10 Questions With… Ceramicist King Houndekpinkou

King Houndekpinkou Reveals His Deep Connection to the Art of Ceramics

Interior Design: Why did ceramics appeal to you?

King Houndekpinkou: I think ceramics chose me and I responded to the call. When I first encountered claywork, I was soul searching, looking for a purpose that is close to my heart. At the time, I was engaged in a career in communications. While I knew I was creative, I wanted to use my creative skills for more neat and fulfilling purposes, rather than working for companies and using that creative energy elsewhere. I’m not diminishing working for a company; it’s just that they’re not that close to my heart and who I am as a person. So while doing this soul search, I bumped into claywork. And that search led me to Japan, where I discovered ceramics.

ID: How did you begin your career as a ceramicist?

KH: My journey began in Japan in 2012. Then I came back to Paris and decided to keep on soul searching, taking some ceramics classes. At the beginning, I wasn’t really searching for a career; I just wanted to know how nature translated who I am as a person. Since clay is an element of nature that is super old and infused with all the history of humankind, I thought it was the best material to reflect and translate history because it’s so knowledgeable. It’s a huge encyclopedia. We talk about big data nowadays, but I believe clay and soil is where all the data related to human history is stored. I use it as an oracle, really. I embrace it as a way to find answers about the future for myself and for my life, and to just discover more about who I am in the world. Looking back at my career, it’s been amazing. I’m based in Paris, but most of the shows that I’ve been doing have been overseas and internationally. I’m blessed to be having an international career and blessed to know that that’s how it started.

ID: How would you describe your background?

KH: I was born in Montreuil, Paris, but I grew up in the Southern suburbs of France. When I was 19, I went to England to study public relations and communications and then started working in London, coming back to Paris every so often. I also have Beninese heritage, as my mom immigrated from Benin to France so I’m bicultural. Every year, I keep going back to Benin, and at home, I speak Fung and Mena. I understand the language and everything. It was always constantly present despite the distance.

ID: Why did you decide to choose the Japanese technique of making ceramics instead of Beniese?

KH: I think for me, it’s not necessarily about the technique, but it’s about the way of doing, especially when it comes to how you deal with the ceramics and the clay. When I went to Japan in 2012 and started training with my friends, I could sense the way they were addressing the clay and the way they were working. It was really spiritual. You could feel that their Buddhism and Shintoism beliefs were present in the way they practiced the ceramics. That echoed the voodoo cult, the animist voodoo cult of Benin, which is where I saw the similarities. So for me, it happened in a spiritual way and deeply cultural way. But all of that was emphasized through ceramics.

And then, I trained with Toshia Kishibuta, who I would consider my mentor, and he’s based in Vizan. While I was training with him and learning about his way of doing ceramics, he taught me so many values and how to be a man. I feel like he’s my father in the ceramics world. Inevitably, I’m going to keep using all the things that he taught me in my life because, ceramically speaking, that’s how I was born. And this is the guy that raised me. So I’ve got pieces of him that I’m still using today.

ID: Mythicism and spirituality is a strong theme in your work. Why is that important to highlight?

KH: It truly is a way of showing the spiritual depth of the material. The ceramics of Benin and West Africa, in general, show that so well and in a way that it speaks to me. When you see all the spikes on my work, these were all inspired from ritual ceramics from West Africa, but used differently. For me, this represents the sacred way of considering clay, ceramics and the the soul that inhabits those ceramics. The synthesis of both these worlds, from the things that I’ve learned from Japan and the things that I’ve learned from Benin, is sacred. Myths are made out of stories and I am telling the stories of now with the ceramics that I use. Because what I’m also trying to do is open a cultural route in the field of ceramics between Benin and Japan. It’s something that has never been done before. If I accumulate enough layers, I can make sure that it’s something that stays in the history of ceramics.

ID: Your work possesses this incredible shape and comes with bright vibrant colors; why are you so drawn to them?

KH: There’s a huge visceral aspect in my work. I mean, the process of making is already tactile, so my work reflects that. I’m mainly doing ceramics to understand more about myself and about the world, and this process is meditative as I put all the layers together. It’s almost like I’m taking out my own matter, my own flesh, and putting it onto the piece. When it comes to color and texture, the texture creates life and makes the color more vibrant. The texture is important as it is the mark of my personality and my soul. The shapes of the vessels reflect something we all know, and we take for granted because we see it every day. But it’s so ingrained in our environment that we don’t see it anymore. And that’s also an interesting shape to show how much history it carries.

ID: What inspired your new exhibition “Six Prayers” at the Southern guild gallery?

KH: Well, I did a residency at Southern Guild, where I made these works. And so before each firing, I prayed to the Kiln God that the firing goes well. Because there are six pieces, six pieces equals to six firings. And then there’s the fact that when I throw a piece, I enter a meditative state that is intense and visceral—and so full of intention. It’s charged with a lot of energy. And for me, a prayer is that feeling. It’s an intentional moment where you dedicate time to say something or to be thankful, but also to ask a higher being things. And again, we go back to what clay was first used for 30,000 years ago. It was all very spiritual and intentional. With this exhibition, it goes back full circle with the aspect of prayer, the aspect of intention, and being intentional in telling those stories. And here, there are six prayers because there are six intentions.

ID: What was the process of creating “Six Prayers”?

KH: It took me two months to create these works. At that time, the idea was to work at scale—to create a collection consisting of my signature pieces, but to make them on a larger scale.

ID: Would you say your work explores biomimicry concepts and are you open to the object interpretation of your work by viewers?

KH: No, not necessarily. I think my aim is to make sure the pieces are living and breathing, whatever shape they are. If you feel some life in them, then I’ve done my job well. If you are able to connect with them with your own imagination, and it touches your heart in a way that it makes you remember your childhood, it’s a great thing for me. I think it’s important because that’s how people communicate and exchange ideas. For myself, I have to be open to criticism as well. Who am I to say that people should not see my work in a certain way? You always see things in your own perspective, which is based on your background and cultural heritage. But luckily, throughout my career—and being able to show on all five continents—I’ve always had positive feedback. In that, I’d say that there’s something universal in the work that people can feel.

ID Are you exploring other material forms?

KH: Oh yes! I am collaborating with other artisans and designers to create a line of usable artworks. I am always open to collaborate and create new things that are a translation of my current work.

10 Questions With… Sculptor Adam Birch

How Sculptor Adam Birch Is Moved By Texture + Nature

Interior Design: What shaped your career as a sculptor?

Adam Birch: When I was apprenticing as an arborist, a perfectly symmetrical fork caught my attention while pruning some trees one day. I kept it for a few years, and slowly began chiseling away at it with hand tools. That was my first tree fork sculpture, which was followed by others that I exhibited locally. Trevyn and Julian McGowan [co-founders of Southern Guild] had seen some of my work and came to visit me in my workshop in the town of Swellendam—this ended in them commissioning me to make some pieces for Anthropologie in London. They also invited me to make some works for a group exhibition of timber sculpture and collectible furniture titled “Wood Work,” at their first gallery in Woodstock, Cape Town in 2016.

ID: Describe your educational and family background and how that shaped your career.

AB: I grew up surrounded by nature—my dad managed a farm in the Cape Winelands and we had a lot of freedom as kids to immerse ourselves in the wild outdoors. At boarding school, I used to climb trees so that I could smoke—I was quite naughty as a kid—because no one ever looked up. It was the perfect place to evade the teachers’ notice. After high school, I studied fine art at the University of Stellenbosch majoring in applied graphics and photography, but I was always envious of the sculpture students, and I was drawn to the three-dimensional medium from early on. I was privileged to learn from so many excellent professors who were practicing artists themselves and who emphasized the importance of doing things over and over again to improve and to refine my technique. The same thing applies to working with wood—I’m constantly pushing the possibilities of what the timber can cope with. In the beginning, my work was more determined by the tree’s existing lines and inherent shape, but over the years I’ve been able to flex my skills and find new ways of working with the grain to find more sculptural forms.

ID: You were an arborist and forester for decades. How did you begin and what was work like as an arborist?

AB: Just after I graduated from university, I saw an ad for a tree climber and thought that would be a good way to earn some money. When I started my apprenticeship, I was told by my boss that I wouldn’t last six months—he made me drag and load branches for the first month—so I lasted seven, just to prove him wrong and then quit! I worked at a woodworking studio in Stellenbosch afterwards, designing furniture and various functional fittings. I started my own tree-felling company a couple years later. Honestly, it was terrifying initially—you are working with dangerous tools and at such great heights. You get used to it over time though; in fact, I would say I get an adrenaline rush from it now.

ID: What inspired your new exhibition at the Southern Guild?

AB: With this body of work, I was primarily concerned with pushing the boundaries of what the timber can do and handle. I’m continuing to explore some of the same shapes while working harder to tease out more flamboyant and expressive forms. Swan, for instance, is a kind of elongated love-seat, formed by scooping out two sections of a continuous piece of wood, while keeping a sort of backrest between them right at the point where the tree splits into two. I have played with the piece’s profile to take into consideration the full 360-degree experience—from one angle it looks like an elegant, slightly upturned slipper; from the other side, it’s all swirling shapes that seem to wrap around the human figure. The movement is echoed by the incredible marbled patterns of the grain in this piece of wood.

ID: Does “Like Something Almost Being Said” has a way to explain the language of trees and how we could communicate our feelings to them?

AB: I sometimes find myself wanting to say sorry to a tree before cutting it down, even though chances are that it is already dead. I feel overwhelming respect for these giants, especially during the process of carving the felled tree into smaller pieces. Timber is the only material that can withstand the forces it has to endure: snow, wind, rain. If you had to cast a tree in another material—metal or plastic—nothing could withstand the force it endures with the same elegance and lightness. The leaves on a large gum tree can collectively weigh up to a tonne just on their own. I also feel incredible humility and wonder: no two pieces of wood are ever the same. Each piece has the potential to teach a new lesson. You think you’re going to do one thing, but the wood decides something else.

ID: Your work plays with variant forms, most especially curves that could be a joint of pairs. Do the shapes and forms represent animals, or is it for an aesthetic purpose?

AB: I’m not imagining animals or any particularly figurative shapes when I’m carving the wood. If anything, the shapes remind me of bones and driftwood that wash up on the ocean shore. I like the gentle shapes and smooth texture of things worn away over time, like the rope on a ship mast, oars on the gunnels of a boat, or two branches that rub against each other. When choosing my shapes, I have to take functionality into account as well, of course. The piece can’t fall over, which is why I often use a three-footed design. People need to sit on them. Kids need to climb on them.

ID: In terms of materials, how do you determine whether a wood is ready to be used, and are you open to exploring with other materials aside from woods, such as clay, paper or metals?

AB: I have incorporated copper before and am keen to try concrete or terrazzo, but wood is still the primary material. I let the wood stand for a couple of years—for as long as it can. Often you think a piece is dry, but it turns out not to be. You have no guarantees when you start working with it; you just hope for the best. I’m a bit of a hoarder when it comes to wood. I have a few pieces stashed here, there and everywhere, but mostly at my outdoor workshop.

ID: As an arborist, you must care deeply about trees. Are you concerned about cutting down trees to also create works?

AB: I never cut a tree down to make a sculpture. As an arborist, I only fell alien trees or trees that are diseased or already dead. I think I’m doing my bit by removing the alien species. For example, gum trees in South Africa are very invasive and in Cape Town in particular, they pose environmental threats, because they are highly combustible and remove a lot of water from the water table.

ID: What is it like working in your open-air Cape Town workshop, and what was your routine like creating the pieces that are currently being exhibited?

AB: I work on three or four pieces concurrently, but I’m not a routine kind of guy—my work feels a lot like chaos management. Working conditions are determined by the weather, but I roll with it and it’s mostly great fun. I have anywhere between four and nine people who work with me, and there is constant activity and noise. At any one time, there are guys chopping firewood, cleaning machines, sharpening blades, using chainsaws, and moving the pieces around depending on the sun and wind. Conditions are noisy and dusty.

ID: How do you want viewers to interpret your works and exhibitions? 

AB: People can make their own minds up and find their own way of interacting with and using the pieces. What makes me very happy is how kids respond when seeing my work—they immediately start climbing all over it, swinging, jumping, and playing. It’s a joy to see.

10 Questions With… Designer Anne Dereaux

Anne Dereaux On How Music and AI Shapes Her Design Practice

Interior Design: Take Interior Design through your journey as an architectural and interior designer.

Anne Dereaux: I earned my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Architecture from Tulane University, with my master’s thesis completed at Cornell University. For the first eight years of my career, I immersed myself in urban revitalization projects, a period that included the rebuilding of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina—arguably the most rewarding endeavor of my professional career. When I arrived in Los Angeles in 2013, I joined an architecture firm where, in my very first week, I was tasked with meeting with the estate of one of the Beatles to oversee a renovation project. This left an indelible mark that scratched the itch I had been looking for in this field—residential design. There’s a distinct intimacy and human connection inherent in designing homes that you don’t find in other design experiences.

From there, I progressed to designing and managing projects for esteemed clients, including royal families, cultural icons, movie stars, and tech magnates, all within other firms. Even with all this, the transition to entrepreneurship has felt like starting at ground zero, given that my previous work is safeguarded by NDAs or the intellectual property rights of past employers. But I’ve been fortunate to cultivate strong relationships within Los Angeles’ tightly knit building community. Over the span of a decade, these connections have created some amazing opportunities for my new design team: Dereaux Studio (est 2022). From my personal experiences in the music industry, I’ve also connected with clients—for example, we’ve been chipping away at Victoria Monet’s home renovation for a few years now. In some ways, I think homes are a constantly evolving organism, and I like to stick with my clients through those evolutions.

ID: What inspired your Float collections and what was it like creating it?

AD: The Float collection came from a spark of imagining these seemingly heavy forms being supported by an impossibly delicate frame. There is a freedom in furniture design that isn’t present when working on buildings—you don’t have to go through the mud of permitting and all the extensive engineering coordination. 

ID: You mentioned on Dwell that you were also a musical artist. Has music inspired your work as an architectural designer?

AD: More than anything, music is what kept my creative spirit alive. When you are going through the arduous but necessary muck of learning the technical aspects of building, so little of it is what I would deem “creative work.” It’s mostly navigating personalities, schedules and budgets, and managing engineering coordination and technical drawings. 

For much of my early career, I moonlighted as a musician—at a pretty serious level I would say. I also moonlighted as a creative director at Motown Records. The beautiful part of that experience is that it established a foundation of community and a social media presence outside of architecture with the very people who became my clients when I first left to start my own company. There is definitely a layered element of storytelling that is inherent in the creation of a musical experience—the lyrics, the chords, the visuals—that ties into the way I think about spatial design. It goes back to the sensitivity of the individual human experience, and how people feel when they’re navigating the story of their lives.

ID: You started a design brand, Dereaux Studio. What work have you done with it over the years?

AD: Dereaux Studio started as a solo effort at the top of 2022, and I was able to expand to a team of three talented senior designers in July of 2023. I am obsessed with efficiency, and really pride myself on having a future focused practice in all ways, from our IT infrastructure, to the new technologies we are consistently learning and keeping up with as a small team. Generationally, millennials kind of got the short end of the stick, but in the rapidly evolving landscape of AI, I think we have the advantage. We are at the crossroads of hands-on building experience and the vast capabilities that AI brings to the table. We’re well-versed in technology, we understand the intricacies of construction, and we’re still open to embracing change. So, my team is leaning in and bridging the gap.

We currently have design projects up to 11,000 square feet ranging from Southern California to Georgia to Virginia, taking on both the architectural and interior design scope. We are also working on expanding a branch of the company to design and distribute collectible design furniture pieces, which has been one of my goals since college. 

ID: What architectural or design philosophy has shaped your work over the years?

AD: I truly believe design has to start with the human element, with how one wants to feel in a space. I love aesthetics, but at the core of the most powerful aesthetics, there is an intention of engaging and amplifying life’s most precious moments in a real way.

I’m equally passionate about democratizing good design, so we’re also dedicating efforts to developing a more affordable line of designs. We’re reimagining materials that have often been dismissed as “cheap” and transforming them into livable objects with a sense of refinement. Our inaugural creation—a reinvented inflatable chair—is currently in production and is set to make its debut very soon. It’s just the beginning of our mission to make exceptional design attainable for all.

ID: You are big on AI and the way it affects the architecture and design industry. What has been the major shift you’re noticing and how have you, as a designer, been able to weaponize it?

AD: I believe that AI brings tremendous efficiencies to design communication within a project, empowering small firms to compete on a larger scale. It allows us to swiftly explore various design languages and aesthetics, all while taking into account different building types and construction methods. What might have previously taken three months and a dedicated staff member can now be accomplished in a matter of hours. Note-taking and meeting minutes, annotating CDs—all the things that were once busy work—can now be automated, freeing up valuable time.

ID: There is a geometrical detailing in your designs especially Float, was that inspired from your background architecture?

AD: For sure, I’m always thinking in light, form, and concept versus parts and pieces. Architectural design certainly encourages a more holistic approach in that sense.

ID: Your concept of materials is very interesting. You recently designed a product with resin. Can you tell me about the project and what it was like exploring with resin?

AD: I’m fascinated by the interplay of light refractions and form. I initially envisioned that table in glass, but found resin to be a far more practical medium. It’s about a third of the weight, easy to carve, and has a nearly unlimited range of colors and transparency levels. I collaborated with a great team from Rotterdam to bring that piece to life. I love working with resin, but its cost is prohibitive for larger pieces.

ID: You also recently created a project with stones, somewhat like marble. Tell me about the project. What inspired it and your decision with the materials?

AD: I believe you’re talking about the pieces featuring natural stone and cork. Cork is such a fantastic material—it’s sustainable, lightweight, and formally versatile. I enjoy experimenting with materials that are typically overlooked in the realm of “fine art,” and like to use tools of design and reinvention to redefine their potential.

ID: What are you currently working on at the moment?

AD: I’m finishing up construction administration for Victoria Monét’s home and a couple houses in Malibu, starting up a few new projects in Los Angeles, a cabin in Georgia, a home in Virginia, and pushing on the furniture! Staying busy, and thankful for it all.

10 Questions With… Designer Abreham Brioschi

Abreham Brioschi On His Journey To Design and Ethiopian Inspiration

Interior Design: Where did your career as a designer begin?

Abraham Brioschi: I have always loved design as the creation of products that tell a story, products that have their own narrative and mission. My passion materialized during my studies at the Nuova Accademia di Belle Arti (NABA), where I graduated with a degree in product design. During university, I decided to delve into African Design, particularly specializing in Ethiopia, the place where I was born. African design has the characteristic of being extremely attentive to details and materials, with special focus on waste and functionality. I developed my thesis project through in-depth research on everyday objects in the Ethiopian tradition and on the practices still used by tribes. I created my first collection with the design of three seats inspired by the practice of scarification, the use of Ethiopian headrests, and the shapes of lip plates. These seats were exhibited during Milan Design Week 2022.

After graduating, I began working on projects that combined my interest in African Design with more contemporary and innovative design. The Burgui collection, exhibited at Milan Design Week 2023, aims to unite innovation with tradition, creating seats that are not only inspired by Ethiopian practices, but also advanced in terms of usage, such as the Lefletè seat, which is modular and can be divided into two seats and a coffee table. The reaction from this collection led me to create several projects that have not yet been released, but I intend to develop very soon. I want to focus on bringing Ethiopian tradition into an even more modern context through the production of tables, seats, and desks.

2024 was a surprise. I had the opportunity to collaborate with Nodus for the production of three rugs that we’ve called the “New Ethnic” collection. Thanks to this opportunity, I was able to experiment a lot, further expanding my knowledge of materials, artists, designers, and production methods. These rugs have been a great source of inspiration for future projects, and I would love to create more of them, perhaps stepping out of the Ethiopian context to discover new forms and traditions linked to different African design.

ID: Did design and curious invention play a role in your childhood growing up?

AB: I think, to all children, creating is almost a natural thing. I always experimented with different materials when I was little; I continuously built objects with everything I found around me. I spent a lot of time growing up in Lake Garda, Italy, where I have a house. There, I was always playing in nature, looking for materials, and creating with small pieces of wood. In short, I have a lot of fond memories from that time. As I grew up, I just became more aware of my abilities and what I could do. When I was little, I didn’t think much about my origins. I rediscovered them only as I grew up and became closer to the world of design.

ID: Do your Ethiopian and Italian backgrounds influence your work? 

AB: My work is influenced by both my Ethiopian and Italian origins. This is because I was born and raised in Italy, where I have been influenced by its culture and history since I was young. Ethiopia came later as a culture and as something I studied. I firmly believe that artistic choices are dictated by one’s emotional, cultural, and historical memories. So for me, Ethiopia and Italy work together in my mind. It’s obvious that, more practically, I always seek to combine Ethiopian design with a more feasible use in an Italian daily context.

ID: Based on your research and knowledge of your Ethiopian identity, what have you come to learn about African design?

AB: In African design, the sense of community and the concept of humanity are very present and strong. So much so that the design inspiration referencing African culture is deeply tied to relationships and functionality, but bound to necessity. It is a design based on unity and not distinguishing elements; contemporary African design is a necessary hybridization between what has just been described and more contemporary futuristic figures. Where African design and contemporary language differ, starting from the base, is the purpose.

For African design, as mentioned, the purpose is necessity. For contemporary language, the purpose is aesthetics and external harmony. What converges these two languages is the use of unique materials in the production of products and attention to waste. This logic and mentality has always characterized the creation of African objects because many tools or objects made are built with poor materials. I believe that there are many common points between the two languages, but as designers, we still have to discover them. Delving into the culture and tradition of people and trying to hybridize the various pillars for a new world is never simple.

ID: What is your creative process like as a designer?

AB: My creative process always starts with an idea, which can come at any moment. Perhaps I’m walking around Milan and see a building that inspires me, or I get an idea from reading a book, an article, or while I’m running. I always try to look around me and delve into things deeply, so as not to miss the details. Design, for me, is precisely this: going beyond the individual product, the single vision of an element. Once I have an idea, I start continuously sketching until I reach a drawing that convinces me. I transfer it to construction programs, and then for production, I always try to rely on craftsmen. The uniqueness of the product is fundamental to me, and relying on craftsmen makes the final product more authentic, with those fundamental imperfections that make it unique. I prefer craftsmanship to factory production. Or, when possible, I build my products in my studio where I have all the necessary tools to create a well-made prototype.

ID: What inspired the Burgui collection?

AB: The Burgui collection stems from the desire to connect Ethiopia’s historical and cultural authenticity with the technological present, with an eye to the forms of the future. Wood is the main star of the collection; it bears witness to African sculptural art and continues to be the main material for the creation of products whose vision is linked to ‘ethical-social design.’ The curved forms that make up the Chénfer seat refer to the lip discs used by the women of the Morsi tribes in southern Ethiopia, a symbol of beauty and female pride. The Leafleté seat was inspired by traditional Ethiopian headrests: wooden objects used to safeguard hair during sleep. It has a symbolic, social and personal value. The collection’s aim is to communicate the vision of African design, which is essential but charged with symbolic content and identity. I am trying to offer a new and innovative look at African design. 

ID: Your most recent exhibition at Milan Design Week is a rug collaboration with Nodus, what inspired it?

AB: I absolutely wanted to create something out of the ordinary, and the most visually striking place in Ethiopia is the Danakil Depression. I tried to draw something different, getting inspiration from curved shapes, and eventually, the rug emerged on its own, from the lines my hand created. As for the colors, I experimented with several options. They may not be entirely faithful to the colors of the Danakil, but I tried to find and explore the most suitable shades for a more elegant and modern context. The various lines and grooves on the rug, which are fundamental details for me, represent the small salt channels that make up the landscape of the Danakil, while the white outlines represent the salt itself.

ID: Your work has helped you reconnect with your Ethiopian roots, what do you think the world can learn from Ethiopia? 

AB: Ethiopia, like many African countries, teaches the true value of simplicity, tradition, and the relationship with their culture.

ID: Have you also sought inspiration from people, perhaps from those you love and admire?

AB: I’ve been drawn to many designers, but lately, partly because I had the pleasure of having a conversation about them, I’ve been focusing more on the vision and approach methodology of Samuel Ross, a British artist and fashion designer. The shift in these two realms of work, where design falls short and art manages to communicate beyond function… is something I definitely want to delve deeper.

10 Questions With… Artist and Designer Adaesi Ukairo

Adaesi Ukairo’s Journey To Mastering Metal

Interior Design: How would you describe your journey as an artist and designer?

Adaesi Ukairo: I studied jewelry, silversmithing, and applied arts for my degree. Though we didn’t do a lot of it, I also studied metalworking, learning about the hammer and shape, and I realized that I liked being in the workshop. I’ve always liked making with my hands so I knew that I wanted to do something like that, and I looked for the appropriate course. Metal felt so great because it’s an amazing material to work with. You can manipulate it and it stays. Now, I’ve been able to work with interior designers and architects, and work on restaurants and people’s homes, just making mirrors and covering bars with metal, copper bars and brass, and all sorts of functional things, like design pieces and lights.

ID: What was it like growing up and living between Nigeria and the U.K.?

AU: I lived in Nigeria as a child. We moved when I was seven and stayed there until I was about 12. Originally, we started off living in a village for about a year and half, and it was so different from the place that we came from in London. I think it affected me a lot in terms of myself as an artist and my work as well. So, it was a big influence on me. Since then, I’ve always been drawn to copper, which is this beautiful red color, which I remember from my village. In those days, some people lived in concrete houses, but most lived in mud homes. I’d sit with the village women and make things from palm trees and from the palm fronds. We’d make rope and baskets for the roofs, and all sorts of other things. I was very interested in making these things and learning from the women and my friends in the village inspired my work.

ID: Why did you opt for metal rather than any other materials?

AU: I’m not sure why I chose metal; I think maybe it chose me. I could have chosen any material like textile or ceramics, but I ended up with metal. Before I went to university, I used to make things with wire, which was an easy way to construct things. I was making earrings and other accessories with wire, and I thought maybe I would just make jewelry. I went to university thinking I was going to make jewelry and then I discovered the workshop with the silversmith materials, and that’s what I decided I wanted to do. Something about working on larger pieces of metal, hammering, stretching the metal and forming it spoke to me, and that’s what I’ve continued to do. I think I’ve also managed to make metal my own material, so I feel happy about that.

ID: Your design explores varied themes like family and migration. Why is it important for you to illustrate these themes, and do you wish to illustrate a memory in each design?

AU: I suppose the feeling, the emotions that I transfer through my work, comes from my family, the women from the village and my friends. It also comes from somewhere deep inside that I need to express. And it comes from those experiences that you have with your family and while moving through difficult times. My family is part of my upbringing and my experience, which ultimately makes it a part of me. I’m of mixed heritage. My dad is from Nigeria. My mom is British. My grandfather on my mom’s side used to do woodwork, so I used to do woodwork with him using different materials and feeling all the different materials that I would work with. Everything that I make now, I make in an intuitive way, but I know that it all comes from my influences of my upbringing and life. This movement through life also comes through my work.

ID: Are you also influenced by your experience or your identity as both Nigerian and British?

AU: I think I’m looking more at movement and energy and, of course, my experience of being in Nigeria and living in a small town in the middle of England. Whenever you move around, you’re influenced by whatever comes to you during those times emotionally and spiritually. Being of mixed heritage, I also think my work is influenced by this feeling of not being particularly settled from one place or another place, and always being in the middle of things. So in a way, that’s a strength because it allows me to do what I want to do and not feel that I’m constricted by other people’s ideas of what I should be doing. I feel quite free in the way that enables me to design and make, and I think that’s the feeling of movement that I want to describe and show through my work because I feel that this is part of life.

ID: Shapes and movement are very deliberate in your art, which feels so fluid and rhythmic. Is that intentional?

AU: You’re right that the movement is what I’m aiming for. For me, those shapes are all about life and living. I think they are always moving, but not in a straight line. You’re always moving and undulating, with all those ups and downs. And I think that’s what dancing is, and the way I see life is this energy that is moving all around. I love dancing. There are also different types of emotions that can be undulated in that way as well. Like I said earlier, when I work, I work intuitively. I don’t have an idea in my head of what I’m going to make. But I never worry that something will not come to me as I start making, as the idea develops itself in a fluid manner. It comes into my mind. It comes into my body and comes through my hands and my hammer and makes me create things.

ID: Are you open to exploring with other materials aside from metal, like bronze?

AU: Interesting you should say bronze because I want to work with bronze. I’ve made jewelry before, but it was always quite chunky. I’d also like to create some sculptural work, but focus on something that would adorn the body and not call it jewelry. So I might make neck pieces and body sculptures out of bronze. In the future, I would like to work with other materials like clay and glass since I’ve worked with them before. So, I would like to work with different materials right now, but there’s so much within metal, brass and copper to explore still. And that’s a major thing that I like to do. I like to experiment and explore the way metal moves.

ID: Describe the inspiration behind your collections.

AU: I’ve got four collections. One collection is Miri, which comes from one point and it swirls outward. Miri means water in Igbo. Then there’s the collection called Crush, in which the pieces are based on a bowl or a pot, which is like a sinclastic shape. The axes are also going in the same direction. The Flat collection consists of minimalist pieces that look like a plate. So far, all the other pieces are in copper and Flat is the only one that I have in glass. Then there’s the Undule collection, which is the one that I really enjoy making at the moment. That’s also my most recent collection, and the most sculptural. It is made with anticlastic raising, in which you hammer out a certain shape which can get you these undulating forms. So I called it Undule because I wanted to describe the way that the forms are undulating.

ID: Are you most interested in making large sculptural pieces or does your work also come in miniature pieces too?

AU: Yes, I absolutely make work that you can hold in your hand, like my Crush bowls. There’s a range, but they tend not to be too small, like jewelry. It’s on a larger scale. Each of the pieces could fit into a large place or it could be used for two different functions and purposes. My work can be displayed on the shelves. It can be placed in the middle of a centerpiece. I also made outdoor pieces, like sculptural pieces for the outside of a garden. If I get a commission, I’m not sure what the client might want, but I have made things for the outside and inside.

ID: What are you currently working on?

AU: I would say that I’m reaching a point now where I’m using elements. What I wish to do and what I’m working on at the moment is to bring all the elements—Miri, Crush, Flat, and Undule—into new pieces that will tell certain stories. And now my mind is thinking that I can use those already made elements as a basis for this new language that will help shape my forms in the future. So I don’t know if that makes sense, but I will be using the techniques from my previous collections for my new pieces.

10 Questions With… Lina Alorabi

For Lina Alorabi, one of Cairo’s dazzling designers, design isn’t just about making something beautiful, it has to be impactful. That’s why, for more than a decade, the designer has joined a host of other creatives to elevate Egypt’s architectural and design scene. Alorabi works as the lead designer at Don Tanani where she’s keen on crafting stories through furniture pieces. What keeps her aloft is the deep significance in her work: Resurrecting ancient Egyptian mythology and embedding these stories in each piece through exquisite details and elaborate patterns. It’s how she created “duality,” a deeply researched collection that explores animalistic forms in ancient Egyptian text; the collection sparked a wave in Cairo, creating a new trend in the market.

In Alorabi’s furniture piece, connectivity is emphasized in face-to-face sitting structures—woody colors against neutral fabrics, symbols and linear carved structures, snake-line forms—everything seems flexible yet works together. Her latest Moruna Sofa is evidence. Created from old collections, the sofa symbolizes the cycle of life.  Moruna, meaning flexibility, deconstructs past works of hers and manifests them in the form of the luxury X relaxation piece for indoor-outdoor use.

While her biggest motive is to connect people, both internationally and locally, to Egyptian roots through her designs, Alorabi says there are many expectations surrounding how and what Egyptian designers create. “Egyptian design is such a large topic. I want people to realize how big and vast and expansive Egyptian design is,” she says. “We’ve been influenced by the entire world. It’s hard to dissect what is Egyptian, what is not Egyptian… Even now, we have so many Syrian refugees, and they’re importing their culture from our culture. We’re learning from them, and they’re learning from us. I think that’s the beauty of Egypt.”

Lina Alorabi Shares Insights into Egypt’s Culture of Design, Craft Traditions, and More

Interior Design: Where does your story as a designer begin? 

Lina Alorabi: My father is a retired diplomat. I spent my life hopping between so many countries, so I got interested in design because of that; I was exposed to different cultures and that nurtured me well. I studied design in England at the Kent Institute of Art and Design, and I studied furniture because, as an Egyptian, it’s one of our biggest industries. Then I worked in Berlin for a couple of years… and moved back to Egypt in late 2009. It’s been exciting working here because we’ve been going through a lot of cultural change, political change, economic change. We’re re-exploring what it means to be Egyptian in many ways.

Here, I met Alia and Tamara El Tanani, who are the founders of Don Tanani, which is the brand that I’m currently designing for. First, I was a freelance designer, and now I’m working as the lead designer of Don Tanani. I was really excited to work with them because they want to redefine Egyptian design—they knew there was a gap in the market in Egypt. They wanted to do collectible design, and they wanted it to be 100% designed and made in Egypt.

ID: Tell us about your background, what inspired you to be a designer?

LA: I originally wanted to be a car designer, and I think it relates back to travel—that’s what I would always notice, how much the environment changes around you and how it affects you. Then I had an epiphany a couple of years ago in Cairo. I went to an art exhibition about Egyptians, diaspora Egyptians, and basically [the exhibit showcased how] people will live in an apartment, and for them, the apartment that’s in Saudi Arabia or wherever is temporary, and their real home is still in Egypt. The exhibit had a whole panel discussion with people who talked about how they never felt at home. When I related my experience, even though I’ve traveled a lot, I realized that I always felt home because my mother would put the effort in to take our things with us as we travel. But I think that made me realize the importance of objects; they don’t just decorate, they affect your environment and yourself as well.

ID: How did the design scene in Egypt look when you arrived, and what is it like now in 2024?

LA: When I moved here, Egyptian design was just starting in a modern sense, where furniture manufacturers were looking for designers. Before, they weren’t doing that. Most of the furniture companies here are family businesses, and they were remnants of colonial times, mostly producing reproductions, like French English furniture, because that’s what the market wanted. We have a big city on the north coast… and all the manufacturers do reproduction furniture. We have a lot of craft traditions, but manufacturers were making products that weren’t unique, so there was no value added.

When we introduced our first collection in 2020 [of original design], I think we made a big ripple in the design scene here. Right after we released it, we started to see a lot of other people getting into functional art and collectible design. Suddenly it became the new buzzword and the new trend, and there are a lot more original designs happening. It’s a young market, it’s still developing.

ID: Are collaborations common, and is the design scene inclusive and accommodating to creatives? 

LA: What we want to do is collaborate with many designers. That’s actually our ethos. It’s not just going to be me designing. We’re focusing on Egyptian designers. We have many that are in the industry but their voices are not really heard, or they’re in a cycle of making very commercial furniture and not being able to express themselves. Generally, in Egypt, it’s all about manufacturing. A lot of big name designers come to Egypt to manufacture, but you wouldn’t know because they don’t really get credit. The more I work here, the more craft people I meet who say: “Well, I did this hotel in Paris,” or wherever. All incredible work, and if you didn’t know them personally, you wouldn’t know.

ID: Your designs have a fluid look of wavy lines; how did you come up with this design concept?

LA: For Duality, it’s based on ancient Egyptian design. I did a lot of research and tried to understand why ancient Egyptian art looks the way it does; it has very recognizable elements. When you see it, nobody has to tell you it’s Egyptian. One of the things that struck me in Duality, in that particular collection, was that in ancient Egypt, their mythology was basically describing man’s power over nature. When you see a statue of pharaoh, that actually is the pharaoh and the pharaoh is there to protect you. That’s why the lines look like that, why everything is very monumental. When you look at the face of a pharaoh, you can see his skin. You feel like it’s actually the embodiment of their soul. That’s what I was trying to do with Duality.

I want to make sure each object had a presence or a soul; it’s not just a table that you put in a room. When the table is with you, you can feel its presence, like it’s going to move or it has a voice. That’s how I feel about design. It’s not just about making a beautiful object, it has to impart something on the space or impart something on whoever’s experiencing it.

ID: Do you think there is a wide appreciation of the designs made in Egypt by locals?

LA: I think we underestimate our capabilities, which is part of colonialism and industrialization. Usually, when you go to Europe and something is handmade, that means it’s better than machine-made. In Egypt, we have a weird opinion that machine-made should be better than handmade. It relates to the fact that we have so many craftsmen that it’s really easy for us to access that and it’s harder for us to access [machines]. It’s cheaper to make a piece of furniture here in Egypt than to import one so I think that’s what plays with people’s minds because the cost of something from Germany or elsewhere is so much higher and the cost of something in Egypt is so much lower, [so the thinking is that] it must be not as good. And we tend to think anything western is “better.”

ID: When you create each piece, are you intentional about connecting people with their ancestral roots?

LA: Yeah. What makes me sad is that when people internationally think of Egypt, they just think of the pyramids, and ancient Egypt, in a very touristic sense. What I think of Egypt now—Egyptian art and Egyptian design—I don’t think people know about. So it’s very important for me that my work says that, because I feel like we’re giving a voice to our culture and our identity.

ID: What materials do you work with in the production of the furniture?

LA: Don Tanani actually has its own wood factory. We import wood, but Egypt also has a very long history of importing wood. We’ve always been very good importers of raw materials since ancient times. One unique material we use is camel bone. We have a table which has bone inlays. Here we have camels that die for whatever reason and they take the bone and cut it according to the size that we need; you’re not using the whole bone, just layers. It’s very versatile.

We’re working with ceramics right now for a new project. We also use brass. But mostly we use wood. What we try to do with the wood is have really unique joinery, unique finishes. We develop finishes, as well, so we oxidize the wood or we leave it plain. We fill the grain with gold, as well. We use a lot of gold leaf. That’s very Egyptian.

ID: What look does craftsmanship take in the Egyptian design scene?

LA: Well, like I was saying, we have a really high level of craftsmanship in many areas. So we have woodworking, wood carving, like, the same wood joinery. We have a lot of specialists, brass carving, brass etching, and we have glass blowing. We have so many craftspeople and craft areas, but they’re really underutilized. A lot of them are geared toward more commercial work.

Now you do see people doing more craft or unique design work, but a lot of times, they’re not really credited. I think if they were accredited, there would be much more advancement here. So that’s one thing. And in general, we have such a wealth of craft because we are Egyptians. We’re obsessed with making and building and doing things. And we’ve always been one of the main hubs for exquisite craftsmanship through history. To the point, even now, we’re exporting craftspeople. Right now in Europe, you can’t find master woodworkers or carvers, so they’ll leave Egypt and go work there. We have a huge wealth [of skilled craftspeople] that we’re taking for granted, and we really need to take care of them.

ID: You exhibited last year at Dubai Design Week, what was that like? 

LA: It was my first time in Dubai. I’d never been to Dubai Design Week, and I was really impressed by the level of design awareness in general in Dubai. I was amazed. The appreciation and understanding of what design is is very high there. I feel like our designs really bring people: They want to come, they want to touch it, they want to sit on it. You know what I mean? It’s a full experience. They don’t just walk by and say, yeah, it’s attractive. And people were really interested in the story and the fact that it’s from Egypt and that it’s all handmade. It was an amazing experience for us; it really solidified that we’re doing the right thing.

10 Questions With… Studio of Contemporary Architecture Founders

LEARN HOW SOCA CONTRIBUTES TO THE CANADIAN ARCHITECTURE DIALOGUE

Interior Design: How did you each get your start as architects?

Shane Laptiste: I was raised in Montreal and studied architecture at McGill University for both my undergraduate and master’s degrees. Following graduation, I worked in an Edmonton-based architecture firm for over 10 years, where I specialized in sports and recreation projects. Then I moved to Toronto and started my own practice.

Tura Cousins Wilson: I was raised in Toronto, attended Toronto Metropolitan University, and did my master’s degree at Delft University of Technology. I worked in a large Toronto-based architecture practice where I had the fortune to work on projects in a variety of sectors, particularly cultural and residential projects. I converted my grandmother’s house into my own family home, and that prompted me to start my own practice.

ID: How did SOCA come to exist?

SL: We met in 2017 through Black Architects and Interior Designers Association (BAIDA), a non profit organization we founded with colleagues looking to support mentorship, advocacy, and networking of Black architects and designers in Canada. Our first architectural collaboration was an open ideas design competition organized by the Ontario Association of Architects (OAA). We were interested in the diverse strip malls of Toronto’s older post-war suburbs, and our proposal critiqued the harsh environment of strip mall parking lots. We proposed an alternative where parking could coexist with mini parkettes to offer seating, vegetation, and beauty. We didn’t win the competition, but to our surprise, the COVID-19 pandemic occurred a couple years later and what we thought of as a far-fetched dream became a reality as businesses repurposed their parking spaces to expand their services and accommodate safe separation. We continued to collaborate on various projects, and this prompted us to formally unite as SOCA.

ID: At SOCA, do you have a philosophy and mission that shapes the work you do?

TCW: We don’t have a formal manifesto, however, we are taking a critical and intersectional approach to culture, heritage, urbanism, housing justice, climate justice, and their implications on the practice of architecture. We named our practice SOCA, an acronym for the Studio of Contemporary Architecture, out of a belief that architecture both shapes and is shaped by the contemporary condition. But it’s also a reference to the Soul of Calypso, better known as Soca—a fun nod to our Caribbean roots and its culture of commentary, color, and joy. We are interested in developing conversations beyond our home in Canada, applying a global lens to understand how culture and the environment influence inclusionary and beautiful design. Our process incorporates community engagement as both a design tool and an outcome. We approach each project as a contribution to the broader public discourse on contemporary concerns within the built environment.

ID: Could you share more about designing exhibition space for the Gardiner Museum?

TCW: We designed the Gardiner Museum’s new exhibition “Magdalene Odundo: A Dialogue with Objects.” This is the largest exhibition of the celebrated Kenyan-British ceramicist in North America. The installation features more than 20 works spanning Dame Magdalene Odundo’s career, displayed alongside objects selected by the artist from the Gardiner Museum’s permanent collection, and works on loan from major Toronto museums and private collections. These objects span geographies, time periods, and media bringing her work into conversation with objects as diverse as an ancient Cycladic marble figurine, a Ndebele apron from South Africa, and a painting by the late Trinidadian-Canadian artist Denyse Thomasos.

Gardiner Museum chief curator and deputy director, Sequoia Miller, requested an atmosphere that would dramatically showcase Odundo’s work but not upstage it. As a British and Kenyan woman, Odundo has deep roots in both modern and traditional, and European and African ceramic practices. We took her ambiguities as a starting point, transforming the Gardiner’s “white cube” into a “clay cube.” Treating the walls with a textured limewash paint, and creating broken circular plinths from dark plaster, SOCA picked up on the forms, textures, warmth and even the metallic quality of Odundo’s carbonized vessels to establish a rich ambiance. The plinths obscure a chronological trajectory through the space, and the low lighting encourages each visitor to pursue their own quiet journey of close examination and contemplation.

ID: What was it like creating something unique that served as a support for Odundo’s work?

SL: It’s a bit like being an in-the-pocket drummer, where you hold a solid groove and even though you may throw in some accented fills, you’re never soloing or upstaging the frontwoman. Our goal was to let Magdalene’s work speak for itself by creating a solid and sexy rhythm section. The spotlight was for her, but when you eventually tune in on the drummer you think: Damn, this drummer’s tight!

ID: Could you share some insights into the work you do at SOCA?

SL: We like to mix things up. We see both fun and value in working at different scales and on different typologies. We collaborate with clients and other creatives in the institutional, non-profit, residential, arts, commercial, and municipal sectors, working on projects that include new construction, adaptive reuse, renovations, additions, and interior design. Our work also extends from exhibition design and public art to building feasibility studies. Our practice is deeply engaged in research and conceptual design with the understanding that speculative thinking can inform our built projects while also adding to the broader architectural discourse. All our projects are points of reflection and inform one another in various ways.

ID: Did you make a deliberate decision to pursue a project in a museum as a means to explore your artistic visions?

SL: Working in an art space was more natural than coincidental or deliberate. We have been collaborating with artists from the beginning of our practice, so we’ve always felt connected to the art world. It’s also not dissimilar from architecture in that you’re creating space through formal gestures and exploring light and materiality. One key difference is that building permits and other approvals aren’t required, which provides a refreshing sense of design liberty.

ID: Do you approach architecture from a cultural perspective, too?

TCW: We view architecture as a tangible manifestation of society’s collective aspirations and shortcomings. So the practice and thinking of architecture is very much a cultural endeavor for us. Our work, at its core, is rooted in the culture of a place or site. Sometimes that may mean digging up overlooked cultures or challenging dominant or accepted cultural narratives. Culture is such an interesting way to frame it because it can mean so many ideas and starting points for investigation. For example, we have looked at vernacular building methods as culture, walkable cities as culture, density as culture, black communities as culture, inclusivity as culture, materiality as a culture, and so on.

ID: Would you say there is a sort of activism in how you approach architecture?

TCW: Our speculative projects—including plans for Little Jamaica, Alexandra Park, and the St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts is certainly activism. We also see teaching as a way of both raising awareness, honing ideas, and activating the next generation of architects. Shane currently teaches a design studio at McGill University and Tura at Toronto Metropolitan University. As mentioned, we are founding members of BAIDA, an organization mandated to increase a diverse representation of designers and architects in Canada—a cause we’re deeply committed to furthering. Every building responds to the world in a particular way.

Architecture has the potential, though not always acknowledged, to be deliberate and to take a stance in the ways in which it addresses its users, context, and environment. A word we often use as a practice is “push.” We push ourselves to be critical. We push our clients to question their assumptions and design briefs, and push our colleagues who in turn push us. You could say we’re intentional about where we as architects have influence.

ID: What are some of your key projects?

TCW: In addition to the Odundo exhibition, we recently completed the Fisher Field Clubhouse, which is a soccer clubhouse and park pavilion featuring accessible washrooms and team change rooms in Collingwood Ontario. In partnership with Black Urbanism TO Inc. and Open Architecture Collaborative Canada, we co-authored A Black Business Conversation, which outlined a future vision for Little Jamaica, Toronto’s largest Caribbean neighborhood, to address issues of affordability, new development, and other challenges.

We recently designed a speculative proposal for the St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts in Toronto that illustrates how a contemporary arts institution could reimagine and reposition itself without purging its Modernist past. There is also our Alexandra Park master plan, which is a counter proposal and written piece, questioning the current master plan’s approach to demolishing the majority of the existing housing and instead proposed a way in which the community could be revitalized without large-scale demolition of buildings and verdant landscape.

10 Questions With… Charles O. Job

When describing contemporary visionaries in the Nigerian architecture and design space, the name Charles O. Job is boldly called. For three decades, the Lagos-born, Zurich-based designer and architect has created projects that continue to define the zeitgeist of times while being functional, mechanical, and fluid.

His principle basks in interpreting and conceptualizing objects, or nature, and broadly reinventing these into a product that takes no finite shape of the original. One example is his cross-shaped, pocketed bookshelf named bukan, which he admits was inspired by kangaroos.

He has an enigmatic love for design and it does pays off, with several awards to his name over the past 30 years; he relives this excitement by showing me diaries of his latest sketches as we speak. With much enthusiasm, he shows me the product he had made for his daughter for Christmas—a wall mounted worktop called Flip. She had sent him a text appreciating his work and you can imagine the sweet-spirit as he read them out. “It’s an idea you have,” he says. “And then somehow, somebody produces it, and then suddenly it makes somebody else happy.”

The designer sat down with Interior Design, sharing insights into his journey with architecture and design, moving to Zurich, and maintaining work-life balance.

Charles O. Job Talks Design, and More 

Interior Design: You have a unique design approach that is a reinterpretation of life itself; you see a mundane object and try to remake it in a very unconventional way, like a hat. 

Charles O, Job: The hat is a funny story. There’s a famous British actor called Crisp, and there was a famous song about him by Sting called Englishman in New York. There was an article about him in the newspaper, and I was reading this article, and I kept looking at this hat. The hat was quite interesting. It was a very traditional bowler hat. Something came up in my head to make this hat into something else. I don’t know where it came from. And I drew the hat and then I turned it into what it is, basically, this thing which looks three dimensional, [yet is] only one dimension. That came from reading an article in the newspaper. Most of the things I do come from looking at something and imagining it to be something else in a playful and functional way.

ID: Describe your journey as a designer and architect?

CJ: I studied architecture in England. During my studies, I realized that I actually liked designing because I had so many ideas. I wasn’t into building, I was into designing. After I graduated, I went to live in Paris for a year. I took part in some competitions and won a few. But winning this competition made me realize that designing was not just fun; it seemed to be something I was good at doing. So I did more and more of it, and gradually it grew from being a hobby to being part of my profession. The journey was totally unplanned, it just happened.

ID: Would you say architecture fueled your passion for product design?

CJ: Yes. I think the good thing is when you study architecture, you learn about spaces, you learn about structure, you learn about interiors, you learn about exteriors, so it’s a good education to be creative. A lot of my friends and I are not doing architecture. They’re doing other things. But I did give architecture a chance. When I was in England, I was already working in offices, architectural offices. I actually came here to work for a famous architect called Calatrava, and he does amazing structural buildings. I was working for him and for other architects, but I never enjoyed architecture. No. Because it’s always too big and there’s too many people involved. It takes five years to get it built. I didn’t have the patience for it.

ID: Living between Europe and Africa, how would you describe the architectural and creative scape between both continents?

CJ: Switzerland is a very special country because they don’t have any resources; they don’t have any oil, they don’t have anything, so they’re very good at making the most of what they have. A fantastic quality. They’re very good in detail. They work on small scale detail. So I like that. Somehow that reminded me of my youth when I was in Nigeria. [Creating] things by myself. So that’s one link I can make. Otherwise, it’s just so completely different; they are so different. But I think this difference is a good impulse because obviously you stand out because everybody looks different and also you think differently. Merging the two together is to merge their love for detail and our love for experimentation together. That’s, for me, what I’ve benefited from.

ID: What inspired the concept of your product Bukan?

CJ: Well, Bukan is very strange, actually. I was looking through a book and I saw a kangaroo, which likes carrying its baby in its pocket, and I thought: This is a nice idea, something like a mother carrying its baby. This idea of a baby turned into this. Don’t ask me how [it] turned into this cross. It’s just the idea of a pocket. So I thought of a pocket, and then it turned into four pockets and it turned into a cross because of the possibilities of actually putting things inside it. It came after lots of drawings, the idea of a kangaroo carrying a baby in their pocket.

ID: How did you start your design firm?

CJ: Everything is more or less by accident. I mean at first, I left Nigeria. I lived in Scotland, then I lived in Paris, then I found myself in Zurich. Everything I do is never planned. So basically, not doing architecture wasn’t planned. Doing design wasn’t planned because I’m so flexible. I adapt to new situations and tried designing. Many years, I was winning competitions. At the beginning, I was winning nothing. I used to have a diary, and I used to ask: When am I going to win a competition? And then I found a producer. Then [I asked]: When am I going to get something produced? It’s always questioning, questioning, questioning. At the beginning, it was quite tough because nobody knows you. I was spending all my money on products. I was so convinced I was doing the right thing. So I’d design, I’d make a prototype, photograph it, then try and get it published in a magazine. For me, designing was just one part, making it visible was the other part. I was investing money in making beautiful prototypes and then paying somebody, a professional photographer, to take a picture. All that is very important, like selling an idea is very important. I invested a lot of money in selling the idea, and I think that helps a lot. But then you have to show it. People have to know that it’s there, and if they don’t know it’s there, then they never know and decided to begin the firm.

ID: What do you love most about design, what makes you so happy to do it?

CJ: I think it’s the challenge of doing something in my studio and then maybe a year later somebody can buy it in a shop. It’s just the idea of actually having an idea, which is very private. You art-board model, then you make a prototype, and then you find somebody to produce it and they put it in a shop and then somebody can buy it. I mean, every time I see my product in a shop, I’m blown away because I think: Wow, somebody’s actually picked it. I’m very proud.

ID: What does your typical day in the studio look like, how do you go through the imperfections of creating an object? 

CJ: Well, my day [begins] with deep sketching. Like this diary; I have thousands of them. And I constantly draw.

When I think [an idea] is not good, I draw and I draw. Then when I think it’s good, I make a cardboard model, one to one, and I look at it for weeks and think about it and redesign it. It’s very organic. Sometimes [the process] goes very slowly or very fast. But I do two or three things at once. It helps me assimilate both works. If I get stuck on this one, I go to the next one.

8 Highlights from Design Week Lagos 2023

Nothing prepares anyone for Lagos, Nigeria in October: The heat, and traffic, are overwhelming yet the city offers moments to find ease. Design Week Lagos is one such event, offering visual therapy to its many viewers. The four-day event (held October 19-22) featured strong works from designers across the country, and beyond. Curated by Charles O. Job under the theme “Africa Design, The future,” this year’s show unwrapped a new wave of discussions, including talks by 35 industry thought leaders across Africa. Tosin Oshinowo delivered a lecture on alternative urbanism, Malik Afegbua moderated a panel on the intersection of AI and design, and O. Job took the audience on an innovative ride. Meanwhile, installations and exhibitions on display celebrated forward-looking, and sustainable designs, fueling passionate conversations among those on site.

Explore Highlights From Design Week Lagos 2023

“Ulo Oma” by Myles Igwe

Designer Myles Igwe knows how to take risks, at times creating seemingly impossible forms from mundane materials. At Design Week Lagos, the designer exhibited Ulo Oma, a chair that translates his undying love for culture and exploring local circularity. “The women selling grains at the market rely on empty tins instead of measuring cups, and I found it truly inspiring to see the longstanding tradition of resourcefulness in our local culture, where materials are ingeniously repurposed in various ways,” Igwe said. The design concept is bold, made from the flattening of used food tins, Ulo Oma takes the description of what a raw project really looks like, envisioning the necessity of sustainability in the design world.

“Amahle” by Zonna

Zonna’s tufted furnishings and accents served as a showstopper with their contrasting white and brown colors, detailing a snake-like construction. The collection titled Amahle included a rug, chair, and mirror, all tufted in soft cotton yarns and handcrafted by the designer. The inspiration comes from the designer’s fascination with abstract shapes which further inspired her experimentations with tufting techniques. The designs are minimalistic and soothing to whatever space they find themselves in.

Lagos Light Series by Hot Wire Extensions

After a month-long residency by the Hot Wire Extensions at the 16/16 space at Victoria Island, Lagos—supported by Switzerland-based Pro Helvetia—it felt natural for Fabio Hendry, the founder of Hot Wire Extensions, to make a project with his resident fellows: Godwin Musa and Linus Sammy. The project became “Lagos Light Series,” two handbag-shaped bulb lamps made from the mixture of sand and plastic.

B1 Bench by Temitope El-shabazz

Temitope El-shabazz thinks of his designs as art. He doesn’t want to define the functionality; he’s giving collectors the power to do so. The B1 bench seems to reflect this conscious decision, especially with its multi-functional appearance that offers possibilities as a sitting bench, a console, or a plant stand. Carefully perfected in varied colors with a size measurement of 60×24 cm, El-shabazz says: “I wanted to spark a conversation I knew existed. I was interested in creating something different from what was already known as normal.” Mission accomplished.

Variant Present Flat Face Furniture by Deoye Bammeke

Witnessing the work of an architect-turned-project designer and illustrator seems to be one of the unexpected highlights of Design Week Lagos. The Flat Face Furniture series features a set of furniture pieces that are similar in design but have varied functionality. Here, Deoye Bammeke seeks inspiration from his long-time mentor’s obsession with Italian furniture designers. He wanted to create contemporary furniture with the no nails woodworking technique, so he spent two years severing wood dimension and creating furniture that could be dismembered at ease complete with unique patterns and geometrical carvings. “I didn’t want them to be basic, the colors were already black—just leaving them that way, black and flat, wouldn’t be interesting,” he said.

Limpetia Orb Light, Sailors Mirror by Franuel Eco Furniture Studio

In the west wing of the exhibit room, a lamp hanging from the pitch-black wood board grabs viewers’ attention. Called the Limpetia Orb Light and designed by Frances Oboro of the Franuel Eco Furniture studio, the designer utilizes the biomimicry concept, creating a web-like lamp. “I had come across a bulb wrapped in cobwebs and why it didn’t make sense at first, I felt it was very important to make a design from that inspiration,” she said. The 51cm lamp is made from tiny strings of jute fiber, woven into a cobweb-like orb. But that’s not the only thing in exhibit, a nautical Sailors Mirror wrapped in jute fibers also is on display.

Vivano x Color Sense x Literior Nigeria Installation

The scent of paint first welcomed viewers at the Vivano x Color Sense x Literior Nigeria installation at Design Week Lagos. Then came the striking room design, shaped openly like a triangular pyramid with aesthetic lightning. The installation featured an illusion wall in multi-colors (Color Sense), a room space decorated with artificial plants (Vivano), a room filled with Literior Nigeria’s latest light collections.

Teal Culture Installation

A curated boutique manifested itself in the form of an installation by Teal Culture Nigeria, which doubles as a showroom for Teal Harmony Designs, a Lagos-based interior design studio. At Design Week Lagos, the mother company exhibited works by standout West African product designers and artists, including the recreated headpiece of an ile ife queen, which was perfectly crafted by the Cameroonian artist Djakou Kassi Nathalie, as well as the line patterned art of Saheed Olokun. Also featured was a design booth by Ekoro Ekanem and Folakemi Oloye.

Zanele Muholi’s Sculptures Shed Light on Human Rights Issues

When it comes to South African artist Zanele Muholi’s body of work, each project seems to stand alone, creating a ripple of impact. In their latest self-titled exhibition, on view through August 17 at the Southern Guild in Cape Town, the visual activist introduces a mixed media project combining photography and sculpture. Through their work, Muholi confronts ongoing social worries including conversations surrounding taboos of female genitalia and its association with sexual pleasure; the overwhelming femicide in South Africa; LGBTQIA+ stigmatization; as well as their own struggle with uterine fibroids and religion.

The exhibition also reflects Muholi’s own evolution—acting as a prologue for new matters of self-expression and a window into the way they want the events happening around them to be portrayed. It’s this portrayal that reels viewers as they walk into the Southern Guild, curious of the place Muholi has found themselves, and how that’s reflected in the work. Most pieces on display are rebirthed from Muholi’s past projects, like the photographs, which are an extension of the Somnyama Ngonyama (Hail the Dark Lioness) series.

Adding complexity, the semantics exhibited are unconventional—one sculpture depicts Muholi as the Virgin Mary, sheathed in robes, their hands clasped in prayer. The exhibition’s power also lies in the consciousness of the photographs and in the Muholi’s lingering ode: “The uterus is the rite of passage that is common to all of us regardless of race, class, gender. It is a common space, it is like water—water is water, blood is blood, the womb is the womb, birth is birth. You are born from someone, you come from that passage.” Through “Zanele Muholi,” the artist manages to create their own passage; one that sparks bold explorations.