October Issue: Guest Editors

*Architecture � Design � Art � Travel � Entertaining � Beauty & Grooming � Transport � Technology � Fashion � Watches & Jewellery

on design’s role during and after Covid–19

october 2020

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Artwork: Studio Frith. Photography: Mike Harrington/Getty Images

OCTOBER

167

Guest Editors Design Emergency Paola Antonelli and Alice Rawsthorn, and their crew of design practitioners, make their case for design’s ability to build a world better equipped to deal with any crisis ARCHITECTURE

107

Grain teaser A timber-clad terrace extension in east London takes the long view

116 139 158 162

Hidden treasure Modernism with modesty in a secluded Scandinavian-style Long Island retreat One and only A mismatch of materials in a south London renovation delivers mystery and intrigue on every level Baroque star Art, architecture and elaborate detailing triumph in a Melbourne suburb Happy return A picturesque Polish cultural hotspot is the location for a unique second home A MOCK-UP, BY STUDIO FRITH, OF A FLYPOSTING CAMPAIGN TO PROMOTE DESIGN EMERGENCY’S GUEST EDITOR TAKEOVER, SEE PAGE 167

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OCTOBER BEAUTY

135

Future facing Modern beauty remodelled by Byredo DESIGN

092 098 110

THE RULE-BREAKINGLY BENDY FORM OF THE ‘DS-707’ LEATHER ARMCHAIR, BY PHILIPPE MALOUIN FOR DE SEDE, SEE PAGE 126

ART

120 155 210

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Omission control Conceptual artist Tavares Strachan is reinserting disappeared people of colour into the historical narrative

126 131

Square route A Michael Anastassiades and Molteni & C collaboration takes shape Only natural Nine designers create socially distanced WFH wonders using undervalued woods Lava flow A Chilean design collective is having a meltdown to create objects that are dripping with personality Flex appeal Philippe Malouin stretches his creative muscles for Swiss brand de Sede Shift work Milan-based brand Older brings its uniformalism to furniture design FASHION

097

Still life Floral arrangements, food and a funereal mood form the basis of a new show from sculptor Genesis Belanger

105

Empty city Photographer Hannah Starkey captures a pandemic-struck London in lockdown

142

Urban gem Modern cityscapes inspire a new jewellery collection from Chaumet On the button A tweed cuff is a timely reminder of Coco Chanel’s personality quirks Moon river Shine bright like a diamond

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OCTOBER 090

The Vinson View Picky Nicky on the brands running rings around the competition INTERIORS

228

Ottoman empire Footstools and poufs reign supreme MEDIA

161

WallpaperSTORE* Refined design, delivered to your door RESOURCES

248

Stockists What you want and where to get it

MICHAEL ANASTASSIADES’ ‘HALF A SQUARE’ TABLE FOR MOLTENI & C IN THE DESIGNER’S NORTH LONDON STUDIO, SEE PAGE 092

236

Fringe benefits Tailoring with a bit of an edge FOOD

250

Artist’s palate Michael Rakowitz’s ‘Basra Kiss’ FRONT OF BOOK

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Newspaper A Kengo Kuma hinoki pen collection, wearable art from Rashid Johnson, and a beguiling booze-free bar in Tokyo ARTIST TAVARES STRACHAN IN FRONT OF THE AWAKENING, WHICH APPEARS IN HIS NEW LONDON SHOW, SEE PAGE 120

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436E1 TELA FLOCK-TC + GHILLIE LASER CAMO ANORAK MADE OF A COTTON CANVAS WITH AN EXTERNAL FLOCK IN VISCOSE, THEN FINISHED WITH A POLYURETHANE RESIN TREATMENT. IT IS GARMENT DYED WITH A DOUBLE RECIPE, TO OBTAIN DIFFERENT COLOURS ON THE VARIOUS COMPONENTS AND TEXTILE FIBRES. THE GRAPHIC MOTIF IS ACHIEVED THROUGH THE LASER-PRINTING TECHNIQUE ON THE FINISHED PIECE, THE LASER ERODES THE DYEING COLOURS REVEALING THE GHILLIE CAMO INSPIRED CONCEPT. THE GARMENT IS THEN WASHED WITH AN ANTI-DROP AGENT. HOOD WITH VISOR AND TWO CROSSING TAPES TO ADJUST THE FIT. BUTTONED CENTRAL STRAP ON CHEST, CARRYING THE STONE ISLAND BADGE. LONG ZIP FASTENING ON THE LEFT SIDE AND UNDER THE SLEEVE.

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Børge Mogensen’s flexible shelving system – in the spirit of the furniture architect – invites individual applications. The carefully crafted system, which consists of shelves and cabinets with elegant details, accommodates changes that life presents: it can be expanded, built up and adapted to individual needs.

In stores from October 2020.

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CONTRIBUTORS ALICE MORBY Writer A rare feat at a time when Zoom interviews have become the norm, Morby actually travelled to Benchmark’s Berkshire HQ to get the lowdown on a new AHEC project (page 098). ‘If I’m given the opportunity to go behind the scenes, I’ll always take it,’ says the Wallpaper* contributing editor.

‘I was able to see the workshop in full flow, and the incredible archive, a standout being a cabinet by Lord Snowdon.’ The Yorkshireand London-based journalist is about to start a master’s in social anthropology.

WIDLINE CADET Photographer

IBRAHIM AZAB Photographer

New York-based Haitian artist Cadet is best known for her work examining issues such as migration and Black Caribbean cultural identity. We tasked her with photographing Bahamas-born artist Tavares Strachan in his Manhattan studio (page 120). ‘It was really nice to see him in his element, and get a small glimpse of his space,’ she says. Cadet is currently working on exhibitions for the USF Contemporary Art Museum in Tampa and Portland’s Blue Sky Gallery.

This month, Azab photographed a new Michael Anastassiades and Molteni & C collaboration (page 092). ‘Visiting Michael’s studio was something in itself, being surrounded by tons of beautiful reference materials, which gave me a lot of space to play,’ says the London-based mixed-media artist. Azab, who also shot some of our Newspaper section (page 069), has just completed a summer residency at The Bomb Factory Art Foundation in London.

MICHAEL RAKOWITZ Artist Food and its cultural connotations have been recurring themes for Rakowitz since 2003, when he launched ‘Enemy Kitchen’ in New York alongside his mother Yvonne, cooking recipes from the Baghdad area to spark new dialogue around Iraq while the US invasion took hold. His contribution to our Artist’s Palate series (page 250) features date syrup, an Iraqi staple. His explorations of history, heritage and identity won him the 2020 Nasher Sculpture Prize.

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EVENS JP MORNAY Stylist

HANNAH STARKEY Photographer

Having set aside his law studies and reined in his video game habit (though he is still known to play for ten hours straight), Mornay found his true calling in the world of fashion, learning the ropes with the likes of Ludivine Poiblanc and Hannes Hetta.

‘This was my first high jewellery shoot,’ says the Paris- and London-based stylist of this month’s Moon River feature (page 142).

‘Shooting the Boucheron necklace was the wow moment; the necklace is so beautiful that we got the image in ten minutes tops.’

Starkey had just completed a series of images on women working in the City of London when the pandemic struck. Soon she found herself photographing the Square Mile once more, this time ‘absorbing the strange atmosphere of a city without people’, like ‘an ecosystem that has lost its pulse’.

The resulting series, Empty City (page 210), is all ‘about absence, and how to make the invisible visible’, says the Belfast-born artist, whose major show for The Hepworth Wakefield will open in autumn 2022.

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ILLUSTRATOR: DAVID SPARSHOTT WRITER: LÉA TEUSCHER

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EDITOR’S LETTER

Newsstand cover

by Studio Frith

Art directors of our Guest Editors’ section this issue, Studio Frith also designed our newsstand and limited-edition covers, translating into print the identity it created for Paola Antonelli and Alice Rawsthorn’s Instagram Live series, Design Emergency.

The identity includes a bespoke typeface, also featured above, with a modular construction that allows letterforms to be built as needed.

See Design Emergency’s Wallpaper* takeover, from page 167

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Of all the challenges and unexpected benefits of lockdown, one ray of light and optimism was the announcement this spring of Design Emergency, a project by two design visionaries, Alice Rawsthorn and Paola Antonelli.

Individually they have shaped contemporary design, Alice being a highly influential critic and author of Design as an Attitude and Hello World: Where Design Meets Life, and Paola a senior curator of MoMA, creator of ‘Broken Nature’ at the XXII Triennale di Milano – one of the most important exhibitions of recent times – and winner of the London Design Medal at this year’s LDF. Now they have joined forces to explore design’s role during and after Covid-19 – through an Instagram Live series with thematic discussions, interviews, and introductions to design innovations. Design Emergency is exactly what we needed: a testament to design’s ability to innovate and inspire in a time of crisis.

Our annual Guest Editors’ issue has always felt special in the way it acts as a lightning rod for the times, an opportunity to invite creative pioneers to take their seat at the Wallpaper* editorial desk and make their mark on the magazine. Over the years we’ve enlisted such luminaries as Dieter Rams, Zaha Hadid, Rei Kawakubo, Karl Lagerfeld, David Lynch, Robert Wilson, Frank Gehry, Liz Diller and Neri Oxman, so I am delighted we could invite the incredibly inspiring duo of Alice and Paola to be Guest Editors for 2020 – a year we will never forget.

They have divided their content into two sections – ‘Design Leaders in the Covid-19 Response’, and ‘Design Leaders of Post-Pandemic Reconstruction’. Their interviewees are varied: the former category includes a medical illustrator, a creative director of a public health campaign, a tech entrepreneur, the co-founder of a non-profit architecture practice, and an information designer. Likewise, among the ‘leaders of the reconstruction’ are Italian designers Formafantasma and Nigerian architect Kunlé Adeyemi, names that are well known to and long admired by the Wallpaper*

audience, but also British social designer Hilary Cottam, who is calling for a ‘fifth social revolution’, and Pakistani telemedicine pioneers Sehat Kahani, who are mobilising the country’s women doctors to transform healthcare; evidence of Alice and Paola’s long-held thesis that design has stretched beyond its professional definition to become an attitude.

We also welcome the consistently brilliant Studio Frith, involved in Design Emergency from the outset, which has guest art-directed this special section, and Brigitte Lacombe, who photographed everyone involved on Zoom, creating captivating images that resonate with our unique circumstances. Read it, save it, bookmark it, go back to it. Learn from what Design Emergency is highlighting. Follow @design.emergency on Instagram and join the cause. As Alice says so eloquently: ‘By working in an intelligent, thoughtful and responsible way, with relevant specialists from other fields, designers could make a major impact in trying to rebuild our lives for the better.’

Elsewhere in the issue, we’ve commissioned photographer Hannah Starkey to create a 17-page portfolio of London in lockdown, and we take a deep dive into American Hardwood and Benchmark’s Connected, a project that invites international talents to design from a distance. Further highlights include Michael Anastassiades’ furniture debut for Molteni & C, Tavares Strachan’s rediscovery of a forgotten polar explorer, Miska Miller-Lovegrove’s transformation of a 16th-century Polish merchant’s house, and Deyan Sudjic’s account of Chilean design studio GT2P’s affair with lava.

None of us can predict what will happen next, all we can do is put our best foot forward, keep in mind the power of design to foster positive change, and stick together as an industry to pave the way. Solidarity is vital. Be intelligent, thoughtful and responsible. Look for authenticity, integrity, truth. Let’s strive to make things better.

I hope you enjoy the issue!

Sarah Douglas, Editor-in-Chief

Limited-edition cover

by Studio Frith

Limited-edition covers are available to subscribers, see Wallpaper.com

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Newspaper* Wallpaper’s hot pick of the latest global goings-on

Kengo Kuma gets into the groove with Caran d’Ache

Hex object

Varius fountain pen, �1,150; Varius ballpoint pen, �920, both by Kengo Kuma, for Caran d’Ache

Swiss stationer Caran d’Ache continues its remarkable track record of design collaborations with a set of writing instruments by Kengo Kuma, including a fountain pen, roller pen and ballpoint pen, each in a limited edition of 1,000.

Their hexagonal barrels are clad in hinoki cypress, a recurring material in Kuma’s architectural output, and gently grooved in a nod to traditional Japanese chidori toys, contrasting beautifully with their rhodium-plated brass caps,

PHOTOGRAPHY: LEON CHEW WRITER: TF CHAN

clips and nibs. The designs, almost two years in the making, involved craftspeople with 12 different know-hows including engraving, varnishing, lacquering and electroplating. Kuma found the project enlightening: ‘This experience makes evident the possibility of a new combination between wood and metal. I’ll try to use it in bigger architecture projects.’

Varius Kengo Kuma collection available from 12 September, carandache.com; kkaa.co.jp

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Lukas Gschwandtner stretches the realms of chair design

Flip service

Lukas Gschwandtner was inspired to create his ‘Pendal’ chair by a ferry ride across Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour.

‘It was a very industrial, utilitarianlooking boat,’ recalls the young Austrian designer. ‘As we boarded, the staff walked through the rows of passenger seats, flipping the backrests from one side to the other.’ Instead of turning the entire ferry around, they could quickly adjust the seats to face the opposite direction. Gschwandtner’s design is likewise reversible, comprising a pair of I-shaped steel frames with rectangular brackets at the top that allow the movement of two pivoting beams, connected with upholstery to form the backrest. Unlike the mass-produced ferry seats, however, ‘Pendal’ is painstakingly handmade, and clad in either waxed canvas or goat or eel skin, materials that patinate with time. ‘The surfaces and colours always change. It

becomes an archive of how you interact, use and co-exist with it,’ he explains.

‘Pendal’ was part of Gschwandtner’s inaugural solo exhibition, ‘In Verwendung’ (German for ‘in use’), held at design dealer Jermaine Gallacher’s London showroom this spring. Another highlight, the ‘Melange’ chair, was similarly functional in appearance, stretching leather upholstery across a set of lacquered steel frames to create an extendable seat that curves inwards to encourage social interaction. ‘In Verwendung’ reflected Gschwandtner’s training as an accessories designer – his bags, which often involve leather folded over metal frames, are available under the brand Lukas Senn (his mother’s maiden name). Gschwandtner has now set his sights on a prayer pillowinspired design installation that will fill an entire room. lukasgschwandtner.net; lukassenn.net

Left, ‘Pendal’ chair, £2,400, by Lukas Gschwandtner. Bag, €360, by Lukas Senn. Cardigan, £185, by MHL. Skirt, £355, by Margaret Howell Above, ‘Melange’ chair, £3,000,

by Lukas Gschwandtner For stockists throughout, see page 248

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PHOTOGRAPHY: ADAM BARCLAY FASHION: JASON HUGHES WRITER: TF CHAN

Model: Bethany Erin Duffy at Linden Staub. Hair & make-up: Laura Taff. On-set tailor: Katie Barclay

Newspaper

Location - Uzès, France

My most solid relationship We meet every night for slow-cooked dinners.

I have a feeling this will be long-term.

It’s even a thrill doing dishes with you.

You are my first and last.

Vipp kitchen.

vipp.com

Newspaper Clockwise from top, £7,500,

by Louis Vuitton; £1,700, by Balenciaga; £3,150, by Fendi; £2,540, by Berluti; £1,910, by Valentino Garavani

Fashion houses are taking the hard line when it comes to men’s bags

Tough love With both business and personal travel still limited, a statement bag might seem like a superfluous piece.

However, perfectly placed to hold a few daily essentials is a new type of miniaturised bag that is particularly suited to men. Spotted on this season’s menswear catwalks was a scaled-down cross-body bag, infused with masculine overtones such as hard casings and robust structures. At Fendi, aspects of the house’s classic monogrammed trunk are melded with its signature baguette bag to form an attractive hybrid that can be slung over one shoulder, or held with its long straps wrapped together neatly in hand. At Berluti, a streamlined attaché briefcase, produced in collaboration with Globe-Trotter, is made from layers of Japanese paper, compressed to form a sturdy yet organically textured shell, hand-patinated Venezia leather handles and corners, and nickel hardware.

Valentino’s version – a Perspex piece emblazoned with a stripe-like VLTN print – exudes a brooding energy with its delicate, almost ornamental appearance and hard-edged silhouette, while Balenciaga’s suitably tongue-in-cheek iteration mimics the shape of an old-school children’s lunchbox, albeit brandishing an embossed logo and realised in black. For those looking to make an entrance, Louis Vuitton’s mirrored mini trunk is actually a portable speaker. Bluetooth and WiFienabled with an audio jack and a rechargeable battery, the white-leather accented piece is one of the season’s most eye-catching collectibles.

PHOTOGRAPHY: OSKAR PROCTOR FASHION: JASON HUGHES WRITER: PEI-RU KEH

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Newspaper The Monoware collection by Daniel Baer, produced in collaboration with ceramicist Ian McIntyre, features dining staples in a palette of earthy tones, ranging from chalk to slate

Timeless design and durability define a divine debut of dining staples

Baer necessities For creative consultant Daniel Baer, every mealtime is an event. ‘Whether it’s a picnic with friends, a solo supper in front of the TV, or a family breakfast, they all bring nourishment, nurture creativity or sustain relationships,’ he says. How then to bring a proper sense of occasion to every repast? Uniting his background in graphic design (a stint as Wallpaper’s senior designer was followed by the founding of his own creative consultancy, Studio Baer, with clients ranging from Dior and Comme des Garçons to Rizzoli) and an interest in studio pottery, his answer was to create his own tableware brand, which launches this month. Called Monoware, the launch collection features dining staples such as plates, bowls and mugs, as well as serving platters and pitchers, with

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reduced silhouettes and a palette of earthy tones, from chalk to slate. The debut pieces were created in collaboration with ceramicist Ian McIntyre.

‘What appealed to me in Ian’s work is the way he mixes industrial design and traditional craft skills,’ explains Baer, who was particularly attracted by the ceramicist’s extensive experience with stoneware.

Durability (both physical and aesthetic) was a priority for the collection, as was informality – ‘to respond to a new generation of creative cooks and hosts who don’t feel the need to follow established table formalities, but, at the same time, value quality, timeless design and durability.’ Our habits and the dishes we serve may change, observes Baer, but our tableware is for keeps.

Prices start from £17, monoware.com

PHOTOGRAPHY: IBRAHIM AZAB WRITER: ROSA BERTOLI

wallanddeco.com

N E W

E X P R E S S I O N S

F O R

D E C O R A T I O N

adv D+ / ph Massimo Spada

I N T E R I O R

design Francescsa Zoboli

Newspaper

Gender-fluid wearable art from Rashid Johnson and LizWorks

Photography: Thomas Kletecka

Chain reaction

Pendant (front and back) in 9ct gold, jet and red enamel, inlaid with one ruby, with a blackened silver chain. Edition of 15, $15,500, by Rashid Johnson, for LizWorks

WRITER: TILLY MACALISTER-SMITH

‘Still to this day, I cannot figure out how to describe what I do in one sentence. It is jewellery, it is art, it is wearable. If I could make a new word, like jewelart, or jart, I would!’ laughs Liz Swig, the ebullient art collector, patron and founder of LizWorks. Swig has the trust and ear of many celebrated contemporary artists, and her collaborators include Cindy Sherman, Barbara Kruger and Laurie Simmons. Through LizWorks, she blends traditional and contemporary inspirations, creating limited-edition pieces, including porcelain plates, terracotta bowls (W*225), cameos (W*243) and eyewear. In recent years, she has become increasingly focused on ‘wearables’, namely jewellery.

This September, she unveils her latest collaboration, with Rashid Johnson, which sees artworks from Johnson’s Anxious Men series translated into gold and titanium cuffs, rings, dog-tag necklaces and pendants. ‘I’ve known Rashid for years – he’s exceptional on all levels,’ says Swig. ‘I’m fascinated with the idea of taking an artist’s body of work and bringing it into another medium, jewellery art. The scale and enormity of Rashid’s work made it super compelling.’ Having previously worked with many formidable women artists, Swig was intrigued to explore male

energy in the world of jewellery. The resulting pieces are described by Swig as gender-fluid, and intended to be worn by ‘men, women, everybody’.

Swig and Johnson began developing ideas back in December 2019. Their visions quickly aligned: ‘He didn’t want 40 different ideas. He loves rings, necklaces and cuffs, and these are the styles we thought would be a great blank canvas for his work.’ Masculine titanium (‘far more interesting than silver’), rich gold with ‘an unexpected softness’, and precious stones, including rubies and diamonds, are used throughout. Every aspect of production, from the graphic design to the crafting of the jewellery and the creation of the packaging boxes, happens in Italy. ‘The workmanship and artistry there is unprecedented,’ says Swig. Needless to say, the global pandemic created challenges, yet every piece was as beautifully realised as they had hoped. ‘I think it’s a testament to who I work with,’ says Swig. ‘Not only are they technically the best, they also soulfully understand your intentions.’

The Rashid Johnson collection will be available online from lizworks.net.

A percentage of sales will go to the Black Mental Health Alliance and Prep for Prep.

Johnson will donate 100 per cent of his proceeds to these two charities

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Newspaper Left, Borre Akkersdijk and Pasquale Junior Natuzzi with yarns used to make their new textile collection, which features tactile fabrics in five colours, including orange, light blue, and blue (below)

Tactile textiles inspired by the Mediterranean landscape

When Borre Akkersdijk and Pasquale Junior Natuzzi met in Milan in 2019, they became instant friends: ‘Then we started to share visions and opinions, brainstorm and dream together,’ says Natuzzi. And the result of the pair’s brainstorming and dreaming is a new textile collection called Water.

Akkersdijk, who studied at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York and Design Academy Eindhoven, founded textile innovation company ByBorre in 2010. He produces a range of sportswear, clothing and accessories, often using futuristic and innovative textiles. Natuzzi works for his family’s furniture operation (see W*224), which has most recently expanded its creative reach through designer collaborations.

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As the company’s chief creative and marketing officer, he has overseen project collaborations with the likes of Fabio Novembre and Marcel Wanders.

The new collection is inspired by the Mediterranean Sea: for Natuzzi, it was important to show Akkersdijk and his team around Puglia, where the company originated. ‘We travelled a lot throughout the region to discover the nature, landscape and architecture, so they could breathe the same air which inspires us,’ explains Natuzzi. ‘We took some 3D shots of the sky and the sea bed in black and white. From there, we started developing a graphic pattern, which is what you see on the fabric.’

The collection’s textures mimic the movement of the waves, created through

a combination of traditional knitting techniques and new technologies, using a yarn that mixes high quality wool and recycled PES to create what Akkersdijk calls a textile ‘landscape’. The tactile fabrics are available in five colours (olive green, orange, blue, anthracite and light blue), and will be initially presented on three new pieces by Paola Navone, Marcantonio and Mauro Lipparini.

An important aspect for Natuzzi was the material’s durability – ‘Borre told me this fabric would be even better in ten years’ time’ – and the Water collection is the first step in what he hopes is a long-term collaboration, integrating tradition and innovation through creative cross-pollination. natuzzi.com; byborre.com

WRITER: ROSA BERTOLI

Photography: Alberto Zanetti

Water works

COOL DESIGN. EVEN AT 100°C. Sophisticated design meets superior craftsmanship. We turn any room into a one-of-a-kind sauna and spa oasis, naturally shaped by your very own ideas.

Find out more at www.klafs.com

Newspaper French candlemaker Cire Trudon’s latest range is housed in vessels carved from alabaster stone and features three fragrances: two existing scents, Ernesto and Abd El Kader, and one new one, Héméra

Cire Trudon’s latest candle range is a sculptural symphony

Classical composer

PHOTOGRAPHY: IBRAHIM AZAB WRITER: MARY CLEARY

Michelangelo famously said that every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to set it free. For its latest launch, Cire Trudon enlisted a team of Spanish master craftsmen to set free some sculptural vessels to house a new line of candles using a single block of alabaster. These new, delicately carved receptacles are unique, with a different configuration of brown and black mineral veins running through the alabaster’s milky white surface, while their simple, rotund shape evokes ancient Greek vessels,

blurring the boundaries between classical antiquity and modernist minimalism. Called The Alabasters, this limited-edition candle range comes in three fabulous fragrances – Ernesto, meant to evoke the scents of revolutionary Havana, Abd El Kader, a blend of mint, ginger, tobacco and tea and inspired by a famed Algerian leader, and Héméra, a heady, woody fragrance named after the Greek goddess of daylight.

Limited edition series, available from 1 October, €160 each, trudon.com

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A flexible artists’ retreat in an idyllic coconut grove in Mumbai Bay

Light touch

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Set in an idyllic, perfectly pristine seaside spot outside Mumbai, The Other Side Studio is a newly completed artists’ retreat, with a particular focus on art therapy. ‘The owner [an artist herself] realised there weren’t many places in Mumbai to work with art,’ says architect Robert Verrijt. ‘Mumbai real estate is very expensive and pushes artists to the margins. This site is easily accessible by boat from central Mumbai.’

The retreat’s design is the brainchild of India- and Netherlands-based studio Architecture Brio, led by Shefali Balwani and Verrijt. It was conceived as a response to its context and draws on South Asian building traditions.

‘During heavy monsoon rains, the palm orchard floods, and more recently seawater has also been coming in due to climatic changes,’ says Verrijt.

‘Because of the ecological sensitivity, you shouldn’t build anything permanent there.’ This prompted the team to create a mini campus of smaller buildings, raised on stilts and designed as lightweight, temporary structures that can be easily disassembled and moved to a different location if needed. As long as buildings were impermanent and under three storeys, there were few restrictions as to where to build within the site. The complex includes accommodation for

artists, a canteen, and a flexible central space to host workshops and residents’ activities. The workshop space is the heart of the design. It is divided into two similarly shaped, adjacent volumes with interiors that can be left flowing and open, or adapted to different uses through timber screen partitions. ‘The workshop’s form comes from the idea of a Sri Lankan ambalama, a beautiful, delicate pavilion, traditionally used as a rest stop for travellers,’ explains Verrijt.

‘We wanted to create something light, with a simple framework of columns, and a roof that is very dominant, almost like an industrial space; and we put in skylights that capture the north light.’

The south side of the roof has integrated solar panels, the main building frame is steel, while most of the remaining structure is created using inexpensive, off-the-shelf products. The roof is made of a bamboo framework.

It is a traditional construction craft that is disappearing in India, says Verrijt. ‘At most, homebuilders use it in the informal sector in rural areas.

We wanted to reintroduce bamboo as a construction material to normalise it in the formal construction industry, as it has so many benefits as a sustainable structural material.’ architecturebrio.com; othersidestudio.com

WRITER: ELLIE STATHAKI

Photography: Edmund Sumner

Newspaper

Hand made in Italy / ceramicacielo.it

Le Acque di Cielo: —— Colour is our attitude!

Catino Ovale washbasin in Anemone finish, Oval Box mirror: design by Andrea Parisio, Giuseppe Pezzano Era sanitary ware in Anemone finish: design by Luca Cimarra

84 New stem series with 84 by Omer Arbel Standard fixtures and bespoke installations

bocci.com

Newspaper The updated ‘Duc-Duc’, available as a two- or three-seater sofa or an armchair, was originally designed by Mario Bellini in 1976, but now uses a 100 per cent recycled fibre in its cushion padding

born again An updated Mario Bellini sofa considers comfort and environmental impact

WRITER: ROSA BERTOLI

Mario Bellini first designed the ‘Duc’ sofa in 1976, a piece that reflected the free design spirit that was emerging at the time. That same year, Bellini drafted a modular furniture range called ‘The Book of Furniture’ for Cassina, an investigation into the language of living and its archetypes. Bellini had worked closely with the Italian design brand’s R&D department on experiments that resulted in the sofa’s first iteration, leveraging sophisticated technologies and materials to achieve

its simple form. The new ‘Duc-Duc’ remains faithful to Bellini’s original design, with updated measurements and details redeveloped for added comfort.

The project was led by Cassina LAB, a new research arm of the company, in collaboration with Poli.Design at Milan’s Politecnico. The result features a rigid panelled frame encased in polyurethane foam and wrapped in a 100 per cent recycled fibre made of PET recovered from the sea.

Two-seater sofa, from £4,700, cassina.com

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creative smalltalk

BB: Do you start your day with coffee?

KTT: The first thing I do normally is have a shower, to get into this mood of ‘waking up’. Then I go for the coffee – I have my own little espresso machine.

What led you to become an architect?

When I was 15, I was more interested in art, but I had an art teacher who told me that I should become an architect.

Architecture is more collective – there’s a different way of doing things and you have to listen more. I think becoming an artist would have been too lonely for me.

How does your desire to make energypositive buildings affect your work?

It does restrict us in some ways because you get confronted by contradictions between aesthetics and the influence of environmental thinking very quickly.

But we’ve proven that we can manage to construct buildings that produce a lot more energy than they consume from day one. With the building industry being accountable for 40 per cent of all the CO2 leaked into the atmosphere, the responsibility of the industry is enormous. We’re aiming for a production line of buildings that will end up being CO2 neutral, and hopefully also CO2 negative.

What is your favourite project?

It is difficult to choose one because I am interested in too many things. However, being able to do opera houses, like in Oslo, Busan and Shanghai, is definitely up there on the large-scale list. Then there are very small interesting projects that we’ve been working on for research: creating houses for people who struggle in their living environments, such as rehabilitating drug addicts who would ruin their own home simply out of certain levels of frustration. We’re interested to see if architecture can help calm that somehow.

Who has influenced you the most?

I suppose the people I’ve worked with, like Olafur Eliasson, have brought a certain level of confidence moving into the aspects of the content of things, rather than just the looks of things.

Looks and aesthetics will come if you have that grounded perception of how you want things to be. Many people can design a beautiful building under the right circumstances, but it needs to be more layered than that.

Bodil Blain is the founder of Cru Kafe

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We hit the high notes without hangovers at a Tokyo mocktail bar

Spirited away

Inspired by the non-alcoholic bar scenes of New York and London, Mayumi Yamamoto has launched a booze-free watering hole in Tokyo, fittingly called 0%. The name is, of course, a reference to the lack of intoxicants in the drinks served, but also a nod to the idea of creating a place for busy city-dwellers to reset while enjoying sophisticated nonalcoholic cocktails and vegan snacks.

The drinks on offer have all been carefully selected and created to be far more than weak imitations of alcoholic classics, but rather intriguing and simply delicious refreshments in their own right. The bar’s signature cocktail, A Real Pleasure, is a refreshing concoction of apple, lemon and basil with vetiver water for a touch of bitterness and maple syrup for sweetness. The Nepalade (timur pepper, lemon and raspberry) is served with a pair of headphones, playing an ASMR soundtrack for a fully immersive experience.

There is a clear idea with the rather futuristic interior. ‘I wanted to make a bar that looked like how I imagined the first bar in outer space,’ says Yamamoto.

She tasked Tato Design (Akira Oyama) with the interior design and artist Yoshiro Nishi (aka Yoshirotten) from design studio Yar with the overall creative direction. The space is roughly divided into three distinct zones, with the bar at the front, a metal dance floor in the middle, and a private chill-out space behind a set of moveable floor-toceiling mirrors. Located in the heart of Tokyo’s busy Roppongi district, 0% is sure to draw a fun-seeking but clearheaded crowd. 0pct.tokyo

WRITER: JENS H JENSEN

Photography: Takashi Tonehira

Bodil Blain catches up over a coffee with Snøhetta co-founder Kjetil Trædal Thorsen

“MO RE T H A N A FAUC E T, E AC H PRO D UC T IN THE AXOR EDGE COLLECTION IS A JEWEL, A MASTERPIECE, A UNIQUE A RC H I T E C T U R A L O BJ E C T.“

axor-design.com

― Jean-Marie Massaud

FORM FOLLOWS PERFECTION

Newspaper

Mineralogy, gemmology and jewellery connect in a Paris exhibition

Romancing the stone Precious minerals in their rough state have always beguiled and, sometimes, repulsed. Yet, when cut, polished and turned into gemstones, their power to seduce is universal. ‘Pierres Précieuses’, a collaborative exhibition from Van Cleef & Arpels and Paris’ Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle connects the dots, exploring the link between mineralogy, gemmology and jewellery.

The exhibition, three years in the making, has been designed with an educational bent. The collaborator-inchief is François Farges, professor of mineralogy at the Muséum. ‘Mixing gemstones and objects is a French tradition, pairing beautiful things and placing them close to the natural minerals. People are intrigued by the wonder of nature, its different shapes and beauty. The duality of our approach helps people learn in a different way.’

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The dialogue between the philosopher Roger Caillois and the Surrealist poet André Breton also informs the story.

‘Breton placed crystals above everything as the perfect expression of art,’ says Farges. Caillois, who viewed natural stones as ‘the shore of dreaming’, left a significant collection of them to the Muséum. ‘This exhibition tells a story of the creation of earth and stones, and how minerals come to life in a cut gem,’ says Nicolas Bos, CEO and president of Van Cleef & Arpels. Adding to this magical journey is the exhibition design, created by long-term house collaborators, architects Jouin Manku.

‘They have played with ancient materials and textures so it feels as if you are inside the earth, like a child going into a forest,’ says Bos. ‘Pierres Précieuses’, 16 September-14 June, mnhn.fr; vancleefarpels.com

The exhibition includes more than 500 minerals, gems and objets d’arts from the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle collection and more than 200 jewellery creations by Van Cleef & Arpels, including this 1968 ‘Eucalyptus’ necklace, in yellow gold, platinum, white gold, rose gold and diamonds

PHOTOGRAPHY: JEAN-MARIE BINET WRITER: CARAGH MCKAY

Column

THE VINSON VIEW Quality maniac Nick Vinson on the who, what, when, where and why

SUPERSTAR SPORTSWEAR Soar London-based brand Soar (W*202) only makes high performance gear for runners and nothing else. I have been using its Elite race shorts and vest and Ultra rain jacket for five years and counting. soarrunning.com Reigning Champ My go-to resource for loopback cotton jersey staples in navy, white and grey, Reigning Champ excels in simple, well-constructed basics. I’ve currently got my eye on its cut-off hoodie with raw-edge sleeves. reigningchamp.com Ten Thousand Its training shorts are cut from lightweight, four-way stretch cloth with a barely-there liner, and feature bonded hems and perforated waistbands, plus a good colour card. tenthousand.cc Zegna In winter I run in Zegna’s sweatpants and zip-up top made from Techmerino, a superfine merino wool fabric that’s been specially developed to naturally regulate heat and breathability even when running. zegna.com

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Front runner

When sportswear is a staple, it needs to be an all-round winner

During lockdown, my daily treat was a 5km evening run around Regent’s Park.

I treasured my permitted daily allowance of being outside, as there was talk the UK government was going to ban this kind of exercise, due to concerns about too many people using the public parks. Aside from the obvious physical benefits, it’s my head that gets the most out of running as it’s where all my ideas get sorted. The rhythm of the run just clears away all the noise and chatter, a little like yoga. When I flew to my home in Italy, mid-May, I quarantined for 14 days, but still managed the 5km around the garden – although, as one loop was 150m, it was rather too many short turns for my Runkeeper app to cope with.

By July, I had already paced more than the whole of 2019 and it seems I am far from alone. More and more people across the globe have taken up running. AMP, my Marylebone gym, moved my personal training sessions onto Zoom in March, and those appointments, plus my runs, were all I needed to get dressed for. Otherwise, in London, I lived in loopback jersey sweats from Reigning Champ, a Canadian brand that seems to nail archetypal basics, and shearling Birkenstocks. Then, when I came to Italy, I put on shorts and sandals. And with not one single event to attend, my work wardrobe was unused. Aside from

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a pair of pastel-coloured, short-sleeved Officine Générale sweatshirts – a cross between a T-shirt and a sweatshirt that I had wanted since its summer show last June – all I actually sought and bought was workout and running gear.

I fancied a navy pair of the Session shorts

by New York-based brand Ten Thousand.

It only delivers in the US, so I gave a friend’s address in California, but the package never arrived. I still pine for those shorts, now out of stock, and am on a waiting list. I had much better luck with Satisfy, another independent producer. I was well and truly ‘influenced’ by a post on Instagram from Tom Stubbs (aka @styleanderror), and a week later I received my running ‘suit’ (short distance shorts and race singlet in blue). Engineered from lightweight perforated Italian fabric, it’s quite the best designed piece of kit I have ever owned: the smartphone pocket is lined to keep the screen free of sweat, another pocket has a pouch for your keys, reflective prints keep you visible, and there’s a double waistband (one for the liner, one for the shorts).

As running apparel is currently my wardrobe staple, I need a brand that designs with a decidedly different approach to other brands, and on that front, Satisfy scores, eliminating distractions and winning on function, comfort and style.

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02 Good vibrations The next best thing to a real visit to an osteopath, a Theragun beats muscle tension away, relieves stress and aids recovery. From £275, theragun.com

03 Worth the weight Created by Berluti and German fitness specialist Hock Design, these steel and walnut dumbbells are trimmed with Venezia leather. £900, berluti.com

ILLUSTRATOR: DANAE DIAZ

Design

SQUARE

Michael Anastassiades’ ‘Half a Square’ table for Molteni & C, with his ‘Philosophical Egg’ pendant (top left), ‘Vertigo’ pendant (top centre), and brass samples (on table)

ROUTE Michael Anastassiades gets in shape for his latest piece for Molteni & C PHOTOGRAPHY: IBRAHIM AZAB WRITER: ROSA BERTOLI

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Left, Michael Anastassiades photographed in his London studio with sample materials Below, the ‘Half a Square’ table, atop which is Anastassiades’ ‘Sconce 60’ lamp (top right) with carrara marble and oak samples

M

ichael Anastassiades made his first visit to the Molteni & C HQ, in Giussano, Italy, several years ago. He remembers arriving at the gate and seeing CEO, Carlo Molteni, standing there to meet him. It was a meaningful first encounter for Anastassiades, and one that has since developed into a friendship and then a creative collaboration. ‘I have a belief that great projects can only develop through great relationships,’ he says.

In 2018, the company gave him an open brief, to create a unique and elegant design object that was modern, linear and rigorous.

‘Michael’s design philosophy is very close to that of the Molteni Group,’ says Giulia Molteni, who handles the brand’s marketing and communications, and works closely with designers. The project with Anastassiades is the latest in a series of impressive design collaborations: in recent years, Molteni & C has worked with Belgian architect Vincent

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Van Duysen, who serves as creative director, and it has commissioned pieces by the likes of Neri & Hu (see W*242), Jean Nouvel and Patricia Urquiola. ‘We tend to build relations with international designers who understand our company’s DNA, have a cosmopolitan and contemporary outlook, and can offer continuous input on the evolution of living,’ says Molteni.

Geometry, symmetry and a restrained aesthetic are common denominators in Anastassiades’ work, and they come together beautifully in his response to the company’s brief, the ‘Half a Square’ table, an elegantly slim and light piece. For Anastassiades, it was an exercise in structure and rationality: he asked himself, what is the most reduced structural element you can use to build a piece of furniture? The answer came in the form of a triangle (or half a square, hence the name), which formed the foundation for his table design. Extruded anodised aluminium legs hold a frame whose profile is based on the same triangular shape, with a brass joint where they connect. In its first iteration, the table features green anodised aluminium legs and a green marble top which, in contrast with the triangular brass detail, gives it a regal appearance.

Produced by Molteni & C at its Giussano HQ, the table is the result of a combination of technologies: extrusion, die casting and press-folding. The brushed aluminium frame can support a variety of tabletop options, including marble, glass and eucalyptus, finished with chamfered edges. For Molteni, the designer’s engineering background was evident in his approach to the piece’s detailing, prototyping and calculations.

‘What was incredible for me was the speed with which it was developed by Molteni & C,’ says Anastassiades. ‘In just one month, the table was there in front of me, all done.

And its presence was great.’ He also explains that the design allows for different material combinations to accommodate a variety of environments.

For the past few months, Anastassiades has been using the table at his north London studio. ‘It’s very uplifting to have these materials in your work environment, something that has so much presence and really transforms the space,’ he says. ‘I love to live with the designs that I create. I think that’s really the ultimate test: that moment when you walk into a space and the piece is there. Design is a learning process, and you learn from experience. Sometimes all you need is to see it, to confirm the things that you wanted to achieve.’ molteni.it; michaelanastassiades.com

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High Jewellery

Part of a collection marking Chaumet’s 240th anniversary, the ‘Skyline’ necklace balances sharp angles against a pear-shaped emerald

URBAN GEM A golden take on the cityscape from Chaumet Chaumet marks its 240th anniversary this year with a new collection that draws on a host of defining cultural references from the high jewellery house’s history. The ‘Perspectives de Chaumet Skyline’ necklace takes modern cityscapes as its inspiration, rewriting their clash of geometry in warm yellow gold that has been polished, openworked, engraved and hammered.

‘The work of gold on this piece is a tribute to the 1960s and 1970s, from the time of

Pierre Sterlé and René Morin,’ says Chaumet CEO Jean-Marc Mansvelt. A serrated silhouette gives an illusion of chaos, a nod to deconstructivism; Mansvelt points to Irving Penn’s Collapse and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater as direct inspirations.

‘The construction of a piece of jewellery is also a question of architecture: creating balance, harmony, tension, the relationship between empty and full,’ says Mansvelt.

‘It should never be forgotten that a piece

PHOTOGRAPHY: BENJAMIN BOUCHET WRITER: HANNAH SILVER

of high jewellery only exists because it must be worn and be comfortable to wear.’ The resulting asymmetrical zip of textured gold ultimately finds its own balance, juxtaposing its sharp angles against the perfectly pearshaped orb of a Colombian emerald.

‘Perspectives de Chaumet Skyline’ necklace in yellow gold, set with a pear-shaped ‘Vivid Green’ Colombian emerald, calibrated emeralds and calibrated baguette-cut diamonds, price on request,

by Chaumet, chaumet.com

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ONLY NATURAL

Benchmark, AHEC and nine designers work socially distanced wonders with wood PHOTOGRAPHY: DAVID CLEVELAND WRITER: ALICE MORBY

Behind the Berkshire workshop of British furniture brand Benchmark flows the River Kennet. On any given day, its slowmoving water is alive with water voles, brown trout and demoiselles, but recently it has been home to something else – pieces of red oak and cherry that would eventually form parts of a chair, designed by Alexander Groves and Azusa Murakami of Studio Swine.

The chair in question is part of Connected, Benchmark’s latest collaborative project with the American Hardwood Export Council (AHEC). Initiated and carried out against the backdrop of a global pandemic, Connected has seen nine designers come up with something that would enhance their working-from-home experience. The obvious twist is that they have been unable to visit the workshop or see their pieces in the flesh, and have instead relied on a lot of Zoom

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calls, countless WhatsApp conversations, and a good helping of trust.

‘Without a physical visit, it’s a much bigger leap of faith for the designers to trust the craftsman from a technical, visual and sensory perspective,’ explains Sean Sutcliffe, who co-founded Benchmark alongside Terence Conran 36 years ago. ‘They’re having to take our word on things that they would normally feel and see in person.’

That trust is how Studio Swine’s thronelike chair came to be submerged in the river, which flows through the Conran estate, home to the Benchmark workshop. Mark Carey, who headed up the project on the production side, explains that in order to steam-bend the wood, they needed to get it adequately drenched. Thus, the backrest, arms and front legs were lowered into the water and left for a week before being put

into the steaming box and clamped up into their final form. Resourcefulness at its finest.

It’s this kind of problem-solving approach that makes Benchmark unique. Its workshop employs 58 craftspeople, many of whom did their training at nearby colleges and are experts in their field.

‘When I go to a craftsman with an idea, the answer is all too often “No, we can’t do that”,’ says Wallpaper* Designer of the Year Sabine Marcelis, who has spent the lockdown in her Rotterdam loft alongside her partner and newborn baby. For Connected, she has created a simple-looking maple-veneer box named ‘Candy Cubicle’, which opens at its middle to reveal (but, most importantly, hide) an acid-yellow interior, and the tools for home working – namely her partner’s ‘ugly’ monitor. ‘At Benchmark, they really want to push the limits and challenge »

Design This page, samples for Sabine Marcelis’ ‘Candy Cubicle’, a maple-veneer box with an acid-yellow interior, designed to hide away home working tools from the living space Opposite, Ini Archibong’s sketches and samples for his outdoor table, inspired by the landscape of the Giant’s Causeway

Design ‘Arco’ Maria Jeglinska-Adamczewska Cherry

Jeglinska-Adamczewska’s designs are all about sculptural curves, with forms based on the architecture of Benedictine abbeys.

The shape of her chair has been constructed using barrel-making techniques, while her accompanying table features angled legs and planks that have been grainmatched and machined.

Below, pieces from the Connected project in the making. From top, a detail of Maria Bruun’s chair in rippled maple; and Sebastian Herkner’s bleached red oak table, with tracks to allow trays, seen here in scorched red oak and ammonia-fumed maple, to slide along it

‘Nordic Pioneer’ Maria Bruun Rippled maple

Bruun’s choice of wood, rippled maple, is one often used for stringed instruments and has a wiggling grain formed by a genetic mutation. She has designed a gateleg table with a timber hinge, allowing a work surface, for example, to be raised and lowered as needed. It comes with a chair, and stackable stools with rounded wooden seat pads to match the table and chair feet.

‘Humble Administrator’s Table & Chair’ Studio Swine Red oak and cherry

Throne-like in its stature, Studio Swine’s chair features perhaps some of the most ambitious steam-bending undertaken by the Benchmark workshop – it took six craftspeople and a specially constructed jig to complete. The design duo’s cleanlined cherry table design incorporates a simple laptop shelf.

‘Pink Moon’ Studiopepe Maple

The ‘Super Pink Moon’ phenomenon (a supermoon occurring in April) is named after a pink spring wildflower, Phlox subulata, and is often associated with new beginnings.

Studiopepe’s ‘Pink Moon’ collection features a maple ‘moon’, suspended within a Charles Rennie Mackintosh-inspired chair frame. Table legs feature graphic, stainedtimber inlays. themselves,’ she adds. ‘It’s also a chance for them to showcase what they’re capable of.’

As with previous collaborations between AHEC and Benchmark, such as Legacy (W*247) and The Wish List, sustainability is at the core of Connected. The nine designers chose from three woods to work with: red oak, maple and cherry – which together, according to AHEC, account for 40 per cent of the standing timber in American hardwood forests, but remain a largely untapped resource. ‘Red oak is the most widespread, while the soft maple is the fastest regenerating hardwood species,’ says

David Venables, European director at AHEC. Part of the work conducted by AHEC is to make ‘unfashionable’ woods modish again, as a way of making use of everything that nature supplies. ‘The choices consumers make through designers and manufacturers have a direct effect on the composition of the forest and we are trying to show designers that the obvious species aren’t always the only “right” woods to use,’ he adds.

The material, as well as the lockdown, appears to have reignited an appreciation for the natural world in the designers.

From Thomas Heatherwick’s maple planters,

CNC-carved using an algorithm based on biomimicry and providing welcome greenery at his new London home, to Studiopepe’s ‘Pink Moon’ chair based on lunar movement, each designer has drawn on nature in order to feel closer to it.

‘The predicaments faced by the designers as a result of the pandemic have been similar, and it’s their crying out for nature that struck me,’ Sutcliffe says. ‘They all want to express the grain of the timber, and almost make the woodiness even more woody.’

For all the common threads, the designers’ individuality shines through in each case. »

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Design ‘Mesamachine’ Jaime Hayon Cherry

Hayon’s collection features a table with storage and extendable shelves, a bench, and two stools, each with a smiley face carved into its top in a typical show of wit.

Earlier in his career, wood was Hayon’s material of choice, and Connected offered him the opportunity to revisit it. He was keen to let the cherry wood speak for itself, opting to finish it simply with a clear oil.

‘Stammtisch’ Sebastian Herkner Red oak and maple

‘It’s the designers’ crying out for nature that struck me. They all want to express the grain of the timber, and make the woodiness even more woody’

Seen as works in progress, top, Studio Swine’s steam-bent chair, with arms and front legs in red oak and seat in cherry, and simple cherry table; and, above, Studiopepe’s maple chair frame

While Maria Bruun has gone for a simple, typically Scandinavian-style table enhanced by clever joinery and her choice of rippling maple, Jaime Hayon’s ‘Mesamachine’ is an out-and-out lesson in complexity – showcasing his signature humour and a great deal of moveable parts in cherry wood.

For Ini Archibong, Connected was a way of channelling his concerns about the wellbeing and livelihood of others during the Covid-19 crisis. ‘The Gate’ is characteristically fantastical, both in form and concept. Its hexagonal plinth, made up of a mix of red oak and cherry, was inspired by the basalt landscape of the Giant’s Causeway, while its tabletop is representative of the earth and sky. Archibong also incorporated tactile, moveable brass petals in the piece to keep his children occupied.

Maria Jeglinska-Adamczewska’s seat is subtly curved, and was crafted using a process similar to barrel-making. Sebastian Herkner devised a modern take on the Lazy Susan for his tabletop, allowing organically-shaped trays to slide along it in an oh-so-satisfying way.

Having had no physical contact during the process, the designers will see their pieces in person for the first time when they go on show at London’s Design Museum from 11 September. Perhaps a bit risky? ‘I don’t think so,’ says Marcelis. ‘With Benchmark, there’s a blind trust that it’s going to be OK.’ ‘Connected’ is at the Design Museum, London W8, 11 September-11 October, designmuseum.org; benchmarkfurniturecom; americanhardwood.org

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Narrow tracks run along the tabletop of Herkner’s ‘Stammtisch’ collection, allowing plinth-like trays to move across its surface in a swift, satisfying motion. Keen to create a ‘landscape’, he has used different woods and finishes: the table is in bleached red oak with a white matt oiled finish, the larger tray is in ammonia-fumed maple, and the stools and small tray are in scorched red oak.

‘The Kadamba Gate’ Ini Archibong Red oak and cherry

Archibong’s outdoor collection is inspired by the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland.

The table’s underframe is made from stepping stone-like extrusions in a mix of timbers. The cambered red oak top is coated in a glossy green lacquer, with inlay brass details doubling as drainage. Two matching benches have seat pads made by leather specialist Bill Amberg Studio.

‘Candy Cubicle’ Sabine Marcelis Maple veneer

During lockdown, Marcelis became fed up of seeing her architect partner’s monitor on the dining table of their open-plan loft.

So she devised her ‘Candy Cubicle’ – a plain maple veneer box that conceals tools for working, including an all-important space to hide the monitor. In a nod to the briefcase scene in Pulp Fiction (its contents remain a mystery), she created an acid-yellow interior, only visible once the box is opened.

‘Stem’ Thomas Heatherwick Maple

When Heatherwick moved close to his studio in London’s King’s Cross, a home office wasn’t a priority – until lockdown hit.

Then, keen to create a green, Zoom-friendly work space, he designed a glass-topped table with stack-laminated, CNC-carved table legs that double as planters, a shelving unit, and a CNC-carved seat upholstered in Gotland shearling. Inspired by nature, each carved rib on the timber is unique.

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ON THE BUTTON Chanel’s perfectly hidden timepiece is everything but off the cuff

Watches

Gabrielle Chanel breathed new life into women’s fashion thanks to her fascination with traditionally male accoutrements such as military uniforms and tweed. She was just as enthralled by buttons, rescuing them from their mundane functionality and transforming them into adornments in their own right. ‘She shined a spotlight on a commonplace household object and raised it to the status of jewellery. She saw it as an artistic medium in itself, yet one that absolutely still had to serve its intended function,’ says Arnaud Chastaingt, director of watchmaking at Chanel. Here, the ubiquitous black tweed, interwoven with gold thread, forms the cuff of the ‘Mademoiselle Privé Bouton’ watch. In a clever design tweak, the button is not only a chic cover for the dial, but also secures the cuff to the wrist. Five variations of the jewelled button each reference one of Gabrielle Chanel’s personality quirks; the lion, pictured, nods to the superstitious designer’s zodiac sign, Leo. ‘You cannot see the watch at first glance,’ says Chastaingt. ‘It has the taste to only show itself in secret. A button in gold, pearl and diamonds. Style first, then time.’

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‘Mademoiselle Privé Bouton Lion’ watch in yellow gold, diamonds and tweed, price on request, by Chanel Haute Horlogerie, chanel.com Model: Claudia at Hired Hands PHOTOGRAPHY: OSKAR PROCTOR FASHION: JASON HUGHES WRITER: HANNAH SILVER

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illustration Giacomo Bagnara

desalto.it

Clay — table

design Marc Krusin

Architecture

The irregularly-shaped extension, clad in patinated copper and a mixture of natural and charred Siberian larch, houses the kitchen and dining space, which also features window seating

Grain teaser The redesign of an east London ‘forever house’ takes the long view, giving its owners frequent glimpses of greenery PHOTOGRAPHY: KILIAN O’SULLIVAN WRITER: ELLIE STATHAKI When a family of three approached dynamic Spitalfields-based practice Hayhurst & Co for the redesign and extension of a newly bought Victorian house in De Beauvoir, in the London borough of Hackney, their brief focused on architectural value above all else.

‘This is intended to be their forever house so it was all about the quality of the space and the experience, and not about square footage,’ says Hayhurst & Co co-director Jonathan Nicholls. The existing building spanned three

levels. A raised ground floor included the main living space, the kitchen was on the lower ground floor, and a top floor contained bedrooms. The architects kept this general arrangement but transformed what was a four-bedroom house into a two-bedroom one with a separate guest suite. Additionally, they wanted to ensure the kitchen area wasn’t cut off from the rest of the house, and that the living room didn’t become a rarely used ‘dead space’. ‘We wanted to reconnect the

lower and raised ground floors to ensure a meaningful sequence of spaces, so we gutted and reconfigured that connection,’ says practice co-director Nick Hayhurst.

The architects focused in particular on a 1970s infill block that connected this house to the next. Hayhurst & Co gutted it and installed a grand, glass-walled staircase leading down to the kitchen and a planted courtyard. This ensures that, on entering the house, views through to the lower ground »

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Above, the kitchen features bespoke ash and walnut units designed by Sebastian Cox, oak window frames and Dinesen’s Douglas fir floorboards.

Below, the charred larch-clad studio nestles among the garden’s greenery unfold immediately and both levels are awash with natural light. ‘The courtyard makes the staircase feel much larger,’ says Hayhurst. ‘It also works well for displaying the clients’ art collection. Experientially, it is very different to the traditional staircase that leads onto a series of small rooms: you enter the house and suddenly you get a series of long views.’

The extension itself is an irregularlyshaped volume clad in two superimposed layers – patinated copper beneath Siberian larch, used both in its lighter coloured, natural state and a darker, charred version.

‘We wanted the façade to have depth and richness so it didn’t look like a cheap extension,’ says Nicholls. ‘The materials will weather and age together and add to the character of the property over time.’

Alongside Dinesen’s Douglas fir flooring, the team installed a bespoke kitchen made of native ash and walnut by designer and craftsman Sebastian Cox (who also created furniture for the house), and unvarnished

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oak window frames. Majestic double height spaces offer a sense of luxury, while spatial definition is achieved through material or level changes, instead of walls and doors.

A second, irregularly-shaped, charred larch-clad volume, containing a work studio, sits at the back of the garden – a sort of darker twin to the house extension. ‘The two wooden volumes have a relationship, like two parts of a tectonic plate that have been separated and then reformed,’ says Nicholls.

‘The studio takes the form of a magical imaginary woodland creature nestling among the trees: like a piece of inhabited sculpture.’

Tactile timber is omnipresent in this project and its name reflects this. ‘We called it the Grain House, referencing the use and quality of the timber in the project,’ says Hayhurst. ‘But this project is also about going against the grain, and how this house’s spatial configuration is different to the way this typology of houses usually works.’ hayhurstand.co.uk

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Design Unique works created by GT2P in which lava stone from Chilean volcanoes is variously worked before being fired in a kiln. From left, ’Remolten N1: Monolita Chair 15’, 2019; ‘Remolten N2: Self Organization Mirror’, 2019; ‘Remolten N3: Dysgraphia Rock 3D-printed Vase’, 2020, and ‘Remolten N1: Revolution Coffee Table’, 2018; ‘Remolten N1: Monolita Side Table 15’, 2020; and ‘Remolten N1: Monolita Shelf/Screen 10’, 2020

What makes the work of the Chilean collective G2TP stand out is its deft ability to play at opposite ends of the design spectrum at the same time. Its members are rooted in the specifics of a very particular place, but equally part of the global conversation. They are fascinated by digital techniques, but also by craft skills. They share a communal identity, but they each make a different contribution to it.

GT2P is based in Santiago, which is about as far from the conventional centres of the design world as you can get, but the collective has shown in New York with Friedman Benda, in Melbourne at the National Gallery of Victoria, at Milan Design Week, and in London, where the Design Museum has GT2P’s ‘Suple’ bench in its garden. ‘Suple’ is Chilean slang for ‘workaround’, or makeshift. The core of the bench is a cast-bronze five-way joint that connects three vertical and two horizontal timber beams, one of them supported by a piece of rock, to create a stable seat with a mix of rough and smooth, formal and informal.

The GT2P studio is in a residential building in a low-rise modernist suburb, built in the 1950s. It’s a long way from Santiago’s city centre, where art deco »

LAVA FLOW Melting moments with Chilean design studio GT2P as it takes volcanic rock to new extremes PHOTOGRAPHY: CRISTOBAL PALMA WRITER: DEYAN SUDJIC

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NOT HI NG BE ATS A S IM PLE TEC HNI C A L PRE MISE ; EVEN IT IS DIFFICULT TO BRING TO LIFE. THE VIT ROCSA SLI DI NG SYS TEM C AN BE ADAPTE D TO SUIT ANY SITUATION, ALLOWING INNOVATI VE DEVELOPMENTS WI TH AN IN FI NI TE R ANG E OF VER SIONS.

PITSOU KEDEM ARC HITEC T

MORE INFOR M ATION ON VI TROCSA .C H/PRODUC TS/SLI DING

Design

towers and the National Museum of Fine Arts, with its glass roof prefabricated in Belgium, sum up the sense of an early 20th-century European city exiled at the edge of the world. The studio is equipped with computers and 3D printers as well as kilns.

In all its messy splendour, GT2P’s Catenary Pottery Printer stands dripping liquid clay onto the floor. It’s a contraption that Antoni Gaudí would have recognised from his plans for creating complex curves for the vaults of La Sagrada Família. It has a homemade timber frame construction that somehow suggests a puppet theatre, which supports an adjustable muslin sheet to give the studio an analogue, hands-on version of parametric geometry software. The complex curves of the muslin surface can be adjusted by moving weights back and forth along the X or Y axis, just as a computer program would. But here the form is created by pouring layers of liquid clay, known as ‘slip’, over the muslin, and allowing the clay to set. It has been used to design a range of small domestic objects.

GT2P’s tongue-twister of a name stands for Great Things to People. But it also contains the names of two of the group’s founders, Guillermo Parada and

Left to right, GT2P partners Guillermo Parada, Tamara Pérez, Sebastián Rozas and Victor Imperiale at their studio in Santiago

Tamara Pérez, who met while they were architecture students. The group also includes Victor Imperiale and Sebastián Rozas. Parada does the talking, Pérez is chief maker, Rozas leads on their architectural projects, Imperiale ensures that they are all digitally literate. They have designed restaurants, installations, playgrounds and furniture.

Working with Marc Benda of Friedman Benda, they have invested a lot of time working out how to use one of Chile’s most abundant raw materials: lava.

With scores of active volcanoes to choose from, they have collected material from five in particular.

Osorno, a 2,562m-high volcano with a pure conical form and snow-topped peak rising over the shores of Lake Llanquihue, is particularly beautiful. It has a difficult nature that must be treated with respect.

Osorno is a stratovolcano, a species made up of alternate layers of lava, pumice and ash that is liable to violent eruptions on a massive scale without warning.

Calbuco, another of the volcanoes that the team worked with, last erupted five years ago, throwing up an ash cloud 15km high and threatening settlements as far away as Argentina. They have also used material »

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The surface bubbles and drips, the molten lava seemingly made into a frozen solid

from the Chaitén and Llaima volcanoes, and from Villarrica, one of the few volcanoes in the world with a permanent lava lake.

After months of experiments, GT2P came up with a laborious technique that involves grinding up lava rocks into a powder, then cold-moulding this in stamped powder moulds made from alumina, which will not melt at temperatures that turn lava molten.

These, in turn, are placed in stoneware boxes and fired in a kiln where the lava powder melts, replicating a lava flow in a controlled eruption. The heat of the kiln determines the strength and colour of the piece. Lava starts to melt at 1,180°C, resulting in a purple colour.

A little hotter and the material turns grey-black. At 1,300°C, when the lava turns liquid, the colour is brown.

The studio has also experimented using no moulds, instead allowing the lava powder to ‘self-organise’, as for a recent mirror. Some of its pieces are 3D-printed, using extruded lava paste, before they are fired in the kiln. The team call this technique ‘paracrafting’.

It’s their way of combining physical craft with the discipline of the contemporary technologies of parametric manufacturing. As they put it, it’s a way

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to ‘manufacture a landscape’, an expression that reflects the tension between the rigour of mathematically derived formulae that shape a pure form, and the acceptance of the accidents of production processes.

One recent result of their endeavours is a chair, the ‘Remolten N1: Monolita Chair 15’, an extraordinary object made to celebrate GT2P’s ten years in practice.

It is the first time the team have pushed the material this far. The fundamental form, shaped in stoneware before being coated in lava and fired, is a chair reduced to its graphic essentials. But the surface bubbles and drips, a version of the molten lava that it once was, seemingly made into a frozen solid.

The team have used the same techniques to create a range of other objects, including a side table with a built-in light, as well as screens and room dividers.

The functional alibis are straightforward, but the way that these simple utilitarian objects are made, and the material that they are made from, ask wider questions about the meaning of creativity in the midst of a tidal wave of disruptive technologies that is transforming both design and art. gt2p.com

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Above left, examples and prototypes from several Remolten series show the range of textures and finishes produced by GT2P’s different techniques Above right, ‘Remolten N1: Monolita Low Chair 15’ seen in progress, as a lava coating (the darker areas) is added to the stoneware form

Architecture Nestled between meadow, woodland and beach on Shelter Island, New York, this weekend retreat has been camouflaged in its plot but is designed to offer panoramic views

Hidden treasure A Manhattan couple’s secluded weekend house on Long Island is a serene, Scandinavian-style retreat WRITER: HARRIET THORPE

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ith its flat roofs, overhanging eaves and cascading horizontality, this house on Long Island, by Manhattan-based architect Andrew Franz, is modernist in spirit while borrowing its modesty from Scandinavian cabins and New England-style panelling to create something both refined and easygoing.

Designed for a hard-working couple as a weekend antidote to their Tribeca loft (also designed by Franz), this city escape needed to be a house that ‘felt like it had been there for a long time and didn’t draw attention to itself ’. It’s located on Shelter Island, which is ‘less tony and more modest than the Hamptons, more New England in spirit and more low key,’ says Franz, who ‘camouflaged’ the three-bedroom, fourbathroom house into its dramatic plot

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overlooking the bay. ‘It’s 3,300 sq ft, but it doesn’t look at all foreboding.’

The house sits naturally between meadow and woodland, while a breezeway opens it up, framing a view of blue water beyond.

The rest of the house cascades down the plot, opening up pockets of living space in its wake – among them is a terrace for outdoor dining, sheltered by deep roof eaves, which cantilevers above a board-formed concrete pier that sinks down towards the beach.

Landscape designer Howard Williams, of Hollander Design, describes the breezeway as ‘a choreography of the transition from the state of mind of the working world in the city to the calm relaxation of the weekend home.’

Inspired by the timber cabins of Norwegian architect Wenche Selmer, he worked closely with Franz to help the house dissolve into its

setting, adding native birch trees, carpets of ferns, and scatterings of perennials.

The breezeway also separates a guest suite from the main house, so it can be connected or closed off for quiet weekends, while a solid cypress stair baluster performs a similar function, effortlessly dividing the living spaces. ‘The geometry of the house is very crisp and hard edged, with its square flat roofs, cruciform columns and board-formed concrete,’ says Franz. ‘I wanted the staircase to offer a counter – a gesture that felt soft.

We extruded the solid cypress to create a curved and very sensuous moment.

‘We are devout modernists, but believe modernism is best executed with the skills of builders and the quality of craftsmen, not machines,’ says Franz of his studio practice, founded in 2003. ‘Craft and natural materials are what make houses feel intimate and provide them with a soul – when things are too mechanised and mass-produced, they lose a layer of richness. We care not only about the materials, but also how they are applied and how they meet.’

This care for materials can be found in the stained cypress panelling, the North American soapstone and bluestone, the mahogany columns, the Danish Petersen brick of the fireplace and the oak flooring, the custom upholstery and the cosy kitchen banquette. ‘Historically, cypress, cedar and pine have been the typical materials for a casual summer house, but we didn’t apply them in a traditional manner.’ Each joint has been carefully expressed – the ceiling slats step away from the walls to create a reveal, communicating that the wood is a cladding instead of a structural element.

This is repeated in the floor and for the curtain pocket at the windows, contributing to the ornamental quality and refinement of the otherwise modest summer house.

As well as hot summers, the house is designed for long winters too, seen at its best in the owners’ favourite space, a small sitting room off the master bedroom, intended for working from home or watching a movie. ‘As much as people think they want large rooms and generous amenities, my experience is that it’s often the smallest, most intimate spaces in homes that get used the most as people want to be closer together,’ says Franz. ‘You can have a large living room, but people like to nest, and small areas embrace you and make you feel protected and safe.’ andrewfranz.com

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Photography: Albert Vecerka/Esto

Taking inspiration from the architectural styles of Scandinavia and New England, the house is crafted from natural materials, including stained cypress panelling, mahogany columns, a Petersen brick fireplace, oak flooring and a solid cypress staircase, while an outdoor dining terrace, sheltered by deep roof eaves, cantilevers above a board-formed concrete pier, offering far-reaching views of the bay beyond

L AUF EN 1 8 9 2 | SWI T Z ER L A ND

Art

OMISSION CONTROL

Fusing creativity and science, artist Tavares Strachan is reinserting the invisible heroes of history back into the collective memory PHOTOGRAPHY: WIDLINE CADET WRITER: AMAH-ROSE ABRAMS

Photography: Jurate Veceraite, courtesy of the artist and Marian Goodman Gallery

Above, The Awakening, 2020, part of Tavares Strachan’s exhibition ‘In Plain Sight’ at Marian Goodman London.

Opposite, Strachan photographed in his Manhattan studio in August 2020

T

avares Strachan grew up in Nassau, in the Bahamas. Not very many artists come from Nassau. That being said, it is a small place, with a population of 393,244 compared with the 8.3 million people living in New York City where Strachan now resides. The remit of Strachan’s work, however, is as big as history and as infinite as time.

Strachan has sent the Black astronaut who never made it into space into orbit, and is in the process of finding invisible people of colour from history and reinserting them into the narrative. He is annotating collective memory and turning the clocks back at will.

Creatively inspired by scientific thinking, Strachan has collaborated with both the Allen Institute and SpaceX, and has also joined several polar expeditions.

A conceptual artist working in neon, painting, collage and installation, he challenges the norm and turns what is expected from him on its head.

Sitting in his Manhattan studio, in front of a wall of pinned notes and images fluttering in the summer breeze, Strachan muses on what it was like to define himself as an artist growing up on a small island.

‘I had to re-educate myself on what the existential

relationship that I was going to have to art was going to be, because the way that I learned about art was these kinds of Western traditions of art-making that are primarily white and male,’ he says.

Re-educating, reimagining and repositioning are at the heart of his practice. ‘I think creativity has nothing to do with one’s identity, but more to do with one’s sense of purpose and spirit,’ explains Strachan.

‘When you’re thinking of creative practice in relation to limitation – limitation meaning that there weren’t very many artists who looked like me in the world – it became this opportunity to think about how the creative process is defined by the authorities, and basically ignore all of it. Do everything in spite of it.’

As an artist, he has strived to embrace what truly interests him. He used to be self-conscious about his passion for the creative aspect of science and the history of mathematics, but no longer.

‘When you are living in the Caribbean, and when you’re an artist, you are not expected to be interested in science. To do all these things together – to be where I am from, and to have these interests – is even more absurd,’ he says with a smile. »

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‘When you are living in the Caribbean and you’re an artist, you are not expected to be interested in science.

To do all these things together is even more absurd’

Every Knee Shall Bow

, 2020

Strachan is interested in teasing histories, topics and experiences out of the world that may not be apparent on the surface, that have been rendered invisible. ‘[African-American author] Ralph Ellison describes invisibility as a refusal to see,’ he recalls.

One of Strachan’s best known works, The Encyclopaedia of Invisibility (2018–), is an ongoing piece which chronicles subject matter and topics often omitted from historical records, investigating the nature of invisibility. Spanning 2,400 pages to date, the encyclopaedia is an invitation to rethink who and what deserves a place in the collective memory, and an effort to make sure traditionally marginalised figures and narratives are remembered.

Strachan does this with the lightest touch, both through the cross-cultural juxtapositions in his paintings and his neon text works. He built a neon installation into the desert in the Coachella Valley for the first edition of Desert X in 2017. As darkness fell, the words ‘I am’ were revealed in light, surrounded by shards, also made out of neon. If his paintings explore, his neons provoke. At first seeming pretty and reassuring, the words sit there in space, and over time they start to raise more questions than they answer.

‘That’s what I’m interested in, with the things I’m involved with or end up making. How do we reimagine our identity?’ says Strachan, raising a key question in post-colonial rhetoric; if you don’t know your history, how can you truly know who you are?

Robert Henry Lawrence Jr was the first AfricanAmerican astronaut and was part of the Manned

Touch the Stars

, 2020

Orbiting Laboratory programme, later absorbed into NASA. Had he not died in a pilot training exercise in 1967, it is thought, due to his age and qualifications, he would have joined the space shuttle programme.

His story is little known. Strachan’s work Robert, which featured in the 2019 Venice Biennale exhibition ‘May You Live In Interesting Times’, was a pulsating neon sculpture of the body of Lawrence, who died in his ejector seat, suspended in space but arcing towards the stars. It struck the right balance between the conceptual and the simple rectification of omission.

In 2018, Strachan launched the work Enoch, named after the biblical figure who could transcend death, into orbit in a collaboration with SpaceX and the LACMA Art+Technology Lab. The work, a gold bust of Lawrence modelled on an ancient Egyptian burial vessel, was encased in metal and released into orbit, where it will stay for seven years.

Along similar lines, the inspiration for ‘In Plain Sight’, his new show at Marian Goodman Gallery in London, is the story of African-American explorer Matthew Henson, the first man to reach the North Pole in 1909, with Robert Peary and four Inuit assistants. Henson’s story and that of the assistants, although a matter of record, have been less amplified over the years than that of Peary, who is white.

‘The story kind of popped up, and it went from being this piece of history, research, science, to being this beautiful metaphor for something so profound it is hidden in plain sight, something so essential that it is not recognised as essential,’ says Strachan. »

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He equates the expedition to the North Pole in 1909 with the moon landing 60 years later. Although, as Strachan notes, the North Pole is always moving, so nowhere is actually the North Pole for very long.

This factoid is a key metaphor for Strachan. Altering the history we know, he puts Henson back into the story, as one of the first, if not the first, men to reach the North Pole.

This strand is explored in his exhibition at Marian Goodman through the work Distant Relatives, which combines the busts of researched figures from history whose stories have been lost or omitted. The story of Tenzing Norgay, the Nepali-Indian Sherpa who was one of the first two people to make it to the peak of Mount Everest echoes that of Henson’s. Figures from history either deliberately omitted or forgotten, their stories inconvenient truths.

‘I really love this idea of a dialogue between these folks that have done incredible and interesting things in the 450-year-old story [of African slavery] and being removed from that story,’ the artist says.

Also coming to London is new work The Awakening, a collaged painting inspired by Lawrence that shows a mosque with a launching rocket, alongside the astronaut’s favourite album The Awakening (Impulse Master Sessions) by the Ahmad Jamal Trio. For the artist, it touches on multiple themes, including

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mathematics, music and anxiety. He sees the positioning of a mosque next to a rocket as being highly anxietyinducing post-9/11, but he also wants to highlight that both were created through mathematics, which has its roots outside the Western world.

‘Sometimes I feel nervous about that work because I think it is rich with potential for misunderstanding,’ Strachan confesses. ‘The reason I made it is because it had this sense of putting one’s anxiety on the canvas, on the surface. [I was] taking these images that run parallel with their origins on a historic level, but also on a contemporary level.’

Strachan always has music playing in the studio and during this interview it’s Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. He explains that he sees art very sonically, with music and sound being intrinsic to the way he creates, repositioning and remixing images and ideas.

Essentially, he is placing things in front of us and, as with music, half the work happens in our minds.

‘Think about early dubbing and sampling. If you think about things that just vibe together that are cross-cultural, that are inspiring visually but also inspiring conceptually. [They] merge together to make this baseline, this rhythm of a nation.’

‘In Plain Sight’ is showing until 24 October at Marian Goodman Gallery, London W1, mariangoodman.com; isolatedlabs.com

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Photography: Tom Powel Imaging, courtesy of the artist and Marian Goodman Gallery

Left, Strachan’s Distant Relatives (James Baldwin), 2020, showing a bust of the late African-American writer behind a West African Bambara mask. Right, works in progress in Strachan’s Manhattan studio

¨

© 2020 Antolini Luigi & C. S.p.a. - All Rights reserved.

HAUTE NATURE

Corteccia (Soft Quartzite)

Antolini believes in the power of what is real. Mother Nature’s tremendous force distilled into astonishing creations. A fragment of the stream of life, the heartbeat of the ages, the skin of our planet. It is purity in its most perfect form: design, colors and pattern handed to us by history.

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FLEX APPEAL Philippe Malouin bends the rules for a de Sede collaboration PHOTOGRAPHY: JONAS MARGUET WRITER: ALI MORRIS

When designer Philippe Malouin got the call to collaborate with Swiss furniture brand de Sede, his first reaction was surprise, followed by excitement. And then, he freely admits, he began to feel the pressure.

De Sede began life in 1962 as a small family-run saddler’s workshop, but rapidly grew into a world-class producer of handcrafted leather furniture with a track record for producing coveted design classics, such as the iconic, accordion-like ‘DS-600’ sofa system, Ubald Klug’s terraced ‘DS-1025’ sectional, and the imposing ‘S231’ swivel chair, used as a prop in the 1969 James Bond film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

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Malouin’s eponymous studio has racked up an impressive client roster since its founding 12 years ago.

Named Wallpaper’s designer of the year in 2018 (see W*227), he has created products for the likes of Iittala, SCP, Kvadrat, Established & Sons, Hem, Ace Hotel and Roll & Hill, to name a few. Meanwhile, his interiors studio, Post-Office, has completed spaces for brands such as Aesop, Everlane and Valextra.

‘It takes a long time to be taken seriously,’ he reflects. ‘In the beginning, brands would tell us to jump and we’d ask, “How high?” Now we’re really lucky because we can choose who we work with. De Sede »

Design The squeezed form of the ‘DS-707’ armchair, designed by Philippe Malouin for de Sede and pictured here in Cuoio (this page) and Cigarro (opposite), was created by bending 5mm-thick aniline leather, a technique the Swiss furniture brand has traditionally resisted as it can rob the material of softness.

However, Malouin persuaded the team to experiment, with gratifying results

Design

Above, the ‘DS-707’ modular sofa, in the colour Paris, has shades of de Sede’s classic models Left, as well as leather, the system is also available in Atom 574, a coarse bouclé yarn designed

by Raf Simons for Kvadrat

‘Philippe’s work is reminiscent of the Swiss postmodern era, translated into a new time’ 128

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were very willing to let me take the lead, which was great because I had some strong feelings about what we were working on, and they listened.’

The brief was straightforward: to create a modular sofa system with a traditional yet contemporary aesthetic. The process began with folded foam experiments, and the resulting form, the ‘DS-707’, was created by taking a square piece of foam and folding it in half and then in half again, which according to Malouin, was the simplest of all of the experiments the studio carried out during the design process.

‘I trained at the Design Academy Eindhoven, so a lot of our work was about experimentation and process, but I also have an industrial design background, so I’m not about making things that can’t be produced,’ he says. ‘I like this method of using foam and I use it a lot when creating upholstery as it produces shapes that a computer can’t give you.’

The tension that makes the chair’s squeezed form so enticing was, perhaps unsurprisingly, the most challenging aspect of its manufacture. De Sede’s craftspeople are more accustomed to avoiding this type of stretch in the leather, so to create it intentionally went against decades of experience. Initially, the team thought it might be impossible to produce as de Sede works with 5mm-thick aniline neck leather, which is very heavy, very solid and virtually bulletproof.

‘Neck leather is very hard to manufacture,’ says de Sede designer and product developer Joe Griesbach, who led the project. ‘When I first showed our team of upholsterers Philippe’s prototype, they thought it was never going to work. When you develop a sofa in upholstery, you try not to bend the material, because when you bend it, you lose softness. This project helped to push us out of our comfort zone, to go beyond our knowledge and try unconventional things.’

The ‘DS-707’ system includes an armchair and a modular sofa that can be infinitely extended to create custom configurations. Like much of Malouin’s work, the design appears simple yet mysterious. ‘It has as little design as possible, because if it’s too “designed”, it becomes “trendy”’, he says, ‘and trend is the enemy.’

The armchair’s rounded form possesses an inner construction that allows you to recline, enveloped within its arms; and, when stretched into a sofa, it has shades of de Sede’s classic models. Says Griesbach, ‘Philippe’s work is reminiscent of the Swiss postmodern era. When I first saw it, it was like seeing de Sede’s old design models but translated into a new time.’

In addition to the sofa and armchair, the system can be configured so it forms a completely enclosed conversation pit – a distinctly 1970s typology. ‘You have to climb into it, and that’s a totally different experience,’ says Malouin. The system is available in all of the brand’s leather options, as well as a Raf Simons-designed wool upholstery by Kvadrat.

As for the pandemic putting paid to the system’s intended launch date, originally scheduled for Salone del Mobile back in April, Malouin is choosing to look on the bright side. ‘I actually prefer to launch things throughout the year rather than all at once,’ he says optimistically. ‘It gives you a chance to think about how you want to communicate it, and to launch things when it feels right rather than when you need to.’

Happily, the ‘DS-707’ is set to make its debut in the (hopefully) calm and composed month of October in Switzerland, following the easing of lockdowns across the globe. philippemalouin.com; desede.ch

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Your style. Always.

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Design

From left, Older’s Letizia Caramia and Morten Thuesen in their live-work space in Milan, with Danish artist Alexander Vinther.

They are unpacking their Wide Eye collection, including a marble pitcher and a modular sofa, and panels that will be used for its presentation when it is launched this autumn

SHIFT WORK Older brings its uniformalism to furniture design In 2013, Letizia Caramia and Morten Thuesen launched Older, a brand that would turn the concept of hospitality uniforms upside down.

The pair, Italian and Danish respectively, who had met while working at Alexander McQueen in London, joined forces on the project to explore a new approach to fashion.

‘Older was born as a result of us having grown tired of a fashion system we believed lacked ideology, sustainability and the ability to make us dream,’ say the designers. ‘As we are both very interested in architecture, gastronomy and wine, we were thinking how we could merge these fields. The answer became uniforms.’

Their first commission came from Restaurant 108 in Copenhagen (part of the Noma group). More soon followed, and Older is now known across the industry for its asymmetric silhouettes, the quality of its materials, well-considered details such as fastenings and pockets, and a pragmatic approach to functionality. The pair work with a smart bio-cotton fabric they have

developed themselves, and sustainability is a strong focus throughout the design and production processes.

So far, their clients include art institutions such as Copenhagen Contemporary and Tate Modern, as well as restaurants ranging from the Snøhetta-designed Under (see W*251) to Massimo Bottura’s Refettorio.

For Fjordenhus in Vejle, Denmark, Olafur Eliasson’s first building project, containing offices and public exhibition space, they designed not just bespoke uniforms but ‘objects to accompany the spatial experience of the building’, including textile sculptures and specially engineered napkins that roll and fold into a neat design. They cite the project as the highlight of their journey so far and the inspiration for their next chapter.

‘Through this collaboration, we were catapulted into the idea of opening up our design universe even further,’ they say.

Caramia and Thuesen have a particular passion for the political and revolutionary approach of radicals such as Superstudio

PHOTOGRAPHY: DELFINO SISTO LEGNANI WRITER: ROSA BERTOLI

and Archizoom, the postmodern simplicity and poetry of Afra and Tobia Scarpa’s pieces, Carlo Mollino’s eclectic approach to craftsmanship, and the Gesamtkunstwerk ideas of Joe and Gianni Colombo.

These influences collide in their latest project, a debut design collection, titled Wide Eye, that includes furniture and objects created in collaboration with Danish artist Alexander Vinther. As they were developing the collection, they reached out to Milanese curator Valentina Ciuffi (whose Studio Vedèt works regularly with Nilufar and is the driving force behind the Alcova group shows in Milan, among other things) to help them present the project through an exhibition and a book. ‘What convinced me is their incredible know-how of the fashion system, with a detached approach towards the fastpaced rhythm of its industry,’ says Ciuffi, ‘and their impressive architectural culture – the way they work is strongly linked to the architecture of the place; they conceive garments as wearable architecture.’ È

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Now Caramia and Thuesen have inverted this approach, notes Ciuffi. Starting from their uniform designs, together with Vinther they have created sculptures as well as functional furniture. The human body and the way it is dressed is a factor throughout the collection: the ‘Wide Eye’ sofa, for example, is upholstered in the same textile that is used for Older’s uniforms, and the ‘Zhora’ chair wears a PVC covering inspired by a Blade Runner character. Other objects bear anatomical references, such as the discreetly phallic ‘Papi’ table.

The design duo have developed an obsession with craftsmanship. ‘All the marble artisans we work with are up-and-coming,’ they say. Tuscany-based Francesco Basini Gazzi makes all their marble pieces, while for the sofa they found a manufacturer that had previously produced Tobia Scarpa furniture.

They also recently made the move from Paris to Milan, where they live and work in a hybrid space. The apartment will serve as the backdrop for the Wide Eye collection when it is launched on 29 September, with a set designed by curator Joseph Grima featuring raw materials to let the pieces’ forms speak.

For Ciuffi, Caramia and Thuesen are a perfect representation of the young creatives who are helping shape Milan as a cultural and creative capital. But the pair also work within a distinctively European context. The collection itself is meant as a pro-European statement: its title, Wide Eye, is based on the ancient Greek etymology of the word ‘Europe’, while a nylon band that encases the sofa bears the slogan ‘Wide Eye Wake Up’, something of a mission statement. Inspired by the results of the 2019 European elections, during which many populist parties gained power, the pair ‘wanted to create furniture that had a political agenda, reclaiming a tolerant, open and united Europe’. olderparis.com

03

04

01. ’La Caraffe’ red and green onyx marble pitcher. 02. ‘Zhora’ dining chairs, with steel frames and inflatable PVC upholstery.

03. ’Papi’ table with Plexiglas top supported by red powder-coated iron frame. 04. ‘Perky’ marble wall brackets.

05. ‘Wide Eye’ sofa, upholstered in green Limonta nylon, the same washable fabric used to produce Older’s uniforms

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Photo Andrea Ferrari | Styling Studiopepe | Ad García Cumini

Portraits of me.

Kitchen: Intarsio Design: Garcia Cumini

Milano

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New York cesar.it

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Paris

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Beauty

Byredo founder Ben Gorham (right) and make-up artist Isamaya Ffrench (below) have collaborated on Byredo’s debut cosmetics line, which aims to be inclusive and suit all genders, skin tones and ages

FUTURE FACING Byredo remodels modern beauty in its debut cosmetic range

Portraits: Marcus Ohlsson (Ben Gorham), Hugo Yangüela (Isamaya Ffrench)

Byredo is a brand that has always defied easy categorisation. Founded by former basketball player Ben Gorham in 2006 as a fragrance house, Byredo quickly gained a cult following for its sleek, minimal packaging and narrative-driven scents, with inspirations as far-ranging as First World War field nurses and an Inez & Vinoodh photograph. Since then, Gorham has expanded the Byredo universe to include clothing, eyewear, leather goods, jewellery (see W*246) and, from October 2020, make-up.

To bring his cosmetics project to fruition, Gorham enlisted the help of British make-up artist Isamaya Ffrench, who, in addition to working with the likes of Burberry, Yves Saint Laurent and Tom Ford, is known for subverting classic interpretations of beauty, instead exploring the mutable nature of the human face using prosthetics and digital technology. This includes working with an animatronics company to give a dinosaur-like beak to a model for a highfashion spread, and employing an AI system to analyse 17,000 Instagram images of ‘beauty’ in order to generate slightly disconcerting images that were then applied to a celebrity cover star’s face. In these ways and more, she creates unconventional cosmetic looks within familiar commercial contexts to reveal how fragile and fabricated our perceptions of beauty are. For Gorham, this true ‘outsider perspective’ made her well-suited to »

STILL-LIFE PHOTOGRAPHY: GEORGE HARVEY WRITER: MARY CLEARY

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Mascara, £35

Lipstick, £35

Eyeliner, £31

Colour stick, £26

Five-colour eyeshadow palette, £56

Lip balm, £35

translating Byredo’s idiosyncratic ethos into a cosmetics line.

Colour, its variations and usages, served as a foundational element of Gorham and Ffrench’s collaboration. ‘I remember looking at a lot of editorial images, landscape photography, all sorts of creative imagery, and literally picking pixels of colour that I really loved,’ says Ffrench. ‘This then became the Byredo colour library. Ben and I would sit down together and see which colours resonated most with us and which would work for the make-up.’

Conceptualising the brand through colour allowed Gorham and Ffrench to rethink how certain shades are typically applied to the face. With tools like its ‘colour sticks’, which can be freely applied to any area and layered for stronger or lighter impact, the face becomes more of a canvas for an

expressionistic application of colours rather than a paint-by-numbers grid to be filled in.

The sticks are available in 16 shades, ranging from an electric candy floss pink to khaki green and kohl black. They suit all genders, skin tones and ages, and, depending on how they’re worn, can be seen as experimental or familiar.

The colour sticks sit alongside the new line’s lipsticks, eyeshadow palettes, mascara, eyeliner and lip balm, all of which share the colour sticks’ playful shades and names (a neutral-tone eyeshadow palette is called Corporate and a fiery red lipstick is called Divorce).

The space-age packaging also reflects the brand’s designs for the future. ‘I interpreted Isamaya’s universe into these physical objects,’ says Gorham.’ She had a very clear idea of colour curation and I wanted these objects

to look like a curation of objects. Not one design study, or one signature design, and not off the shelf. I started to apply the same process and theories that I’ve used previously in Byredo when developing products.’

The line’s otherworldly appearance is mirrored in the campaign image by Jesse Kanda, which depicts a lone, multihued, alien-like figure. ‘I found that in the beauty industry, it was very dictating, it was very linear in saying, “buy this or this, and look like this”, which I didn’t relate to,’ says Gorham. ‘So my idea was not just to go paint a picture of my peers. It was to be inclusive, to the point of saying that this can be anything to anybody. That’s how we approached it from the start.’

All make-up in the new range will be available from 1 October except the eyeshadow, which will be available in November, byredo.com

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WWW. S EVE N LAYE R . C O M

Architecture

Right, the rear elevation is the work of Turner Prize-winning collective Assemble.

Each of its three doors has a central pivot that aligns with the three timber columns that define the rear façade Below, a skylight above the dining area, which features Moroccan-style plaster walls, a Wo & Wé ceiling light, a dining table designed by the client and made by True Staging, and a vintage tubular chair

One and only Minimalism with a twist in a materially-mismatched south London renovation Architects Simon Astridge and Nicholas Szczepaniak joined forces late last year. After a lockdown-induced wobble in the spring, the new practice is now hard at work on everything from installations through to private houses, galleries, retail units and even a masterplan for a tropical resort in Cambodia. The renovation of a south London house for a young art director in the fashion industry was completed before the pandemic struck, and offered the studio a chance to flex its collaborative radicalism.

PHOTOGRAPHY: NICHOLAS WORLEY WRITER: JONATHAN BELL

While the terraced site was conventional, the ambitions for it were anything but. And the architect-client relationship was intense and fruitful. ‘We went to shows and out for meals together,’ Astridge recalls. ‘At one point, she showed me imagery by the artist Gordon Matta-Clark, one of my heroes.’

Other sources of inspiration and sketches were put together into a book for the client.

Within its hand-stitched cover were collages of ideas, materials and more, including snippets of original wallpaper uncovered

during the interior demolitions. ‘We analysed everything in this book together,’ says Astridge. ‘It was a complete collaboration.’

The Szczepaniak Astridge studio, also including Wen Ying Teh Szczepaniak and Zac Higson, casts itself as a ‘maker,’ crafting interior models from plaster, for example.

‘The client liked our aesthetic – minimalism with a twist,’ says Astridge. ‘The project was designed to accommodate her eclectic taste.’

On paper, the renovation project appears straightforward and proved uncontroversial È

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Architecture

Left, the kitchen’s butler sink, with exposed pipework, is illuminated thanks to a centrally located void, while the raw concrete is offset by a wooden ceiling Below left, the void runs through the bathroom, where it is screened off by opaque Crittall windows

‘Matta-Clark’s large-scale interventions are clearly referenced in the kitchen void’

with the planners; the exterior gives nothing away. Inside, however, it is about as bespoke and tailored as it gets, with every fixture and fitting considered in detail. The full-width rear elevation is crafted from wood and glass.

‘We talked about it as a jewellery box that could be opened and closed in many different ways,’ says Astridge. ‘As you move inside to the kitchen, the house becomes more clean and clinical with concrete finishes.’

The rear elevation was undertaken as a separate contract by Assemble, the Turner Prize-winning collective of artists, architects and designers that pioneered collaborative working in the built environment. ‘We thought they were best suited to this delicate moving of timber joinery,’ Astridge says, and their team duly fashioned the meticulous mechanisms from birch ply and beech.

As well as concrete, the interior finishes include traditional pigmented Moroccanstyle plaster and timber cladding.

Matta-Clark’s large-scale architectural interventions are clearly referenced in the kitchen void. While the exposed finishes and services give the impression of an ad hoc industrial space, every facet of the build was meticulously planned, from the pipe runs to the angle of the back of the concrete bath.

The void runs through the bathroom to a roof light. Astridge describes it as a channel, a way of communicating between the two rooms, with conversation and cooking smells filtering through. ‘That’s how the client lives,’ he says. ‘The whole house is a mismatch, a coming together of different materials.’

The result is a living space that feels shaped by experience. ‘The entire project was effectively curated through the client’s job as an art director and our job as architects. Both are about curating,’ Astridge says. References came from far and wide. The shower room pairs exposed plumbing with a brass rain shower head and an altar-like marble basin, while the main bathroom’s concrete bath is ‘a serious lump’, says the architect. ‘It’s pretty much part of the structure of the house, a concrete sculpture designed into the fabric of the building.’ The bottom is lined in insulated marble, a sybaritic touch that takes the edge off the cold concrete. Of all the spaces in this richly tactile house, the bathroom is the most intense. ‘The client really wanted somewhere to escape to – her own little world,’ says Astridge. This house delivers mystery and intrigue in equal measure. szc-ast.com

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High Jewellery

MOON RIVER Scintillating white stones for dream makers

PHOTOGRAPHY: BENJAMIN BOUCHET JEWELLERY: HANNAH SILVER FASHION: EVENS JP MORNAY

This page, ‘Lumière’ bracelet in pink and white diamonds, black spinels and onyx, price on request, by Van Cleef & Arpels. Jacket, £1,340, by Alexander McQueen Opposite, earrings in white gold set with diamonds and gold beads, and detachable pendant set with diamonds, €71,000; cuff bracelet in white gold with yellow gold honeycomb rosettes, set with fancy yellow diamonds, €99,000, both by Buccellati.

Jacket, £1,310, by Jil Sander

by Lucie and Luke Meier

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‘[Sur]Naturel’ brooch in white gold, yellow diamonds and diamonds; ‘[Sur]Naturel’ ring in white gold, yellow diamonds and diamonds, both price on request, by Cartier. Jacket, €1,950, by Dolce & Gabbana Opposite, ‘Avant Le Frisson’ necklace in white gold and titanium with white diamond pavé, price on request,

by Boucheron. Jacket, £540; blouse, £410, both by Emporio Armani

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High Jewellery

S A LVAT O R I _ O F F I C I A L

High Jewellery

‘Barocko’ earrings in white gold with zircon metal elements, round brilliantcut diamonds, tanzanites, step-cut diamonds and pavé-set diamonds, price on request, by Bulgari. ‘Mosaic’ necklace in white gold and diamonds, price on request,

by De Beers. Jacket, £3,830,

by Brunello Cucinelli

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High Jewellery

‘Sabbia’ bracelet in rose gold with white, brown and black diamonds, price on request,

by Pomellato. ‘Alta Gioielleria’ ring in white and yellow gold with imperial topaz and diamonds, by Dolce & Gabbana. Jacket, £1,772; trousers, £840, both by Peter Do

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High Jewellery ‘Extremely Piaget’ earrings in white gold with diamonds, price on request, by Piaget.

‘Tie & Dior’ ring in white and yellow gold, diamonds, white cultured pearl and spessartite garnet, price on request, by Dior Joaillerie. Jacket, £2,195; blouse, £1,050; shorts, £610; belt, £395, all by Saint Laurent

by Anthony Vaccarello

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High Jewellery ‘Red Carpet’ white gold earrings with emeralds and diamonds, price on request,

by Chopard. ‘Crescendo Double Row’ bracelet (left) in white gold with diamonds; ‘Chaîne d’Ancre’ bracelet (right) in white gold with diamonds, both price on request, by Hermès. Jacket, £2,250,

by Celine by Hedi Slimane For stockists, see page 248 Model: Marie-Agnes Diene at The Claw Models

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Legal Announcement

Annuncio Legale

Decision No. 1161/2020 publ. on 23/07/2020 RG No. 6983/2018 Docket No. 2429/2020 of 23/07/2020

Sentenza n.1161/2020 pubbl. il 23/07/2020 RG n. 6983/2018 Repert. n. 2429/2020 del 23/07/2020

No. R.G. 6983/2018

N. R.G. 6983/2018

ITALIAN REPUBLIC ON BEHALF OF THE ITALIAN PEOPLE

REPUBBLICA ITALIANA IN NOME DEL POPOLO ITALIANO

ORDINARY COURT OF VENICE Specialized Section in Enterprise Matters

TRIBUNALE DI VENEZIA SEZIONE Specializzata in materia di impresa

The Court, composed of: – dr. Lina Tosi President – dr. Lisa Torresan Judge – dr. Sara Pitinari Judge

Il Tribunale, nelle persone di: – dr. Lina Tosi Presidente rel.

– dr. Lisa Torresan Giudice – dr. Sara Pitinari Giudice

in chamber has collegially issued the following

riunito in camera di consiglio ha pronunciato la seguente

DECISION in the civil proceeding enrolled under No. R.G. 6983/2018, instituted with writ of summons

SENTENZA nella causa civile inscritta al n. 6983/2018 del Ruolo Generale, promossa con atto di citazione

BY Marsotto s.r.l. (01470390236) represented and defended by its counsel Mrs. Eulalia Malimpensa, domiciled being elected at Luca Vedovato’s office in Venice — Plaintiff

DA Marsotto s.r.l. (01470390236) con l’avv. Eulalia Malimpensa di Milano, dom. avv. Luca Vedovato di Venezia – Attrice

AGAINST Arnaboldi Angelo s.r.l. (00682670963) represented and defended by its counsel Messrs. Iacopo Destri, Arianna Ferrari, Anna Maria Lotto, domiciled being elected at Dimitri Guarino’s office in Venice – Defendant

CONTRO Arnaboldi Angelo s.r.l. (00682670963) con gli Avv. Iacopo Destri, Arianna Ferrari, Anna Maria Lotto di Milano, dom. avv. Dimitri Guarino di Venezia – Convenuta

[Omissis]

[Omissis]

FOR THESE REASONS

PQM

Definitively,

Definitivamente pronunciando,

1 ascertains that the three-legged round table, manufactured by the defendant Arnaboldi Angelo s.r.l. and subject matter of this cause of action, a sample of which was detected during the judicial description at the defendant’s premises (proceeding R.G. 9917/2017), counterfeits the multiple design model under italian registration No. 97320 dated 4/4/2011 of the right holder Marsotto S.r.l.

(Ndr: designed by Jasper Morrison);

1 accerta che il tavolino rotondo a tre gambe, prodotto dalla convenuta Arnaboldi Angelo s.r.l. e per cui è causa, di cui è esemplare il tavolino rinvenuto in sede di descrizione giudiziale presso la convenuta (procedimento r.g. 9917/2017), contraffà il modello multiplo di cui alla registrazione italiana n. 97320 del 4/4/2011 in titolarità di Marsotto s.r.l.

(Ndr: design di Jasper Morrison);

2 inhibits the company from advertising, manufacturing, offering, marketing and any other commercial use of products in violation of the design model under italian registration No. 97320 dated 4/4/2011;

2 inibisce alla convenuta la pubblicizzazione, produzione, offerta, commercializzazione, ed ogni altro uso commerciale dei prodotti costituenti violazione del modello di cui alla registrazione italiana n. 97320 del 4/4/2011;

3 orders the cancellation, from the defendant’s website and, however, from the websites www.arnaboldimarmi.com and www.neutradesign.it, and from the defendant’s catalogues and advertising materials, of any image and reference to the counterfeited products referred to under points 1) and 2) above;

3 ordina la cancellazione, dal sito internet della convenuta e comunque dai siti www. arnaboldimarmi.com e www.neutradesign.it, e dai cataloghi e documenti pubblicitari della convenuta, delle immagini e di ogni menzione dei prodotti contraffattivi di cui ai punti 1 ) e 2);

4 orders the defendant to recall from the market the infringing products referred to under points 1) and 2) above;

4 ordina il ritiro dal commercio da parte della convenuta dei prodotti contraffattivi di cui ai punti 1 ) e 2);

5 condemns the defendant to compensate the plaintiff for the suffered damages equal to Euro 462,00, plus interests accrued from the due date to balance, for economic damages, and Euro 30.000,00, in total, for immaterial damages;

5 condanna la convenuta al risarcimento del danno a favore dell’attrice, per euro 462,00, oltre interessi dal dovuto al saldo, per danno patrimoniale, ed euro 30.000,00 onnicomprensivi per danno non patrimoniale;

6 orders the defendant to publish the heading and the final ruling of this decision, at the defendant’s expenses, on the website www.arnaboldimarmi.com, also in English language, for 30 days in noticeable font size;

6 ordina la pubblicazione della presente sentenza, nella intestazione e nel dispositivo, a cura e a spese della resistente, sul sito www.arnaboldimarmi.com, anche in lingua inglese, in prima schermata, a caratteri evidenti, per 30 giorni;

7 orders the publication of the heading and the final ruling of this decision, by the plaintiff at the defendant’s expenses, with normal font size and on double column, also in English language, on the magazine “Wallpaper”, both on the printed and on-line edition, for two times, mentioning the parties’ and the designers’ names;

7 ordina la pubblicazione, a cura di parte attrice e a spese della convenuta, della presente sentenza, nella intestazione e nel dispositivo, a caratteri normali e su doppia colonna, anche in lingua inglese, sulla rivista “Wallpaper” sia nella versione cartacea che online, per due volte, con i nomi delle parti e dei designer dei modelli;

8 establishes the payment of the following liquidated damages: – Euro 500,00 for each day of delay in the cancellation from websites and any printed material, and in the recall from the market; – Euro 1.500,00 for any further violation, to be intended as referring to the manufacturing or commercialization or any single product; – Euro 500,00 for the case of future publication of advertising images depicting the counterfeited products;

8 fissa penali: – di euro 500,00 per ogni giorno di ritardo nella cancellazione da siti e materiale cartaceo, e nel ritiro dal commercio; – di euro 1500,00 per ogni nuova violazione, intesa come realizzazione o commercializzazione o di singolo pezzo; – di euro 500,00 per ogni futura pubblicazione di immagini pubblicitarie ritraenti i prodotti in contraffazione;

9 rejects any other plaintiff ’s requests;

9 rigetta per il resto le domande di parte attrice;

10 confirms the litigation costs as settled in the interim ex parte proceeding, and, for the merit, condemns the defendant to pay 50% of the plaintiff ’s legal cost totally amounting to Euro 18.000,00 for professional fees, Euro 3.399,00 in disbursements, overhead costs equal to 15%, plus VAT and CPA.

10 conferma le spese come regolate in sede cautelare, e, per il merito, pone a carico della convenuta per il 50% le spese di parte attrice, che liquida, nell’intero, in euro 18.000,00 in compensi, 3.399,00 in esborsi, oltre 15% spese generali, oltre iva e cpa.

Venice, 15/07/2020

Venezia, 15/7/2020

The President Dr. Lina Tosi

Il Presidente rel. dr. Lina Tosi

Art

Left, ceramic sculptures by Genesis Belanger featuring surrealist elements. Right, the artist in her Greenpoint, Brooklyn studio this March

STILL LIFE Sculptor Genesis Belanger meditates on mourning and loss PHOTOGRAPHY: JILLIAN FREYER WRITER: TF CHAN One blustery morning in early February, Genesis Belanger is showing us around her studio, in a 1930s industrial building in Brooklyn. The American sculptor is at a pivotal moment in her career – having mounted an installation for the New Museum’s Storefront Window last year, she is now working on solo exhibitions for the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum in Ridgefield, CT and the Consortium in Dijon, France.

Works in progress dotted throughout the space suggest recent, frenetic activity, yet the atmosphere is also oddly subdued: four moodboard images pinned against a wall show historic interiors with furnishings cloaked in dust sheets; in the space nearby, what appears to be a dining table, chair, ottoman, upright piano and fireplace – custom-made plinths for Belanger’s ceramic works – are similarly shrouded in muted grey fabric.

The funereal mood, which now seems to have presaged the imminent pandemic, reflects Belanger’s fascination with ritual. ‘I was thinking of how any

transition, even a positive one, results in a period of grieving, because change is inherently a loss.

That brought me to the question: how do we support people in the most extreme circumstances?’

The answer, Belanger noticed, often comes in the form of bouquets and dishes of food, which are the starting point for her Aldrich show. Among her new sculptures are a meal tray for one, fruit bowls, and neatly configured floral arrangements, in a soothing palette of pastel and neutral tones. Each element is slyly subverted – the fruit looks bitten into, with apples almost reduced to their cores, and in a surrealist touch, beckoning fingers and lips sprout among the flowers.

The tableau is completed by an array of outsized pills (a comment on how pharmaceuticals seem to have become part of the American diet, she says), and burnt candles and matches that highlight the passage of time.

Subtly humorous beneath their mundane surface, these objects are typical of Belanger’s artistic output, »

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‘These absurd temporary objects are made in a material that literally will last forever’ Above left and top right, sculptures and custom-made plinths for Belanger’s Aldrich show, including a tray of 1950s food that the artist calls ‘so weird and strange, and kind of gross’ Above right, the Skutt automatic kiln she uses to fire all her sculptures

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which has explored such themes as the manipulative tactics of the advertising industry, where she had worked as a prop stylist before her MFA; the objectification of women; and the inner lives of ordinary people (her New Museum show centred on a receptionist’s desk, with an open drawer revealing what one might consume to cope with daily stress).

Compared to her earlier work, the Aldrich pieces hit a more sombre note that feels in tune with the times.

Belanger has devoted equal attention to her furniture-shaped plinths: ‘I want them to also participate in this moment when humans almost emotionally recede from their lives,’ she reflects. Their clean, modernist forms often incorporate salvaged bits of midcentury furniture. Supporting the dining table, for instance, are bases from Charles and Ray Eames’ ‘Aluminum Group’ chairs, which have been powdercoated to match the tabletop fabric. Belanger is careful to highlight that the use of midcentury American motifs isn’t rooted in nostalgia: ‘It’s the idealised myth that fascinates me, because of the political climate here, with President Trump declaring that he’s going to Make America Great Again. But that’s never going to happen.’ Drawing attention to the human cost of midcentury prosperity, she also gave a set of lounge chairs bronze fingertips for legs: her way of making idealised forms more relatable, and alluding to how ‘certain people are almost utilised like objects’.

The Aldrich exhibition – since postponed to mid-September – will be Belanger’s solo institutional debut, and while the museum is small, it has a strong track record, offering first museum shows to the likes of Olafur Eliasson, Huma Bhabha, Kaws and Mark Dion.

Belanger’s prospects look good, even as the new show suggests collective disquiet: the ceramic sculptures and their plinths will constitute one elegiac space, while a separate, smaller corner will be dressed up as ‘a little purgatory’, comprising a wall-mounted phone, a long bench and plants; and a 30ft-long pleated grey curtain will line an entire gallery wall, alluding to ‘what lies beyond’. The show’s title, ‘Through the Eye of the Needle’, refers to the Christian adage that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Explains Belanger: ‘We exist in this world, where we’re just trading stuff, and accumulating stuff, but ultimately that is super temporary.’

Would Belanger say the same of her own artworks?

‘These absurd temporary objects are made in a material that literally will last forever,’ comes the reply.

‘Archaeologists of the future can dig up some weird cigarette butt or lipstick, and infuse meaning into it that was never present.’ ∂ ‘Through the Eye of the Needle’, 21 September-9 May, The Aldrich, 258 Main Street, Ridgefield, CT, USA, aldrichart.org; genesisbelanger.com

A. PADERNI ∕ E YE STUDIO MALISAN — PH AD

B E L E O S ( t a b l e ) G I U L I O I A C C H E T T I , PAT H ( c h a i r ) C A R L E S I T O N E L L I

B R O S S – I TA LY. C O M

In Residence The cantilevered first floor displays a reproduced piece by street artists PichiAvo printed on glass panels

Baroque star Art, architecture and elaborate detailing fuse effortlessly in a technicolour dream house in Melbourne PHOTOGRAPHY: PETER BENNETTS WRITER: STEPHEN CRAFTI

Dubbed ‘neo baroque’ by its architect and owner Billy Kavellaris, this colourful contemporary house is at odds with its many genteel Victorian neighbours in affluent Melbourne suburb Toorak. ‘The idea of designing your own house is something most architects dream of. It was certainly in my head even as a teenager,’ says Kavellaris, who lives here with his wife Rosalba and their two daughters Jorja and Alexia (hence the name of the house, JAR+B).

Although the shape and form of the new house wasn’t established from the outset, the idea of bringing art and architecture together has always been an important facet of Kavellaris’ Melbournebased practice, Kavellaris Urban Design (KUD), which he set up in 2002. While many architects reference the Renaissance period in their designs, going for grand yet

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calm, symmetrical shapes and traditional geometries, Kavellaris prefers the later baroque period, with its highly elaborate detailing and distinctive expression through sculpture, painting and music.

‘You could say that there’s a certain level of ostentation with baroque, even a certain degree of discord,’ says Kavellaris, who sees art and architecture as one discipline rather than two.

The three-level house (which appears as two from the street) is constructed from board-formed concrete at ground level with a whimsical cantilevered first floor displaying the work of PichiAvo, contemporary Spanish artists known for their iridescent spraypainted murals. With the artists’ consent, Kavellaris reproduced a piece depicting mythical Greek gods using DigiGlass (which allows an image to be »

In Residence

Below and right, a pair of giraffe sculptures in the dining area at the rear of the house accentuates the double-height space, while a ‘carpet runner’ of white porcelain tiles, pierced by a red column, creates a delineated space for the owners’ art collection

printed on its surface). While the 13 exterior glass panels appear as a large billboard from the street, from within, the effect is akin to leadlight (the traditional technique of creating decorative windows using glass between lead divider bars called cames), with soft, ethereal light creating a ‘heavenly’ interior. ‘The three layers of glass create a narrative, as much as diffusing the light and creating privacy from neighbours,’ he says.

The narrative push of the Toorak home starts at the front door, with its steppedconcrete front alcove suggesting adventures to come. ‘I approached the design like sculpture as much as architecture. It’s about creating a sense of drama,’ says Kavellaris, who also included a curvaceous steel staircase in the main foyer. ‘It’s about the handmade and a sense of craft, the fusion between the natural and organic with the industrial, the concrete and steel,’ he adds.

The basement is conceived almost as a separate self-contained apartment. It includes a kitchen and living area, together with

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a bedroom and bathroom, ideal should guests come to stay. At ground level, there are two lounges, one formal, the other informal, together with an open plan kitchen and dining area. And on the top floor are the bedrooms, including the main bedroom and two children’s bedrooms, each with its own ensuite bathroom.

Even though there’s a feeling of exuberant spontaneity in the design, everything has its place and raison d’etre. The 2m-wide white Spanish porcelain tiles at ground level, set into the polished concrete floors, suggest a carpet runner. ‘These tiles delineate the art gallery, some being my work, such as the sculpture and photography, others by artists that I have collected from all around the world,’ says Kavellaris.

Meanwhile, a vibrant red column ‘pierces’ the ground floor and can be seen to continue into the basement via a glass cut-out in the floor. ‘The idea of the column wasn’t something that was just added at the last moment. It helps you to get a sense of

the scale and dimensions of a space and how the two levels connect,’ he says.

Kavellaris was also keen to vary ceiling heights in response to the light and function of a space. The formal living area, for example, features lower ceilings than the double-height void over the dining and informal living area at the rear. ‘A pair of giraffe sculptures helps to accentuate the volume, as well as bringing art into the mix,’ he says.

For Kavellaris, art and architecture capture the culture of our time. The idea of creating a neutral modernist box never entered his mind. ‘I just don’t see how one separates art and architecture. The two are so intrinsically intertwined that one needs the other,’ he says. Although neighbours were slightly mystified when the art came into this street, it’s now used as a beacon to direct people visiting. ‘I’m not quite sure if they say the words “neo baroque”, just the street where the art is on show,’ he adds. kud.com.au

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‘Tadao’ console table, Forma & Cemento —— €384 ——

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In Residence Right, made of fibreglass and polyester resin and based on a structure initially designed for Lovegrove Studio’s London office, the statement spiral staircase leads to a large rooftop terrace Below, the terrace, which sits above the former merchant house’s 16th-century limestone walls, is the only contemporary intervention that can be seen from the cobbled street

Happy return

A Polish-born, London-based designer retraces her steps to build a unique rural hideway PHOTOGRAPHY: JULIUSZ SOKOŁOWSKI WRITERS: MICHAŁ HADUCH AND BARTOSZ HADUCH

Kazimierz Dolny, a small town some 120km south-east of Warsaw and with a mere 2,500 permanent residents, is not an instantly recognisable name beyond Polish borders, but it’s considered one of the country’s most beautiful rural destinations. Thanks to its strategic location on the Vistula River, the town was once a prosperous grain trade centre and cultural melting pot.

Today, its combination of well-preserved Renaissance architecture, numerous galleries and relaxed pace of life means it attracts thousands of tourists, particularly art lovers. Miśka Miller-Lovegrove, a London-based designer, was one of those who fell for its charms.

Polish-born Miller-Lovegrove moved to London in 1979, after graduating from the architecture school at Warsaw University of Technology. The UK was meant to be just a starting point, a pit stop in her career, but turned out to be a new home. Now, with a career that includes 30 years as a partner at Lovegrove Studio, and founding MM-L Studio in 2016, Miller-Lovegrove has a global portfolio spanning interior architecture, exhibition design and art.

Collaborations with Paris-based Mathilde Bretillot have included the 2016 Somerset House exhibition ‘Daydreaming with Stanley Kubrick’ and the first edition of Draw Art Fair at Saatchi Gallery, in 2019, both in London. Recently, Miller-Lovegrove embarked on promoting contemporary Polish design through her Creative Project Foundation. And it is in her homeland that she chose to build her dream holiday house.

Having elected to leave Poland while it was still a Soviet satellite, Miller-Lovegrove was effectively exiled. When the Iron Curtain eventually fell, she was able to take a nostalgic journey to the places she remembered fondly from her childhood and youth.

One of the towns she revisited was Kazimierz Dolny.

Strolling through its cobblestone streets, she came across a picturesque, almost Piranesian, ruin. It turned out to be the remains of the fittingly named English Faktoria – a 16th-century trading post established by merchants from England. Miller-Lovegrove immediately fell in love with it and decided to acquire the dilapidated building. Following a lengthy process to resolve the property’s complicated ownership, the rundown plot became hers in 2000. It took almost another two decades to transform it into her second home.

Now fully redesigned in collaboration with Warsaw-based practice Bogusławski & Partners, Lovegrove Studio’s Małgorzata Benedek, and Arup’s »

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In Residence

Above and below, a thin slab of pre-stressed concrete lifted on steel columns tops the main part of the project, which also features a west-facing floor-to-ceiling glass wall opening onto a generously planted courtyard with a small swimming pool Sebastian Szafarczyk, English Faktoria rises from a steep slope covered in lush greenery in the western part of Kazimierz Dolny. From the outside, the architectural intervention seems rather discreet. First, Miller-Lovegrove and her team meticulously restored the historic limestone walls. Then they added two new volumes, extending the property to contain a new entrance zone and a living area, and encircled the plot with a high retaining wall. A glazed strip traces the top of the walls, separating them visually from the ceiling structure, marking the difference between old and new.

The historic part of the 494 sq m residence contains more intimate spaces, such as bedrooms, bathrooms and a studio, while the new areas house a large living space and a mezzanine. Interestingly, almost none of the individual rooms has a door, creating a relatively continuous open space. The interiors feature a restricted palette of colours (mostly shades of white and grey) and materials (limestone, marble, concrete and Corian dominate). There are very few pieces of furniture, mostly designed by Lovegrove Studio. The most spectacular spatial element, and the composition’s real centrepiece, is the sculptural, nature-inspired ‘DNA Staircase’. Made of fibreglass and polyester resin (and built by Delta Rafał Mikke, a company that specialises in manufacturing gliders, with the help of Lovegrove Studio’s Matt Longbottom), the spiral design is an evolution of the DNA concept realised in 2005 for Lovegrove Studio’s former office in Notting Hill.

Designing your own house can be a real challenge, made trickier if the design has to consolidate the seemingly irreconcilable: tradition and modernity, local craftsmanship and cutting-edge technology, privacy and openness towards nature. In Kazimierz Dolny, Miller-Lovegrove has done just that, creating a perfect retreat in one of Poland’s lesser-known rural gems. mmlstudio.com

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It took Miller-Lovegrove almost two decades to transform the dilapidated building into her perfect retreat

Your passport to global style More than 60 compelling cities refined into essential travel-sized guidebooks and apps at www.phaidon.com/wcg

Guest Editors

Design Emergency, an original Instagram Live series from Paola Antonelli and Alice Rawsthorn, champions design’s ability to innovate and inspire in the face of problems wrought by the global pandemic. As Guest Editors, the pair take over 39 pages of this issue to make their case for design’s central role in building a better world more able to face any crisis, from Covid-19 to climate change to social injustice. Adapting to pandemic-era restrictions, they and their selected design leaders – from an Afghan tech entrepreneur who is nurturing teenage roboticists, to a New Zealand pioneer of public health information campaigns, to a Nigerian architect devising floating cities – have been photographed for Wallpaper* via Zoom, by the portraitist Brigitte Lacombe

Art direction Studio Frith ∑

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and

The duo behind Design Emergency on what began as an Instagram Live series during the pandemic and is now becoming a wake-up call to the world and compelling evidence of the power of design to effect radical and far-reaching change. On the following pages, we meet their contributors to this special Guest Editors’ section; from illustrators to tech entrepreneurs, from Atlanta to Karachi, these are stories of design’s new purpose and promise Portraits Brigitte Lacombe Writer Nick Compton

Alissa Eckert, a medical illustrator at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta, helped create the visual shorthand for Covid-19, an instantly recognisable and easily reproduced spiky blob. With a need for clear and direct public information, it has become a critical messaging tool during the pandemic. Creatives Tegen Corona is a collective of Antwerp designers that worked with local manufacturers, fashion workshops and community sewing clubs to create 100,000 pieces of PPE. It posted patterns and specifications on the internet, where they could be downloaded free. Roya Mahboob is an Afghan tech entrepreneur, philanthropist and founder of the non-profit Digital Citizen Fund (DCF), dedicated to increasing the tech savvy and skills of Afghan women and girls. One of DCF’s projects saw five teenage girl roboticists in Herāt design and produce emergency ventilators. Marco Ranieri, head of anaesthesiology and intensive care at one of the largest hospitals in Bologna, ‘hacked’ ventilator design so that one unit could ventilate two people at the same time, a vital innovation in critical over-stretched ICUs. These are just some of the disparate collection of ‘design practitioners’ interviewed by the design writer Alice Rawsthorn (left) and Paola Antonelli (top left), senior curator at the department of architecture and design, and director of research and development at MoMA, for Design Emergency, their Covid response and recoveryfocused Instagram Live series. It has become a repository for stories of urgent and improvised problem-solving and now an ideas bank, a place to talk about how designers and design’s rigorous research and dedication to elegant efficacy will be central to any post-Covid reboot or renewal.

Rawsthorn, author of Design as an Attitude and Hello World: Where Design Meets Life, and former design columnist for the International Herald Tribune and The New York Times, has developed a sizeable

Instagram following over the last five years, with a more considered, thematic approach and bigger chunks of expository text than is usual for the platform. As the Covid crisis took hold, she dedicated much of her feed to a series she called Design in a Pandemic.

‘Design is such a ubiquitous force, rooted in every aspect of our lives. As soon as the pandemic hit, my instinct was to investigate it through design,’ Rawsthorn says. ‘And as tragic as the pandemic has been, it also became an extraordinary platform for design, and made clear how resourceful, courageous, gutsy, public-spirited, and empathetic designers could be.’ Over regular Zoom catch-ups with Rawsthorn, Antonelli – a member of the crisis management team that helped MoMA navigate its way through the Covid catastrophe in New York – suggested that design’s response to the circumstances was worthy of an even deeper dive.

‘Design is about life,’ says Antonelli, who has explored this entanglement in several exhibitions and projects over the years – the 2015 book and online project Design and Violence and the XXII Triennale di Milano ‘Broken Nature’ of 2019 (W*239) among them.

‘And there’s no moment when there’s no emergency, violence, or health crisis. Alice and I both have platforms and authority; people listen to us. So, we said, let’s do something to highlight the importance, versatility and pragmatic imagination of design.’

The Design Emergency double act was born.

It is clear that the series sets out not just to celebrate design but also to redefine it, or at least confirm its new sense of purpose, mission and wider usefulness. In many ways, Design Emergency advances arguments Rawsthorn made in Design as an Attitude, published (what now feels) way, way back in 2018.

The book, spookily prescient and with László Moholy-Nagy and Richard Buckminster Fuller cast as guiding lights, is a kind of »

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Design Emergency rallying cry. ‘The idea of design and the profession of the designer has to be transformed from the notion of a specialist function into a generally valid attitude of resourcefulness and inventiveness which allows projects to be seen not in isolation but in relationship with the need of the individual and the community,’ wrote Moholy-Nagy in 1945, shortly before he died. ‘Ultimately all problems of design merge into one great problem: ‘design for life’.”

It is an argument that Rawsthorn picks up and runs with in Design as an Attitude, insisting that ‘design has always had one elemental role as an agent of change that interprets shifts of any type – social, political, economic, scientific, technological, cultural, ecological – to ensure that they will affect us positively, rather than negatively.’ For Rawsthorn, design is a matter of shaping things and outcomes but in larger ways than we might have imagined; it is a way of seeing and engaging with the world, and of tackling problems as wide-ranging as climate change, dysfunctional social care systems, social injustice and, it turns out, global public health emergencies.

Design Emergency continues in that spirit and makes clear that this kind of high-ambition, attitudinal design and design culture is not just for trained designers. As Antonelli says, ‘many of the people that we celebrated in Design Emergency were not trained as designers.

Some were illustrators, one was an anaesthesiologist, others were different types of specialists. But all have embraced the design label we offered them. And this is when you see design becoming an attitude: when you set your mind towards a goal and you use the tools at your disposal, in the most economical, effective, safe and elegant way possible.

‘Design in all of its different manifestations is an incredibly vital and important discipline that comes to fruition in many different situations,’ she adds. ‘But it’s especially useful in situations of emergency. We generally think of design as a combination of skills that centre around form-giving. But they are also technical, social, political, scientific, and it’s sometimes the ability to speak in so many different languages so as to be able to bring people together.’

The Covid crisis has of course been seen as a wake-up call, an economic and public health catastrophe that asks urgent questions about priorities and practices at every level. National governments have floundered and failed, value systems and political programmes been revealed as venal and cruel, health and social care systems exposed as underfunded and poorly aligned with actual need. There is demand for reset or at least recalibration. And the Covid emergency is now part of a cluster bomb of environmental and social justice emergencies. In spotlighting design success stories during the Covid crisis, Rawsthorn and Antonelli’s mission is also to insist that much of what we now know we depend on – systems, institutions, public provisions, policy programmes, the misfiring mechanics of modern societies – are badly designed.

The more recent batch of Design Emergency conversations looks at the potential of a post-Covid recovery and reconstitution.

And how we might design our way out of these crises. ‘We both feel very strongly that this could and should be a landmark event,’ says Rawsthorn, ‘which means that there will be a fundamental redesign and reconstruction of our lives, post-pandemic. We feel that the extraordinary achievements of design during the pandemic would stand it in very good stead to be taken seriously as a powerful tool to help to address the social, political, economic and ecological problems that face us all.’ (Rawsthorn has an uncanny ability to talk in long, perfectly formed sentences.)

Interviewees, ‘leaders of the reconstruction’ as Rawsthorn calls them, include British social designer Hilary Cottam, Italian designers Formafantasma, and doctors Sara Saeed Khurram and Iffat Zafar Aga, who are developing Sehat Kahani, a telemedicine network in Pakistan, capitalising on the country’s vast reserves of ‘doctor brides’, qualified but not practising and desperate to contribute.

And while Antonelli and Rawsthorn insist that design has always stepped up in times of rapid change and rupture, Rawsthorn acknowledges that a number of shifts, some accelerated by the Covid crisis, have increased design’s potential and potency. These

include the kind of digital technology that makes Sehat Kahani possible, as well as what she calls the ‘making revolution’. ‘We had a network of makers, fixers and “fixperts” who were ready to leap into action with PPE production, ventilator development and more,’ says Rawsthorn. Design education has also taken on board this more expansive, ambitious idea of what design is for. ‘There are humanitarian architecture courses, social design courses, there’s every possible manifestation of design in a much looser, more eclectic, elastic and improvisational sense, design playing an active role in our lives in a way that during the Industrial Age, it simply wasn’t empowered to.’ Rawsthorn also sees the explosion of community networks around the world as ‘among the greatest design feats of this crisis’. And notes that many of the design-led responses that Design Emergency celebrates are local responses to local problems, rather than well-meaning but Western interventions. ‘You’re talking about a bundle of factors that have come together and I think that’s a very important one. We’re drawing on a much wider talent pool which can only ever be beneficial.’

There is, of course, much, everything, left to play for. There are circular conversations about new normals and green recoveries, rebalancings and pivot points. And every day our multiple emergencies grow more dire and urgent. Rawsthorn and Antonelli are at least offering examples of ground-up, local, well-designed responses that could be adapted and adopted, of elegant ideas that have worked.

‘This is a period of extraordinary and, in many respects, agonisingly painful change for many people,’ says Rawsthorn. ‘And with further devastation and disruptions to come, particularly in economic terms. And design is not a panacea to any of these issues, but by working in an intelligent, thoughtful and responsible way, with relevant specialists from other fields, designers could make a major impact in trying to rebuild our lives for the better.’

‘It’s a moment we believe will change forever the way we think and work, not only as designers but as citizens,’ adds Antonelli.

‘At least we hope.’ ∂ instagram.com/design.emergency instagram.com/paolantonelli instagram.com/alice.rawsthorn

Portraits Brigitte Lacombe

The medical illustrator of the spiky blob recognised worldwide as Covid-19 174

The creative director of New Zealand’s Unite Against Covid-19 public information programme 177

The founder of the Digital Citizen Fund on the five teenage girls designing emergency ventilators in Afghanistan 180

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Co-founder of MASS Design Group, an international architecture firm specialising in healthcare and social justice 183

The information designer tracking how Covid-19 preys on vulnerability 186

The pioneering social designer on her plan to redesign the welfare state 189

The architect who envisions a world of cities built on water 193

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Design Emergency

Iffat Zafar Aga and Sara Saeed Khurram The doctors who are transforming healthcare in Pakistan through technology 196

Andrea Trimarchi and Simone Farresin The trailblazing design duo on their take on the concept of GEO-Design 199

One image defines Covid-19 more than any other. It is, of course, the ‘spiky blob’, which was designed in late January by Alissa Eckert and Dan Higgins, two medical illustrators at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta, as a visualisation of the coronavirus that causes Covid-19. Eckert, who has worked on a succession of important health information, education and emergency response projects (including cholera and Ebola) since joining the CDC in 2006, spoke to Alice Rawsthorn about what undoubtedly is the world’s most famous medical illustration

How did you come to be involved with the project?

The day after the CDC opened its Emergency Operations Center for Covid-19 on 20 January 2020, Dan and I were asked to create an identity for the virus. Maybe you can think of it as a mugshot, something that represents what this enemy is.

What was your brief ?

Because of our experience in the past, they left a lot of it up to us, but they requested something up close, with a bit of drama, something bold that was going to catch the public’s attention. It’s a public health emergency alert essentially. We were trying to make something that was going to draw people in and bring them back to the CDC website to learn more about the evolving situation. Not many people knew about Covid-19 at the time.

Can you deconstruct the end result for us and describe how the design process and its outcome fulfil those objectives?

We wanted it to be really bold and attractive. First of all, we wouldn’t have wanted it to be too playful. People just wouldn’t take it seriously if we did that, right? We needed something that felt serious. So, we played upon the realism a little bit, using it to help people understand that this thing actually exists. That was my main goal, to make it pop out of the page. A little bit of drama and dramatic lighting to play with the emotions. That’s what I had in my head as I was designing.

How do its aesthetic qualities, such as the textures and colours, contribute to its impact?

I was thinking about making a velvety texture on the proteins, and something that looked like you could touch it and feel it.

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And I also wanted it to be solid, a bit rocky, something found in nature. Because if you relate it to something that exists, it’s going to be more believable. The colours relate to the public health warning aspect, and the dramatic lighting, of course, the stark shadows.

What was the process and which tools did you use?

It’s a long process of different steps. First, we have a Q&A with the scientists and then we get our data together, what we need to input, what proteins to include. Then we go to the Protein Data Bank, which is a repository of data on proteins and their coordinates, uploaded by scientists. We download that information into visualisation software and get a 3D rendering of our proteins. We extract that data and optimise it down to what we can pull into our 3D programme. So, we start with Chimera, the visualisation software, then there’s an optimising programme, ZBrush, and then our 3D programme, 3DS Max. That’s where I put the whole thing together: build the pieces, add the lighting and texturing, and the camerawork.

After that, we use Adobe After Effects to do final polishing touches.

How does the approval process work?

Once we’re done, there’s what’s called a quality control or quality assurance check at CDC that goes through the design department and scientific clearance, at the same time. With this project we didn’t have to do many edits, so it went pretty smoothly. Dan and I worked on the project for a week, and then there were two to three days of clearance before it was released on 31 January 2020. That’s not normal.

It was very fast paced, because this is an emergency response.

An element of your work that fascinates me is the scope for self-expression. Medical illustration is led by scientific accuracy, but to what degree can you refine the image to fulfil your brief of raising the alarm about a potential pandemic, and the damage it could cause?

Illustration: CDC/ Alissa Eckert, MSMI; Dan Higgins, MAMS

Design Emergency

When you are creating educational materials like this, it’s important to distil down the information by taking out unnecessary stuff to focus people’s attention on what really matters.

For example, with the building of the virus, we really focused on the big red S proteins, the ones that make the coronavirus so contagious by attaching it to human cells. They give it the crown structure and its signature look and feel.

S stands for ‘spike’, doesn’t it? As I understand it, you sort of overplayed them.

Yes, and I downplayed the M proteins, the little orange bits.

Technically the Ms are the most numerous proteins on the structure, but I tried doing that just to see, and it was too overwhelming and lost the focus. So, I downplayed the Ms, and focused on the S proteins, because they’re what really matters. The proteins are still accurate, but we’re focusing people’s attention differently.

You and Dan have worked together on many important projects at the CDC, including Ebola. How did you divide your roles and responsibilities in this one?

Before doing medical illustration, Dan was a graphic designer, and my background was more in science and painting. We bring that into our roles when we’re working together. Dan did more of the layout work for the banners and things that came into play after we’d built the virus, and I focused on taking it into the 3D programme and bringing it to life. Also, Dan was the one who went to the Protein Data Bank, pulled down all the proteins and gave them to me.

That’s where our roles divided, but then we came back together and worked on choosing the colours. While we were doing this, the graphic designers at CDC were building the branding for the response.

We needed to match that, so we pulled from their colour palette.

There were so many colours to choose from that we worked together

on which would work best. I tried some of the blues and greens, but they didn’t work well. That’s why we focused on the reds and oranges, which gave it a lot more feeling and emotion.

Did you expect the image to have such a huge impact?

No, we always look at our work as an educational opportunity.

Sometimes we see our stuff here and there in the news, but this one just kind of exploded. It’s been amazing to see how powerful a medical illustration can be, and how it has inspired people. It has been wonderful to watch it evolve.

It is very rare that an image becomes so ubiquitous at such speed. Do you think it was partly because, above and beyond the quality of your and Dan’s work, the illustration was all we had to tell us at the time about Covid-19, this creeping terror, this terrible threat. Scientists and medical researchers didn’t understand it.

The name, Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus 2, is incomprehensible to non-scientists like me. All we knew about it for sure was the dearth of knowledge, an unpronounceable name, blind terror and then this incredible visualisation.

It gave a face to the unknown. That’s how I think of it, because it gave people something substantial that they could hold on to and comprehend. It was so important to have something that people could see and recognise. There wasn’t anything else out there at the time, which is why it was important to do it early and to race to get it done.

How long did it take?

About a week, which is pretty crazy. But that’s why the two of us were working together. We’ve worked together a long time, so we had a lot in place to draw upon to streamline the process and get it done quickly. »

Design Emergency There have been so many interpretations of the spiky blob.

Do you have any favourites?

A friend of mine gave me one she’d knitted the other day. That’s one of my favourites. And then the cupcakes. Have you seen the cupcakes out there? And the piñatas were really cool, but, honestly, I’m waiting for the Halloween costumes.

Has any other medical illustration ever been so ubiquitous?

No, although there are some renowned illustrators and images out there. There was an Ebola image some years ago from Visual Science that I really like. It’s a really beautiful piece. But in Covid-19 we’ve come across something that we haven’t had to deal with in a hundred years, and scientific imaging and the science itself have evolved a lot in that time. We have a unique situation, which is why we’ve seen this sort of explode.

How did you become involved with medical illustration, which for most of us is a highly specialised, esoteric field?

It’s definitely something that requires a very specific type of person, because it takes in both science and art. Not everybody has both of those going on. I didn’t know about it until I was in my fourth year of college as a biology major working at a veterinary hospital and planning on going to veterinary school.

I’d taken art classes on the side as electives since middle school and I was always drawing. But I’d never intended on doing it professionally, until I found out about medical illustration.

Someone was like: ‘You need to look into this.’ In a nearby school, the University of Georgia, they had a programme for scientific illustration, one of the only ones in the country. So, I changed my major in the fourth year of school and moved an hour and a half away, then went to grad school and ended up at the CDC. Which of the past projects you’ve done at the CDC informed your work on this one?

We’d just come off a year-long project that helped the most, an antibiotic resistance threats report that came out in November last year. It uses a lot of the design principles we pulled into this. That project was about showing off the most deadly bacteria in the same way with beauty shots. These bacteria are a little bit different than viruses in the way they’re structured. They’re a little more simplistic, so we focused more on their behaviours with one another, rather than on the up-close front structure.

But the design principles were the same. I created a theme in my head as something I could use to bring them to life. I knew that I wanted the concept to be beautiful and eye-catching, in the same way as the Covid piece. I thought about it as being ‘beautiful but deadly’, because these bacteria are dangerous, and I wanted to get that across, but I wanted it to be attractive too.

So, I went to Pinterest and created a page that worked as a mood board and started gathering pictures of underwater jellyfish and other brightly coloured creatures to use as inspiration. I find that using something that exists in nature, and sort of emulating it, is the best way to get a piece that looks real and believable.

We didn’t have time to do that with Covid, because there was only a week, right? We had almost a year for the other set of 20-something images. Anyway, I kept that idea in the back of my mind about nature and bringing things to life. It was perfect timing, having just come off that project and starting this one, with everything fresh in my head. It helped with building up the aesthetics.

What are you working on now? More Covid-19 illustrations?

I’ve got a queue full of Covid images right now. I’m working on symptoms, tracking and that kind of stuff. Since I’ve been working

at CDC, I’ve also been working on illustrating birth defects – that’s best done by hand, not 3D for the most part. But the priority right now is anything Covid-related.

What lessons have you learned as a medical illustrator from this project, that will feed into your work in the future?

We’ve been perfecting a lot of visualisation and communication techniques, by building things for the mass media, that will work on broadcast or on news websites, and making things work quickly.

When you’re scrolling on Facebook, you need to be able to catch somebody’s attention within one to three seconds, so the images need to be striking, colourful and bold, to capture your audience. That’s mostly been my take-home from the things I’ve worked on recently.

What were the most challenging aspects of the project for you?

Just getting in there, getting dirty and figuring out what was going to work best colour-wise. We had to try a lot of different versions to get it right. It wasn’t instant. There’s always a lot of trial and error. Building is the easy part, it is what it is, but the communication part determines whether or not it’s going to work.

We’ve got to get all those colours to work correctly, and to work cohesively with the textures, the lighting and everything else.

When you have lots of experience, you can do some of that work intuitively, but some of it really has to be thought about.

What are the main challenges for medical illustration?

We’re working hard at being recognised. A lot of people don’t know what medical illustration is and why it’s important. There’s a whole network of medical illustrators out there working night and day on the Covid response and sharing materials to help each other out. Everybody’s hard at work. ∂ cdc.gov

Making sure that we are fully informed about a terrifying crisis like the Covid-19 pandemic, and that we know how best to behave in different situations, is a fundamental role of design in emergencies. The best-designed public information programmes need to be as clear, accurate and memorable as possible. Sadly, most countries’ Covid-19 information campaigns have been the opposite. But there is one glowing exception, Unite Against Covid-19, which was commissioned by the New Zealand government and designed

by Clemenger BBDO Wellington. Alice Rawsthorn spoke to Mark Dalton, creative director of the campaign and Clemenger BDDO, about the development of what she and Paola Antonelli believe is the most intelligently and sensitively designed public information programme in this pandemic

How did the project come about?

I think the main reason we were approached is that over the years we’ve done a few, much smaller emergency responses for the New Zealand government. The response to Covid-19 was coordinated across all of government, and the client team leading it had worked with us on some of those previous projects. They reached out to us because they were given a very short time to respond and were looking for people with relevant experience.

What was your brief and timescale?

The brief was pretty broad. We had to come up with a way of communicating clear and helpful messages to New Zealanders across whatever platforms or media channels we thought would be appropriate. And we had to get it to market within a week.

That’s a very short period of time. Was the choice of key themes and tone left to you, or was the government prescriptive?

It was very much a collaboration. We knew that our best result would be to ask people to do something and tell them why.

So, we had to work with our clients to work out what we could say that would be effective and useful. There were moments when we had to go away and think about things for a little while, and then go back in to talk about it. I think working so closely with them led us to solutions more quickly.

How many days did you have to complete the concept?

We were briefed on a Thursday morning. I’m pretty sure our managing director Brett Hoskin got phoned the night before, because he grabbed us that morning saying: ‘Hey, there’s some people coming in to talk to us about a rather interesting issue.’

It was still confidential at that point. On the Friday, we had a strategic and creative get-together at 7am and worked until 11am.

We presented that strategic outline and plan to our immediate clients and spent the rest of the day finessing it, so it could go further into the government to seek approval. By early Saturday,

we were starting to concept the platform and the way we’d bring it to life to show to New Zealand for the first time.

We were all in the same space trying to figure out what the platform would be, and what voice the government needed to project to help people and to make them feel calm. As well as doing that, we were starting to sketch out what it could look like in terms of a brand or a design programme. I think by 8pm on the Saturday, we had something we could present to the prime minister’s office in terms of a brand identity. From Sunday, we were working out how we could make things to be in market by that Wednesday. I think that’s probably about as fast as you could do it.

Could you describe the key formal elements and the design decisions behind them, starting with the typography?

When we looked at what the world was dealing with, uncertainty, sensationalism, confusion and emotive responses were really, really common. We wanted to figure out a voice that would be objective, reasonable and helpful, and how to present it typographically so it would feel approachable and be easy to read and not too shouty with a nice kind of softness.

Omnes is a really great typeface. It comes in a massive range of weights, which is useful. We had to work through scenarios in our design process and, worst case, we’d have to talk about people dying, and that’s not something you’d do lightly. You wouldn’t ever do it in Comic Sans, or in an imposing typeface that’s really strong, like a slab serif. That’s where we landed with Omnes, because it has a nice human feel, it’s really versatile and it made things faster, because we could use the same family of fonts for headlines, body copy, everything.

And the choice of colours – the black, white and yellow?

We were trying to find colours that would be really strong visually across different media channels. What we wanted was to balance the heaviness of a lot of the global work we were seeing by using a lot of white, and white space. Black was a logical colour to use, particularly for type and the Unite Against lock-up, and then we used yellow to highlight Covid-19. We were quite deliberate »

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Unite Against Covid-19 campaign posters, by Clemenger BBDO, for the New Zealand government

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Design Emergency about not making the word Covid-19 and the wordmark bold and shouty, because everyone was so aware of it, you almost didn’t need to say it. The black was also used again in the pictograms.

Otherwise it was led with white and yellow, to try and get people to realise that this is serious, but hopefully still approachable, rather than it just being a big scary hazard and safety message. We spent a reasonable amount of time looking at how to treat the yellow: radioactive leak yellow versus hazard yellow, things like that.

We landed with a yellow that felt a little warmer and friendlier, without getting into orange, which makes it feel scarier again.

And the pictograms?

We wanted to try to make whatever we were asking people to do seem simple and achievable. We felt that trying to tell a story with a picture could be a good and fast way to help people to recognise what they needed to do, because no one wants to read 15-word headlines on posters when they’re walking around town.

The pictograms also allowed us to add a human element.

We tried really hard to make them look like they’d been drawn by a person, rather than coming from an icon library, so it felt like there were people behind the campaign who were trying to do whatever they could to help. We didn’t want it to feel like a robotic government announcement.

One of the things I love about the campaign is the focus on unity, that New Zealanders are all in this together.

That’s right. If you’re trying to help people, the last thing you want to tell them is: ‘No, don’t do this’. You need to tell them what to do to achieve a positive outcome. We’d found that in other campaigns we’d done over the years, and it was a strong driver for the pictograms particularly. Whether it’s as simple as coughing or sneezing into your elbow, washing your hands, staying home or being kind, those are all things that are achievable and positive.

Just telling people ‘no’ doesn’t work when you’re trying to get them to unite and do something for the greater good. You don’t ever want to say: ‘Don’t go outside’; you say: ‘Stay home and save lives’.

One of New Zealand’s great strengths as a country, but a complication in a national public information programme like this, is that it’s so culturally diverse. How did you allow for that?

The main thing we did was to always have it in our minds.

You should never approach these sorts of issues without being conscious of everyone you’re communicating with. What you want to avoid is getting to the end of the process with 50 things all in English, and going, ‘Oh, but what about all the other people that live here that don’t speak English?’ Then you’re in a mad panic to try to fix it. You need to do it all in tandem wherever you can.

When we were making the wordmark for Unite Against Covid-19, we immediately made one in Māori. The Alert Level chart that our prime minister held up at a press conference was translated into about 22 languages, because we knew it would be the thing that people would gravitate towards as their guide. And if you don’t understand it, or if English isn’t your first language, there’s a real risk of confusion and fear, which we really wanted to avoid.

How did you organise your team? And what additional complications did lockdown impose on that?

When we first got the project to work on, we realised that we had to bring in as many people as we could from the agency, particularly from a creative, design and strategic perspective, because we had a really short time frame. As we moved on, we had essentially two streams of work. There was stuff that we had to do every day and there were bigger moments when we would be shifting from, say, Alert Level 4 to Alert Level 3, so we had to think about

broader or bigger pieces of communication, for example, a TV ad to communicate what the change of level would mean.

On a day-to-day basis, there were probably eight or ten of us in the office, which was a little odd in itself because everyone else had to stay home. That would be a mix of strategy, creative, design, copywriting and studio to help make the things we were putting out, and our business team working closely with the clients.

There were definitely moments when, even on that first Saturday, I was drawing stuff and thinking: ‘OK, who do I know that will be at home; and will be happy to help whenever I ask?’ One of the lessons you learn as a designer over the years is to be good to the people you work with, so you have a great network. Dean Proudfoot, who helped with the pictograms, is an illustrator in Wellington that I’ve known a long time. He’s very, very good, and whenever something came up, we’d talk and find a way to solve it.

Lockdown was an interesting learning curve. We made one piece of AV in multiple locations, with the director in Auckland and the creatives in Wellington, all watching the same camera in what’s essentially a very high-tech version of Zoom used by the film industry. Embracing the fact that you can’t be there and can’t do it the way you used to do it makes things strangely possible.

You worked across a huge range of media. Were there any platforms that you found more, or less, difficult to work with?

For the majority, what we were trying to do worked.

It’s a simple formula, which helps when you’re trying to articulate something complicated to a range of people. That has stood us in good stead and helped us to produce new work quickly.

What we’ve found interesting is that some of the different media channels have their own personalities. With print media, outdoor and even AV, the conversation is one-way. What you’re saying is: ‘This is the thing I’m asking you to do, and these are the reasons. So please, please take this on board, and go and do it.’

And you don’t really know whether they have read it or done it.

But when you move into social media you actually have to adapt to the personality of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or whatever. We were always really clear about who we were, but at times, particularly on Facebook and Instagram, we needed to be a little bit more lighthearted or encouraging by saying, ‘We’re doing well’, or, ‘Thank you’, rather than just going out there with big yellow stripes and a headline saying Alert Level 4.

It was a really good lesson for us, because it can be really easy, particularly when you’ve got limited time, to put the same thing everywhere. And to a degree we did, because we had to let people know that washing their hands or staying home was vital, but we had to be a little bit more friendly to have good conversation.

A clinical psychologist, Dr Sarb Johal, who had done a lot of prior work on the H1N1 influenza outbreak in the UK, and then helping communities in New Zealand recover from earthquakes, has been really helpful to us. He says that the most important thing you can do is have empathy. Whatever you do, you must try to be empathetic and helpful in your design work and the language you put into it. All people really want to know is what’s the right thing to do, whether they’re doing it, and if it is working.

Where does the Unite Against Covid-19 campaign go from here?

It’s always hard to put a timeframe on a pandemic. If SARS was around for about two years, probably the thing for Unite is to focus on how we can maintain the health of our population over a longer period of time, and how we can do that as a united group of New Zealanders. No one knows what will happen next. The best thing is to try to be empathetic, to help each other, and to be clear about what we do and don’t want to do. For us, Unite Against Covid-19 will be here, doing different things for whatever people need. ∂ clemengerbbdo.co.nz; covid19.govt.nz

The Afghan Dreamers team at work on their ventilator. Photography: Hamed Sarfarazi/AP/Shutterstock

Among the most heartening stories of design resourcefulness during the pandemic is that of the five Afghan girls, aged 14 to 17, who have spent months designing and building emergency ventilators in the city of Herāt. All members of the Afghan Dreamers team of young star roboticists, they are working on the ventilators as part of a series of projects organised by the tech entrepreneur, Roya Mahboob, chief executive officer of Afghan Citadel Software, in her philanthropic role as founder of the Digital Citizen Fund, which enables women and girls to learn more about technology to improve their technical literacy and employment prospects. Mahboob spoke to Alice Rawsthorn about the Afghan Dreamers’ ventilator design project and her belief in the importance of educating girls in design and technology

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Design Emergency You are involved with a number of design programmes that are seeking solutions to some of the problems posed by the pandemic.

Could you tell us about them, starting with the Afghan Dreamers’ emergency ventilator design project?

At the end of March, Abdul Qayoum Rahimi, then-governor of [the north-western Afghan province of ] Herāt, put out a design challenge because there were very few ventilators in the region, which had a large number of cases of coronavirus. He was talking with doctors in Herāt, who were aware that the situation might be out of control. So, they put out a challenge to design open-source emergency ventilators and asked universities, manufacturers and the Afghan Dreamers to participate. Five members of our team responded to the call and started to build the ventilators.

As many of the world’s most powerful and well-capitalised manufacturers have discovered, it is incredibly difficult to design and build emergency ventilators. Not only do the Afghan Dreamers face a tough design challenge, they are tackling it in deeply difficult conditions having begun under lockdown. What extra levels of difficulty has this added?

When the Afghan Dreamers started working on the ventilators, there was a lockdown in Herāt with many restrictions. The shops had closed, and it was a big challenge to find parts as we couldn’t go onto the streets to find them and didn’t know what was available.

When you design any product, you need to have an idea of what’s on the market, so you can build it based on the available parts.

That was the biggest problem for the team.

And, of course, their families were worried every time the girls left home, about security issues besides Covid-19. At the beginning, we had to fight to persuade them to allow the students to work on the project. We had to bring the girls to the office, but only had one car permit that allowed one car to go around the city. Another challenge was that we didn’t have the facilities to build some of the parts, so we had to go to a workshop 20 minutes outside the city.

And the most important thing is that we didn’t have access to some of the parts that are critical to building open-source ventilators: the medical sensors. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find them in Afghanistan. Indeed, we had to order them. Thank God they arrived. There were all these obstacles, and then of course, funding was another, and then none of us, none of our mentors and coaches, had worked on ventilators or any medical devices in the past. So, it was quite new and very challenging, but the girls were determined to work on this project.

As you mentioned, Herāt has been one of the places in Afghanistan to be worst affected by Covid-19. As infections have continued to rise, what additional pressures have you faced?

It actually encourages the girls to continue to work, when they see the numbers are increasing, especially now that people are treating the disease seriously. Unfortunately, people were careless before and it infected many, including some of the students’ family members, and even our mentors. It’s the worst part of the work, but it also makes the students more determined to continue.

But then, of course, you need to have the cooperation of the governor, you need to have the cooperation of the hospitals and doctors. And right now, the situation is that you can’t find doctors, because they are very busy with patients and they don’t have enough time to come and test the device. Of course, we appreciate their time and understanding, but the situation seems to be out of control.

Obviously, we have to be careful because this is a medical device and it should be tested thoroughly before being used. It could reduce the load of existing ventilators to help people who are in respiratory difficulty but not in critical condition. It is an automated add-on solution to a pre-existing bag; we call it the bag-valve-mask. It could be used in an emergency situation when a physician is present.

What is the current status of the project? As I understand it, there is political support for it within Afghanistan and a determination that it will proceed.

At the beginning, the former governor of Herāt was very excited because it was his plan. Then when he left office, we didn’t have that much support from the new governor, or even from the hospital, because the girls don’t have medical engineering degrees.

However, we have assembled a team of engineers who support us and fortunately, two weeks ago our president, Ashraf Ghani, mentioned in a cabinet meeting that he wanted the minister of health to look at our device and to support us. That meant a lot for us. We are very happy about that, and with the first devices we have built. They have some functionality, which is good, and now we are working on the second prototype. We did a test ten days ago in a hospital in Herāt, which the doctors are very happy with. Next, we need to work on a second version, which is to make the ventilators clinically available in hospitals; we were waiting to receive the pressure sensors for this.

What lessons have you learned from this? Clearly this is a remarkable project conducted under truly extraordinary circumstances that we hope will never be repeated, but what do you feel has gone well, and what do you feel you would tackle differently, should you approach anything like this again?

We’ve learned a lot. One thing is that we have to think very fast and we have to make decisions fast. Another is to look at what’s really available in the market and which resources we have access to. The first two months were very, very difficult for our teams, but we connected with so many people around the world.

We learned how to ask for help, and that people are willing to help no matter where they are. And that even if they are not in Afghanistan, they are ready to support us.

Also, I think that if there is no pandemic, we will be a little more conservative when we next choose our projects, to make sure that our team and our resources will be available, and that we have enough support from the government and the community. The first month was very difficult because the governor changed, and the local hospital didn’t support us. But right now, people are happy with what the girls are doing. It has taken a long time, and some people are still sceptical, which I understand, but the government is supportive and, at least, allows the teams to work and to test the ventilators. So, I think that this process has been educational for us.

But it is also a great opportunity for us to show, as responsible citizens, what we can do for our community. I’m really very proud of these girls. They are very young, the youngest is 14 years old and the oldest is 17 years old. But they had the courage to do this.

They said: ‘This is what we can do. This is our ability. Now we have to help our doctors and our nurses, and we have to help our government and our community.’ That’s how they started.

When we didn’t have motors, and I told them that we didn’t have enough resources, they said they were going to look for them in local markets and to find the gears from motorcycles. It has been interesting to see how they can find parts and put them together.

They did the research to build one type of ventilator, then had more time to research and got inspired by a design from a team at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), so they changed their design, and now they’re working on a new one.

It’s an incredibly inspiring story. Many people have been touched by their dedication and courage. But you began a couple of other Covid-19 design projects as well. Could you tell us about them?

We are working on a couple of other projects. One is an experiment with using UV-C light, which kills infection. Right now, another group of Afghan Dreamers is building two devices: a scanner and a robot that can be used in hospitals. »

Design Emergency You have had a phenomenal career in tech and design. What motivated you to found the Digital Citizen Fund, and to try to help other women and girls in Afghanistan to become tech literate and to pursue careers in technology design?

I started with one dream and one goal. The dream was to make technology accessible for everyone. And the goal was to give access to technology and education to every woman, regardless of their social status and especially in Afghanistan.

Technology changed everything for me, professionally and personally, ever since I was 16 when I was introduced to this magic box. I think it is a powerful tool for women, especially in a conservative country. We have helped 15,000 girls to date, by educating them between the ages of 12 and 18. They learn how to work with computers, to build websites and games. They also learn about financial literacy, how to manage money, and how to start up on their own as entrepreneurs. Last year, more than a hundred of them started their own small businesses, which we’re very proud of.

Then, of course, we have official teams like the Afghan Dreamers, who are working on robotics, and another team of girls who are building games.

Could you tell us about your plan to open an Afghan Dreamers Institute in Kabul to boost STEM (science, technology, engineering and maths) teaching in Afghanistan?

We are working on building Afghanistan’s first school of science, technology, engineering and medicine focusing on AI robotics, blockchain and cybersecurity. Fortunately, the Afghan government has given us a piece of land at Kabul University for the institute. We are trying to offer world-class education to Afghan students, focusing on women’s access to resources in the STEM field.

We seek to develop a foundation for lifelong learning and to promote economic development. And we believe this could be resolved by scientifically informed citizens and a creative, solutionseeking population that is trying to bring positive change.

And, hopefully, the Afghan Dreamers will be Afghanistan’s future scientists, entrepreneurs and mathematicians. We’ll start fundraising for the institute after this pandemic.

How has your experience of the pandemic, and of the design responses to Covid-19 you’ve championed, affected your ambitions for the Digital Citizen Fund?

Before this crisis, we were organising a big conference, the Brite Initiative, to build resilience in technology, innovation and entrepreneurship. The idea was to showcase Afghan girls’ talent in technology, entrepreneurship and art using robotics or anything else, and to write a declaration that policymakers and donors should invest some part of their money in future jobs.

That was our mission and opportunity, but because of Covid-19 everything has been postponed – until next year, hopefully. I think that after the pandemic, people will understand the need for STEM education, and its power for Afghanistan.

The girls who are working on the ventilators are all under 18.

Because they have experience and have had access to knowledge and education, they feel like responsible citizens working for society. This might send a big message to the government, governors and policymakers that they have to pay attention to the younger generation in Afghanistan. More than 27 million Afghans are under 25 and it is our government’s responsibility to pay attention to their education, because we all rely on this young generation for Afghanistan’s future.

The Afghan Dreamers are demonstrating this with great aplomb. It is clear that the areas you’re focusing on – AI, robotics, blockchain and so on – will have huge growth in the future, but why do you believe they will be particularly important

to Afghanistan? Is it related to Afghanistan’s cultural or artisanal traditions, for example?

I’m Afghan, I grew up in this society, I feel responsible for my community and I’ve seen how powerful technology has been for many others. We have done a lot of projects here in Afghanistan, like Afghan Dreamers, that have had a huge impact.

But Afghan Dreamers won’t only be in Afghanistan, we believe that it should be implemented in other developing countries, whose younger generations need it. The idea of the Brite Initiative was to invite policymakers from the region to discuss this. I feel that in order to compete and prosper in the 21st century, more countries should be able to access the groundbreaking technologies that are transforming our world, but unfortunately, that’s not the case today.

There is a huge gap between the richest and poorest countries and huge gaps within those countries that increase every day.

I started in Afghanistan because I have connections and resources here, and many years of experience of working in the tech sector.

But we are already working in Mexico, trying to start the Mexican Dreamers Innovation Lab, and we’re making sure that we will be able to help dreamers in Pakistan, Palestine, Iran and other countries in this region, Africa and South America too. ∂ digitalcitizenfund.org

GHESKIO Cholera Treatment Center, Port au Prince, Haiti, by MASS Design Group. Photography: Iwan Baan

Michael Murphy is one of the co-founders of MASS Design Group, a non-profit organisation with offices in the USA and Rwanda comprising over 120 architects, designers, landscape architects, engineers, builders, and other specialists whose work is inspired by the mission of ‘researching, building, and advocating for architecture that promotes justice and human dignity’. He told Paola Antonelli how MASS developed extensive proficiency in designing healthcare systems in vulnerable countries and making them fit for the future; and how its experience during past pandemics and epidemics – including the cholera outbreak in Haiti in 2010 and the Ebola crisis in West Africa in 2014 – places the practice at the forefront of the design response to Covid-19. Its contribution includes advising Mount Sinai Hospital in New York on how to adapt its facilities to best treat patients, and producing Covid-19 design response strategies to share information with fellow designers and healthcare providers

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Design Emergency What is politics to you?

All architectural decisions have social and political implications, whether we acknowledge them or not. The spatial world affects us every day, affects our ability to live healthy lives, affects our environment, affects our communities, and just the simple choices of a material specification, be it brick or concrete, have implications on labour and on the environment. There’s no neutrality in design decisions. We have to build an ethical framework so that we are always gearing towards the most positive impact on our communities.

What did you learn from the Ebola crisis in 2014?

When the Ebola outbreak happened, we had already been working with Liberia’s ministry of health for a couple of years on a national infrastructure plan – and with its great prime minister, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, a real hero. The government of Liberia, while wrestling with the incredible impact of the Ebola outbreak, also was saying, ‘If we’re going to get all of this emergency aid, we need to also be investing in the long-term infrastructure that we will need on the other side of this emergency.’ Our work with them began right at the outbreak. We had teams living within the government’s ministry, working on trying to help establish and articulate that plan. Because of their great work and an incredible partnership, the ministry was able to argue for funding to support necessary long-term investments, which is how we came about designing a new national hospital – now under construction.

So it was not only about immediate response to the emergency, but also about future preparedness?

That’s right. Dr Paul Farmer [chair of the department of global health and social medicine at Harvard Medical School, and co-founder of Partners in Health, a highly respected and effective non-profit health organisation] says that in every health problem, there’s staff needs, there’s stuff needs, there’s space needs, and there’s system needs – and all of them go together to create the health infrastructure that we need in order to respond to crises like the one we’re facing now. It’s about the design and the implementation, the maintenance and the care of the built world around us so that it keeps us healthy and protects us. And I think all of us are feeling that today.

MASS has prepared a plan to redesign hospitals on the fly to deal with the Covid-19 crisis. Were you able to put it in action?

Like many of these things, this happens through incredible activists and collaborators and people just trying to figure out problems. A few weeks ago, during the surge of the crisis in New York City, colleagues from Mount Sinai Hospital in New York, Dr John Bucuvalas, as well as a good colleague from the Ariadne Labs in Boston, Dr Neel Shah, reached out to us and said: we are seeing unprecedented spatial challenges in our medical facilities to cope with the Covid surge. We don’t have enough beds dedicated for isolation, we’re actively changing the medical floors to accommodate this crisis, and we are figuring out how to adapt existing spaces to match ideal infection control scenarios. We want to make sure that we are doing the best that we possibly can. If we could we do a design immersion with you all and walk through the facilities, we can gather evidence and see the sort of design hacks that could help us through or even manage the surge outbreaks that we’re facing now, as well as those that other hospitals will face as the surge moves around the country.

What have you learned from all this – and from Liberia, and Haiti – that can help us if there is a new surge or a new pandemic?

First of all, that space shapes our behaviour and our ability to live healthy lives. And the most specific spatial realisation I’ve had from this is that breathing is a spatial issue. The air around us is as

much defined by our ability to get outside and get fresh air, as it is by the air inside of the facilities that we’re inhabiting, forced to inhabit, isolated in, or living within. Ninety per cent of our lives is inside of buildings and the air is defining whether it is clean or healthy or not.

MASS has a very decentralised structure, with partners all over the world. How does it work?

Our first office was in Rwanda, where we have over 85 people.

And our second office is in Boston, where we opened in 2012. We’ve opened an office in Poughkeepsie, New York, where we’re doing a lot of work with the city and in the Hudson Valley, and then our most recent office is in Santa Fe, New Mexico, working with individuals and communities, especially in Indigenous communities around the country. To some degree, we have been working digitally and virtually for years, so remote work has been a relatively easy transition. I just finished a call with about 120 of us; we were discussing all the things that have emerged with Covid. We’re doing responses not just to hospitals, but looking at the space of incarceration, the space of restaurants, the space of schools. Over the course of the next two weeks, we’ll release a few rules-of-thumb documents to share the kind of infection control strategies around managing these different spaces.

A lot will be about hacking the spaces that are already available.

I think it’s recognising the hacking that’s already going on by people in these disciplines. Restaurants are being redesigned right now and they’re making design hacks without the support of designers necessarily. Hospitals are being hacked daily by clinicians and staff just to make them less infectious. There’s an incredible spatial awareness that’s emerging. For designers to look at that, study that, work within that realm, I think, is one of the opportunities that we have as allies. To both understand where everyday people are making design hacks, but also then to support them when they need to make harder systems-level changes – like changing airflow systems, for example, or completely reconfiguring medical wards.

Is there anything that you’ve seen in the past two months that has really impressed you, something that you will take with you?

I go back to the work happening in the hospitals, for example to nurses and clinicians taping the floor and creating visual cues so that people know when they’re walking into dangerous contaminated zones. The simple design pamphlets that are coming up for easy donning and doffing strategies, to ensure that you are protecting the people around you. And then the kind of rapid rethinking of the public space around lobbies and restaurants and the street itself. One of the exciting things I think we’re going to see is streets being taken over, like we’ve seen in Milan and like we’re talking about in New York, and given back to the public. It’s one of these great dreams of the urban design community that we are able to reclaim that public realm. There’s all this opportunity to rethink our cities based on these needs, and also on these opportunities that are in front of us.

Have you also really called upon your colleagues elsewhere in the world to work on local projects here in the East Coast?

Absolutely. Obviously, proximity to the issues and to the client is important, but we intentionally create international teams so that there’s a sharing of knowledge across the offices. Before this kind of virtual office that we are now forced to work in, we were virtual and leaning on each other, even when it’s less ideal or difficult to do.

We’ve been fortunate enough not to have had to do furloughs or layoffs. Our fundamental ambition is to keep cranking through this, knowing that the building industry and the design discipline will be facing real headwinds on the horizon. I think there’s such a desperate need for designers to just get into spaces and be of service, because everyone right now is facing a real design crisis and design need.

GHESKIO Cholera Treatment Center, Port au Prince, Haiti, by MASS Design Group. Photography: Iwan Baan

What do you think is the area or the areas where designers and architects can apply their wisdom?

adaptation as we practice right now. And those who can do that might find real opportunity in the next couple of months, for sure.

Two things. First, I think we have to operate differently.

I don’t think the design work that’s going to emerge in the next, let’s say, 90 days, or the 90 days after that, is going to happen through the typical process of competitions, and responding to requests for information. I think the design work is happening right now, right in front of us. We need to roll up our sleeves and get proximate to those entities that are trying to survive, and help them. I think of restaurants that are just actively trying to figure out how they survive. The recommendations for 6ft of social distancing between each diner could basically be the nail in the coffin of any financial model for a restaurant to survive. That, to me, is a spatial design challenge and one that every restaurant in America is trying to solve and that we, as architects and designers, could help think about.

We can’t wait until November to help the restaurant because by then it will be out of business. It’s time for us to reconfigure the way we practice and just be of service, and I think that will lead to work.

The second is from the urban dimension, or from the city scale.

We may see by necessity what we’ve all long been calling for, which is the next great federal investment in infrastructure. We’re going to see such significant demolition and destruction of our public realm, there’s going to be just incredible demand for a larger-scale, non-privatised investment in infrastructure. That means that our cities will need to have shovel-ready projects in order to get the money that might come down the pipe. All those projects that have been on the shelf, those big city initiatives that so many towns around America have always dreamed of doing – it’s time to plan for those.

Here is one of my favourite quotes from you: ‘We are in a very existential moment, not only for the world, but also for architecture and design. This is indeed the time to rethink from scratch.’ What are your final words today to this audience of architects and designers?

Are smaller companies better positioned right now because of their agility and ability to pivot and adapt to this kind of situation?

I believe that great design is a human right. We have a right not just to housing, but to purposeful housing that serves our needs.

We have a right to healthcare spaces that don’t make us sicker.

We have a right to the public realm providing for the needs of a community – and not hindering or injuring us. It is a right that we have, and that right has been, is being, threatened. We have a chance to stand up and fight for that as a right, and reaffirm the role that design and the spatial disciplines play in the fundamental delivery of our human rights, in the fundamental delivery of dignity.

We have for too long been relegated as a passive backdrop to the basic functioning of society. That is not the service that we as designers provide. It is absolutely fundamental, and I think everyone is feeling that right now. They’re recognising that the spaces around them threaten them, could injure them, are invisible, and that they need to be made visible. Those threats need to be made visible. The airflow in them needs to be moving more effectively, and the health of that space around them needs to be made more clear, more effective and more accountable. And that’s a role of the spatial disciplines, to be activated and to aggressively take on that charge, and show that what we do in the world is a foundational need and a delivery of human rights. I hope that is the paradigmatic, conceptual, existential change that is happening right now, and that we’re able to take hold of. ∂ massdesigngroup.org

Yes, I think there’s some incredible need for flexibility and

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Infographics: Surgo Foundation

Design Emergency

Having observed the explosion and progress of the infection in northern Italy, researchers at Surgo Foundation, a think-tank based in Washington, DC, set out to augment the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC)’s established Social Vulnerability Index (SVI) with data concerning, for instance, pre-existing health conditions known to increase Covid-19 mortality (such as diabetes and heart disease) and the state of the community healthcare system. The outcome is CCVI, or Covid-19 Community Vulnerability Index, a stronger tool to analyse the progression of this particular pandemic. Paola Antonelli asked Federica Fragapane – the Italian information designer who provided the visual dimension to this pioneering investigation on how different communities in the USA are vulnerable to Covid-19 – to tell us more about her work and about the importance of information design

What do you think the role of information design is, in the contemporary world?

We have a huge responsibility, as people, and also as professionals.

It’s like being journalists and having words to communicate what’s happening – or being photographers and using photographs to show what’s happening. As an information designer, I have at my disposal data visualisation, infographics, visual shapes to communicate what’s happening. I have to use my role, my tools, and my competence to talk about urgent topics, and also to give a voice to people.

How did you become involved with Surgo Foundation and start working on the vulnerability index?

I started working with them at the end of last year on a website project. And then in March, they asked me if I was interested in pausing that project to work on a new Covid-19 Community Vulnerability Index (CCVI), a complement to the Social Vulnerability Index (SVI) by the CDC. CDC’s SVI measures the expected negative impact of disasters of any kind. It is composed of 15 indicators, such as household composition, minority status and language, socioeconomic status, and access to transportation.

Surgo Foundation combined four of these measures with Covid-19 specific indicators – such as healthcare system factors and epidemiological factors – to create the CCVI, and they asked me to help them visualise it. I live in northern Italy, and in March we were witnessing how in-time actions are essential, and how for certain areas in northern Italy, it was too late. So I knew how important it was to act in time, and to work on such a project. They asked me at first to design a map of the United States, showing the vulnerability index at a county level, and also the web page explaining how the index works, the data set behind it, and the methodology. The page – precisionforcovid.org – was then developed by Paolo Corti.

We know about big data, but then there’s also ‘small data’, which you’ve been focusing on. What is it and why does it matter?

We need both. We need big data because it helps us understand the global picture. Visualising small data can help us have a deeper comprehension of the topic. A few years ago I worked on a project, ‘The Stories Behind a Line’, that had no clients and no commission, but for me was one of the most important ones I’ve ever worked on. It was a visual narrative of the journeys of six asylum seekers who arrived in Italy in 2016, six people I met in my own town, Vercelli.

I asked them to tell me about their travels from their homeland to Italy, because I wanted to show, to tell these stories and these journeys in a very simple way, using the data that characterised them. I asked them details about their travels, very small and simple data, because I wanted to show the whole picture, the shapes that these stories had.

Combining small data and big data is a good way to talk about the complexity of a topic without losing sight of the humanity that stands behind it.

How do you become an information designer at this level of sophistication?

I am a designer, I studied communication design at the Politecnico di Milano and attended the DensityDesign Lab founded

by Paolo Ciuccarelli, which is focused on data visualisation and information design. I don’t have a statistical background but I collaborate with data scientists and data analysts, when needed; sometimes when I work for magazines or organisations, I look for the data, explore it, and analyse it. And then it’s experience.

You said there’s a parallel between information design and journalistic reporting. How do you discuss the commission with your clients? How much do you propose?

Sometimes I propose an idea, sometimes I propose an angle to explore the story with. Many of my pieces are exploratory, they don’t want to prove something, but they aim to enable the exploration of a certain topic. Anyway, a human intervention is inevitable. There are cases in which I talk with data scientists or with the clients, and »

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Design Emergency they tell me they would like to show certain aspects, and so we look for the best way to show the elements and the insights that are most relevant. When I worked with Surgo Foundation, I worked with data scientists, and there was a great dialogue because there was really a great combination of different competencies.

I think by now it’s clear that the role of design is essential in communicating data. A few years ago, I remember some tensions between journalists and data visualisation designers. I remember some discussions in Italy about the role of information designers – ‘Oh, they are going to steal our jobs, but they are not journalists. What are they?’ I think it’s not a problem anymore and I’ve experienced a very harmonious dialogue between different competencies.

Have you worked on other Covid-related visualisations recently?

I worked on another project for Marta Foresti from the Overseas Development Institute, showing migrants’ contribution in response to the Covid-19 emergency. I was, again, extremely glad to show migrants as essential contributors, not only as victims. ‘Key Workers’ documents the reforms, campaigns, and other initiatives that are dedicated to recognising the essential contribution of migrant key workers in the Covid-19 response.

We wanted something informative and evocative at the same time, so I designed a few trees that are on the landing page. Each tree represents a geographical area: Latin America, North America, Europe, Asia and Oceania, and Africa. Then the trees are divided into branches, and the branches represent sectors such as healthcare or agriculture or transportation – essential sectors. The sectors are divided into other branches that represent the national or the local level. At the end are many red dots, and each dot is a story, is an activity, is a campaign. The user can interact with the trees and can explore the stories – and then of course, there is information about the geographical location, about sources, and about the story itself.

It’s another angle from which to communicate the Covid-19 topic, but it’s an important angle. I think it’s an essential angle. I’ve worked on the project with Alex Piacentini, designer and developer.

How do you approach each data set and decide which visualising tool you’re going to apply?

It depends first of all on the data. The data analysis phase is essential in understanding what is the best structure to allow the readers to explore the data, and in communicating. To see patterns, to see insights. Then I really spend a lot of time looking for visual inspiration. There are projects in which I can visually experiment more – and in those cases I really love to look for inspiration from nature, or art, or worlds that I simply love. I like to understand which shapes, elements, texts, or textures I can work on to start a dialogue with readers, because my job is not producing beautiful visualisations, it’s communication.

Have there been other examples of data visualisation for Covid-19 that have really struck you?

I constantly look at the Financial Times’ Covid-19 visualisations, and The New York Times’ and The Washington Post’s, including while I was working for the Surgo Foundation project. I wanted to see how they represented Covid-19-related data. And then I’ve seen Giorgia Lupi’s project on re-visualising [New York governor] Andrew Cuomo’s update on New York’s new cases. She redesigned the slides that he used to communicate cases in New York daily, keeping in mind the human factor. I really liked her approach.

What is the relationship between visualisation design and truth?

I think that truth in data visualisation is connected to the transparency and honesty in admitting that there is human intervention behind it. I think that it’s very important to understand

that a data visualisation piece has people behind it, designing it, deciding what to represent and why. So I think that it’s important to clarify what we are representing, why we are representing certain data and not other data. I think that data visualisation and infographics will always be subjective, because there is something or someone behind deciding what to show and why. The truth is in declaring that.

Should there always be an introductory explanation by the visualisation designer?

I think it’s very important. Very simple, short text. When I work with Corriere della Sera and do visualisations for them, I always have to explain. If I’m visualising data about, let’s say 50 countries, I always have to declare, ‘We selected the top 50 countries because of this reason.’ I think that using text, using words to explain what we are representing, combining words and visual elements, is very important.

Protests stemming from George Floyd’s murder are happening all over the world right now. Are you itching to visualise anything?

When the pandemic started, I decided not to take personal initiatives on it but to wait to be contacted by experts, because I didn’t want to create noise. Because I’m not an expert. In this case, right now I want to do something, but I also want to wait, I want to understand.

Also, there are so many talented designers all over the world, African American designers that are so great and I think it’s important also to give them space, to see their projects, to see their work, and to see how they want to share their experiences. Right now I’m observing and I’m studying, and if I am contacted to help someone and to give my contribution, I would be very glad. But right now I’m in a waiting space.

Can you tell us more about your background?

After university, I started working at Accurat [a visualisation design studio based in Milan]. I worked there for a few years.

It was essential for my career because I learned a lot and I was surrounded by inspiring people. Then after that I worked freelance.

I have to say that social media really opened the doors of the world to me. I started working with clients from the United States thanks to social media, thanks to Twitter (more than Instagram).

I wasn’t expecting that, but because there is a very strong data-based community on Twitter, I started working on projects – side projects and projects for clients – and I started showcasing them. This really helped me in connecting with clients all over the world – first in the UK, then northern Europe, and then the United States.

Do you think that having this kind of connection with the rest of the world makes your vision more open and improves your design?

Definitely, definitely, yes. Events are also great, not only social media. It’s not possible right now, but I’ve had the chance to speak and to attend amazing conferences around the world; it’s a great way to learn and to have new sources of inspiration.

One of the conferences I attended that inspired me the most was Malofiej. Actually Malofiej is not a conference, it’s an award, and I was on the jury with amazing designers, not only from Europe and the United States, but also from Brazil, Mexico, Latin America.

Being able to connect with colleagues who have to deal with different issues, who have so many different ways to communicate and deal with different political issues, was extremely inspiring. ∂ precisionforcovid.org; storiesbehindaline.com; odi.org/migrant-key-workers-covid-19

The pioneering social designer Hilary Cottam started out as a social scientist and worked for the World Bank before conducting more than 20 years of practical experiments in applying design to address some of the most complex social and political problems of our time, from long-term unemployment to provision of care for the elderly. Having written about those experiments in her book, Radical Help, Cottam has embarked on an ambitious new project to redesign the welfare state. Her aim, as she explained to Alice Rawsthorn, is to make it fit for purpose in the 21st century, in what she calls the ‘fifth social revolution’

How did you discover design and identify it as a useful tool in your work?

Over 20 years ago, I was working in Africa and Latin America.

I became obsessed with the failure of social programmes and with the way that well-meaning people and well-meaning organisations (often trying to solve social problems) always failed. Or a project might work, and then after a while it would stop working.

In Radical Help, I give an example of when I worked in the Dominican Republic, and I was asked by its ministry of education to look at why primary school attendance was so low. We were told that the challenge was that people were hungry and couldn’t afford the mandatory school uniforms. So, we ran focus groups and we heard that yes, of course, uniforms are too expensive, and we haven’t got school meals. And duly, new policies were designed.

Much later, I went to live in a barrio in the Dominican Republic, where there was a brilliant school on the edge, but none of the people who lived in the barrio went there. I asked why and they said that they didn’t have any identity cards. It’s very complex, why they wouldn’t have had identity cards. But the point is, I needed to find ways that could connect real lives as they are lived to structures of power, to get out new information and to tell different stories, and that’s what first led me into design.

How did you integrate design into the practical experiments you conducted at the social enterprise Participle, which you ran for a decade as a prototyping lab?

As the Black feminist Audre Lorde said: ‘The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.’ We needed a different way to work, and design brought three things. Firstly, if we think about the complexity of the social challenges we face today, we need interdisciplinary teams to work together and that, in and of itself, is a challenge. We need policymakers to work with practitioners, we need economists, we need social scientists, and so on. But we also need to find a way to have lived experience as part of those

conversations, and not to flatten out other voices, or to allow certain power to dominate. Design provided the vehicle, the Esperanto within which everyone could come together, and we could design something new. So that was one thing.

The second thing is that I’m dedicated to visual methods of working. I think that if we use visual tools and techniques, whether it’s simple drawings or video, we can talk about things that are otherwise difficult to talk about. And most issues to do with welfare and needing help are at some level shameful or difficult. So, we can merge different stories, which can lead to different solutions.

The third thing is that, of course, design is very closely aligned to technology. And everything I do is possible because of technology, really. At Participle, we used really simple technology – cheap mobile phones and platforms – to upend business models. One of the tenets of Participle was, let’s design things that become stronger, the more people who use them, rather than things that exclude them.

Technology made that possible.

Tell us about your new project, about the fifth social revolution.

It’s a manifesto for social change, and a call to think about connections between our social troubles, our economic and political systems and the climate emergency. It’s a way to think about those three things together, and how they’re linked.

I started work on it before the pandemic but, obviously, it has become even more critical now, when we can see very clear structural inequalities, that the spread of Covid-19 is linked to the climate emergency and that some political systems can react well to support their populations in a crisis like this, and others can’t.

What will the methodology of this project be? It’s incredibly ambitious, though that hasn’t frightened you before.

There are two main parts, which are interconnected. One is the thinking part, so I’ve been thinking and collaborating with lots of people. The most important thing is that it’s called the »

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Extinction Rebellion in London’s Trafalgar Square, October 2019. Photography: Mike Kemp/In Pictures via Getty Images

Design Emergency

fifth social revolution, because it’s tied to the idea that we’re in a fifth technology revolution. I draw very strongly on the work of the brilliant economist, Carlota Perez, who’s been studying technology revolutions, and the way they manifest themselves, politically and economically. Drawing on her framing, we’re in the fifth technology revolution, and I think about what would be a sibling social system.

Then there’s a practical piece, which is that it is really important to redesign certain areas: work, care and learning are critical. My first project is about reimagining the future of work. I’ve been exploring these ideas with communities of people from different backgrounds: carers, grave diggers, nuclear weapon makers, digital entrepreneurs.

Having done so much research, do you now have a clear vision of the future direction? Or will you continue the research while formulating it?

I’m always learning and it’s always iterative. So, definitely, there’s a set of ideas which have gone into the practice and will come out differently. But in the paper on the fifth social revolution, which was recently published by the Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose at University College London, I’ve got an idea of a social code. It’s a design pattern, if you like: what are the five principles that could be taken, used and reimagined everywhere to underpin this revolution? It can’t be a blueprint as the last one was, when mass industrial welfare systems were introduced in the mid-20th century and passed down to us.

How will the role of technology in this project be different from your Participle experiments, which tended to be community-based?

Radical Help and the experiments at Participle were very UK-focused. I was looking very much at the British welfare state.

I’m still very embedded in communities here in Britain, but one of the things I realised through the reactions to Radical Help was how certain mindsets dominate across Western democracies.

I mean, also, of course, that through colonial patterns, we’ve exported them to the Global South. How can we rethink that?

What’s important about technology is that it changes everything. It changes what we see as common sense, the patterns of how we live, how we parent, how we sleep, how we work. There’s really nothing that isn’t in that transformation process. One of the things that has been very clear in this pandemic is that people have seen the need to rethink capitalism. We’ve seen very strong calls to rethink capitalism, but much less attention on the need to rethink a social settlement. Part of the idea behind the social revolution is to tie them back together, but also to think about what technology makes possible in terms of new ways of working, and new systems.

I’m not thinking about how we might have a good app for healthcare, for example, I’m thinking about how health is created in the 21st century, and how we support that. When you think like that, you realise that putting more money into a 1950s mass industrial health system is not the way to go.

A parallel phenomenon that I know you care about passionately is the climate emergency. How will it interact with this project?

The climate emergency is a very good example of the different sorts of problems we face that can’t be changed by mass industrial social systems. Solving or addressing the climate emergency definitely means macro policy and very different participation of citizens in different ways of living, so it’s not something that can be commanded from on high. It’s very much about our relationships with each other, to nature, and to the economy. That’s why we have to change not only what’s on offer, but the way that we create it.

For me, this pandemic, as difficult and tragic as it has been, is just a warm-up for what’s coming down the tracks in ten years or less.

Unless we reintegrate and rethink how we address that in terms of social policy, we’ll be stuck. This means thinking about how we transition out of dirty work into good green employment and thinking about health systems. I think the National Health Service is second only to the aviation industry in terms of its carbon footprint. It’s thinking about how all those things are connected and also, of course, harnessing the energy in something like Extinction Rebellion, or Black Lives Matter, the kind of movements that are really absolutely critical to thinking about how we can have what I think of as a soft and peaceful revolution.

Combating inequality and injustice has always been absolutely fundamental to your work, and this is a time when George Floyd’s tragic murder has ignited such powerful responses all over the world. What will be the role of the fifth social revolution in combating inequality in general, and systemic racism in particular?

That’s such an important question. One thing is that our current systems can’t see some of those structural inequalities.

In this pandemic, the extent of structural inequality has been made very evident: who can work at home; who can’t; who are dying more than others, and so on. I think that’s really brought home to many of us who couldn’t see it before that not everyone is taken care of, and that we need to think, again, because a lot of those inequalities weren’t addressed in the kind of post-war welfare systems we’ve got in western Europe. One of the things about those systems is that they’re very proud of treating everybody equally or of aspiring to. I think we understand now that treating everybody equally is entrenching inequality because we’re not all equal, and that it’s very complex, the way that ethnicity, gender, poverty, all these issues are interconnected. If we don’t understand that, we can’t see that ‘one size fits all’ is not going to address those problems. That’s very important.

The other thing we have to address is that, as Carlota Perez shows very clearly, when you have a technology revolution, a certain class always gains: first of all, agrarian workers, then so-called blue-collar workers. Previously many of those gains have been made by passing problems elsewhere and exploiting other bodies we can’t see. For instance, British welfare systems have always imported a workforce: well-trained nurses from Zambia, Jamaica and so on. We haven’t asked ever, or rarely, what we were doing by importing people trained elsewhere, very highly skilled people from countries that need them. In this revolution, we have to think about how we are all connected, and about raising everybody’s potential to flourish, rather than doing good things in one space by exporting the problem somewhere else.

For all the anguish, challenges and contradictions of lockdown, this has been a time for reflection for many people. How optimistic are you that those reflections will lead to a positive outcome, by catalysing change on the massive scale you’re advocating?

We’re still in the pandemic, so we don’t know what is going to happen. One thing I think that’s been really, really important is that we’ve had a sort of explosion of new relationships. We have really

come together to help one another, whether that’s by making masks or leaning over the fence to have a chat. This has happened in small, local ways, which work much better. We got to know one another again and forge new relationships. We’re not going to forget our experience of participation or that we have got to know our neighbours. It’s not that I expect all the small mutual aid groups that have flourished in Britain and other places to last, but I think the experience will last just as it did in the case of the Second World War. It was fundamental to the experience of war, whether on the front or at home, for people from different classes to get together.

Upper middle class people, in particular, had to realise that poverty wasn’t due to laziness, but because structurally it was impossible to get on. That led to a deep rethinking about our society, and what was needed. We’ve had that experience now.

Something else we could talk about which relates to the social code in the manifesto is that we’ve also had an explosion of making, repairs and remaking: whether it is making scrubs as personal protective equipment for frontline health workers, or whether it’s bread baking, or, in my case, growing a lot of lettuces. This is really important because the fifth social revolution will be made and remade in every place, things will be shared, learning will be shared.

But this isn’t something that’s going to be made in a mass way and then moved down some vertical production line. We’ve seen so much of that in this pandemic.

There are grounds for optimism. The community support networks you alluded to have strong historic precedents all over the world. In India, where the escalation of Covid-19 infections is a huge concern, the situation would be far worse without the local community work of women’s self-help groups. They began in the 1918 Bombay Influenza pandemic, that we call Spanish Flu, when community support groups fed and cared for people throughout the crisis. They have done so again with Covid-19.

I love that. One of the things that’s really important in technology revolutions is reinventing old ideas in new ways. One thing we’re seeing very strongly is a renewed interest in cooperatives and commons. The work of the late economist Elinor Ostrom on the commons, for example, is being linked to the new economic thinking, which is exciting. I think something optimistic is going to happen by taking those ideas and reinterpreting them. But, of course, we need other structural change, and it’s going to happen by design and by effort. That’s the challenge.

So how will it happen by design, Hilary?

The first thing is that when you look historically, you can see that to enable deep social transition (I call it a revolution because it’s a paradigm change, an absolute moment of break and rebirth), four sets of actors were needed every time. The first group is of what I call organic intellectuals. I call them that in a Gramscian sense, because I don’t just mean people in universities, I mean people with big ideas that can connect to practice and connect to hearts and minds, so we begin to tell a different story about what might be.

The second group is organised civil society, which is very important whether it is in the form of the labour movement, trade unions, or the social movements you’ve already referred to: Black Lives Matter and Extinction Rebellion being really critical examples.

The third group, I think, is sometimes somewhat overlooked by social campaigners. It’s a group of what I call the new industrialists.

When you look historically, you see that what’s always absolutely critical is that a group of business leaders, usually with big businesses at the forefront of new technologies, understand (not for philanthropic reasons, but for reasons of economics) that if they don’t shift the model, they won’t be able to grow themselves.

Henry Ford is a classic example of the last revolution. He realised that if he didn’t pay his workers more, there would be no market for his cars. So, he argued (in fact he took his board to court over »

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Design Emergency it) to pay his workers more. Now, Ford wasn’t a very nice man, I’m sure you know, he also shot his workers. But the point is that he understood why the model had to change. Part of my work at the moment is a series of conversations with leaders in technology businesses, thinking about what their role is, not just (although this is very important) in terms of good working conditions and relationships throughout the supply chain, but thinking also much more broadly about what the new social contract is.

And then the fourth group is the state, because it’s clear that the state is the head gardener that sets out the framework, which is needed to adopt the social code. Lots of the work I’ve written about is obviously collaborative, it’s not just something I dreamt up myself. But if the state doesn’t say that this is the direction of travel, this is where investment will go, as happened after the Second World War, then it becomes very, very difficult to actually shift systems. The challenge, of course, is that we’ve got a mass production state: very, very hierarchical, very vertically stratified, which in itself needs to undergo a form of revolution in order to help this process along. Some countries, such as New Zealand, are thinking very radically about this. Whereas, unfortunately, in Britain, we’re seeing a lot of state money move without any idea of what the transition needs to be to achieve a more just society but also critically to address the climate emergency.

Indeed. If we go back to your third group of new industrialists.

Do you have any evidence that the attitudes and motivation of this group has changed? You describe Henry Ford as a super dynamic rapscallion, who decided to pay his workers more out of naked financial self-interest, rather than, say, the Keynesian belief that by creating a more prosperous society, you can also create a fairer, juster, better educated and more productive one. Do you believe that today’s new industrialists are still motivated by financial self-interest, or does the work of, say, Bill Gates point to a more profound commitment to philanthropy and to the greater good?

I don’t want to speak out against the great Bill Gates, but what I’m interested in is not his model. I’m not interested in people who make a lot of money, and then become philanthropists. Not that their money isn’t needed, but a just society doesn’t work that way.

It doesn’t work to have some form of economy that creates all sorts of problems, and later, you have the great Band-Aid approach that tries to fix it. It works (and this is what the fifth social revolution is about) by reconnecting the economy with society and rethinking the purpose of that economy.

If we think that the purpose of the economy is to use people to create GDP and ever-growing wealth, then we’re going to always need some sort of desperate sticking plaster solution and most people are not going to be able to thrive. If we think that the purpose of the economy is to create the conditions for human and natural flourishing, then we begin to think very differently.

The question is, where are the new industrialists who are thinking radically differently about their roles as capitalists, not about ‘get rich and give back’? But really, how do we rethink the economy? I’m having a series of conversations about this. I had a conversation at the World Economic Forum’s meeting in Davos this year with Satya Nadella, chief executive officer of Microsoft and with Ajay Singh Banga, president and chief executive officer of MasterCard. It’s interesting to see how far they can go and where the gaps still are. Rebecca Solnit has written about the privatised heart, and it’s quite difficult for many of us now to think about this as a collective endeavour rather than just the endeavour of the firm or the endeavour of the great leader. It’s much bigger than that.

You have described your vision eloquently and precisely.

What are the main obstacles to achieving it?

There are so many obstacles. It’s a game of two halves. There’s so much extraordinary practice already happening. I take inspiration

from that, whether it’s in Barrow-in-Furness, or Wigan, or East Ayrshire in this country. But then we have the enormous challenge of an over-centralised state that is unable and unwilling to either use its centralised power to really think about macro-level investment and the green transition, or to cede power socially so that people can find their own ways to flourish. That’s the big challenge, really.

I think of it visually. We have got extremely strong, vertical, top-tobottom systems. And the fifth social revolution is all about turning that on its side and building really, really strong mycelium-like networks like horizontal systems. The challenge is how we go about doing that. We can see it happening in local government here in Britain, and in different places around the world (you’ve referred to India), often through necessity. But it is still a very big challenge to consider how we begin to shift that mindset to think about those horizontal systems, rather than patching in this vertical way.

Could you describe one of the programmes that gives you cause for hope?

What gives me cause for hope is that, if I think about what’s happened in this pandemic, there are lots of places, not everywhere, but lots of places where not only has civil society mobilised all the support groups we’ve talked about, but that government and statutory services – social work, education, police, and so on – have thought about how they can join in. They’ve literally taken off their lanyards and their labels, and they’ve ditched all the regulations about ‘Do you have the right needs?’, and they’ve thought: ‘Well, here we are, together in our community, what’s in front of us? What are we going to do?’ We’ve seen this really strongly in Barrow-inFurness, for example. We’ve seen it in East Ayrshire as well. What’s really exciting is that it should be possible to continue that work, and we’re thinking about how to do that.

Very often, top-down regulations are the biggest limitation.

And how do we link that thinking to the thinking of a new economy? How do we think about a generative economy in all of those local places to support the changes? What we can’t have is what we’ve had for too long: really good social innovations in places where there’s no good, thriving generative economy; where there’s no good work, for example. We can’t have that, and that’s why the first project I’ve been working on is around work, a fundamental hinge between economy and society.

What is success going to look like?

There are various levels of success. Success will be that we can flourish, that we see flourishing all around us, which we don’t see now. We managed, for instance, to take many homeless people off the streets during the Covid-19 lockdown, but all around us, we see evidence of human waste rather than human flourishing and our inability to support people to grow. That’s one thing.

Connecting to nature, in the widest possible sense, so there is natural flourishing and our planet is flourishing. Then we’ll have re-geared our economies to support people and the planet to flourish. I think, ultimately, we will tell this new story, we will have transition and we’ll be addressing structural inequalities, but unlike the last revolution, these things won’t be done to us, but by us.

We’ll be making and designing this revolution ourselves and will be part of it. That’s the shift in power, and the shift in making in the story of design, that is at the heart of this fifth social revolution. ∂ Radical Help: How We Can Remake the Relationships Between Us & Revolutionise the Welfare State, by Hilary Cottam (2018, Virago); hilarycottam.com

Nigerian architect Kunlé Adeyemi’s office – NLÉ, meaning ‘at home’ in Yoruba – is based in two cities built on and from water: Lagos, in the country of his birth, and Amsterdam, the city where Adeyemi settled after a long stint at Rem Koolhaas’ Office for Metropolitan Architecture in Rotterdam. Since its inception in 2010, NLÉ, just like the city of Lagos, has kept expanding, mostly over water, with the architect highlighting the importance of a new practice – more open-ended and versatile, not exclusively imposed from the top down but rather more conversant and recombinant, accepting of informality and of citizens’ imagination. Something we need now more than ever, when we come to regroup, rethink and rebuild after the pandemic.

Adeyemi and Paola Antonelli discussed the potential of architecture in helping communities cope with urban density and withstand climate change by acknowledging the power of water

In 2007, while you were still working at OMA, you published an essay in the journal Log, entitled Urban Crawl. It was an occasion for the western/northern hemisphere to consider cities in developing countries as paragons and paradigms for the future, and also argued for a radical rethinking of the position of architecture.

The article was written shortly after my post-professional degree at Princeton, and I published it with a view in mind. My thesis at the time was on the role of market economies in rapidly emerging cities.

I had a lot of reflection around the impact of cities of the Global South and how they would become more important in the future.

It was a prompt to rethink our perceptions of cities, understanding that there’s a critical point where cities, just out of the growth of population and economy, begin to become a lot more organic in their expansion, and the nature of the performance of the city – whether economically, socially or environmentally – becomes exponential.

That’s what we’re starting to see in several large, growing cities in the Global South. Without infrastructure, or with very minimal infrastructure and very minimally organised economies, they start to regulate themselves, just out of sheer population growth and impact.

In that same essay, you argued that ‘the space of architecture as we know it is getting smaller and smaller’. How do you consider that statement now, 13 years later? Has architecture changed?

I think there’s been a lot of changes in the practice, but not enough change to cope with the speed of development that is necessary to accommodate the growth of human population and the environmental impact of this growth. We’re also losing grip if we do not realise the implication of acting in the capacity of the public realm, as opposed to just providing solutions that are very specific to individuals. In my view, architecture is more of a service, and the client is really more public than private lately. Whatever we do even for private clients has an impact on a larger community.

Would you call that acting in the public realm politics?

For sure. There’s a lot of influence on politics, and political influence on architecture. And I think there are a lot more people that have done more specific work in that realm. In our way of understanding the role of architects or architecture in the built environment, we developed a tool for analysing this sort of urban dynamics, which we call the seven DESIMER Factors. Typically, the architect is trained to think about design as the first solution for addressing any problem, but we would like to analyse the context and the requirements through seven factors – Demographics, Economics, Sociopolitics, Infrastructure, Morphology, Environment, and Resources – that actually drive development. Indeed, politics and social context, even the shape and the topography of the environment are huge factors, and design is only a tool to orchestrate these complex dynamics into built form and to understand programme. Essentially, these factors are divided into two areas of research – issues of humanity and growth, and issues connected to the environment.

And that’s what this is for us. Architecture in what we stand for is about diversity and coexistence of humanity and environment.

Are you keeping humans and environment separate because of the agency that humans have over the environment?

Yes. You keep them separate, but you also look at them together.

It’s about their coexistence. Whereas as a standard practice we understand people as our clients, but we also at the same time look at the environment as our client.

In 2014, you participated in the MoMA exhibition ‘Uneven Growth’, which looked at the idea of a postcolonial city in which a bottom-up material culture leads and complements a traditional top-down idea of design. What is the role of community in the vision that you have for architecture in the future? »

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NLÉ’s Makoko Floating School was built for the historic lagoon community of Makoko, in Lagos, Nigeria. Destroyed by a heavy storm in 2016, the prototype led to a series of floating structures, built around the world using a highly engineered flat-pack system Photography: Iwan Baan

I presented a vision of Lagos in 2050, centred around three points: water, transportation and energy. The image is somewhat our general prototypical vision of what a city that has embraced water looks like.

We were beginning to understand the role of climate change and the impact on the environment on our cities. Eighty per cent of our major cities and capitals all around the world are by the waterfront, by oceans, rivers, lakes.

Our view is that the development and evolution of humanity are going to become somewhat more aquatic, there will be an increase in that relationship between cities and water. We should learn not to continue to fight it, but learn to live with it.

Are you saying that we will need to expand over water?

There are different conditions, all kinds of very specific site conditions all over the world. We hear a lot about cities that are by the sea or by the ocean, the threat of sea levels rising, the frequent flooding. There are also inland wet areas, wetlands, marshy areas, where groundwater is rising – they need different approaches.

We think, generally speaking, that in the real estate that we allocate to the development of cities, the portion that relates to water should increase. We need to accommodate more water basins and have fewer hard surfaces. Even if it’s simply about increasing a drainage system and having more canalisation, that is already an approach to dealing with water and learning to live with it; having more room for capturing rainwater as part of our landscape and urbanscape; actually building on water as a form of habitation, and also reducing land reclamation, which is very, very invasive – it’s expensive, and literally reduces the area of water in a region.

Your Makoko Floating School is a famous, and also tragic project.

Can you tell us about the community and the school itself please?

Makoko Floating School is a project that began in 2011. I was voluntarily trying to research affordable housing and offering my service to the Lagos State Government. I started to look at what may be considered the cheapest dwellings in a city like Lagos. I realised people who live in Makoko – in what would technically be defined as slums – on water, with very poor quality of construction, were able to build so much out of so little. I got the opportunity to visit the place, and was completely blown away by what I experienced there.

There was, of course, a lot of hardship, a lot of environmental challenges but being in the community itself is a totally different experience. One of the community members I met said they would like an extension to an existing school. I thought that if we could improve on their building system, it could be a great collaboration.

So we started conceptualising. At some point in the process, we were thinking of building on stilts, like they did. But a few months after we began, there was a huge storm in Lagos, and it occurred to me that a lot of the parts of Lagos that were on land were actually going to be flooded. It is a very vulnerable environment for a very large city of nearly 20 million people. Even though people in Makoko were building on water, they were still affected by the tidal change, so we developed the floating solution that adapted to the tide.

In 2016, however, a seasonal storm destroyed the school.

What did you learn from it?

There’s a misrepresentation and misunderstanding of the situation surrounding the collapse, especially from the public realm.

A lot of people considered it a disaster, a tragedy, maybe out of our control, but it wasn’t that, and we have a full report on our website about the circumstances that led to it. The building was a test, it was a prototype. We had worked on it with the community and we saw it coming to its end. It was not literally brought down just by the storm; we had had many storms in the past. What we learned is to be completely relentless in innovation, and innovating means understanding that failure is also part of the learning curve.

Indeed, you transformed the experience into an evolving construction system. It had different prototypes, shown at the Biennale in Venice, in Bruges (Belgium), in Minjiang (China), and the latest one is in Cape Verde.

We’ve evolved Makoko Floating School into what we call Makoko Floating System, which is really a simple way to build on water by hand. We learned from the people of Makoko and then improved the process into a flat-pack system, prefabricated, easy to assemble, disassemble, highly engineered to European codes, which you can apply internationally. We’ve built it in five countries across three continents, tested it in different environments, tested it with different local materials, looked at the collaboration, understood different contexts and how it would adapt in its different variations and uses.

In Bruges, we had some covering with panels, and it was used as a school. In China, we had bamboo. In Mindelo in Cape Verde it’s a floating music hub. It’s in the ocean now. We’ve made a lot of improvements to what started out as a handcrafted, guerrilla-style project. And I want to mention that while it was a school – an incidental use at the time – the project was actually funded and supported by the United Nations Development Programme under the Climate Change Adaptation programme. So it’s always been a project about climate change adaptation, about response to the environment, and the school was an example of the use of it.

A very inspiring example, however, because it was in such a creatively energetic community.

The community is the origin and the key, and the source of the potential of using the system as a way to develop a much improved quality of life for the poor or the rich, it cuts across social classes. It’s about local materials. It’s about local responsibility, understanding what is within means, and maximising it. So that’s where we’re at now, where you can use the system for housing, a resort, a library, all kinds of facilities – on water.

What has the Covid-19 crisis taught you?

There has been the opportunity to step back a bit, slow down, re-evaluate what is important, understand, try to be more efficient, connect with family, change my diet [laughs]. So it’s been a great time to be reflective, as with most people, but also to try to develop the focus on what we think would be important.

Your research right now is about African cities and water.

Water cities as a body of work for the last nine years, since we began Makoko Floating School. We immediately saw the potential, both globally and also for the African continent. I’ve continued the research at the various institutions where I’ve taught. We took students to different cities: Durban with Harvard, Abidjan with Columbia, Lagos with Cornell, and we looked at Mindelo with Princeton.

There’s a whole world.

A lot of African cities that we’ve been focusing on are on water – the African Water Cities Project. The students are looking at different approaches to tackle the urgent challenges we’ve identified from the research – the adaptation of cities to the changing climate. ∂ nleworks.com

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Pakistan is a country of 200 million people, less than half of whom have access to a doctor. Two Pakistani doctors, Sara Saeed Khurram and Iffat Zafar Aga, decided to tackle this problem by designing a telemedicine service, Sehat Kahani, whereby female doctors who, like them, had stopped practising to focus on their families, can work from home to treat patients in local clinics on live video links or apps. Founded three years ago, Sehat Kahani, which means ‘Story of Health’ in Urdu, now operates throughout Pakistan. The two founders told Alice Rawsthorn how, having made an important contribution to the Covid-19 relief effort, their project now has the public awareness and political support required to accelerate its future growth, serving as an inspiring example of telemedicine’s potential to improve access to healthcare in countries where it is urgently needed

Sara Saeed Khurram, a 2019 Rolex Awards Associate Laureate, in one of her Sehat Kahani clinics in Pakistan before the pandemic. Photography: ©Rolex/Reto Albertalli

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Design Emergency Why did you found Sehat Kahani?

It evolved around two major health issues. The first is very connected to my and Iffat’s lives – the issue of doctors’ rights.

Pakistan has a total medical workforce of 170,000 doctors. Female doctors make up around 60 to 70 per cent of the total medical workforce, which is a great thing, but, unfortunately, only 23 per cent of them are currently registered with the Pakistan Medical & Dental Council and work, which means that 70,000 to 80,000 doctors are missing from Pakistan’s health ecosystem.

This happens because of what we call ‘doctor brides’, in that parents in our country want their daughters to become doctors, not for them to serve communities as physicians, but for them to have better hands in marriage. If you’re a woman in Pakistan, if you’re a doctor, if you’re tall, if you’re thin, if you’re pretty, you make the perfect package for an arranged marriage.

The second problem is very close to our hearts – the inaccessibility of healthcare in this country. Over half the population don’t have access to the help of qualified doctors and go to quacks, faith healers or midwives and nurses instead. While there are a lot of problems in the healthcare infrastructure, we believe that the inability of our medical workforce to work to its full potential contributes a lot to preventing the majority of the people in Pakistan from having access to healthcare.

Iffat and I both went through the doctor bride issue. When I had a small daughter, I couldn’t work and fell into postpartum depression, and Iffat lost her baby in a premature birth so left her job. The next time she conceived, she thought that she might lose the baby again. We felt that so many female doctors in Pakistan go through these traumas, that we could help by making provision for them to practise from their homes and to use telemedicine technology to connect to patients in communities where doctors are not accessible. That’s how Sehat Kahani came into being.

women and children came in, they saw families getting consultations from a female nurse and a female doctor. So, there was limited male involvement in those clinics.

But as Sehat Kahani evolved, we added a mobile app to our service, to make it better suited to the mass market. Interestingly, 70 per cent of the market for our app are male patients, who are consulting female doctors and seem pretty happy about it. Yes, there are some issues, such as sex issues, urological issues, and psychological issues for which we also need male doctors. And we employ male doctors specifically for them. But, generally, we’ve seen that men are more comfortable for themselves and their families to consult female doctors, than to see male doctors.

What was the role of design in Sehat Kahani’s development?

Design has been an essential part of how we have developed each and every service, and each and every product. We were very lucky in being associated with a lot of programmes that taught us about design. For example, we were part of the Spring Accelerator programme, which supports businesses whose products and services promise to improve the lives of adolescent girls. Spring Accelerator conducted external research in our communities to find out what healthcare services our patients would look for from a one-stop shop. Through this, we learned that women were not only looking to access general physicians, but as many healthcare services as is possible under one roof. So, for example, our community clinics now also offer access to ultrasound specialists on designated days.

We also learned that mental health is a very important problem faced by people in Pakistan, whether we’re talking about low-income communities or high-income communities. While the problems are the same in those communities, the way they are manifested can be very different and through these various design techniques we have been able to constantly evolve our services to better suit the users.

What difficulties have you had to overcome since founding Sehat Kahani three years ago?

How has Sehat Kahani responded to the Covid-19 crisis in Pakistan?

There were a lot of challenges. When we presented the concept, some people said it wouldn’t work. Telemedicine had come into Pakistan in the late 1990s, but most of those programmes were funded by donors. There were questions as to whether people would pay for telemedicine, how the system would work and whether patients would trust a doctor they could only meet online.

When we started reaching out to the right kind of communities for us to work with, it required a lot of education from our end to convince people that they would benefit from the initiative.

In the early days we’d sit on the floor with women from those communities and explain what the service would be like for them, that the doctors lived in the city and had all graduated from prestigious hospitals. These were the challenges, but over time, we’ve overcome them and learned a lot along the way.

When Covid-19 happened, we were scared that as we don’t have a very robust healthcare system, it is very difficult for a country like ours to cope with this additional stress. When hospitals were brimming with Covid-19 patients, what would happen to patients who wouldn’t be able to get out of their homes? What about the women and children, and the chronic cases who would need help and wouldn’t be able to go to hospital?

Within our company, there was a very interesting scenario where our original base, the telemedicine clinics, had to close down because of the lockdown. We had a young app that had only been on the market for six months and was used by around 15 to 20 patients a day, and we had a corporate-care solution that was being used by six to seven corporates. We thought that either we can be agile and use this opportunity to provide healthcare to a lot of people, or we can sit around and wait for the telemedicine clinics to open again. We chose the first option. We put all our energy into our telemedicine app and went full force in making sure that it would be there whenever a patient needed a consultation with an online doctor. And we started working towards that by creating highly subsidised packages for our corporates and making our retail Sehat Kahani app free for all patients.

We partnered with the federal government of Pakistan and provincial governments, and we partnered with corporates and NGOs to provide healthcare services to everyone who needed them.

We created as much outreach as possible for our services, so that anyone who picked up a phone could contact a doctor using the Sehat Kahani app. And because of this, we went from seeing 12 to 15 patients a day on our app, to 700 or 800 patients a day: one in ten of them were suffering from Covid-19. There was also a first-time mother who went into labour at 4am, whose husband was in Dubai working. She was all alone at home and didn’t know »

Was it also challenging for you to operate as an all-female team of doctors?

Yes, because Pakistan is still a patriarchal country, and many people still think that women are not able to do a lot of things.

But one thing that has gone in our favour is that medicine is considered to be a noble profession in Pakistan, and while many female patients feel uncomfortable going to male doctors, we don’t see male patients being as uncomfortable about female doctors, because they respect the profession.

We started Sehat Kahani with the idea of creating telemedicine clinics in low-income communities, which are majorly patriarchal in nature, with the men taking all the decisions.

When we started opening clinics with nurses working as intermediaries and helping the patients to connect to female doctors, one of the things that worked in our favour is that when

Design Emergency what to do. A Sehat Kahani doctor helped her get to a tertiary care facility for delivery. We had a 70-year-old man who suffered from cardiac failure in Balochistan, a very remote area of Pakistan with poor healthcare access. We were able to diagnose from his symptoms that he was going through cardiac failure. We had several mental health issues coming up on our app because of the lockdown and the economic crisis, and we were able to help those patients. I think this changed the course for Pakistan in terms of digital healthcare and for Sehat Kahani as a company.

How did you restructure Sehat Kahani, and hire more doctors, to manage such a significant expansion in so short a period of time?

We already had a network of 1,500 physicians. The idea is that they become part of our bigger network where they engage in training and health education, so it has been a matter of mobilising the doctors from that pool whenever we needed them.

As Sara explained, when we started doing so many more consultations, we had to mobilise up to 200 additional doctors to work on the app. At one point, we had somewhere around 300 to 350 doctors working on it. They were ready to serve and trained for the core protocols. That’s how we were able to adapt so quickly.

Whenever a doctor becomes a part of the Sehat Kahani network, they go through extensive training, which not only involves telemedicine, but how they can meet patients’ needs using software. They were all trained for Covid protocols, which evolve as government protocols change.

We were constantly upgrading those protocols, and all the primary healthcare issues we could foresee through the mobile app.

For example, we have had instances where suicidal patients have ended up calling general physicians and not mental health experts, so the general physicians also need to be trained to recognise that those cases need to be referred to specialists.

What impact will your experience of Covid-19 have on Sehat Kahani going forward?

Covid has taught us a lot of things. Technology adoption in the country was extremely poor, or not at the standard we would have expected. We thought it would take another three to four years for people to really believe in the power of technology, and in the power of telemedicine. But Covid has made people in Pakistan understand its value. Our conversations with corporate partners, governments and stakeholders about telemedicine being the future of healthcare have become really easy. Corporates are subscribing every day. The fact that the federal and provincial governments partnered with a start-up to provide telemedicine services shows that even the government realises the value of digital healthcare.

When we talk about the future of healthcare in a country where the resources are so limited and the healthcare infrastructure is broken, telemedicine can play a very important role. Public healthcare is structured in Pakistan, much like in the UK. The patient goes to a basic healthcare unit, from there to a secondary health unit and then to a tertiary unit. What if we change all the basic health units into telemedicine units, so that each patient is seen by a virtual telemedicine physician rather than a nurse or a midwife? How many patients could you help in their communities with primary healthcare problems by doing that?

This is a conversation that’s very easy to have with the government now, compared to before.

How do you plan to develop the services you offer?

We’re always looking for new avenues. The idea is that for this year, we want to focus on expanding the mobile app services.

Right now, we’re focusing on Pakistan, but we’re looking at scaling them in other countries too. We also see a huge opportunity in creating versions of the same app to be used by various healthcare

facilities, by tertiary care hospitals, for example. And there are other areas of healthcare we can delve into.

And how do you plan to take advantage of the new political support for your work and the growing awareness of it?

We’ll be talking to governments about a proper digital health policy, or for regulation or guidelines for digital health in the country. In order for any service to be legitimate, there has to be a policy or guidelines, which unfortunately are missing in Pakistan at the moment. We’re raising our voices on as many government, federal and provincial platforms as possible about this.

The second thing is that working with the government has given us credibility, so a lot of physicians want to come and work with us to set up virtual clinics using our mobile app. We are also having conversations with the government about upgrading basic health units into telemedicine units. There are currently 6,000 to 7,000 units in Pakistan that are dormant and without doctors but could be upgraded. Of course, these will have to start as small pilot projects that can be upscaled if they show promise. Right now, one out of three people in Pakistan has access to a doctor. We can change that to two out of three.

We also see ourselves as a telemedicine platform that can use Pakistani doctors to help other countries with limited access to healthcare. Bangladesh, for example, but also countries in Africa and Latin America. Our network of doctors and our telemedicine platform can be solutions for them, rather than just for Pakistan. ∂ sehatkahani.com

Italian-born, Amsterdam-based designers Andrea Trimarchi and Simone Farresin, aka Formafantasma, have a unique ability to be exquisitely elegant ‘form givers’ (1950s Italian masters like Franco Albini and Carlo Scarpa come to mind) while at the same time surreptitiously pouncing at the jugular of unethical networks and practices that are deeply entangled with design and production – exposing them so they can hopefully be dismantled. Paola Antonelli questioned the duo on the role of the investigative design they have helped establish; on the exhibition ‘Cambio’ at Serpentine Galleries, devoted to the timber industry; and on the new master’s degree on GEO-Design that they will run at Design Academy Eindhoven, which will be ‘a platform to explore the social, economic, territorial, and geopolitical forces shaping design today’. By teaching students and inspiring practitioners beyond the confines of the design world, Formafantasma hopes to populate the world with designers who have committed to using their métier to dismantle systems of oppression and exploitation of humans and other species and natural resources. In other words, to be engaged activists

What is GEO-Design?

Joseph Grima, the director of Design Academy Eindhoven, introduced the concept of GEO-Design first as an exhibition curated

by Martina Muzi, where alumni of Design Academy have a chance to explore the concept on a thematic basis. The 2018 ‘GEO-Design: Alibaba’ exhibition was the first, and last year Martina curated ‘GEO-Design: Junk’. Now it is also a department, and Joseph asked us to be the heads. We have a similar perspective on what needs to be done in design education. In the future, maybe GEO-Design will also become a publication, and more. There are different ways of interpreting the term. We feel that design has been focusing on the needs of users for a long time, and sometimes there is a disregard for the infrastructure upon which design operates. Whenever we produce an object or a service, inevitably we support an economy, a way of sourcing materials or transforming, distributing them. We believe that if as designers we investigate this way of producing things, we can become more knowledgeable and develop a holistic perspective that can allow us to become much more critical, possibly inventive, in ways that go beyond the product and the object and also infiltrate the way the object is produced, recycled or distributed.

What kind of students have you accepted into the programme?

We welcome a variety of different practitioners, even beyond the fields that generally apply to design. We would be very happy to welcome people from economic studies or from the sciences, because we definitely believe in an interdisciplinary approach. We believe it is extremely important to not compartmentalise knowledge, but rather to create bridges between different fields of knowledge.

In your work, you always collaborate and try to build bridges, often in order to consider the sociopolitical implications of design.

Can you please describe a typical collaboration, for instance related to your latest exhibition, ‘Cambio’, at London’s Serpentine Galleries?

‘Cambio’ is an exhibition looking into the timber industry and in order to investigate it, we created a network of relationships with a variety of different practitioners – scientists, specifically wood evolutionists and wood anatomists; people with more humanistic backgrounds, like philosopher Emanuele Coccia; NGO members and activists; anthropologists; and institutions with wood-based collections, such as the Victoria & Albert Museum and Kew Gardens, which also lent to the show. With ‘Cambio’, we’re focusing not just on the timber industry in general, but rather on understanding its governance, and all these different practitioners helped us shed light on the complex infrastructure of the extraction of timber from forests.

The exhibition is actually the starting point of a much broader investigation that will also land in GEO-Design. The first trimester will be focused on the timber industry and on ‘Cambio’, and we will bring in all the people we have connected to in the year and a half of developing the exhibition. They will be part of the teaching, the mentorship, or they will be a guest in the programme.

Design investigations are worthy of an investment of time and money beyond a presence at a design week or an expo. And this is where the GEO-Design platform also comes into play. How is the teaching of design and architecture changing around the world?

One of the things that we want to put into question in design education is that it is often focusing on the individual and on the author, the idea of the designer who has a signature and imposes that onto the world. But we think something we can learn from the scientific method is that when a piece of research starts and you publish the results, others can appropriate it, and of course credit »

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A still from Quercus, a 2020 film

by Formafantasma for their ‘Cambio’ exhibition at Serpentine Galleries, London. It was produced by manipulating a Lidar scan – a laser technology adopted by the timber industry in order to selectively log trees – of an oak forest in Virginia, US Image: Formafantasma

Design Emergency where the research comes from, but also contribute to it. We are also thinking about the construction of a GEO-Design platform, which can be just internal to the department, but also possibly publish the work of the students for the outside world.

Our way of thinking to structure the course is that the first part will be collective, and students will be able to ‘steal’ each other’s research. People could then collaborate within the department, as a group, or as a duo, or three people together. The course should be like an octopus, with one head and multiple tentacles that can explore.

What is the ultimate goal of the GEO-Design initiative?

The ecological component is at the root of the department, the prefix ‘geo’ is extremely important. It’s a way to say that design can no longer be considered in a vacuum, that the planet in this moment, in the Anthropocene, is calling us to take action and actually create a safe life not only for ourselves, but also for other species. Our aim is to educate a generation of designers who have a holistic perspective, who can think beyond the product, who are able to critically look at the world we live in and take ecology on a serious level.

And then bring it back to their own sphere. As we mentioned, we are trying to gather a group of people that are not product designers, and later, they can challenge their own discipline. It’s what we are trying to do also with our own work. We are trying really hard.

Hopefully in the future, we will show the result of it – that we don’t want to only preach about certain things, but we want to put things into practice. That’s something that we want also our students to do.

What will the students do when they come out of the school?

We hope, of course, that students that graduate from the department will be able to work traditionally in a design studio, but there are multiple other places where their design can have an impact.

We can imagine them working, for instance, for NGOs, or as activists, and also in research and development departments of companies.

In this moment, practically all the companies in the world have a sustainability department. We are trying to educate those kinds of people that can challenge companies to think outside the box.

I’m hoping they will become mayors or presidents, too.

Absolutely, because the attempt, actually, is to use design as a way of bridging knowledge. Something that was evident, for instance, when we did the extensive investigation of electronic waste is how much knowledge is fragmented and compartmentalised. There is a lack of conversation between all the different parts. Design can play a role because at the end of the day, if we are the ones shaping the world, we should also be the ones in touch with all these different practitioners, and possibly creating links and conversations which are actually, in this moment, sadly, not happening.

That also means educating the rest of the world on a new way to use design. Is that a challenge?

Honestly, we still struggle with that. We would expect that investigations like ‘Cambio’ or ‘Ore Streams’ [Formafantasma’s investigation into the recycling of electronic waste, commissioned

by NGV Australia and Antonelli, in her role as curator of the XXII Triennale di Milano] could be seen by a company that would ask us to look at what they do, and see if we can expand it outside of the design of the product and think from a more holistic perspective.

But then it boils down to the fact that they are not even able to understand how to pay us, especially because traditional design, product design, is based on a royalty system. If we provide another

kind of service within a company, how do they pay us? And they are not able to find a way of intervening within that context.

I’ve called your brand of design ‘investigative design’; I appreciate very much the interviews that you conduct in your research projects.

The interview is our favourite way of doing research, specifically when you engage with scientists, because scientists cannot express opinions in their scientific papers, but when you interview them, they can be much more elastic and associative in their way of speaking.

What we did in ‘Ore Stream’ or in ‘Cambio’ usually started with one or two people, and then you discover this enormous network of people that are all connected.

Not only do you do the research, but also, you present it in the most elegant way possible. It seems that ‘objects’ are not your primary goal, even though they are often sublime. What is the actual product of your design process?

Our practice is, of course, evolving and changing. In projects such as ‘Ore Streams’ and ‘Cambio’, the product is the research. In the case of ‘Ore Streams’, the product was also a series of very pragmatic strategies. Everybody was seduced by the objects we designed. But to make sure people would not get carried away by their elegance and forget the ‘learning’ part of the project, we made an animated video with suggestions of practical solutions that could be put into practice in this moment, to make electronic products more repairable and recyclable. We’re not at that stage with ‘Cambio’ per se. But this is, for instance, one of the possible outcomes of our investigations, to work not only on the level of the product, but also on a strategic level.

What is the most important step for designers to take in these next few months, in your mind, while we wait for a vaccine?

We are completely obsessed with the ecological emergency.

Any way to tackle that at multiple levels. Designers can go from what is needed tomorrow, or today – like improving recycling – to visionary solutions. They could talk, for instance, about how the economy is structured, come up with new models.

Which are much needed! The Covid emergency really shows us how the economy we are living in is completely wrong and fragile.

It also demonstrated that the way that the urban environment is designed is wrong. I think there’s plenty that can be done on an urban level. And of course, we are extremely preoccupied with how materials are sourced. There’s a lot that needs to be investigated to make us designers much more aware of our material choices.

You’ve been trying to get people to understand, to empathise and almost be resin, be lava stone, be trees. What is your next frontier?

In the GEO-Design course, but also in our practice, we are looking into design for non-humans. Not robots, but other living creatures on the planet, because – and this is also another problem of design – we put the human at the centre, but we need to enlarge the centre to include other species. How can we, as designers, think about the needs of other species? We cannot really become trees, we cannot really become dogs or other animals, but we can empathise with those other species and use the tools that we have to try to understand.

At Design Academy we will include talks and workshops with the conservationist Meredith Root-Bernstein and the artist Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg, on how to design for other species. Probably that will become the beginning of one of our investigations. ∂ formafantasma.com; geodesign.online; orestreams.com

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Tragic and destructive though the Covid-19 crisis has been, it is one of a tsunami of threats to assail us at the same time. A concise list of current calamities includes the global refugee crisis; spiralling inequality, injustice and poverty; terrifying terrorist attacks and killing sprees; seemingly unstoppable conflicts; and, of course, the climate emergency. Since the start of the pandemic, global outrage against systemic racism following the tragic killing of George Floyd, and the destruction of much of Beirut have joined the list. Design is not a panacea to any of these problems, but it is a powerful tool to help us to tackle them, which is why Paola Antonelli and Alice Rawsthorn are focusing Design Emergency on the most promising global efforts to redesign and reconstruct our lives for the future. Thankfully, there are plenty of resourceful, ingenious, inspiring and empathetic design projects to give grounds for optimism. Take the climate emergency, where design innovations on all fronts: from the generation of clean, renewable energy, to new forms of sustainable food growing, and rewilding programmes are already making a significant difference to the quality of the environment. Here are four of Antonelli and Rawsthorn’s favourite design responses to the ecological crisis 202

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Photography: The Great Green Wall of the Sahara and Sahel © UNCCD. Kazuhiro Nogi/AFP via Getty Images. ©Nature Urbaine

Design Emergency

The Great Green Wall Few regions are hotter, drier and poorer than the Sahel, on the southern edge of the Sahara Desert. The brutal climate has wrought devastating damage in recent decades by causing droughts, famine, conflicts, poverty and mass migration. The Great Green Wall is an epically ambitious project launched in 2007 by the 21 countries in the Sahel to restore the land by planting an 8,000km strip of trees and plants from the Atlantic coast of Senegal to Djibouti on the Red Sea. The practical work on the Great Green Wall, which is run as an African-led collective supported by the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification, is executed by each of the 21 countries. So far, more than 1,200km of greenery has been planted, although the focus of the project is less on the progress of the wall itself, than on its impact in persuading each country in the Sahel region to transform what has become arid desert back into fertile farmland. greatgreenwall.org

The Ocean Cleanup Scientists claimed that it wouldn’t work. Environmentalists warned that it risked damaging marine life. Few design projects of recent years have been as fiercely criticised as the Ocean Cleanup, the Dutch social enterprise founded in 2013 by Boyan Slat, who quit his degree in design engineering to try to tackle one of the biggest pollution problems of our time by clearing the plastic trash that is poisoning our oceans. Despite its critics and a series of setbacks, notably when the original rig had to be towed back to San Francisco to resolve technical problems, the Ocean Cleanup has persevered.

The redesigned System 001/B (pictured here) successfully completed its trials in the Pacific last year, and System 002 is scheduled for launch next year. The Ocean Cleanup has also developed a parallel project, The Interceptor, a solar-powered catamaran with a trashcollecting system designed specifically for rivers, and which can extract 50,000kg of plastic per day. theoceancleanup.com

Zero-waste village This was to have been the year when the people of Kamikatsu, a village on the Japanese island of Shikoku, would achieve their goal of becoming a zero-waste community. The 1,500 villagers may struggle to produce no waste at all in 2020 but will come impressively close to doing so in a 20-year experiment that demonstrates the contribution a resourceful group of individuals can make to curb the climate emergency. The initiative began in 2000, when the local government ordered the closure of Kamikatsu’s incinerator. Rather than ship their waste elsewhere, the villagers took a collective decision to reduce and, eventually, eliminate it. They opened a Zero Waste Academy, where waste is sorted into 45 categories for reuse or recycling. Anything sellable is dispatched to a recycling store; fabric is upcycled at the craft centre. The villagers have now eliminated over 80 per cent of their waste, but are still struggling to recycle leather shoes, nappies and a few other tricky exceptions. zwa.jp

Urban farm Looming beside the Porte de Versailles subway station in south-west Paris is the colossal exhibition venue Paris Expo Porte de Versailles.

By the time it hosts the handball and table tennis events in the Paris 2024 Olympics, Paris Expo will also be the home of Agripolis, the largest urban farm in Europe. Agripolis already operates other urban farms in Paris and occupies 4,000 sq m of Paris Expo’s roof. Over the next two years, it plans to expand across another 10,000 sq m, to produce up to 1,000kg of fresh fruit and vegetables each day using organic methods and a team of 20 farmers. The produce will be sold to shops, cafés and hotels in the local area, while local residents will also be able to rent wooden crates on the roof to grow their own fruit and vegetables. Once it is completed, Agripolis’ gigantic rooftop farm at Paris Expo should place the Ville de Paris’ programme of encouraging urban agriculture at the forefront of global developments in greening our cities. agripolis.eu

Design Emergency

Design Emergency’s compelling visual identity is the work of London-based design consultancy Studio Frith. Called upon by Paola Antonelli and Alice Rawsthorn, studio founder Frith Kerr and her team came up with a bold and memorable response that has helped Design Emergency to cut through and capture contested attention. Translating the identity into print, Studio Frith has designed this issue’s newsstand and limited-edition covers, and art-directed this Guest Editors’ section. Kerr talked to us about letterforms, lucidity in blue and white, and lessons learnt Portrait Brigitte Lacombe Writer Hugo Macdonald

Design Emergency announced its arrival on Instagram on 30 April with a blue square and a curious typeface. It made an immediate impact. For most of us, time spent on Instagram during lockdown had swollen horribly. Here was a purposeful punctuation mark amidst the sourdough loaves and saccharine quotes. It vibrated like an alarm and rang like a siren. For anyone with even a mildly trained eye on such matters, this bold square bore the hallmark of London’s Studio Frith.

Frith Kerr has a knack of waking people up with her work. She is an original in an industry that gets stuck in derivative loops. This is why she’s the go-to partner for people who understand the potential of graphic design to go beyond communication or commerce, to shift a bigger needle. When Studio Frith is attached to a project, you know it will be something of substance. It has a roster of agenda-setting clients – Frieze Art Fairs, Roksanda, Chisenhale Gallery, WeTransfer, Ilse Crawford and the Pellicano Hotels group – and has been central in establishing their identity, mission and momentum.

Of course, it made perfect sense that Studio Frith would be on speed dial to help Design Emergency rise above the torrent of Instagram Live chats. Together with her team, Kerr developed a graphic language that, from that inaugural post, felt more like a movement than a brand. ‘We needed to create an identity that was serious but not corporate, distinctive but not dominating, and that had a sense of urgency without being scary,’ Kerr explains. ‘There was so much fear that, tonally, we wanted to be careful to alarm without being alarmist – to allow the audience to engage with the platform in an investigative and compassionate way.’

The team designed a bespoke typeface with a clever modular construction, allowing them to build new letterforms as needed.

‘Emergency typography,’ Kerr remarks, before adding with her trademark wry wit: ‘Obviously typefaces don’t regularly save lives.’

The logotype is formed from the same system, in a shape reminiscent of an alarm. ‘There is a three-dimensional quality to the letterforms and the marque; this gives a tension which conveys a sense of urgency,’ she says. The letters feel like temporary constructions, which establishes the feeling that this is an ongoing, episodic venture. ‘The tall forms and sharp edges feel urgent and optimistic simultaneously, while the blue and white were selected for their lucidity and clinical quality,’ she adds. The identity has a mesmeric character that already feels archetypal: ‘I think that’s about simplicity,’ says Kerr. ‘It’s like a Matisse drawing (pardon the pretension). When something works in just a few lines, it means it’s instantly accessible to the mind.’

Wallpaper* was thrilled to commission Studio Frith to bring Design Emergency to life in print for the first time. ‘Translating visual languages across platforms is fundamental to the brand identity work

we do,’ Kerr says. ‘Creating work that has a distinctive and consistent look allows audiences to feel confident and connected. After all, brands are emotional – they only manifest as how people feel about them. Our bespoke typefaces are always designed to cross platforms.’

She points to the dexterity of the Hotel Il Pellicano typeface, which has successfully travelled from books to buildings to Birkenstocks.

‘When we work on projects, we experiment putting our designs into magazines, animating and scaling them on different things, from boxing gloves to water bottles, to explore how identity lives.

Design should be non-hierarchical. Instagram is just new to the party and is extremely powerful at the moment. Of course, this will change.

‘Print requires more conversations about colour and tone and attention span,’ continues Kerr and, in this case, the opportunity to creatively direct a portfolio of portraits (page 171). ‘Our concept for the portraits was to create a visual conversation in time and space between the designers who were scattered around the world, each dealing with a pandemic in a different way.’ Photographer Brigitte Lacombe was chosen, with Zoom as her makeshift studio.

It was a serendipitous discovery that Lacombe was already a follower of Design Emergency.

‘Brigitte’s photography has a classic quality to it – the beautiful shapes she creates with her subjects are so strong, and hence it felt like a perfect interaction with the limitations of Zoom,’ Kerr says.

‘When we commission photographers, we always look for people who can create visual ideas. Brigitte has created a series of pictures that speak about personality and purpose in a way that is both subtle and poignant – pixels from around the world creating a community portrait that is alive and beautiful in its urgency.’

As with so many of us, Kerr has been doing some personal and professional interrogation, and she too is motivated by the common threads of principle and purpose that emerge in the many narratives within Design Emergency: ‘I’d love to take some of the learning back to our other clients,’ she says. ‘So much of what we do now in a business context is asking the question: how can it be better? What can we do to make this world a better place? Listening to medical illustrator Alissa Eckert talk about visualising a disease [page 174] is a reminder that design can communicate across borders in so many ways that are almost invisible to us. Great design is often invisible, it does its job and retreats without fanfare. That is not to say that everything should be tasteful or discreet. There is nothing tasteful about Covid-19, and the fact that Alissa’s symbol looks like some appalling cat-toy is perfect.’ ∂ studiofrith.com Studio Frith’s newsstand (left) and limitededition covers for this issue of Wallpaper* feature the Design Emergency logo and bespoke typeface in signature blue and white. Limited-edition covers are available to subscribers, see Wallpaper.com

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Wallpaper* Composed Goodluck Hope

A vision of calm, as imagined for the loft apartments at this development in what was once part of the East India Docks

NEW HORIZONS Wallpaper* Composed teams up with Ballymore for an abstract interior reimagining of three of its transformative London developments

ARTWORK: STUDIO BRASCH INTERIORS: AMY HEFFERNAN London is a city predicated on and designed around commerce, community and culture. Inspired by its storied past and ever-evolving cartographic spread, developers revive forgotten postcodes and reinvent industrial environments as places to live and work, each project reflecting the fabric of its surroundings.

Goodluck Hope, a new Ballymore-developed riverside scheme in east London, is inspired by the area’s industrial heritage. Dating back to 1297 and once part of the East India Docks, the area supported a community of manufacturers, from coopers to glassmakers. Redesigned by architects Allies & Morrison, it is now back on the map with plans for warehouse and tower apartments and townhouses, with a restored, Grade-II listed dry dock at its heart.

A robust architectural style nods to the scale and materials of London’s historic wharfs.

Adjacent to the Canary Wharf business district, Ballymore is developing Mill Harbour, an urban village including more than 1,500 new homes, among them waterside properties and customisable apartments, as well as a theatre, educational facilities, retail and commercial spaces. Set in parkland and built around squares, the work/play hub offers truly flexible living.

Over in west London, at the confluence of the river Brent and the Thames, The Brentford Project by Ballymore is designed to enhance the lives of locals and visitors alike by establishing a new town centre that reconnects the high street with the waterfront.

Working with Ballymore, and with a fantastical touch, Wallpaper* Composed, the magazine’s bespoke interior service, has imagined suitably stylish themes for each location. ballymoregroup.com; see more at Wallpaper.com

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The Brentford Project

A fantastical take on the project’s indoor-outdoor approach proposes verdant urban living

Mill Harbour

High style and contemporary decadence in an imagined entertaining space, with views over Canary Wharf

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OCTOBER IS ALL ABOUT...

New realities and future visions

p210 LONELY PLACE Hannah Starkey photographs London in lockdown p228 LOW DOWN Super duper poufs p236 EXTRA TIME Tailoring’s new stretch p250 DATE NIGHT Michael Rakowitz’s ‘Basra Kiss’ ∑

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Taking to the deserted City of London streets during lockdown, photographer Hannah Starkey captured a new urban reality

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or four months at the end of last year, I walked the streets of the City of London with my camera and dog.

As the inaugural Artist in Residence at Guildhall, I was producing a body of work for the Guildhall Art Gallery to celebrate women working in the City.

It was a privileged way of immersing myself in the energy of the famous Square Mile, and a stark contrast to what was to come. Within a matter of days from hanging the show, I witnessed the desertion of its streets. Lockdown was rapid and ruthless.

It’s as if a spell has been cast on the kingdom.

Everyone has left this place... just gone.

So I start to walk again, dog and camera in tow. As a flâneuse*, my role now is to try and make sense of it all through the prism of art. Each day, people get fewer, until just security guards, key workers and the unfortunate homeless walk with me.

They are kind to each other.

I’m now starved of human interaction.

I realise I photograph the way I do because it’s not buildings but people that make up my landscapes. My City of just a few weeks ago is simply no longer here. Though the place has not fallen silent; the buildings still whirr with computers, busy with phantom operators who have no need for the City’s pavements.

I surprise myself with how sad the abandonment makes me feel. The weather is glorious and spring has sprung in the parks and green spaces. Perfect flowers wait to be

appreciated, with few to appreciate them.

I’m realising something else. Now with just frontline workers visible, the minority has become the majority. The City workers of the ‘new normal’ are Black, or ethnic, or poor.

Their business can’t be done from home.

The energy, atmosphere and code of existence of the old City was very different from anywhere I’d spent time. Now it’s different again. This new City is a sad and lonely place. An ecosystem that has lost its pulse. I’ve become a light-catcher. A handy skill in an empty City.

Spring is turning to summer and the flower beds are parched. I’m glimpsing the new ‘new normal’. Distancing, masks and suspicion. Tentatively, the streets are filling.

In come joggers and cyclists, and on their heels, the photographers. I want to welcome them. Without mouths, eyes must do all the work. When wearing a mask, eyebrows literally dance together, as if choreographed.

The weather was good for a lockdown.

Now that it’s over, we’re realising the resuscitation is surprisingly slow. ‘I want to see people breathe life into the old girl and awake her from her gentle slumber.’

I read this in an article and liked the analogy for future work on the new normal in city life, seen from a female perspective.

Until then, I think about how nature might be better without humans. Cities are the complete opposite. Without humans, they have no purpose. ∂

*The flâneuse, as defined in essayist Lauren Elkin’s book of the same title, ‘considers what is at stake when a certain kind of light-footed woman encounters the city and changes her life, one step at a time’.

CUNARD PLACE Reflected in an office block window is The Same For Everyone, 2017, by Nathan Coley, installed in London as part of the Sculpture in the City 9th edition Previous page, Bankside

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FENCHURCH AVENUE

HOLYWELL LANE

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OLD BAILEY

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MILLENNIUM BRIDGE

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APPOLD STREET The Broad Family, 1991, by Xavier Corberó

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For more from Starkey’s Empty City series, and the photographer in conversation with The Hepworth Wakefield curator Nicola Freeman, see Wallpaper.com ∏ Starkey’s Celebrating City Women series can be viewed at celebratingcitywomen.co.uk/hannah-starkey

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π Explore Wallpaper* Digital News and insight from our editors around the world – on Wallpaper.com Sign up for our Daily Digest newsletter Inspiration, escapism and design stories, direct to your inbox Join the conversation @wallpapermag

OTTOMAN EMPIRE

Footstools and poufs reign supreme as we cut out and paste our favourite low riders

Photography and set design Studio Kleiner Interiors Amy Heffernan and Hannah Jordan

This page, from top, ‘Cumulus‘ pouf, £575, by Jonas Wagell, for Mitab.

‘West’ pouf, SEK26,889 (€2,620), by Rodolfo Dordoni, for Minotti Opposite, from top, pouf, SEK3,825 (€373),

by Cecilie Manz, for Fritz Hansen; ‘Bangkok‘ ottoman, from SEK33,675 (€3,282), by Flexform, both from Nordiska Galleriet. ‘Arkad‘ pouf, €1,225, by Note Design Studio, for Zilio A&C

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This page, from top, ‘Anna’ pouf, €620, by Anne Lorenz, for Freifrau.

‘Panis’ ottoman, €2,018,

by Anton Cristell and Emanuel Gargano, for Amura Opposite, from top, ‘Nenou‘ pouf, from £979,

by Jorg Böner, for COR. ‘Tonella‘ pouf, €599,

by Note Design Studio, for Sancal

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In The Market For...

In The Market For...

This page, from top, ‘Galet‘ pouf, £1,542, by Ludovica and Roberto Palomba, for Giorgetti. ‘Silo‘ pouf, £435,

by Hans Hornemann, for Normann Copenhagen Opposite, from top, ‘Develius‘ pouf, SEK12,995 (€1,267),

by Edward van Vliet, for &Tradition, from Gulled.

‘Carry On‘ stool, €797, by Mattias Stenberg, for Offecct

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In The Market For...

This page, from top, ‘Hana’ pouf, €920, by Simone Bonanni; ‘Amami’ pouf, €1,050, by Lorenza Bozzoli, both for Moooi.

‘Bon‘ pouf, £270, by Hem Opposite, from top, ‘Tiki‘ stool, SEK10,025 (€977),

by Andreas Engesvik, for Fogia. ‘Famna’ stool, SEK16,000 (€1,560), by TAF, for Svenskt Tenn For stockists, see page 248 Retouching: Konrad Karlsson

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FRINGE BENEFITS Tailoring with added extras

Photography Adrian Samson Fashion Jason Hughes

This page, jacket, €2,550,

by Dolce & Gabbana Opposite, cape, £4,500; trousers, £1,500, both by Dior.

Necklace (worn throughout), £625, by Completedworks.

Shoes (worn throughout), price on request,

by Maison Margiela

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Fashion

This page, left, dress, £1,780, by Marni. Trousers, £895, by Balenciaga. Bracelet, £395,

by Completedworks. Right, jacket, £950; skirt, £485; trousers, £560, all by Paul Smith Opposite, jacket, £1,000; skirt, £540, both by Acne Studios. Tights (worn throughout), £27, by Wolford

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This page, jacket, £2,510; waistcoat, £1,600; trousers, £1,330, all by Louis Vuitton Opposite, jacket, £2,390; skirt, £1,250, both by Fendi

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Fashion

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This page, jacket, price on request, by Loewe Opposite, jacket, £1,950; scarf, £510; skirt, £880, all by Prada

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This page, left, sleeveless jacket, price on request, by MSGM. Right, jacket, £2,590, by Balenciaga Opposite, coat, £2,404; gilet, £324, both by Raf Simons

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This page, jacket, £1,695, by Dunhill.

Top, £2,850; cardigan (worn underneath), £665; skirt, £760, all

by Miu Miu Opposite, coat, £6,650,

by Chanel For stockists, see page 248

Model: Leyla Greiss at IMG Casting: David Steven Wilton Hair: Hirokazu Endo using Bumble and bumble Make-up: Nicola Brittin at Saint Luke using Chanel Les Beiges Healthy Glow Foundation Hydration and Longwear and Chanel Le Lift Crème Nuit Photography assistant: Gray Brame Digi tech: Kristos Giourgas Fashion assistant: Sammiey Hughes

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Stockists

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Alexander McQueen Tel: 44.20 7355 0088 (UK) alexandermcqueen.com

Dior/Dior Joaillerie Tel: 44.20 7172 0172 (UK) dior.com

Amura Tel: 39.02 659 5295 (Italy) amuralab.com

Dolce & Gabbana Tel: 44.20 7659 9000 (UK) dolcegabbana.com

B

Dunhill Tel: 44.20 7108 6204 (UK) dunhill.com

Acne Studios Tel: 44.20 7589 5995 (UK) acnestudios.com

Balenciaga Tel: 44.20 3318 6027 (UK) balenciaga.com Berluti Tel: 44.20 7437 1740 (UK) berluti.com Boucheron Tel: 44.20 3936 9090 (UK) boucheron.com Brunello Cucinelli Tel: 44.20 7287 4347 (UK) brunellocucinelli.com Buccellati Tel: 44.20 7629 5616 (UK) buccellati.com Bulgari Tel: 44.20 3808 5090 (UK) bulgari.com

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Cartier Tel: 44.20 3937 7595 (UK) cartier.com Cassina Tel: 44.20 7584 0000 (UK) cassina.com Celine by Hedi Slimane Tel: 44.20 7491 8200 (UK) celine.com Chanel Tel: 44.20 7493 5040 (UK) chanel.com Chopard Tel: 44.20 7046 7808 (UK) chopard.com Completedworks Tel: 44.20 3393 3460 (UK) completedworks.com COR Tel: 49.52 42 41 02 400 (Germany) cor.de

De Beers Tel: 44.20 7758 9700 (UK) debeers.com

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Gulled Tel: 46.40 97 98 55 (Sweden) gulled.se

Marni Tel: 44.20 7491 9966 (UK) marni.com

H

Minotti Tel: 39.0362 343499 (Italy) minotti.com

Hem Tel: 46.8 408 067 40 (Sweden) hem.com

Hermès Tel: 44.20 7098 1888 (UK) hermes.com

J

Emporio Armani Tel: 44.20 7491 8080 (UK) armani.com

Jil Sander by Lucie and Luke Meier Tel: 44.800 150 150 10 (UK) jilsander.com

F

L

Fendi Tel: 44.20 7927 4172 (UK) fendi.com Fogia fogia.se Freifrau Tel: 49.52 61 971 330-0 (Germany) freifrau.com

G

Giorgetti Tel: 39.0362 563001 (Italy) giorgettimeda.com

Loewe Tel: 44.20 7499 1284 (UK) loewe.com Louis Vuitton Tel: 44.20 7998 6286 (UK) louisvuitton.com

M

Maison Margiela Tel: 44.20 7629 2682 (UK) maisonmargiela.com

Margaret Howell/MHL Tel: 44.20 7591 2250 (UK) margarethowell.co.uk

Mitab Tel: 46.140 530 00 (Sweden) mitab.se Miu Miu Tel: 44.20 7409 0900 (UK) miumiu.com Moooi Tel: 31.762 060 700 (Netherlands) moooi.com MSGM Tel: 39.055 395 1109 (Italy) msgm.it

N

Natuzzi Tel: 44.1322 312550 (UK) natuzzi.com Nordiska Galleriet Tel: 46.768 77 57 67 (Sweden) nordiskagalleriet.se Normann Copenhagen Tel: 45.35 27 05 40 (Denmark) normann-copenhagen.com

O

Offecct Tel: 46.504 415 00 (Sweden) offecct.com

P

Paul Smith Tel: 44.20 7493 4565 (UK) paulsmith.com Peter Do peterdo.net Piaget Tel: 44.20 3364 0800 (UK) piaget.com Pomellato Tel: 44.20 7355 0300 (UK) pomellato.com Prada Tel: 44.20 7647 5000 (UK) prada.com

R

Raf Simons rafsimons.com

S

Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello Tel: 44.20 7235 6706 (UK) ysl.com Sancal Tel: 34.968 718 074 (Spain) sancal.com Svenskt Tenn Tel: 46.8 670 1600 (Sweden) svenskttenn.se

V

Valentino Tel: 44.20 7647 2520 (UK) valentino.com Van Cleef & Arpels Tel: 44.20 8038 7646 (UK) vancleefarpels.com

NEXT MONTH

SMART ART

W

Wolford Tel: 44.20 7287 8599 (UK) wolfordshop.com

125 years of matrimonial ads with Sophie Calle; Sarah Sze’s augmented reality; behind the scenes at Bosco Sodi’s Brooklyn studio; Yayoi Kusama’s blooms for Veuve Clicquot; and at home with nonagenarian Chilean sculptor Federico Assler Plus, Paul Smith’s 50 years of design; Marcio Kogan’s Japan-inspired furniture; architecturally exciting escapes; awesome outerwear; and interiors for wellness

ON SALE 15 OCTOBER

Z

Zilio A&C Tel: 39.0432 753329 (Italy) zilioaldo.it

Coat; shoes, both price on request, by Maison Margiela. Tights, £27, by Wolford. See page 236

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249

Artist’s Palate

MICHAEL RAKOWITZ’S ‘Basra Kiss’

#114

Dates (a prized Iraqi export often smuggled out and relabelled to circumvent international trade restrictions) have long been integral to the work of Iraqi-American artist Michael Rakowitz. Date syrup cans were the building blocks of his Fourth Plinth installation in London in 2018, a replica of a winged bull sculpture destroyed by Isis. A year later, for a solo exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery, he developed this sandwich for the gallery restaurant, featuring a mixture of date syrup and tahini. Witty, wistful and easy on the palate, it’s the perfect embodiment of Rakowitz’s practice as artist and cultural provocateur.

For Rakowitz’s recipe, visit Wallpaper.com ∏

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PHOTOGRAPHY: LEANDRO FARINA SET DESIGN: MIREN MARAÑÓN FOOD: NATALIE STOPFORD WRITER: TF CHAN

VOLUME 1