10 Questions With… Mariah Nielson

The opening of the gallery, which is located at Point Reyes Station in California also coincided with a renewed interest in Blunk’s work in wood and ceramic. Kasmin Gallery opened the artist’s first New York exhibition in 2020, displaying a broad range of material and scale. The same year, a self-titled book was released by the London publisher Dent-De-Leone, and since, Blunk’s work has been featured in group exhibitions at Blum & Poe, R & Company, The Landing, and Anthony Meier. In 2022, Kasmin Gallery opened another solo show to exhibit the largest display of Blunk’s jewelry, titled Muse. In February, The Future Perfect will open a show of Blunk’s work at their Los Angeles space during art fair Frieze L.A.; this spring, Martell Foundation in Cognac will open the first European survey of Blunk, with exhibition design by Martino Gamper. 

How Mariah Nielson Honors the Legacy of Her Father, JB Blunk

Interior Design: Could you tell us how you decided to initiate Blunk Space?

Mariah Nielson: I set up the gallery in June of 2021, which is also when we had our first show. The JB Blunk Estate had taken over the lease of this space in Point Reyes Station in May of 2020, and we originally planned to use it as our archive and storage for online products, and an office. Once we moved in, we realized we had enough room to exhibit some of my father’s work. The presentation of JB’s work in June of 2021 kicked off a series of exhibitions. Then we decided to focus on turning the space into a gallery because it can accommodate shows beautifully. The space has a charm to it: it used to be an old mechanic’s garage, where they repaired cars in the 1940s; in the ‘60s, it was converted into a series of retail spaces, so it has a very broad industrial feel. We painted the whole space white and the floor is concrete. There are beautiful wood beams exposed in the ceiling, and there are really interesting angles because of the way the space was chopped up back in the ‘60s.

ID: As the curator, how do you select the exhibiting artists? Do they have to be responding to your father’s work in a way?

MN: The focus of the gallery is JB’s work and the artists from his circle. There are also contemporary artists and designers with links to my father’s work. These are artists who are inspired by his work and in some cases have spent time at his home or have perhaps been looking at his work from afar. Everyone who exhibits has some connection to JB’s practice and is referencing his work in some way, whether historically or in a contemporary way.

ID: Remembering Kasmin Gallery’s Chelsea show of JB Blunk’s furniture, sculpture, and jewelry in 2021, scale is an important element in his work. How does this element of unity between large and small pieces come together in gallery shows?

MN: I love a mix of scales and mediums—that blend of mediums is really important because that’s what my father did on a daily basis. In the summer of 2022, we had a show of large paintings by Jack Wright, as big as we can fit in through the door basically. Last year, we also had large tables and this exquisite redwood mirror in an exhibition of Charles de Lisle and Rick Yoshimoto. We fit the mirror through the door and it looked fantastic, and we called it “The Magic Portal.”

ID: JB Blunk was also heavily influenced by Japanese ceramics. Are you interested in exhibiting Japanese artists and designers at the gallery?

MN: Sure, we had a show of Rick Yoshimoto, who is Japanese-Hawaiian, and in late 2021, we had the ceramic exhibition, Mingei to Modern which included a number of Japanese artists. We have exhibitions lined up next year and into 2025 with Japanese artists, and “100 Hooks” includes quite a number of artists from Japan as well.

ID: How influential is your previous curator role at the Museum of Craft and Design, San Francisco today? There must be an emotional element to running a space under your father’s name but does your previous experience influence it in any way?

MN: The museum really trusted me when they hired me to be the curator because I was an architect and I didn’t have a lot of experience working as a curator. I was running the JB Blunk Residency out of my father’s home when I began working at the museum. That said, I had curated shows with the artists and residents and had a bit of experience in terms of bringing work together and organizing a show. But the museum really gave me a chance, which I’m extremely grateful for. What I learned working at the museum was how to put a show together from the beginning to the end, with all of the logistics: How to manage a team, how to do the lighting, or the exhibition text, which was all a great foundation.

ID: The gallery’s previous show with Martino Gamper and Adam Pogue had a humorous element. Gamper’s work feels inspired by the Italian Radical movement of the ‘60s. How did you end up inviting them for a show?

MN: I met Martino in 2008. I helped him curate his design is a state of mind show at the Serpentine and actually lived next door to him for quite a few years in London. I was looking forward to the chance of having a show of his work at our gallery, and there is such a strong connection between his work and Adam’s, as well as my father’s. Martino has been looking at my father’s work for years and is deeply inspired by the home. I am really happy with this pairing.

ID: Obsession, I think, was an element in JB’s work in terms of materials, process, and scale. I see a similar thread in Gamper’s work with his “100 Chairs” project and your current “100 Hooks” exhibition.

MN: The obsessive and the playful qualities in Martino’s work are absolutely in line with my father’s work. There is also the interest in working with salvaged materials. Martino’s “100 Chairs” are those he found on the streets of London, and my father’s salvaged wood comes from up north. They both took what others considered useless and transformed them into something absolutely beautiful.

ID: Function and art are mingled in a mysterious way in JB Blunk’s practice. How does the “100 Hooks” exhibition represent this?

MN: There’s always this element of surprise in JB’s work. What can you do with a hook, which is an object that’s ubiquitous and typically overlooked? How can you create something or play with that typology and create something that’s actually the center of attention?

10 Questions With… Serhii Makhno

Against war’s physical and emotional destruction, artists often craft resilience through making. Ukrainian ceramicist, architect, and interior designer Serhii Makhno’s first exhibition with Chelsea, New York, gallery Les Ateliers Courbet stems from such phoenix-like blossoming of creativity during the ongoing Russian conflict. The show’s mostly large-scale sculptural and functional ceramic works have travelled from Makhno’s Kyiv studio to New York during a time of scarcity and peril, but the bulbous elegant forms defy fragility. From a fully hand-formed ceramic armchair to a life-size mirror, the shapes challenge our understanding of functional ceramics through their ambitious scale and pristine production.

“I have a deep love for clay—it’s like nature itself in a malleable form,” Makhno says. “Clay has its character, and frequently, things don’t go as planned. Many pieces can crack or deform during the firing process, which is part of the beauty of imperfection.” While working on the show’s pieces with his team of around 60 people during wartime, the artist admits to have learned to “appreciate these ‘flawed’ pieces.” From an elegantly-bent floor lamp to a wall-spanning shelf structure, the works allure to Makhno’s broad practice as an architect who has helmed around 600 projects in 25 countries. His sculptural and holistic approach to aesthetic and use, whether envisioning an interior or a chair, yields sleekly contemporary and mysteriously spiritual results. From Japan’s wabi-sabi teachings to Ukraine’s long tradition of craft and ceramics, various inspirations are alchemized in Makhno’s practice. “Nature is the greatest resource; everything comes from it,” he adds. He often brings rocks, branches, bits of ceramics, seeds, or plant fruits back to his home, “and many of the objects I’ve created have been inspired by these discoveries.”

Here, Makhno shares insights into his New York show, personal journey with clay and architecture, and newly established MAKHNO Art Foundation.

Ukrainian Designer Serhii Makhno on Creativity Through an Array of Mediums

Interior Design: How does being engaged with art, pottery, and architecture influence your practice? 

Serhii Makhno: The three disciplines of art, pottery, and architecture have a profound influence on my work. While architecture came into my life somewhat later than art and pottery, it holds a primary place in terms of importance. My architectural work is my profession, while pottery and creativity are my inspiration. They constantly nourish and support each other, and this symbiotic relationship fuels my creative development.

ID: Your studio practice seems to be a crucial element of your process, including the time you dedicate there and collaborating with other makers. Could you talk about the role of maintaining a densely-operating studio in your work?

SM: My studio is of utmost importance to me; it is the place where our ideas come to life. It’s where my concepts, combined with the experience and skills of my team, are transformed into tangible objects. It’s truly magical to see sketches evolve into chairs, sculptures, or lamps over time. I have a dedicated team I trust, so I often provide them with a sketch outlining the general idea, and they take it from there, involving me in each stage. Sometimes, our team introduces their own ideas, which we collaborate on to refine into the final product.

ID: How has your studio life transformed following the Russian invasion?

SM: Currently, I work remotely. My main priority is to secure orders for the studio. I need to ensure a steady stream of projects to support the studio and production, as I have a large team depending on it. Working from a distance is physically more challenging, but modern communication tools have proven invaluable in allowing us to adapt and continue our work effectively. But despite the war, the studio continues to work and never really stopped, we have had all the facilities work during black-outs.

ID: Timelessness is a common thread in your Atelier Courbet pieces. When the present seems so precarious and unpredictable, what does it mean to design objects that challenge the traits of the moment?

SM: The collection we designed for Les Ateliers Courbets is, first and foremost, art. It exudes stability, permanence, and archaic qualities. It’s akin to the Earth, the foundation of everything. I aimed to convey feelings of tolerance, weight, density, and impermeability through these objects. In a world marked by instability, these pieces serve as stabilizing and protective elements.

ID: Wabi-sabi is a major influence in your work. How do you accept imperfection as a designer?

SM: The philosophy of wabi-sabi has gradually unfolded for me, and I continue to explore it. Around a decade ago, I came across Axel Vervoordt’s book “Wabi Inspirations” in Milan. It featured enigmatic and atmospheric photos of interior details. The book was quite expensive, and at the time, I didn’t fully understand its significance. Nevertheless, I purchased it, and that marked the beginning of my journey into wabi-sabi aesthetics. Today, my extended stays in Japan provide me with various perspectives on this aesthetic concept and continue to inspire me.

ID: I read that visiting Japan helped you realize the wealth of Ukrainian design heritage and embrace it. How do you let traditional penetrate into your design philosophy?

SM: When I first visited Japan, I was astonished by [people’s] reverence for tradition, preservation of cultural heritage, and the way they pass down knowledge from generation to generation. Almost every endeavor there has dynasties. Ukrainian culture has always been a source of inspiration for me, and it seamlessly fits into my design philosophy, which combines art, modern design, and elements from Ukrainian and Japanese culture.

ID: Could you talk about MAKHNO Art Foundation and its role in your overall practice?

SM: The MAKHNO Art Foundation was founded in 2020. The foundation’s mission is to usher in a new era of Ukrainian art by blending contemporary ceramics, architecture, and design with artisan traditions and authentic techniques. It aims to create contemporary art that reflects our rich cultural heritage while maintaining a strong connection to Ukrainian identity.

The foundation aspires to initiate a new wave of Ukrainian art that highlights the country’s uniqueness and creative potential, showcasing both visual beauty and deep cultural roots. It’s an exciting project, and I look forward to seeing the remarkable creations that emerge from this endeavor.

ID: Describe the physical attributes of your studio; what is your day-to-day work like?

SM: The studio is adorned with photos of our completed projects on the walls. The entrance has a zone dedicated to the awards and accolades we’ve received, including two Red Dot design awards.

I always dreamed of having a large office where many people could work. After the move, we expected our team to expand, so we renovated the space accordingly. For example, the two-story interior features an upper floor converted into working spaces, connected by a staircase to the lower floor, which houses a tea ceremony room. Vertical greenery separates the two levels, inspired by wabi-sabi design.

10 Questions With… Creative Director Porky Hefer

For Porky Hefer, neither artist nor designer fit as a label. “Designers used to call me an artist and artists call me a designer,” he said. Rather, he identifies as a creative director. Hefer, who has no formal training in design, says his creative process isn’t technical; however, for more than a decade, he has brought to life avant-garde works inspired by nature. While his designs are conceptual, three-dimensional forms; Hefer’s envisage of biomimicry is spontaneously powerful. His mission is to uncover what exists beyond the ever-present human gaze and explore the visceral lives of animals, organisms, and life forms is why he started his brand Animal Farm, and later founded Porky Hefer Design.

Hefer’s recent solo exhibition, “Volume IV. Chaos Calamus – Interspecies Reciprocal Altruism,” at the Southern Guild in Cape Town, South Africa centered around unraveling the existence of amoeba. His works on display explored how the creatures interact with their symbiotic nature of movement. To illustrate this idea, Hefer radicalized different materials, including wood, rattan and leather, displaying them in an oversized form during the course of the show, which commenced April 20, 2023.

Interior Design: Where does your career story begin?

Porky Hefer: I started out in advertising, and then direct marketing and internet advertising started coming. Digital advertising really destroyed our budgets, and also the whole system. [Hefer resigned from that job and started his own advertising consulting agency, Animal Farm.] Even then, we had products that you couldn’t really say anything about. So I decided I should be designing products that I know are different, and that I can sell. A lot of furniture design is based on trends and capitalizing on trends and following trends. I was very lucky because in South Africa, it is difficult to do product design because you don’t have a mass market like you do have in Europe or the east. I arrived at the same time as limited edition design, which was far more interesting for me. Also, just the right time with meeting Kevin and Judy from Southern Guild so we managed to get into quite a strong place quite quickly, as opposed to other areas where South Africa has to compete against an existing group of countries or people who are dominating a design scene. In limited edition design, it was basically free for all.

ID: How would you describe your entry into the design world?

PH: It felt accidental though also natural. My wife was into design, she’s from Turkey, and she introduced me to an international flavor as opposed to being merely South African. It was 2010 when I really started getting it right. And that was with Southern Guild at the Johannesburg Art fair. I did my first presentation with them there and realized that I had to have a good piece in order to stand out amongst artists. That’s when I came up with my first name. My benefit from advertising is that most product designers come up with a product—that’s what their skill is. But I can come up with a concept, think about the target market that I’m trying to reach, and where it’s going to. I consider my context. I think in a way that’s more like an advertising brief rather than a job where I make a product. It’s a story: Where does it go? I’m trying to create something which is a lot more conceptual, I suppose, which is closer to art.

ID: Why are you so drawn to create architectural designs inspired by animals?

PH: As a designer from Africa, your immediate reaction is to delve into those parts of culture which are different to the western world and the northern hemisphere. It’s amazing. But then slowly, as this sort of appropriation movement got momentum, I started questioning myself and my source materials and source inspirations. So what I realized is that the one culture that’s always been around me in South Africa, has been access to nature. And that’s something that I had from a very early age. We were always on a farm, always with wild animals or tame animals. I was always interacting with animals. And I realized that that’s the thing that is strongest inside me as a South African—my connection to animals and wildlife and nature. So I very early on focused on that. As you master the elements and the land and the animals, then you start to tune into this system and start understanding and seeing it more, and respecting it more.

ID: The texture of your works make it seem like there is an unearthly inspiration, is that true?

PH: Yeah, I’m glad you do think that; I’m a big Sci-⁠Fi fan. I read that when early Sci-⁠Fi started, people made things up because they didn’t know anything about the moon—they had no information about other worlds. They went into nature and started studying it and seeing social interactions—the way ants work in an ant colony, for example. That’s where they got their source material for the future. I had an amazing reaction when someone came up to me said: “I love your work, the thing is that I can’t identify where it’s from. It looks like it’s from another world.” For me, that was the biggest compliment I could ever get. Because, yes, that’s what I’m trying to do—to illustrate the world beneath us and also in front of us that no one looks at. We’re so continually obsessed with humanity and human achievements that we rarely understand how amazing the little things are that go on in every tree. I’m glad that “you’ve never seen it before” comes around, because after advertising, I got obsessed with trying to be original as opposed to derivative.

ID: Your aspect of materialism is so vast and elaborate. Do you intentionally flirt with different materials to relevantly make a piece whole?

PH: Yeah. I mean, what I’m trying to do is vernacular architecture, which is using stuff that is available around me. I work with the materials that are available around me and I think that’s more important than trying to stick with certain materials. I’m not the master of the skills that I work with. I can flirt with other materials. I can flirt with other techniques, because it just means me looking for the right person to make it rather than me having to learn how to make it. It gives me a lot more freedom in doing what I do.

ID: In your most recent exhibition at the Southern Guild, what inspired the chaos calamus?

PH: I always like to put Latin in because people then take it seriously. So Chaos is two parts. Chaos is an amoeba. It’s the biggest form of amoeba that’s around in the universe. The pieces are oozing as opposed to just being a straight circle, they’re starting to probe art with fingers—moving art into other shapes. So it’s about the movement of the amoeba. The amoeba is like the master shapeshifter. It can change the structure of its body and move in any direction. It evolves. So for me, that’s mind blowing.

And then calamus is the material that I use. It’s an incredible material from one of the most aggressive plants in a forest. It can grow from the bottom, where it’s very dark. In the forest that it grows in, there’s no light coming through the top because the trees are so big and closed. So this plant goes straight up in order to get its light. It’s an incredible plant. And I’ve come back to it now because I realize what an amazing material it is. It’s a natural material and there are not many people in the world that are using it.

ID: There is a weaponry of forms in the chaos calamus; are all of them seemingly to the likeness of amoeba or did you sort of want them to look nestlike ?

PH: Yes, all of them. But, I mean, it’s just a snapshot in an amoeba’s life. But for me, I want to feel like they’re moving. Moving, always changing. You never know if it’s the same one or another one. But I think also a big point was working with Adam Birch on the wood pieces, going back to a nest. It does give the feeling of a nest. Whenever they draw a nest in an old scientific illustration, they have to chop off the branch. And that’s kind of the image that I wanted, those sort of old fashioned illustrations of bird’s nest, when they sort of segment the branch so they can fit it in the page. Normally, my work is suspended, and I always try to experiment. Every time that I do something, I want to explore another avenue to see if it reveals anything. And this one was the wood. When it’s suspended, people think that it’s a toy, they think it’s for children, it’s a swing. They treat it rough. But in most situations, art and sculptures or statues are put on podiums. And they put them up and make them more important. This was my attempt to see what happens when I root to the ground and make it a far more typical sculptural form.

ID: How long did it take to make this piece and how will you describe the process?

PH: We did it from September to February. Four months. The process was amazing. Somebody that works with me said: “Wow, that’s one of the first processes you’ve ever been through without a single fight.” I really do work with people for their strengths, not for their weaknesses. Most people focus on people’s weaknesses and say, don’t do that. Don’t do this. Mine is more like, wow, that’s amazing. Go for more of that. It’s a far more positive thing where people are also expressing themselves. I give them that room to move and to do what they do, sort of a support, a balance to everything. And that’s my job as a creative director—to give people the responsibility, but also to ensure that it’s what you wanted in the first place.

ID: What has been your biggest challenge?

PH: Clients. I think less and less, not working with the client one-on-one. You’re working with a representative who is always second guessing or trying to predict or something. For one project that I did, which was a building in Namibia, working directly with the client was incredible. The project could be so organic, it could change as we built as opposed to in a normal situation where you have your building plans and your architectural plans and you can’t stray from those plans. That’s a very limiting factor in architecture, that approval processes on a sort of country level but also on the personal client level.

It’s difficult when people say they don’t understand where my work is from. It’s even harder for someone to buy that because when their buddy says: So why do you buy that 20 foot hippopotamus in your lounge? The buyer needs to have a good story. If it’s something that people recognize, it’s an easy story. Since my works are based on life forms, they are easily recognizable. I work with another lowest common denominator—nest, animal, puffer fish. It’s a very simple point for people to understand and then talk about it. That’s why children end up being my basic market. They [see a nest] and say ‘nest.’

A Monograph Spotlights Ceramic Artist Peter Lane’s Large-scale Architectural Installations and More

The work begins on the floor. Together with a team of five or six assistants, ceramic artist Peter Lane lays down a field of clay, several inches thick. Then this huge slab is sculpted using hand tools, marked out into a grid using a laser, and cut into modular units. These components are then separately glazed and fired. Metallic leaf, white or yellow gold or perhaps palladium, is selectively added. Finally, the work is installed on a wall—Lane conceives each composition as site-specific—and asserts itself as complete and monumental, a hybrid of art, craft, engineering, and architecture.

Peter Lane Finds New Possibilities Within Established Forms 

One of the keys to Lane’s success has been his ability to achieve both con­sistency and variation. His work is immediately recognizable, with its charac­teristic deep relief textures and gilt spheres. Within his well-established vocabulary, however, Lane is always finding new possibilities. The most obvious variable is his glazes, which he makes up from scratch. These range widely, fully exploiting the chromatic possibilities of minerals like cobalt, manganese, and copper (Lane describes the extraordinary interactions that occur in the kiln as a sort of “fast geology”). The grid that Lane imposes on his material landscapes is also important to their effect. This is a practical necessity, of course—tilework has been executed in this way for thousands of years, to enable manufacture, firing, shipping, and placement—but Lane infuses this basic format with an unusual degree of sculptural interest. Patterns of striation, perforations, or accordion folds (the latter suggested to him by a wooden washboard that he saw in the gift shop for New York’s Museum of African Art) move across this regular backdrop, like melody lines swerving over a bass line. The grid almost—but not quite—disappears under the biomorphic tide.

Lane’s largest commission to date—an interior for the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris—was completed in 2017. Working with Minassian and architect Aline Asmar d’Amman, he created the walls for the hotel swimming pool, which adjoins a spa area and lies underneath a courtyard. Skylights provide daytime illumination. This was part of a major renovation of the 18th-century building, which happened to proceed at the same time as similar projects at the Ritz Paris and Hôtel Plaza Athenée. As Architectural Digest noted at the time, “Unlike that of its competition, which hewed closer to preservation, the aesthetic here has gone from preserved-in-amber ancien régime to a streamlined opulence that feels very of the moment.”

A Glimpse of the Artist at Work  

Working on such high-profile commissions, and on residences for private clients (including celebrities like Robert Downey, Jr., who commissioned a sculptural fireplace for his house in Long Island), puts Lane in a rarefied cultural echelon. Yet in so many ways, he is a totally unpretentious person. Lane is hands-on in the studio every day, working almost entirely with clay, which is after all just a specialized kind of mud. This all-but valueless material will be transformed through a long succession of alchemical procedures, then sent off into the world, where it will enact yet another transformation, infusing blank space with a perfectly calibrated mood and physicality. Like all successful artists, Lane aims higher all the time. But his feet are firmly planted, standing on solid ground.

Artist David Lee Debuts a Whimsical Yet Practical New Work

Sculptor David Lee’s debut functional object is at once whimsical and practical—featherweight yet sturdy, and built without a single screw.

Ethereal chair in cast acrylic in Sapphire or Salmon by I Am Not David Lee.

10 Questions With… Llisa Demetrios

Llisa Demetrios lives in the Northern California ranch that her mother Lucia Eames—the daughter of Ray and Charles Eames—purchased in 1992 to house the collection of her influential designer parents. Designed by William Turnbull, the ranch todays hosts the office of the recently-launched Eames Institute of Infinite Curiosity as well as a small portion of the family archive. While the property is still under renovation and yet to open for public access, Demetrios runs the institution as an online platform to engage the public with her grandparents’ lofty legacy. “I am still archiving thousands of objects 20 years later,” Demetrios tells Interior Design. “The joke is that we thought we would have around 20,000 items and the overall figure will be around 50,000.” 

Between her time running the Eames estate and institute and working at her studio, Demetrios shared insights into her sculpture practice and overseeing the family legacy. 

Interior Design: Let’s start with the expression “infinite curiosity” in the title of Eames Institute of Infinite Curiosity. Could you talk about how this applies to the foundation’s mission and your role?

Llisa Demetrios: I’ve always considered my grandparents’ work as participatory. You sit on a chair, you watch a film, you go to an exhibit, you’re always learning. For me, there are many portals that people come into the Eames’s work, which is usually through furniture. But when they come here, or our website, we can share more of their approach to problem-solving. In this day and age, there are so many challenges that we all face, and it’s wonderful to learn from Ray and Charles to apply their methods to one’s own life. 

I have always found my grandparents to be creative in finding ways to communicate their ideas, whether it was through architecture, furniture, film, or toy—whatever was best suited to communicate that idea. I was 12 when Charles passed away, and 22 when Ray did. I loved seeing their prototypes and how hands-on they were while building the pieces. They were very elliptical in their problem-solving. When they were designing a lounge chair or ottoman, they called that design seating, because if they called it a chair, they would have eliminated the idea of an ottoman before they even thought of it. I was always interested in the process of how they got to the finished piece. Before Ray passed, we already knew we were shipping 750,000 images to the Library of Congress. What my mom loved most about their work was their prototypes, their iterative process, and how they tried out ideas. That’s what we have here in the institute, along with graphics, and also personal sides of them, such as their passports and letters from when they were traveling. 

ID: What was your relationship with the Eames as creative minds and as your grandparents?

LD: As amazing and prolific as my grandparents were as designers, they were more amazing as grandparents—they shared whatever they were working on. I grew up wanting to make what they did. On the other side of my family, I am a third generation bronze sculptor, so it came very naturally for Charles to hear me say—at the age of 10—that I wanted to be a bronze sculptor. He told me I need to use every tool in my studio as well as, if not better than the person you hire or you won’t know if they’re doing a good job.

ID: Is there a moment you shared with them or a lesson you learned that prompted you to choose a sculptural path?

LD: Charles just wanted to make sure that I could use all the tools. He never told but just suggested to focus on one material, because then I could learn everything about that material. I was a child, but he was not talking down to me but rather give great advice. In the early ‘90s, I learned how to drive a forklift. I got steel toed boots for my birthday. I was not afraid of machines, because that’s when you get hurt. It was very encouraging to see Ray and Charles at their office, which was actually smaller than you’d think with a smaller team than most people may or may not expect. But the point was, if someone was missing that day, Charles could fill in that position. They were not afraid of being small which is one reason they loved dining chairs. They saw them as architecture that you could do all yourself and hold in your hand. They could build the first 5,000. Scale was a good lesson for me. I worked at 10 feet or under while my parents made sculptures that were 80 feet tall, which would take years to finish. I rather work with sheets of bronze in ten-foot lengths. I can roll, scale up, and build them.

ID: Your sculptors always seem to allude to architecture with arches or doors, but they also veer away from a functional aspect. How do you see this interplay between utilitarian aspect of architecture and art?

LD: My grandparents were never making a chair once—they were creating systems to make 100,000 chairs. I felt that I was different because I was making more limited editions, such as one to nine of different things at different scales. But each one is slightly different because they are handmade. Ray and Charles always felt whatever they made, it was addressing a need—they called themselves tradespeople. When I build a sculpture, whether for an urban plaza or a private home, what I look for is three objectives that I try to accomplish with this work. I ask myself, “does it have to be a sculpture; can it be something else; would that do the job even better?” These are the the kinds of questions that I would hear my grandparents talk about, too. Silicon bronze is one of the warmest, inviting materials—children come up and hug my sculptures, which is a great compliment. For me, there’s never enough beauty in the world, so my goal is to try to bring something beautiful to the best of my ability with what I can make.

ID: Do you envision your sculptures mostly for outside or indoors? 

LD: Let me put it this way: I have often made a sculpture to go outdoors, but people like it so much, they move it indoors. There are issues to watch out about outside, for example, the landscape is going to dwarf the sculpture. I often make cardboard mock ups to show the client both in Adobe Photoshop and as a physical maquette. The work needs to go bigger if you want it to hold the space. My mother told about the importance of educating the client about what the work needs to be and what choices are to be made. Charles talked about a part of the job being able to anticipate the needs of your client before they think of it. A sculpture is to communicate what the size is, what the patinas could be, what the piece will evolve into with care outside.

ID: Nature is a definitive element in your sculptures. How do you see the role of nature both for your life on the ranch and at the studio?

LD: I love bringing in parts of nature into my work. Henry Moore said he could hold a pebble up and see that it was always better than whatever he was making. Nature is the OG of designers—it’s always the most incredible artist. I’ve been working with bronze for decades but I also look at other sustainable materials, such as found objects recyclable materials, to work with.

ID: How does your job at the institute engage with your studio practice?

LD: Being the chief curator has occupied quite a bit of my time since we launched in addition to caretaking my family’s legacy. At the same time, I’m always thinking of a few ideas in my off time, or on weekends I work on some concepts. I’m really intrigued by the whole notion of using more sustainable materials, so that’s what I’m quite curious about today. Another large part of my time is spent to making my maquettes with wood that I cut on the bandsaw. Most people use 3D printing and digital mockups but what I learned with Ray and Charles is that you really need to see how something looks with the material. I really appreciate following my grandparents’ path to solve those problems by being hands-on and try things in different materials.

ID: What are some of the forms you’re inspired by in sculpture? Your titles are often elusive and personal, such as Inner Core, Lunar Asparagus, or Porcini, and they seem to reference to nature, the subconsciousness, or everyday life.

LD: With Porcini, I can say the reason is that I love to cook! The Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco has an amazing Rodin collection, including The Walking Man. If you look at the sculpture, you see that it’s off because Rodin was trying to show the man’s many movements in time, both the shoulder and the hip moving. I am captivated by that, because I am not trying to be accurate but show the nature’s way. The Bouncing Ball series came out of this effort to capture motion as a static material.

10 Questions With… Dustin Yellin

Inside the studio—a warehouse he renovated down the street from his multidisciplinary art center Pioneer Works—Yellin relies on natural light as well as Ketra lighting by Lutron, merging the day’s fluctuating hues with shades he can tune and control. “Like a fly caught in amber, my works act as a kind of time capsule,” he says. “Instead of hosting fossils, I embed human artifacts, typically images sourced from print media, within in such a way that we, as a species, become the specimen.”   

Read Interior Design’s interview with Yellin about finding the right light and the performative aspect of his sculptures.

Interior Design: The invention of the moving image owes much to lighting. What role does light play in your idea of “frozen cinema,” in other words suspending an image to stillness? 

Dustin Yellin: Goethe once said that “architecture is frozen music.” My use of the term “frozen cinema” is an update to his idea that through pattern, plan, and frame, an artist can breathe narrative into fixed forms. Like architecture, and unlike cinema, sculpture requests the observer to experience art through a body in motion in space and time, which is never constant. In a sense, I employ two forms of scenography; one that is pictorial, while the other relies on an active viewer who becomes their own director scripting encounters with the work in real space and in real time. I find that the difference between stillness and animation is really just a matter of time.   

ID: Could you talk about your relationship with glass as a form of craft and a conceptual medium? 

DY: Glass is a paradoxical medium; it is both strong and fragile while it also attempts to show itself and hide at the same time. Duchamp once said something to the effect that the best art exhibits an ambiguity of experience that is not one thing or the other, but is both one thing, and something else at the same time. To answer in the negative, the only thing I am against conceptually in art is the dichotomy between either/or states of being.  

ID: Light, whether natural or artificial, is critical in an artist’s life in studio, one that even determines the artist’s use of the space. What is your relationship with light from conception of a work to its final form? 

DY: All vision is predicated on light, and yet we often take light for granted. Glass by its very nature does something extortionary to all forms of light: it bends it. And while painting reflects light, glass acts as both a prism and a filter that makes legible how photons move around the work and around us. As an analog, my glass works are more like sensors that allow each viewer, and myself, to build sensitivity to the nature of light itself.    

ID: Why is midday sunlight your favorite? 

DY: Midday’s lack of shadows chips away at the object-hood of glass, transforming it into something more akin to an instrument, whether that be a window, a mirror, or a prism.   

ID: Light lives through a constant shift through movement, similar to your sculptures that invite viewers to rotate around them. How do you orchestrate this sense of mobility for your audience? 

DY: My works have different edge conditions that each provide different ways and moments of seeing the work. As sculpture exists in four dimensions, the act of the observer moving around and through these different conditions allows a suit of shifting views that merge, develop, and emerge yet again out of these situations and their borders. This movement allows the work to always be in a state of “becoming.”  

ID: Exhibiting Psychogeographies in spaces associated with dance creates an interesting contrast between movement and stillness. Could you talk about your projects for Lincoln Center in New York and the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. through this aspect? 

DY: There is an adage that the rests between notes give music its soul. Movement and stillness are already wed, just as darkness is to light. Each defines and clarifies the other; without one there cannot be the other. Jung mentioned that the human condition is one of duality, and that art is the expression par excellence of this reality.  

ID: Psychogeographies consists of paintings and sculptures. How do you see these play with dimensionality? 

DY: Since the Renaissance, Western art developed a form of painterly perspective based on foreshortening and geometry. The Modernists countered this illusion by flatlining the picture plane to assert the flatness of the canvas. Instead of seeing these two modes as antithetical, I mix both together so that the shift between each technique produces a “3rd depth”.  As my works are three dimensional objects comprised ostensibly of sets of layered picture plains, I also move along the z-axis through these plains to provide a further play of depth through the relation between classical perspective and scale in real space.  

ID: Scale is another critical element, almost similar to miniature art in which minuscule elements build a narrative altogether. Can you share a bit about your process of using small bits to form larger narratives? 

DY: Each work is a microcosm in which the individual parts never lose their own unique identity. They also work together as a community of images to produce a larger systemic image at the same time.  

ID: You create work-on-paper studies of your sculptures but also use paper bits inside the works. Could you talk about your relationship with paper?  

DY: Since the beginning of time, people have made marks to record their existence. These marks endure and circulate long after as a collection of shared experience. There are many words for this greater body of knowledge, be it consciousness or culture. In a sense, I feel that I tap into this long conversation by sourcing other people’s marks, and then reconfiguring these items with mark-making of my own. By preserving these histories in glass, I can sustain that long conversation.  

ID: Pioneer Works is a space that proves the multimedia direction art-making has evolved into in recent years. Many artists and designers refuse categorization of their practices. How do you see the center’s impact on your work and vice versa? 

DY: Pioneer Works is a “museum of process” in which we support the continual development of all disciplines and practices through experimentation and production. I feel that as we support others, we advance ourselves. Pioneer Works is my life practice; they are one and the same.  

10 Questions With… Katharina Kaminski and Rodrigo García

The sculptor and model Katharina Kaminski created her light sculptures, which also function as candle holders, during a life-changing discovery. The Uruguay- and Paris-based ceramicist received her genetic test results that confirm she was born intersex while working on a series of bulbous bodily forms. In the meantime, Kaminski continued to hand-pour clay for her sculptures at a foundry in France’s perfume capital Grasse. “I try to follow the clay with an authentic clear energetic intention that transforms itself as the work begins to come alive—I feel the clay, I feel myself, and creation happens,” she tells Interior Design.

The series, aptly titled Luminous Beings, came out of a collaboration with Kaminski’s life partner and Amen Candles founder Rodrigo García to bring the element of light into her work. “The series has empowered me to tap into my truth, to connect with a vision of self that is not adopted from others, but one that is mine and more compassionate with myself,” she adds. Referencing the body in gentle poetic ways, the light sculptures “opened a new chapter in my life,” Kaminski says. In the last year, they’ve been on view at Design Miami/ fair, Bergdorf Goodman, and Dover Street Market in Paris. 

“They encourage forward thinking, authenticity, innocence, pride, a sensuality much rooted in the earth and a high directed spirit,” Kaminski adds. “They brought to surface a version of myself that was deep inside and hopefully they can inspire others on their journey.” While the artist is currently working on large versions of the series as well as experimenting with bronze, marble, and stone, Amen Candles is expanding the light sculptures and their Luz candles in July with new scents, such as eucalyptus, vetiver and ginger, in addition to existing rose and sandalwood. In the fall, new sculptural forms will be added to the series, as well.  

Interior Design talked to Kaminski and García about activating sculptures with scents and light, as well as creating with a mission to stand up for an under-represented community in the design world. 

Interior Design: Could you talk about the journey of your personal and professional unities? How do both relationships feed each other?

Katharina Kaminski: When we first met we would always connect through dreams, goals and visions, and as a couple those got intersected to create a life together. Creating together is a big part of our relationship. We understand each other beyond words and our qualities complement each other very well. We have that creative chemistry—and to me, that’s a huge turn on!

Rodrigo García: The answer to the question in one word would be: organic. For example, the very initial spark idea of light sculptures started by us having outdoor dinners in nature and seeing that classic candles would turn off by the wind, and it was just an idea. Then Katharina started creating a concept which became a challenge of making the empty space the soul of the sculpture instead of the classical approach of the external form. Like holes in Lucio Fontana’s paintings or silence in music compositions, Katharina dominated the empty space. The empty space becomes alive with inner light, becomes a luminous being.

ID: A candle and design object tap into different sensual experiences, smelling and seeing respectively. What type of connections do you see between scents and a design aesthetic?

RG: It is not about a scent, a visual aesthetic or a sound, it is about the feeling that those stimulus generate on us. Whether by smelling a scented candle or by contemplating the light of a light sculpture, the idea is bring us to now, to be present. That is my philosophy of design, it is about designing experiences, instead of just products of design.

It is about bringing harmony, calm, and being present in the moment. I feel candles’ fire light brings us peace. And specially with scent, when we are smelling an aroma, we are not thinking of something else. Luminous Beings connects this in a synesthetic new experience of sculpture, which is the visual art that operates in three dimensions, into a new dimension of light sculptures with scents—they become a fourth dimension experienced when the observer lights the scented candle. Changing at every instant with the observer’s perspective, they become Luminous Beings. It is a meditative experience of time, light, and space, and of course, fragrance.

ID: Intersex community has been underrepresented in the art and design world. Has this been changing? Could you talk about your experience?

KK: Intersex community has been underrepresented in not just the art and design world—it has been underrepresented, stigmatized and forbidden subject by parents, doctors and the whole system. I am optimistic that we are in a much more open-minded place as society and it is generally more welcome to talk about it. In my experience, I still feel not everyone is comfortable with this topic but I feel happy that I can help a little by opening the conversation on intersexuality and that many people are happy to learn about it. Many are surprised to first find about a condition present in same percentage of humans as redheads that they never heard about before. 

Silence creates taboo, taboo creates trauma and nobody deserves none of that! Expressing, sharing, coming together can be very healing. I dream of a future where kids that are born intersex are not stigmatized and parents are properly educated, guided, and supported.

ID: How does modeling and the fashion world inspire your design practice? Do you find yourself connecting the two worlds?

KK: I feel that connection of worlds in this context would be me, Katharina Kaminski, my spiritual path and the balance of energies that both professions give me. Modeling has been the greatest university of life for me. I find it very enriching and exciting to have a profession that requires me to be open to unexpected adventures and meet new creative people all the time. I find inspiration and growth in all the people, places, and new situations along the journey. In modeling I have learned to embody an energy, to use my physicality to express something, which connects with being a sculptor who models clay. The big difference with modeling and making art is that modeling jobs choose me, while I get to choose myself when I create. I find that very powerful because I get to explore the depths of being myself as it comes and express myself more profoundly. It’s a journey that feels more natural to my most authentic self. At this point of my life, I feel very grateful to be able to explore both facets of mine and evolve in them and through each other. 

ID: Your forms defy any gender connotation while paying homage to bodily curves. How do you balance this duality of capturing an alternative corporeality?

KK: The balance of the duality is my inner process and an alternative corporeality was an unconscious seek for new perspectives and to celebrate the infinite human experience. The only way to capture this is to be in that meditative creative space that allows my truth to be expressed. That is the beauty of art to me.

ID: Luminous Beings is about the immaterial through the material experiences of scents and sculpture. Could you talk about encapsulating ephemerality through sculpture?

KK: I see my creative process as a physical manifestation of whats going on inside me, that takes form in space, translating what I can not express in no other way than with art.

ID: The light sculptures are also about discovery. They invite the viewer to look inside their hollow parts and notice different curves. What do you think about crafting this ritual for viewer through your work?

KK: If you look around you will never find angles in nature: in nature everything is curved. Angles are men-made and so is the binary norm. Not everyone is born in this norm, nature is infinite. I hope curves inspire for a world with more openness, understanding, harmony and love.

A luminous being for me means someone that enlightens you with their presence. The collection of lit clay sculptures embodies a universe free of limits, where life is celebrated for its infinite unique forms of expression.

ID: What about the element of light? The sculptures gain a new depth with light stemming from their bellies. How critical was the presence of light in your design?

KK: I love the challenge of shaping the way the light comes out of my sculptures, specially a candle light which is the element of fire—it has life and it moves, giving the light a form. I personally love the ritual of turning the candle light on in the sculpture. I invite the observer to become a participant of the creative process when lighting the fire and changing the form of the light with each perspective.

ID: Could you talk about your studio life in Uruguay?

KK: In Uruguay is where I have my studio and where I am creating everyday, being in nature helps me to be peaceful to create with intention. When I am in Paris, it’s more a balance of modeling work, creating and planning where the work is going to be shared—the more “yang” part of being an artist. But the truth is, I travel with my tools everywhere and I create from anywhere. I have lots of experience in the nomad life.

RG: Both of us spending a long time in nature in Uruguay allow us to connect with nature and express that in our philosophy of design. My philosophy of design is to think always more than sustainable design, to think on how nature would do it on every aspect of it from the scents—[to make] the eucalyptus scent just like eucalyptus is in nature—or when it comes to packing, we wouldn’t use a plastic styrofoam packaging, so lets look for a biodegradable mushrooms mycelium packaging. Being in Uruguay also helps to remain authentic, and instead of being influenced by trends or what others are doing, it allows to create unique and authentic design with purpose.

ID: How about Paris? After the isolation of Uruguay, does the city’s chaos and energy inspire you?

RG: Paris is great for launching and sharing new collections to our community of creative friends, feel the feedback, and share our purpose. Since the beginning of Amen Candles in 2020, I love to launch new concepts at Dover Street Parfums Market because there is a great community of designers and creatives that are very open minded to share the purpose behind our concepts. For example, when we were about to launch our mushrooms packaging some buyers would say we need to add a gold or a ribbon on it, while at DSPM we had carte blanche to creativity. Same goes for sharing our Luminous Beings collaboration with Katharina and to be speaking about intersex awareness and celebrating the infinite human experience, Paris is now the right moment and right place to share our purpose, to start a conversation, which is our intention, is not about product, but is about objects of design that begin conversations.

10 Questions With… David Dolcini

Interior Design: What are some of your earliest memories of design, and what was the “aha” moment when you knew this would be your path, too?

David Dolcini: I was still studying at the Art School of Piacenza when a dear friend of my father, who worked in the world of design, saw some of my schoolwork and gave me a catalogue of an exhibition on design in Milan. I went to see that exhibit and was literally blown away. That started my forever love for the design world. My curiosity kept growing, and I needed to dive in myself. 

ID: What was it like living and working in Shanghai, so different from Italy? What did you learn and integrate into your work back in Codogno and Valencia?

DD: When I arrived in Shanghai in 2006 it was an adrenaline rush. The world was moving at a speed I wasn’t used to. You just had to be ready. I’ve always had an insatiable curiosity and I immediately fell in love with Chinese culture, that of the ancient dynasties. Ancient Chinese carpentry techniques have certainly influenced many of the details of my projects in wood such as the leg joint of my Argo sofa for Porada. Traditional ink painting influenced the pattern of my Ulisse suitcase for Brics. 

ID: Speaking of these product designs, how did you connect with some of Italy’s top manufacturers? 

DD: Every project has its own history and so does every client. Luceplan, for example, knew me before I opened my own studio. They followed my professional trajectory and one day we met again. I was in Brianza at a wood supplier and showed the owner a project of which I was particularly proud. He said it would be perfect for Porada, accompanied me to the company, and we have collaborating for nine years ever since. In 2007, I took part in a competition organized by the Lombardy region, which identified designers under 30 and matched them with companies. I was matched with Riva1920. I met the owners of Brics during a workshop I was teaching to IED (Istituto Europeo di Design) students and Brics was a partner. They inquired about my design process and then proposed the suitcase challenge. Arflex was thanks to a dear friend, also a friend of one of the Arflex owners. She introduced us, and we met after the first lockdown. A great feeling was formed, so then the Lizzy [chair] was born. 

ID: The pandemic brought about a shift in focus. You returned to your roots in wood and woodworking, resulting in a series of stunning sculptural objects called Timemade and presented at the Riviera creative hub in Milan. Tell us about the catalyst and the pieces.

DD: I don’t consider Timemade an artistic work, but more of a personal path of research. The pandemic, the tension, and the deafening silence of those days forced us to confront ourselves with what we are and do. Time intensified for me and allowed me to change my perspectives, to experience a slow step in design. The time of doing is distinct from the time of thinking. Timemade stems from my passion for botany and grafting (the passion transmitted by my brother, a philosopher, gardener, and farmer), art, and oriental carpentry. All pieces are unique and handmade by me using classic tools such as a Japanese pull-saw, chisels, and rasps. Woods come from my workshop and the workshops of elderly carpenters in my area. Often pieces are scraps or remnants of old boards. The whole process took about two years.

ID:  Any plans for Timemade to travel? Any plans to sell the pieces?

DD: I would love to take Timemade around the world, and I believe there will be a second exhibition where I will present new developments of the project. Now, I’m organizing to sell pieces and have already been commissioned for some pieces for an important event. Stay tuned. 

ID: Speaking of important events, Salone del Mobile is about to take place [the fair is currently underway as of the time of this publication]. What will you be introducing? 

DD: The Lizzy chair is our first product for Arflex and their first wooden chair. It uses only seven elements of steam-bent solid ash (a solution reducing waste) and curved plywood seat that may be upholstered. Savio for Porada is inspired by Danish secretaire furniture. Closed, it looks like a harmonious volume in walnut with maple for decoration. Once opened, it surprises with leather and the color of maple as well as its multiple functions and possibilities. 

ID: What is your design process?

DD: As Bruno Munari, the master of Italian design whose writings I have read and re-read wrote: “Da cosa nasce cose.” (From one thing comes one thing). The methodology I apply to each project is always the same, whether it is a product, interior, installation, or creative direction. It starts with deep and far-ranging study. Once this depth is reached, functional solutions almost automatically emerge. My task as a designer is to give shape and coherence to these solutions. 

ID: How does your life differ between Italy and Valencia?

DD: In Italy, I work at a fast pace. We have the laboratory in the studio, allowing me to work directly on developing the projects with prototypes and models with the guys. As the family is in Valencia, I can work late at night or early in the morning. Valencia works like a decompression chamber. I go back to the rhythms of family life. I carve out more time for study and research. I often wander through the beautiful neighborhoods in search of inspiration. Or I sit on the terrace of a bar to drink a coffee and draw in my sketch book. 

ID: We’re always looking to expand culturally, so let’s ask you to turn us onto some of your favorites. Also, with Salone coming, special places in Milan?

DD: This is always the most difficult question. I will try to answer carefully.

Book: “Il Barone Rampante” by Italo Calvino. Movie: “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” by Sergio Leone. Music: “Give Up” album of 2003 by The Postal Service. Restaurants: Erba Brusca in Milan and Toshi in Valencia. Elsewhere in Milan: Palazzo Litta, the new Compasso d’Oro museum at the ADI headquarters, and do not forget to get lost in the side streets of Brera. 

ID: What is your free time like?

DD: The mountains and nature have always fascinated me: trekking, mountaineering, ski-touring, and climbing. Also, simple walks or scavenging, especially mushrooms. For me, the mountain represents a place of retreat and confrontation. I learn to listen and respect nature and therefore myself.

SBGA | Blengini Ghirardelli Collaborates With Valerio Berruti on the Artist’s Live/Work Space in Italy

Valerio Berruti has always wanted to be an artist. Piedmontese by birth, the 45-year-old Italian sculptor-painter is firmly rooted in his profession—when he exhibited at the 53rd Biennale di Venezia in 2009, he was one of the youngest participants—and his homeland. He is also open to experimentation and collaboration, which is revealed in two recent projects. One is at Cracco, the Michelin–star Milanese restaurant owned by famed chef Carlo Cracco. There, in the eatery’s semicircular lunette windows overlooking the city’s thriving Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II arcade, is Credere nella luce, or Believe in the light, three figures of girls, frescoed and backlit, that are not only a message of hope in this pandemic era but also evoke the magical moment of childhood, a constant theme in Berruti’s oeuvre. “This is the first time I used direct light in a work,” he says. “Believe in light and science. This is my invitation.”

Milan happens to be the home base of architect Giuseppe Blengini, cofounder of the firm SBGA | Blengini Ghirardelli and an integral collaborator in the second of Berruti’s recent projects: his home in Alba. The Piedmontese town is where Berruti was born and where he first discovered—and fell in love with—Blengini’s architectural vision, in a shop he designed there that no longer exists. Blengini was invited to dinner at Berruti’s house at the time, a small 18th-century deconsecrated church in nearby Verduno that the artist had converted into his residence and studio. During the evening, Blengini, who’s also passionately Piedmontese, noticed a detail: a window that connected the atelier and the former sacristy. And that—the perfect demarcation, clear but not too much, between intimate space and working space—was the jumping off point for the new home and atelier he would build in Alba for Berruti and his family.

Unique and complex, the resulting 5,000-square-foot structure is the product of four years of close four-handed work, a dialogue made up of flying notes, sketches drawn on restaurant napkins, and phone calls between artist and architect when Blengini traveled around the world to his firm’s other construction sites. “For this project, Valerio was the client and my assistant at the same time,” Blengini recalls smiling. Indeed, Berruti was on-site every day, following the group of local artisans and construction step by step. The 5-acre site itself was chosen for its peaceful and panoramic qualities—vineyards rising toward the house, fields of meadows all around, the hills of Alba stretching into the distance. These aspects dictated the basic lines of the residence, the orientation of its spaces, and the openings to the outside. In fact, its stepped, three-story form “recalls the terraced hills ringing the Piedmont region,” Blengini notes. The roof folds its pitches like origami to create an observatory terrace.

Part of the need for a new home was Berruti’s growing family. “With the birth of our two children, Nina and Zeno, we had to change from the church residence.” (His drawings, paintings, and sculptures, by the way, reproduce images essentially from his everyday life and family affections.) It encompasses three bedrooms and three bathrooms across its three levels and is better separated yet still connected to Berruti’s studio, thanks to Blengini’s thoughtful plan. “My years of training have taught me to dare, not to fear obstacles, and rather find solutions without preconceptions,” the architect says. Berruti adds, “Living and working in contiguous spaces offers great advantages. If I happen to wake up at night pushed by a new idea and the desire to make something happen, going down to my atelier is easy. It also applies to the time I dedicate to my children, since proximity allows me to be with them more easily.”

Materials throughout—local sandstone, concrete, oak—are pure and honest, in step with the natural mediums Berruti employs in his artwork—jute, steel plate, plaster. “With the same cement the mixers produced for the concrete, I created panels to cover the wall that leads from my atelier to our home,” the artist recalls. The large, rectangular panels could be a contemporary art installation themselves. They’re gently illuminated by an asymmetrical skylight, its trapezoidal shape “recalling the geometry of the house,” the architect says, that helps naturally brighten the studio, as it’s partially below-grade. Berruti’s finished and in-progress works are peppered throughout, like Fragments, his site-specific work of 196 reinforced-concrete and fresco tiles that lines the short stairway leading from the studio to the home’s living quarters.

There, the dominant material changes from cast on-site concrete to oak, all of which came from a single batch. It composes the flooring, paneling, and furnishings—the latter, Blengini says, “99 percent of which was designed by Valerio and me.” These include the stools along the kitchen island, the dining area’s oval table and pendant fixtures, the main bathroom’s built-in vanity, and the beds.

It’s all evidence of Berruti’s humanist approach—in his art and his life—that makes him open to new ideas and alliances, whether with chefs, children, or world-class musicians (last year, he and pianist Ludovico Einaudi created The Carousel in Venaria Reale together). A similar alchemy must have occurred when he met Blengini, and what materialized is a courageous architectural work. “It combines taste and needs,” the architect says, “in a decisive way.”

cassina: chairs (dining area)

Doimo: sofa (living area)

elica: hood (kitchen)

carl hansen & søn: chairs (study)

flos: pendant fixtures

Duravit: sink fittings, tub (bathroom)

Gessi: sink

Bianca: bedspread (bedroom)

rubelli: cushions