’s a more diverse audience now, and it’s exciting to see people interact differently with the pieces. I’m showing at NADA Miami next, where I’ll explore this further.

What drew you to participate in fairs? Is it just about exposure, or something deeper?

Mostly, it’s about connecting with new audiences who resonate with the gallery’s programming. Fairs like NADA’s or The Salon attract a unique crowd, and the community among exhibitors is strong—each gallery has its own story and perspective, which keeps the experience rich and varied. Which I think it’s what made this experience very interesting. Each exhibitor had its own very individual aesthetic, program, history, but we managed to create a communal experience. A certain kinship I’d say. Neighboring galleries often collaborate, and friendships emerge organically. These “invisible lines” form between spaces, making the event feel truly communal.

How would you describe your curatorial approach?

I’m interested in the personal connection and experimenting alongside the artists. The results come naturally through these collaborations. Some artists I work with are known for using found or recycled materials—like magazines, old t-shirts, or even candles—giving their work a raw, sustainable quality.

The relational side seems essential in the way you work, beyond just what ends up on the walls.

Absolutely. A gallery is like an iceberg—the art on display is just the visible tip of a much larger social and creative context. I still very much believe in the idea of social scenes, and I mean that in a more meaningful way, not just you know, going to openings and the social side of being in the art world, and I see that a lot in the interactions we managed to build here during these four days. 

Credits

  1. Minotaurs, 2024, group exhibition curated by Harris Rosenblum. Installation view. Photography by Stephen Faught.
  2. Nicholas William Johnson, Apparatus (Henbane viewed in a convex obsidian mirror), 2022. Photography by Damian Griffiths
  3. Michael Iveson, Boots, 2024. Photography by Stephen James

Discover more on foreignndomestic.io

The Salon by NADA & The Community opens on Thursday, October 17. Please use the link here to RSVP. and confirm your visit

Opening Hours
Thursday, October 17, 6pm-8pm
Friday, October 18, 11am-8pm
Saturday, October 19, 11am-8pm
Sunday, October 20, 11am-6pm

Address
30 bis Rue du Paradis
75010 Paris

DJ LOSER

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · DJ LOSER
Words · Andrea Bratta

One must imagine Sisyphus happy with DJ LOSER

Everyone is a loser, according to Magdalena’s Apathy label head Pantelis Terzoglou, and that might actually be something quite liberating. For Terzoglou ego is not in the picture, only music. You might know him as the experimental ambient project Angel’s Corpse, or underground club legend DJ LOSER. NR spoke with him about creative needs, the importance of isolation in creation, and how to remain true to yourself without sacrificing your career, whatever that term means, today, for an artist.

As we were speaking off the record, you mentioned curating a soundtrack for a brand? Could you tell me more about that?

Yeah, it’s for a brand from Oslo, run by EriK Spanne, Duy Ngo and Tomas Silva. They’ve got this emerging brand called 1313 Selah, and their fashion show happened in late August. Me and Erik have been collaborating since before the brand officially started, mainly through music. They’ve connected with one of my sub-projects, Angel’s Corpse, which is more ambient, with elements of gabber and hardcore. It fits perfectly with their vision for their current collection.

Is this something that you’re really interested in, given that it’s a bit different from your usual, more club-oriented work?

Definitely. My initial drive was just to produce music and create audiovisual art, which is why I also started my label. My approach isn’t limited to club music, though that’s the most recognizable project of mine. My creativity spans different genres and styles, depending on where my inspiration takes me. Like, five or six years ago, I was into slower BPMs and more industrial soundscapes inspired by the late 80s.

So, while DJ Loser is club-oriented, my broader artistic vision goes beyond that. Projects like Angel’s Corpse let me explore those other sides. I’m not actively chasing career opportunities for this ambient direction, but if opportunities like this come my way, and I feel inspired, I’ll follow them.

Would you say that’s the same philosophy behind how you run your label?

Exactly, it’s a natural flow. When I started the label, it was just an outlet for a noise-industrial sub-project of mine called Magdalena’s Apathy. I was doing a few tape releases and eventually decided I wanted more control over everything — not just the music, but also the visuals and narrative around the releases.

I’m very much into world-building, so creating an all-encompassing aesthetic for my projects became essential. I even brought back CDs, because they fit my generation’s vibe and aesthetic. The label was initially just a personal project, but it’s expanded as more people connected with it. Now, I treat it like a platform for friends and people who resonate with what I’m doing.

So it’s more of an artistic platform than a business operation?

Exactly. I’m focused on being an artist first, rather than a ‘label owner’. Of course, I know how to handle the distribution and promotion side, but I don’t want to force anything or break the natural flow of the project. That’s how I’ve managed to make a living through music, by following what truly inspires me, rather than chasing trends or commercial success.Feels more fitting to my ways.

Where do you start when building a world around your music?

Most of the time, it starts with an emotional or aesthetic vision. I maintain focus for music that is about conveying feelings, not genres or styles. I aim to translate the way I feel & see things into sound, and then build the visuals around that. When I curate releases from others, I give them total creative freedom and then try to match their music with a fitting visual narrative. It’s about giving people an emotional and aesthetic experience, not just music.At least that’s my opinion on what a release should be doing. I think emotions and aesthetics connected in a personal direction lead to an impactful experience. A trance track can evoke the same feelings as an ambient track, a trap track or whatever. For me, it’s all about conveying those emotions, and that’s why my label and platform are not limited to a single genre. I want to capture the raw human experience in its many forms, whether it’s through club music, experimental sounds, or something more ambient.

What emotions would you say drive your music?

The need to express oneself is the biggest one. I’ve always felt a need to, and connect with people and society afterwards on a deeper level, beyond just words. Music allows me to express emotions and experiences that are hard to put into words. It’s not about social commentary for me; it’s more about creating a shared emotional space through sound. It’s my way of overcoming isolation and finding companionship too I suppose.

That resonates with me too. There’s an Italian saying that translates to “every translation is a form of treason,” meaning words can never fully capture the original meaning. Music, especially instrumental pieces, often conveys emotion more directly, without the barriers of language. How do you feel about talking about music — your own or in general?

Talking about music can be difficult. I can do it, but it’s tricky. It almost feels like betraying the core of what I’m trying to express or what music exists for. If I wanted to say what I mean in words, I’d probably be a writer, not a musician. Music is my language for things that can’t be fully expressed with words,or words distort the point.

I get that, I guess it’s also why even though I am an avid listener, I could never write music. Switching gears a bit, how do you view DJing in comparison to producing? Is that also a form of communication?

DJing is definitely different from producing, but it’s still a form of communication. It’s less introspective and more about connecting with people in the moment. When I DJ, I’m responding to the crowd and creating a shared experience. It’s like setting the vibe and guiding people through a moment together. I love the challenge of reading the crowd and helping them lose themselves in the music. It’s a great way to feel connected to others, in a more social way than producing music alone in the studio.

How’s the electronic music scene in Greece, particularly in your city? I visit Greece often—my aunt married a Greek guy and lives in Patras, so part of my family is there. But Patras is very different. I’m curious about Thessaloniki and whether growing up there influenced your approach to music, or did you feel more inspired by what was happening elsewhere? I grew up in Bari, which had a somewhat decent music scene, especially for Techno, but I was still more attracted to what was happening outside. So I was always online, searching and nerding out, and maybe that’s why I ended up doing what I do today.

Yeah, so I’m in Thessaloniki, not Athens, and there are definitely differences in both the quality and quantity of what’s happening culturally in the two cities. Thessaloniki has always had some presence of electronic music during my years here. It used to be bigger when I was a kid, based on what people told me, but from my experience, it was more about one big commercial event—your typical stereotypical, generic tech sound. At the same time, there’s always been an underground culture, which happens mostly in university spaces, raves, or small basement parties. I used to attend those places before I became a producer, and they definitely inspired me in terms of the nightlife. But when it came to the identity of the sound, I didn’t always connect with what was going on in the city. For example, when I was into more industrial and desolate sounds, Thessaloniki wasn’t offering that, so I had to go online to find what I needed. Now, the city is growing faster, especially because younger generations are more open and online, bringing new ideas. I’ve been to some gigs recently, and compared to 8 or 10 years ago, people are more open and much more up-to-date. But the biggest problem in Thessaloniki is the lack of good venues, and that’s what holds me back from being more active or bringing in artists. We just don’t have proper clubs with decent sound systems that can support creative ideas. So you either do something in a small bar that occasionally acts like a club, or you take the risk of throwing an underground rave—renting equipment and doing it illegally. But in Greece, it’s easy to get caught, and i’m not in the mood or age to jerk around honestly. Thessaloniki is a beautiful city, though. Honestly, Andrea, I’ve thought about moving to bigger cities like Berlin, London, or Copenhagen. But whenever I visit those places and stay for a few days, I find myself pulled into the social scene more than I might need to. My creative needs are fed in terms of input—there’s so much going on and lots of inspiration from people. But the downside is, I lose that time for myself, that alone time where I can focus on my own production and rhythm. My creativity thrives more when I’m isolated. I’ve come to realize that, as a producer, I work best as a hermit. When I’m in an environment that doesn’t necessarily feed my creativity, it forces me to search for inspiration from within more naturally. That isolation allows me to produce more original ideas. Does that make sense?

Absolutely. Living in Milan and working in Paris, I get it. I’m constantly moving between these two big cities, working with artists, musicians, and fashion brands. So I’m always in social contexts, bringing people together, meeting new people—but it’s not always real or deeply felt. Our conversation now feels more open and honest than many social interactions I have. My job requires a lot of writing and thinking, and I always feel this sense of fatigue, like I’m being pulled in different directions. It’s something I’m learning to embrace as part of maturing, while for you, it’s more about finding your own spaces. I think we’re both figuring it out, in different ways. How do you navigate the online world? On one hand, we have all these platforms where we can research and get inspired, but it’s easy to get lost because there’s so much content. How do you keep your identity online, especially as a label head or someone who curates for others?

For me, I’m very comfortable with the online lifestyle. I’ve always been into it. I grew up in internet cafes and was part of online communities from a young age, whether it was for video games or music. So navigating the online world for inspiration—whether it’s music, art, films, or games—doesn’t feel disorienting to me. I know how to find what I need and how to navigate it all. But social media is different. It’s much more distracting, and it creates this spiral of ego battles, comparing yourself to others. When I’m online in general, I feel fine, but after spending 5 or 10 minutes on Instagram or Twitter, I’m like, “What am I doing here?” It’s not about content; it’s about ego. So I don’t spend much time on social media anymore. I post what I need to post, read my messages, and then get off. Instagram, in particular, feels like a necessary evil—it’s important for people in our line of work, but it’s also incredibly distracting and can kill your creative flow. It feeds ego more than ideas, so I try to stay away as much as possible. People know they can reach me through other platforms, and I communicate more through email than social media regarding music and art. I find that’s a much better way to protect my creative energy and avoid distractions.

You’ve always tried to control your ego, right? How has that been, especially with the surprising success you’ve had?

Yeah, it’s been a journey. In the beginning, I didn’t get any ego boost from it—I was genuinely shocked that people were even interested in my music. I’m self-taught, no formal music education, just learning by ear and experimenting with software on my own. My first setup was literally in the same kitchen I live in now, with these basic Logitech speakers. So when my first tapes and vinyl releases came out, I was like, “What the hell is happening?” It felt like the endgame dream, but I never expected it. The tricky part nowadays is social media. When I’m out, meeting people, or navigating social circles, I don’t have any sense or thoughts of comparison. Whether I’m interacting with someone less known than me, someone much more famous, or a fan, there’s no ego clash. That’s just how I am in person. But social media, man—it makes you behave differently. Its made up this way that everyone ,even for a few moments, end up subconsciously judging people’s work based on their follower count, like giving more attention to someone’s work with 15k followers over someone’s with 500. It’s messed up. That’s why I actively try not to get caught up in it. I don’t want to let my ego be influenced by this false narrative.

Speaking of ego, what’s the story behind the ‘DJ Loser’ moniker?

Because I think that everyone is a loser! [laughs]

What do you mean by that?

Yeah, in my philosophical view, everyone is a loser because people spend their whole lives running, trying to create a life and memories centered around themselves—their experiences, emotions, all of it. But in the end, we die, and we forget everything. Nothing matters because of this absence of personal remembrance , but not in a nihilistic way. It’s more like, if you live with yourself consciously,, there’s a kind of inherent futility to it.

That reminds me of the Sisyphus myth.

Exactly. Both the actual ancient Greek myth was a lesson, and the Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus’ was one of my favorite books when I was younger. It helped me deal with my thanatophobia—my intense fear of death. Camus talks about ‘philosophical suicide’ and that idea really helped me navigate my fears.

Thanatophobia? That’s fascinating. How does that impact your life?

It’s the root of all anxieties, honestly. Fear of death is the mother of all anxieties. It’s the only absolute truth, you know? Everything else—stress, worry or even ambitions—is just masking that fear.
And when you actually grasp it, it’s mind-blowing. You reach this point where you’re like, “What the fuck?” I get what the Stoics were saying, like “Death is where you aren’t, so why care about it?” But for me, that’s the literal problem. It’s about the absence of consciousness and memory. It can feel like torture technique, honestly, to live, enjoy life, then have it all erased. That’s the crux of my fear—not death itself, but the idea that I will cease to think,feel, everything, even the things I value most.

So your fear of death is more about losing memory than losing life?

Exactly. I’m pretty much convinced that death is like a dreamless sleep—there’s just nothing after. So what’s the point of experiencing life if I won’t remember any of it? It’s not about it being pointless, it feels almost cruel. We’re biologically wired to keep living, to pass on our genes, but in the end, none of it matters because we won’t even remember.

Does this outlook inform your creative process? Does art help you deal with that fear?

It definitely does. Trauma and personal experiences shaped me into who I am, and they’ve pushed me toward art as a form of expression. Music was never a conscious career choice—Doing music was a need and I’m lucky enough to be able to live the life I’m living. Music was Something I had to do to boost the need of trying to make sense out of everything. And it helps. I try to live as authentically as possible, even in this capitalist system. I know what I have to do to push my career faster, how to market myself better, but that’s not true to who I am. I want to live my life in a way that’s honest to me, without selling out or losing my identity in the process.

Let’s forget death for a moment. I think we might get into a downward spiral that, albeit extremely interesting, I would avoid for our readers. What’s next for you? Any projects or upcoming gigs you’re focused on?

Right now, my focus is on my side project, Angel’s Corpse. It’s less club-oriented,based on the traditional sense, and more esoteric, diving deeper into themes like thanatophobia. It makes me feel more comfortable with those heavy ideas. As for gigs, I had my second label night in Berlin in August with a lineup that’s pretty hot—Brodinski, Evit Manji, Van Boom, and 0111001101110100. Berlin’s nightlife scene gives me the chance to curate a night with my vision in mind, and that’s a big deal for me.There are more gigs coming in Europe this fall both under DJ LOSER & Angel’s Corpse projects.

On the label side, we’ve got releases lined up—some from U.S. and European artists, ranging from experimental ambient to what I call “emo trance.” I don’t force a strict release schedule though. Creativity needs space, so things will drop when they’re ready. My main goal is just to keep doing what I love and help others express themselves too.

For your label nights, do you aim to create a fully immersive experience? Like curating thewhole aesthetic?

That’s definitely the goal—to create a 360-degree experience from the venue design to the sound. Right now, I’m focusing on curating the lineup and sound, but eventually, I want to control every aspect of the night. I could see that happening easier somewhere outside of Greece,but it’s one of my goals to be able to hold a night like that here though.

Looking forward to seeing how it evolves. And perhaps meeting you over drinks so we can spiral a little bit more. [laughs]

Sounds like a plan!

All artworks courtesy of DJ LOSER.

CS + KREME

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · CS + KREME
Words · Andrea Bratta

Sonic Sceneries

It is an almost safe assumption to say that backgrounds are important while tracking down an artist’s output. When it comes to Conrad Standish and Sam Karmel’s –the duo behind CS+Kreme– such taxonomies are as interesting to perform as they feel superfluous. During the summer leading to their upcoming New LP ‘The Butterfly Drinks the Tears of the Tortoise,’ NR spoke with the Melbourne/Naarm based duo to retrace an incredibly rich history of sonic experimentation in and out of different scenes, resulting in an almost chameleonic approach to their signature interplay between registers and sounds.

I wanted to begin perhaps in a bit of a classic fashion with this one –I’ve been digging a bit about you, and there’s not much information out there, which seems intentional. 

Conrad Standish: It’s not really intentional, yeah. I think people might see us as more mysterious than we are. The truth is, people don’t usually ask us for interviews, so we don’t do them. But when we’re asked, we’re happy to.

Mmmh. I guess it’s their loss. I’m all the more excited to dig in and uncover a bit of unwilling mysteries. How did this project come about? Conrad, we were chatting a little bit off the record while waiting for Sam to join, and you mentioned Melbourne and the challenges of building something culturally there. Was CS+Creme born out of you guys being part of the same scene?

CS Yeah, Sam and I knew each other a little from the Melbourne scene. One good thing about Melbourne is that different groups mix. The techno scene overlaps with other scenes, probably because it’s a smaller city. We knew each other from parties, and at the time, the band I was in had just ended. Sam emailed me, asked if I wanted to jam, and that’s how it started. We jammed in his bedroom— I brought my 808 over, and we had surprisingly strong chemistry. That’s how it all began, and over the years, we just got deeper into it.

Going through your releases, I had the impression of being confronted with a very heterogeneous mix of elements and influences, which seems to evolve from record to record – A pronounced sense of experimentation, if you like. Could you talk about your process? How do you approach composing?

Sam Karmel Sure. We usually start with sketches, often born from jams. If we like something in a sketch, we play with it until we’re happy. There’s a lot of experimenting—adding, removing elements, and trying unexpected things. We push ourselves but keep it natural. Sometimes new equipment helps us explore new areas, but it’s a playful and fearless approach, where we throw ideas around until we get somewhere that feels right.

CS Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. In the early days, everything came from improvisation or jamming, and we’d zero in on the good parts to refine them. But now, we’ve expanded. Sometimes we work individually, bring ideas together, and refine them. There’s no fixed process, but the end result is always quite different from the initial idea.

That unpredictability is fascinating. It’s like the process takes you somewhere unexpected, which brings to mind how sometimes writing starts with a concept but ends up in a completely different place. But your output still feels very coherent. When I listen to one of your records I can really tell it’s a collection of songs that belong together, you know what I mean? Do you consciously aim for that level of cohesion when you create an album?

CS No, not consciously. We don’t start with a clear idea or feeling in mind. It evolves naturally. As we’re halfway through, we start to see a pattern or shape in the record. We just let things unfold and guide them later when we start to understand what the album is becoming.

It reminds me of discussions about surrealist music—how it emerges from spontaneous juxtapositions that form a coherent aesthetic in the end. You seem to have a broad range of influences. Could you talk about your musical backgrounds and how they come together in your sound?

SK Yeah, over the years, we’ve traversed different areas of music. I grew up with classical music, then got into metal, and later Detroit techno and electronic music. Conrad has a different story.

CS Yeah, for me, it was hip hop when I was younger, being part of the graffiti scene in Melbourne. Then I played in rock and punk bands. We have broad tastes but share a lot of common ground. Our different backgrounds come together naturally.

I’ve got to say I am very curious about the Melbourne scene. You’ve mentioned also how much they usually overlap. Did growing up in such an environment influenced the experimental quality of your processes as musicians?

CS Well, I wasn’t as involved in the Melbourne scene as Sam was. I moved to Berlin and London for a while, so I can’t say I’ve been deeply embedded here. But Melbourne is cool; it has its own scene, though I’m not sure how amazing it is compared to other places.

SK Yeah, when I moved to Melbourne in the early 2000s, there was an underground experimental band scene that I was part of. The scene has changed a lot since then. Right now, it’s very dance-music-oriented, especially with a focus on psychedelic techno.

CS Exactly. It’s gone through different phases, and it’s hard to pin down what it’s like right now.

You come from such different backgrounds and scenes, and you’ve both performed in various settings— from the Bourse de Commerce to festivals, passing from proper clubs, and concerts. Does the setting where you perform influences how you compose or alter your live sets?

SK More and more, we’re thinking about how the music will translate in different environments. The sound system has become something we’re particular about now. As we’ve played on some amazing sound systems around the world, we’ve realized that when the system is good, our ideas translate the way we want them to. So, to some extent, this does affect how we write music, even for things that haven’t been released yet. And when it comes to live sets, we’re treating them as a unique entity, separate from the records.

CS Yeah, I agree. I’d love to treat the live experience as something completely separate from the records. It doesn’t have to just be us playing songs from our albums. I almost want to create something that’s 100% for the live experience and never recorded. But the setting can change things every night—sometimes you have a great sound system, sometimes a small room. In the past, we might have just pushed through, but now we’re trying to be more flexible and adapt to different situations. We both want the live set to be treated very differently from our recorded material.

CS Our upcoming record, for example, is quite gentle, but for live shows, I personally don’t want to be that gentle. We’re working on a new live set for our tour, and it’s going to be interesting to see how it evolves.

Why do you feel the live performances need to differ from the record’s nature?

CS I think it’s important to have a dynamic range in live performances. Sure, there’ll be gentle moments, but I don’t want to just play songs from the record. It’s a different experience being in the room, where the energy can change based on how we feel or the space we’re in.

SK Yeah, emotions always come into play during live performances. There’s room for improvisation, so how we perform can vary depending on our mood that night. It’s part of what keeps things fresh and exciting for us.

Could you tell me a little bit about the new material you’re working on? You mentioned a new record coming in September.

CS Yeah, we’ve written a new full-length record coming out in September on The Trilogy Tapes. It’s our most concise work so far, with some very gentle, minimal moments. But we don’t want to talk too much about it—it’s better to listen when it’s out.

SK We’re still pushing into different areas, but it feels like a natural progression. It’s very different from our previous records, yet it still sounds like us.

I understand it can be hard to describe music in words. Sometimes you just have to listen to it to understand.

CS Exactly. Describing music is difficult, especially for us, but there’s a chemistry between us when we know we’re getting it right. I think this record has a lot of those moments.

Speaking of live shows, do you ever think about incorporating visual elements into your performances?

SK We’ve thought about it recently. Sometimes visual elements can be overdone and come off as corny, but when done right, they’re amazing. We’re open to exploring it but haven’t found the right person to collaborate with yet. For now, our shows are minimal—just us playing in the dark with minimal lighting, no big showbiz elements.

Final question—when composing, is there something specific that inspires you, like a particular sound or image, or is it more of an organic process?

SK It changes. Sometimes it comes from an emotional place, other times from an interest in abstract sonic ideas. So the writing process depends on where we’re at emotionally or sonically at the time.

Listen to CS + KREME mix here.

Credits

Photography · Louis Horne

Vincenzo De Cotiis

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Vincenzo De Cotiis
Words · Simone Lorusso

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.

Nicolas Schuybroek

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Nicolas Schuybroek
Words · Simone Lorusso

Minimalism With Soul: A Dialogue With Architect Nicolas Schuybroek

In 2011, Nicolas Schuybroek started his own practice in Brussels, Belgium. His goal was simple: to design spaces and objects with great care, skill, and a warm feeling. Nicolas focuses on timeless minimalism and simplicity, using natural materials to bring his designs to life. His work is elegant and understated, appealing to those who appreciate subtle beauty.

Today, we have the pleasure of sitting down with Nicolas Schuybroek, the architect and designer behind the eponymous studio based in Brussels. Nicolas, thank you for joining us. What inspired you to start your own practice in Brussels in 2011?

The purpose was well defined: create and produce architecture, interiors and objects characterised by an acute sense of detail, craftsmanship and intuition, while retaining a feeling of warmth. The search for timeless minimalism and apparent simplicity have always been central in our work, as well as the love of unassuming, tactile, and raw materials. There’s no straining for effect, just a muted elegance. The essence is to conceive serene and pure, yet warm, comfortable, and authentic spaces. 

What is your perspective on the relationship between the socio-cultural system and design/architectural initiatives in Brussels? Could you share also a particular location in Brussels that holds a special significance for you?

Overall, Belgian architecture over the past few years has been enjoying a creative renaissance, thanks to a generation of talents who excel at blending earthy palettes, natural materials, and curated interiors. This philosophy has helped establish a contemporary Belgian architectural identity, which is more and more celebrated abroad.

Brussels is a city you need to discover, preferably with locals, due to the many gems hidden in a complex urban grid. Personally, I do enjoy most of the contemporary art galleries and love an early morning stroll through the royal galleries of St-Hubert in the city centre.

Your multicultural background and extensive travel seem to play a significant role in shaping your design perspective. How do these experiences inform your work?

International projects and the relationships which comes with it, deeply nourishes our work: it broadens our perspective in terms of cultural differences, languages, religion, local habits, craftsmanship etc. to name a few. Belgian remains a fairly mall country, and we feel lucky and humbled to be able to work on so many projects around the globe.

Could you discuss the inspiration and creative journey behind the Aesop Salone del Mobile project in Milan for this year?

The scenography is inspired by the Minimal Art movement from the 1960’s and 1970’s, including artists like Donald Judd, Carl Andre and Richard Nonas, whose works are reduced to the essential minimum. This movement has served as an inspiration for many years now and and shaped the base for this scenographic project for Aesop, known for its uniform and minimal packaging’s, accentuating the content of the bottles, rather than the bottles itself. The inspiration of Superstudio’s 1970s iconic grid structures is a hint to timeless Italian design. To emphasise the minimal character of the installation, we conceptualised a grid shaped screen wrapping the perimeter of the shop, only interrupted when needed for circulation.

Entirely built up with Aesop soap bars – used within a vertical brick pattern– the screen creates a soft, matte, and reflective installation. A strong serenity exhales from the design by limiting the walls to monochromatic materials and textures. The restricted use of using something simple as a soap bar – “a daily functional household item” – resonates yet to another art movement, the Arte Povera, which fits perfectly in this context. Within the screen, small rectangular cavities are shaped by removing soap bars, to generate viewing portals to small, intimate hidden boxes showcasing Aesop’s products at the centre of the installation sits a large silicon block, wrapped in a matte silicon envelope. The central island stands out without taking away attention of the soap wall and will be the centre stage to skincare performances and massages where spectators can gather around.

The structure takes its form from the regimented rows of Aesop products, following the formulation-first logic central to the brand’s philosophy. Within the assembly, small rectangular cavities are created by removing soap bars, generating portals through which to enter—via film—the sensorial world of Aesop’s products. This way of working is a good match between Aesop and my office. In our office we always kick-off with concept, context, and research before digging into designing. In that way we develop a clear formulation before creating. I think this is important to avoid losing yourself in later stages of design. Of course, this formulation can change during the process, which is another important stage. But for us formulation works as a compass during a project. 

What does “muted elegance” mean to you in the context of your work?

The essence of our work is to conceive serene and pure, yet warm and authentic spaces. Muted elegance is in my perspective the true definition of luxury today.

Few years ago premiered a Signature Kitchen for Obumex at Salone del Mobile. Can you tell us more about this project and your collaboration with Obumex?

In this first collaboration with Obumex, we designed a unique Kitchen which exhales a sense of profound serenity and yet, feels warm and authentic due the singular material used throughout the concept. It is also the first contemporary kitchen design finished with tin.

As a starting point for this design, we rethought the block-like typology of a kitchen island and transformed it into a dynamic shape, resulting in carefully proportioned shifts between the sculptural blocks. The design has been conceived as derivative of our studio’s architectural typologies and grants different views and perspectives around all four elevations, reinforcing the concept of a kitchen island as a functional sculpture.

The tin cladding, wrapping the entire volume, offers a high level of tactility paired with softness, which contrasts beautifully with the minimal geometry of the island. As tin gains a unique patina, the aesthetics of the kitchen will beautifully evolve over the course of time, resulting in every kitchen to be unique.

MM House in Mexico City, completed between 2014 and 2017, caught my eye with its intriguing design. Could you delve into the details of this project and share what inspired its creation?

While the main brutalist concrete structure was kept, we transformed it by adding new layers to the house: we came up with the idea of an interior patio with a small reflecting pool and a minimal spout to add a sense of calm to the space.

The sound of the water feature echoes throughout the house, linking the floors and rooms together, as is customary in many Mediterranean countries. We tried to create a very cozy and warm scale in a house for one and relied on the lessons of the potential found in augmenting a sense of balance through proportions. The placement of artworks, such as Terence Gower’s black-and-red steel sculpture The Couple that appears to float on a reflecting pool, provided a sense of drama that conceptually and materially resonated with other elements of the house, such the exposed raw steel staircase that created a similar juxtaposition of weight with a perceived sense of weightlessness. 

Through a great transnational collaborative process, we were able to transform the house from a closed-off heavy bunker into a home where air and inspiration could freely circulate. One way we achieved this was by leaving the ground floor partly open. Alberto had the brilliant idea to extend the concrete slab that was on top of the old entrance to create a garage and a suspended garden on the second floor, allowing us to close off the house from the street and create a small, secret, and secluded landscape within. The effect was similar to what we love in Belgium, where the exterior of a building can bely, the magic found within it. Alberto also added thoughtful landscaping to ground our project to the land of Mexico with a design scheme based entirely on native plants. A restrained material palette spanning the entire house, from polished concrete floors to cement finishes on walls and ceilings, Arabescatto marble for the kitchen and bathrooms, and locally sourced Parota wood for the millwork creates a sense of timelessness to frame a contemporary art collection that celebrates ruptures with tradition.

What are some upcoming projects or collaborations that you’re particularly excited about?

We are handing over three exciting projects right now, a private house/museum for an art collecting couple outside of Antwerp, a concrete “tropical” bunker on the west shore of Bali, Indonesia as well as an extensive townhouse renovation in NY (Larry Gagosian’s former house).

Finally, what advice would you give to emerging architects and designers?

Your education in architecture has hardly begun: work, stay curious, humble and most importantly by persistent and tenacious in all your endeavours.

In order of appearance

  1. NM House, Mexico City, Mexico, 2014-2017. Nicolas Schuybroek Architects. Photography by Nicolas Schuybroek Architects.
  2. Aesop, Lyon France, 2023. Nicolas Schuybroek Architects. Photography by Romain Laprade. Courtesy of Aesop.
  3. Aesop Salone del Mobile, Milan, 2024. Nicolas Schuybroek Architects. Photography by Romain Laprade. Courtesy of Aesop.
  4. Obumex Signature Kitchen, Milan, 2022. Nicolas Schuybroek Architects. Photography by Eric Petschek.
  5. NM House, Mexico City, Mexico, 2014-2017. Nicolas Schuybroek Architects. Photography by Nicolas Schuybroek Architects.
  6. NWJ House, Antwerp, Belgium, 2015-2018. Photography by Nicolas Schuybroek Architects.

    All images courtesy of Nicolas Schuybroek otherwise stated.

Snow Strippers

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Snow Strippers
Words · Andrea Bratta

Like for Andy on The Merv Griffin Show in 1965, silence is sexy for Snow Strippers. NR explores the US band’s universe, one made of sound, images, and few words.

You just got back from your very first European tour, and have ahead of you the NA one.. Are you currently recharging the batteries or went straight back into work mode?

We’re always working cause we love what we do.

During the last couple of months you had an incredibly upward trajectory: Media coverage, web exposure, some pretty big collaborations, and the tours and dates are bringing your music to a wider-than-usual audience. How are you handling it?

Doesn’t feel that much different honestly we are grateful though.

You always describe your ethos as free styling. Now you are quickly moving away from the underbrushes and more towards the spotlight: are you planning on keeping things “DIY” or are you thinking of scaling? I’ve read that you were thinking of releasing clothes, which you started doing by now, curating other artists’ images and artistic direction, and dropping films via your Label, Nice Bass Bro.

Everything we do will always be our own vision and yes we said we were going to and we did.

You seem to have a very dedicated fanbase! I did a reddit check: it was impressive, and very informative –Loads of very interesting threads deep-diving on the Snow Stripper lore. It is almost as if your fanbase aliments your myth, how’s your relationship with them? Do you think of it in terms of image-construction?

We love talking to our listeners cause we like our music too and they changed our life and we are forever grateful.

Speaking of reddit: I quote “It’s just banger after banger after banger… never knew anything like it ..Is it just me that feels that this band has more hits than any other artist ?” Which is very true, your sound is very consistent and your production very cohesive, even though you’ve been around from relatively little..You drop a lot of music, but it always stays fresh and coherent. What are your plans moving forward? Keeping the recipe as it is or thinking of experimenting in new sonic territories?

I think we’ll always experiment or try fresh shit that just kinda comes naturally why wouldn’t we wanna try and make some new shit.

Since we mentioned hits: what defines a hit, today, for you, in the midst of infinitely available content?
A song a lotta people can fuck with or even a few people fuck with it a lot idk.

I am curious to hear your take on sped up Tik Tok songs, remixes and mash-ups. There’s a parallel between the controlled-chaotic nature of your sound and how the platform allows users to sample and repack aesthetics and sounds. It is by now, becoming almost industry-defining, with some mainstream powerhouses adapting to it. Thoughts?
I love the sped up and slowed down tik tok songs

You have experimented with different stylistic coordinates and made them yours, to the point where one cannot subtract your aesthetic stances from your sound..what comes first? Music or Visuals?
We like both !


Fave style icons?
Tati

Credits

Photography · Marc Souvenir
Creative Direction · Aina Marcó, Marc Souvenir
Art Direction · Marc Souvenir, Rita de Rivera
Hair and Makeup · Venus Hermitant
Special thanks to Good Machine PR

Nifemi Marcus-Bello

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Nifemi Marcus-Bello
Words · Simone Lorusso

Crafting Contemporary African Design

Nifemi Marcus-Bello, a Nigerian designer based in Lagos, specializes in product, furniture, and experience design. Celebrated for his talent in crafting sustainable products that originate from local ecosystems while making waves in international projects, Nifemi is the creative force behind nmbello Studio. He is at the forefront of shaping Africa’s design landscape with his innovative and unconventional designs. His work seamlessly blends historical perspectives with contemporary influences, resulting in conceptual products that marry artistic expression with practical functionality. Nifemi Marcus-Bello’s approach to design aligns with the emerging trend that explores the intersection between producing individual pieces and small series. His creations are deeply rooted in culture and often serve as vessels for profound meanings.

Hi Nifemi, thank you for joining us for this conversation. Can you share more about your childhood experiences that sparked your interest in product design and manufacturing?

My story into design is a bit of a cliche to people who eventually chose a path of creativity. As a kid I was curious and got excited around dismantling any object I could, so at the age of 13 my mum introduced me to a welder who I would have an apprenticeship with for a few years after school. Even with all of this, I never thought of design as a career path, I gravitate more towards art and architecture because contextually, they were a lot more familiar at the time. After staying back home for a few years after high school, my mum eventually would be able to send me to school in the United Kingdom. Here I stumbled on to design as a practice and profession and it was love at first sight. 

Looking back, what advice would you give to your younger self as you embarked on your design journey?

I have been described to be a “cynic optimist”, a trait I had in my younger years and still have till now. For me I think all good designers possess an energy of optimism when creating any piece of work in the sense that you are presenting an idea into the world with the thought of changing what or how the world currently sees itself. So my advice to my younger self would be to remain optimistic and hopeful. 

In today’s society, what role do you believe design should play in addressing contemporary needs?

I think design is already playing a very important role in contemporary society and is helping to enhance experiences within technology and even the analogue world. I think it’s easy to forget that everything around us and that we use in our daily lives has to be designed by someone or people, from the chair you sit on, to the laptop you use, to the medical devices you use. So we as a people wouldn’t survive without design, it’s everything to us. I just hope that pushing forward design plays a role in the consideration of ethnography, where design solutions are culturally considerate to users and systems. 

In your view, how does the concept of “the society of fatigue,” as described by German-Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han, manifest in contemporary design, where there’s a growing emphasis on hyper-productivity and efficiency?

I think that design as a practice is and will evolve within the coming years. I think a bigger shift (which is already happening) will see design and designers take greater consideration of systematic, ecological and human sustainability approaches to creating products and design solutions. A good example is a hyperlocal approach to manufacturing, scope of work and distribution. 

What initiatives or partnerships have you engaged in to promote African design globally?

I think the easiest thing to do is to be true to yourself and be as authentic as possible when it comes to your design approach and context. As the studio grows, with both a commercial and artistic approach and collaborations with brands in North America and across Europe. I sometimes have to educate clients that yes, the studio is based in Lagos and the work we do is contextual but we actually live in a global village, where everyone uses an iphone, practically see the same movies via Netflix so consumption of aesthetics and information has become global but with a hint of local context, for example, Kids love Stussy in Lagos, Nairobi, London and New York. 

What motivated the establishment of nmbello Studio, and how does it align with your vision for the future?

Before established nmbello Studio, I did my rounds as a junior and then lead designer for various companies, designing mobile phones, phone accessories, medical devices and furniture across the continent. I decided to start the studio for many reasons but the one that kept me curious was understanding and documenting material evolution and production availability of modern day Africa through a design practice. 

For me the future is in Africa, we have all the resources and with the youngest population in the world, we have the numbers so it is important for us to dictate our on futures and tell our own stories by creating our own products that will eventually dictate how we live and our future aesthetic.    

Can you provide an example of a manufacturing process or technology that has inspired your work?

As a lot of my work is contextual to availability I try not to have too much of an emotional attachment to one material. But one material and process that inspired my way of thinking approach to designing within my studio will have to be sheet metal and laser cutting. I know this might and usually comes as a shock for most designers but a great deal of this process is readily available in Lagos due to the production of electrical products such as generators, and they have become the norm in the streets of Lagos, a few indigenous manufacturers who need to produce casing for such items, popularised the process in the early 2000s.

Looking ahead, what aspects of your practice and the potential impact of your designs excite you the most?

I am very happy to be getting busier and being able to have work that resonates with a large audience. A great deal of the commercial work coming out of the studio sells on the continent and outside the continent as well. With this, I think there is untapped potential when it comes to strategic brand partnerships and special projects and a lot of discussion is being had around these possibilities.  With my artistic practice via the gallery shows getting a lot of museum acquisitions and discussions around the documentation of my work, I am deliberate in taking the right steps to communicate and archive my work effectively when it comes to the design process via mediums as film and photography, which has helped bring another layer into my design practice as a whole. 

In order of appearance

  1. Nifemi Marcus-Bello. Photography by Stephen Tayo
  2. Selah Lamp, nmbello Studio. Photography by Kadara Enyeasi.
  3. Friction Ridge, nmbello Studio. Photography by Kadara Enyeasi.
  4. Waf Kiosk, nmbello Studio.

All images courtesy of Nifemi Marcus-Bello

2050+

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · 2050+
Words · Simone Lorusso

Designing diversity: a conversation with Ippolito Pestellini Laparelli and the transformative path of 2050+

An architect and curator thriving on diversity and multidisciplinarity, Ippolito Pestellini Laparelli honed his skills across various projects at OMA, ranging from the Fondaco dei Tedeschi in Venice to Monditalia, the expansive Arsenale exhibition at the 2014 Venice Architecture Biennale curated by Rem Koolhaas. Four years ago, he chose to return home to Milan from Rotterdam, taking a more independent stance to develop his own agenda. With a team comprising over 15 individuals, including architects, curators, researchers, and art directors, 2050+ has become a hub for diverse talents. We had the chance to catch up with him, delving into discussions about his agency, architectural practice, and vision.

In navigating the intersection of design, technology, environment, and politics, how does 2050+ function as an interdisciplinary platform, and how does the urgency embedded in the agency’s name, ‘+’, influence the nature of its projects and collaborations?

2050+ acts more as a platform than a traditional architectural office. Each project requires a different ecosystem of expertises and perspectives that are either present in 2050+ or are part of our network.

Through the past years we have worked with artists, filmmakers, writers, scientists, philosophers, technologists, etc. in order to dissect and reflect on today’s complexities. For us the only way to remain relevant is to multiply the point of views, to look at crucial and urgent questions from different angles, to constantly negotiate our position as spatial practitioners with other disciplines, while finding a common and actionable ground. We actively look for projects that allow us to remain political and to tackle urgent questions in line with our overall agenda. This is evident in our research work, often commissioned by cultural institutions, but it’s also a goal for the more commercial side of our practice.    

In what ways does 2050+ utilize spatial practices as a medium rather than a goal?

Often as an architect you are expected to imagine, design and build spaces to inhabit, but that is just a small fraction of what architecture means as a discipline. Anything we observe, from politics to technology, from science to policy making, from climate to fashion, etc. has spatial implications. Space is a lens to investigate and understand contemporary dynamics and the formats of such explorations range across writing, film making, performance, digital environments, exhibitions, installations and architecture. For these reasons we prefer the definition of “Spatial Practitioners” to the one of “Architects” as it reflects how expansive our definition of architecture is.     

Given your belief that emotional engagement has been the driving force behind your choice to embark on this new chapter, could you share which project from the last four years of 2050+ has had the most profound emotional impact on you?

It’s a difficult question and there is no straight answer. I develop different relationships with different projects and that depends on many factors: its political potential, the way it relates to bigger questions, its ability to speculate on alternative presents or futures, or simply its mere aesthetic qualities. If I need to really pick, I’m particularly moved by projects involving live performances, where narrative, space and time come together to deliver a powerful message. The recent scenography for Il Diluvio Universale by Gaetano Donizzetti in Bergamo falls definitely into this category.

Together with the duo of artists film-makers Masbedo, we worked on a version of the classic opera that reinterprets the traditional narrative structure of Il Diluvio Universale to give voice to the “unheard prophets” of today: through the trope of the flood, the opera urged us to face timely and urgent issues related to the climate crisis, social injustices and political instabilities. The imagery of the work was entirely based on climate activism and protesters.

It was a way for us to bring inside an institutional theater and through the medium of a classic opera  the instances of climate activists. That’s the reason why we collaborated with Sea Shepherd, a non-profit, marine conservation activism organization, which generously shared footage from their actions that was incorporated into the scenography.   

Which significant projects are currently occupying your focus and attention? 

We are about to open a research and installation at SALT in Istanbul focused on toxicity and the politics of air in Turkey and beyond. For this project we have collaborated with a local toxicologist and with an Italian AI artist, Lorem, who has produced the soundscape for the work. On the other side of the practice spectrum, currently we are also busy with a project of architectural transformation of the XVIII Palazzina dei Principi at Capodimonte in Naples, which will host the Marcello and LIa Rumma collection of Arte Povera. These are two examples of how schizophrenic life in 2050+ can be… 

Originally hailing from Sicily, you grew up in Milan, making your recent experience akin to returning home. A spontaneous question arises: as we look ahead, how do you foresee Milan evolving while maintaining its position in the central space between the Mediterranean and continental Europe?

Milan is a very dynamic city. It’s a relatively small metropolis with a global footprint, where creativity is truly multidimensional, combining design, fashion, art, photography, architecture into a unique social environment. At the same time I’m rather concerned about its recent development after the expo 2015. Milan is a place where real estate speculation is running wild, where inequalities are growing at escalating rates, where bigger and bigger sectors of society are being marginalized and pushed out of the city, where marketing has taken over and environmental policies are insufficient and very fragile. I’d like to live in a city that is open, inclusive, diverse, multicultural…but not just for the rich. Milan should look more to the south and not just to northern european or anglo saxon contexts. I feel Palermo or Naples provide far more interesting models than London in this particular historical moment.  

Discussing Milan, there has been a notable resurgence of interest in 10 Corso Como lately, piquing my curiosity to explore the project further. When considering the Project Room and the Galleria, you liken them to a flexible theater or a “transitory museum.” Could you provide insights into the modern significance of these analogies and explain how their flexibility addresses the ever-changing cultural and social demands that the space aims to fulfill?

“The Transitory Museum” is the title of an interesting book on Corso Como 10 by philosophers Emanuele Coccia and Donatien Grau. It argues that categories that have governed for long our modern lives, such as art, fashion and the museum are being redefined, and that clear boundaries between such categories are being dissolved. As the first ever concept store, Corso Como 10 embodies the notion of a transitory museum, or a space without a fixed role or identity, where the relationship between contents, audience, display and architecture is constantly reinvented. It’s a spatial manifestation of the current state of instability and uncertainty that our society is permanently experiencing – or of a “liquid society” to use the words of another thinker, Zygmunt Bauman – a condition accelerated by the continuous osmosis between our physical and digital interactions. 

Our approach to 10 Corso Como is not based on fixed categories – a retail space, a gallery, etc. – but rather on the underlying idea of a framework able to support a virtually infinite repertoire of curatorial configurations and experiences through a finite set of devices. In this sense, both the Gallery and the Project Room are vague spaces, ready to unlock any potential.      

Beyond their functional purpose, what narrative motivations led to the introduction of micro-architectures like the large pantograph tables in this specific space?

The pantograph tables respond to various needs and sets of inspirations: they refer to the subtle industrial character of the building and they give shape to the idea of machine or “flexible theater” that we had in mind for these spaces. These elements are adaptable, moveable, they can change height and configuration, or they can simply be stored away leaving an empty space behind. They are silent actors on stage, moving according to different choreographies. Like the moveable walls-units for the Gallery, they are tools at the service of our imagination.  

More in general, the entire project was premised on the idea to give a spatial translation to the interdisciplinary character of Corso Como 10, a place where fashion, art, photography, design, urban nature come together into an unicum. To do so we have operated following a principle of “selective archeology”, removing all the unnecessary layers and materials accumulated through time and bringing back the architecture to its original, gentle industrial character. This approach has allowed us to reconnect spaces which were once disconnected and to facilitate the osmotic flows of visitors across all its programs and experiences. In line with this attitude we have inserted a number of “micro architectures” – new stairs, service spaces, accesses, etc. This results in a system of new volumes marked with a different materiality (i.e. steel) that rationalizes the organization of each floor and connects all levels of the early XX building from ground floor to the newly renovated green terrace, through a continuous loop.    

Under the new leadership of entrepreneur Tiziana Fausti, 10 Corso Como appears poised to take a swift step into the future. If we were in 2050, how do you envision the gallery’s transformation?

I’d rather not say. The present is dense enough of challenges. Let’s focus on our time; maybe this the best way to address our future.

In order of appearance

  1. Nebula, 2050+
    Photography by Lorenzo Palmieri
  2. Synthetic Cultures, 2050+
    Photography Gaia Cambiaggi
  3. Henraux Foundation, 2050+
    Photography by Querceta
  4. Il Diluvio Universale, 2050+
    Photography by 2050+
  5. Il Diluvio Universale, 2050+
    Photography by G. Rota
  6. 10 Corso Como Project Room, 2050+
    Photography by Alessandro Saletta, DSL Studio
  7. 10 Corso Como Project Room, 2050+
    Photography by Alessandro Saletta, DSL Studio
  8. 10 Corso Como Gallery, 2050+
    Photography by Alessandro Saletta, DSL Studio
  9. 10 Corso Como Gallery, 2050+
    Photography by Alessandro Saletta, DSL Studio

All images courtesy of 2050+

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