Circular by Design

New Order of Fashion provides emerging fashion designers with a platform, material expertise, research support, and a well-equipped atelier, empowering them to accelerate a just transition to a fully circular fashion and textile industry. “We are fortifying the groundwork for a brighter future,” they say. “This entails an alternative fashion system that benefits our planet and humanity as a whole.” Their exhibition for Dutch Design Week 2023 was entitled Regeneration: Fashion From The Ground Up and explored what regeneration looks like in the fashion context through three lenses: Earth Care, People Care, and Fair Share.

Earth Care included contributions that approach the earth as a living, breathing entity and practices that promote environmental biodiversity – nurturing the living soil. The first piece, The Healing Lace, by Royal College of Art graduate Katerina Knight, is an impossibly delicate needle-lace dress made from three varieties of lavender, that she grew on her own allotment and harvested over two summers.

Fifth-year Aalto University fashion student Ruusa Vuori trained in classical ballet and contemporary dance before an injury forced a change in direction. “Clothing can expand or reduce the experience of personal space, form a shell or invite in, open or close, draw boundaries or break them,” she says. “The work emphasizes sensory aspects and the sensitivity to embodied experience developed through my background in dancing.”

“I believe that when things are destroyed and exhausted, the vitality that bursts out of them is infinite,” says Ju Bao of his collection Annihilation. “I have always been obsessed with the washed and destroyed effects of denim. The longer the wearing time, the richer the texture will be.” He uses knitting techniques to create an illusion of worn denim, avoiding the artificial washing and destroying processes used by manufacturers, making this “ruined romance more sustainable.”

Regenerative Folklore is a collection by Spanish Andalusian designer and Central Saint Martins knitwear graduate Silvia Acién Parrilla. Using techniques she learned from her grandmother, she makes garments from pineapple and nettle-certified organic yarns, and hand dyes them with a blend of natural dyes sourced from bacteria and invasive plants in collaboration with fellow CSM graduate Xue Chen.

“With each stitch, I am not just creating a garment, but a symbol of my connection to my ancestors, my community, and the earth,” she says. “Through my collection, I aim to inspire a deeper appreciation for the natural world and the importance of preserving our heritage for future generations.”

Helsinki-based artist and designer Priss Niinikoski has a background in fashion and textiles but has shifted her focus to explore sculpture, three-dimensional textiles, and spatial design. As part of an artistic research residency, New Order of Fashion commissioned Priss to explore the potential of floral waste. “I chose to extract fibers from leftovers such as the cutting waste and unsalable cut flowers which I gathered from flower shops,” she says. “I used the outer layer of [rose] stems, which I peeled several times to reveal a translucent layer with a flexible nature for further processing. From the gathered fibers I twined by hand a thin cordage with some water to give more elasticity.”

“My idea of regeneration extends to the tangible and the non-physical,” says Jude Hinojosa. “I create menswear from a non-binary perspective. My pieces offer alternative choices in the traditional by embracing masculinity’s emotional side.” Jude uses upcycled menswear as the foundation of their collections, revamping them to offer choice, familiarity, and comfort, and embodying the “softness, beauty, and desire for expression” that is a less often seen part of masculinity. “It’s the mustard seed of change,” they say.

The next part of the exhibition was entitled People Care and explored a focus on non-material wellbeing as a route to creating systems that meet human needs and support social equity and community resilience. CSM graduate Ivan Delogu (top image) presents different aspects of womanhood in his work to showcase the diversity and complexity in women’s experiences in Sardinia – both throughout history and today. While Tales Told in Tangles (above) Icelandic designer Ása Bríet Brattaberg builds on craft skills passed down from her grandmothers to “re-weave memories from the past.” The piece in the exhibition has been woven with a zero waste weaving technique from Icelandic wool and old shirts that belonged to her late grandfather. “I can still remember him sitting by the kitchen table in the sky blue shirt,” she says. “I was making a memory tangible.”

The Fair Share portion of the exhibition explored the use of resources in ways that are equitable to both people – both present and future generations – and to the planet, using “less” as a starting point. Moving Pigment (above) is part of Charlotte Werth’s ongoing research into co-designing textile patterns with pigment-producing bacteria. “It intends to enlarge and make visible a reality that is usually hidden from sight, showing us the incredible beauty of this parallel microscopic world,” she says.

Vót’tetèsj (“back pocket of a pair of trousers”) explores Bastiaan Reijnen’s Limburgian family heritage, by combining the essence in quality of workwear and handwork with the aim of creating a new category of luxury clothing that will last for a lifetime. “Even if the final garments are imperfect or wear out, there will be a sense of pride and joy in repairing them,” he says. “These handmade qualities give life and character to the garments that can’t be reproduced.”

Usually we weave fabric and then make fabric into clothes, but Kelly Konings is pioneering “whole garment weaving” in her project Hybrid Forms of Dressing. “I’ve created 2D jacquard woven textiles that hold the possibility of being worn as 3D garments,” she says. “Draped and folded onto the body, these whole-garment woven textiles urge the viewer to rethink the interdependent relationship between a textile and a garment.”

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

The Design Academy Eindhoven graduate show is always a highlight of Dutch Design Week – and is in some ways the beating heart of the city’s creative scene, as many graduates choose to base their studios here after they have completed their studies.

The installation above is a typically thought-provoking piece called Gaia, How Are You Today? by Yufel Gao. He 3D-printed 92 terracotta pots, each designed using a day’s worth of weather data – the further from average the temperature, humidity, and wind speed, the more distorted the form to remind us that nature is not submissive or static, but chaotic and unyielding.

The Popping Sound of Bubble Wrap by Ilaria Cavaglia is made using discarded bubblewrap, styrofoam, and newspapers, drawing inspiration from the grotto aesthetic, to blur the line between the organic and the synthetic.

Michelle Akki Jonker’s The Mutuba Spirit is a mask made from traditional Ugandan bark cloth, a popular material before British colonialists demonized it in favor of cotton, creating a stigma that exists to this day. Michelle plays with iconography from the two cultures, using horns that, in European countries often symbolize the devil, but within her Ugandan heritage represent protection.

The Trunk Bunk by Henry K Wein is a portable tree house that can be towed along behind a bicycle enabling city folk to escape into nature and get some respite from the “always-on” world that so many of us now inhabit.

Paul Schaffer explored the symbiotic relationships between different organisms in The Warp of Symbiogenesis – in each piece, the warp represents one species and the weft another. There are five sections each representing the different types of symbiotic relationships in nature. Competition is defined as “harm-harm,” amensalism as “no effect-harm,” parasitism as “benefit–harm,” commensalism as “benefit-no effect,” and mutualism as “benefit-benefit.” The intention of the piece is to remind us of the interconnectedness of nature – and to include ourselves in that.

“Trash for you is treasure for me,” says Dario Erkelens. Abandoned Treasures is his collection of sculptural furniture made of abandoned material to explore the creative potential of what we throw away. Having grown up in rural Switzerland, where resources were carefully conserved and reused, he was shocked by what city dwellers routinely discard, and created this work to raise awareness of the wastefulness of our contemporary throwaway culture.

In Unsettling by Tanay Kandpal is a series of sculptures designed to celebrate the material culture of Jugaad – a Hindi term that refers to quick and improvised solutions – and explore the practice as a critique of Western industrial design’s failure to accommodate the unexpected.

The Swarm Shepherd was created by Pablo Bolumar Plata as the outcome of a collaborative design research methodology exploring an experimental approach to beekeeping. The hybrid device above incorporates wax canvas with substances that attract swarming bees to guide them to apiaries. Once a colony nests inside, the cork outer layer provides protection for their honeycomb.

Sien Entius’ Couture Objects explores her conflicted sense of identity as she transitioned from her background as a furniture maker into a design degree at Design Academy Eindhoven. She compared the craftsmanship in furniture making with tailoring by making outfits for cabinetry. They were displayed in front of posters advocating for the role of craft in design.

The Beauty of Time Passing by Toshihito Endo uses smart technology to mimic the way Japanese architecture plays with natural light, inviting a sense of nature into spaces without direct access to it – you can even match the light patterns to the weather outside.

Fedora Boonaert created a speculative archeological site that draws attention to the forgotten and knowingly marginalized oral knowledge of 16th-century midwives and “wise women” – particularly regarding female health and wellbeing – in the Low Countries. As male physicians replaced them, traditional women’s remedies were condemned as “witch-crafts” and wise women as witches, resulting in persecution and even death. Fedora hopes to address this historical injustice, the ramifications of which pervade modern-day medicine, through lectures and archeological expeditions of her site, as part of her project An Archeology of Women’s Wisdom.

In/Outside included a set of ephemeral domestic objects by Lison Guéguen made in accordance with the natural life cycles of the materials from which they are made. The installation explores the notion of mutually beneficial relationships with the more-than-human world and Lison talks about “borrowing” resources from the Earth, which immediately suggests a different approach than if we “take” them.

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

Eindhoven-based Raw Color is a multi-disciplinary design studio specializing in color across objects, textiles, photography, graphic design, and installations. For Dutch Design Week 2023, co-founders Daniera ter Haar and Christoph Brach curated an appropriately vibrant exhibition called Multiply to celebrate winning the 2023 Limburg Design Award and showcased 15 years of self-initiated and collaborative projects. The Limburg Design Award is presented every two years to a well-known designer who focuses on contemporary interior design.

The mouth-blown, balloon-like lamp Globo utilizes the beauty of opaque glass, generating different tones depending on whether it is switched off and lit from the outside only, switched on during daylight hours as above and lit from both inside and outside, or switched on in darker hours when it is mostly lit from the inside. “The balloon-like glass volume rests on a cylindrical base,’ says Christoph. “The high quality and heavy mouth-blown glass contrasts the seemingly lightweight appearance.”

Raw Color was then approached by a furniture company called Pode to turn this idea into a set of coffee and occasional tables and Mesh was born (seen through the screen above) by inverting the forms and making the mesh strong enough to support the tabletop and anything that might be placed on it. “The graphic character of the Mesh coffee table and the Mesh occasional table create an interesting shadow effect on the floor,” says Christophe. “Open and closed alternate in the perforation grid. The design reflects our working method, in which the color effect of the volume forms the starting point, in this case for the interplay of densities and material combinations.”

Parts of the exhibition were interactive and these fans whizzed into action whenever somebody got close to them – showing three distinct colors when static, they blended into one color when spinning. The installation was originally created for an exhibition at LYNfabrikken Box in Aarhus, Denmark, in 2014.

Another interaction installation was Chromatology – an installation based on paper shredders, each connected with a motion sensor at ground level and fed by paper rolls in six different colors. The movement of people throughout the space therefore dictated the color mix beneath.

The installation was developed as part of an exhibition called The Vincent Affair (curated by Edhv and Wendy Plomp) and was intended as a contemporary counterpoint to represent aspects of Vincent van Gogh’s work – in this case. his experimental approach to mixing color in the field. The exhibition was located in the former house of Van Gogh’s lover Margot Begemann in Nuenen.

Not wanting to create unnecessary waste, the shredded paper is collected and sold for use as confetti in little bags in the Raw Color shop.

The Index Collection is a series of tea towels and blankets, made from merino wool and organic cotton, inspired by the weaving process –  each series follows the same process as the “index” translates the amount of color within each surface, using squares representing 10% to 100%. The collection was developed at TextielLab in Tilburg and was made possible with support from the Eindhoven Municipality and Stichting Stokroos.

The same principle has been translated into a series of tea towels available in three different colorways, each including monotone, duotone, and multi-tone options – the perfect holiday gift for the dish-drying data nerds in your life!

A more serious application of the ability to visualize data through color, the Temperature Scarf is part of the Temperature Textiles Collection which uses weaving techniques and colored yarn to raise awareness of climate change. Using data from the climate report of IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change), the vertical pink lines represent the predicted surface temperature change in degrees Celsius of even years from 2000 until 2100. The orange surface indicates 0 – 4ºC. To help counter this prediction, 10% of sales are donated to Trees For All, a Dutch NGO that is planning trees in The Netherlands and abroad in a bid to counter CO2 emissions.

In a similar vein, the Sea Level Socks, visualize predicted rising sea levels – the four pale green lines represent the predicted rise of 7 cm in 2020, 12 cm in 2030, 17 cm in 2040, and 22 cm in 2050 – as well as all the integers in between. These numbers are based on the most ideal emission scenario according to the Paris Climate Agreement – and again use the data from IPCC climate reports.

And finally, Red Stack is Raw Color’s first digital stack using animation software typically used in film production – the studio has created many “stacks” on physical photosets, and this was their first attempt to create that digitally. “It’s great to have the ability to let the stack balance and actually move,” says Christoph.

Kiki Van Eijk and Joost Van Bleiswijk, otherwise known as Kiki and Joost, opened up their workshop during Dutch Design Week 2023 for an exhibition entitled Perpetuum Mobile, Latin for “perpetual motion.” It’s a nod to the prolific, dynamic, and ever-evolving output from the design duo – separately, as a team, and in collaboration with others. Work from the past two decades was showcased in the expansive space that lies at the heart of their creative expression – a voluminous space that they had purpose-built entirely from wood, without the use of any glues, nails, or screws.

Handmade from 100% felted wool, this rug was inspired by the strange proportions seen within 19th-century dolls’ houses. Kiki developed the technique herself to mimic a giant embroidery stitch, and the giant rose is a nod to the archetypical image of 19th-century English doll house carpets. This piece was part of Kiki’s graduate collection “We’re Living in a Doll’s House,” and marked the rehabilitation of 100% wool felt carpets into the Dutch design scene, which until then, had been written off as old-fashioned.

Joost’s Sketch Collection, pictured above on the Sketch Carpet, was inspired by his knowledge and passion for abstract expressionist paintings. Made using a spontaneous and expressive approach to cutting, bending, shaping, and welding in the workshop, this gestural way of working lends itself to powerful shapes.

Designed in collaboration with Borre Akkersdijk, the co-founder of the Dutch textile innovation studio of clothing brand Byborre, Raku Knit Fragments is a wall hanging inspired by the Japanese technique of raku, in which ceramics are fired; removed from the kiln resulting in cracks in the glaze; and then submerged in smoke. Kiki wanted to translate this ancient ceramic process into sensory textile pieces which emulate the spontaneity of raku in a softer medium.

Another piece in the same series, also created in collaboration with Borre Akkersdijk, expands on her extensive research into the 16th-century Japanese tradition and is inspired by the colors, shapes, and textures of her own raku-fired ceramic collection.

The construction of a new exhibition space – an addition to the current workshop, which had to be cleared for this show – inspired Joost to develop Beam Sketch – this new sculptural shelving unit. Wooden beams are often marked with neon pink spray paint during the construction process – Joost applied the idea of “form follows construction” to create this bold collection.

Tinkered is a series of sculptural pieces that Joost has created to explore and embrace the dynamics of a world that is becoming more abstract and unpredictable by the day, with “known social and political structures and systems giving way to spontaneous experiments and new archetypes.”

Inspired by the soft lines of a bag of candy bag, these are actually ceramic vases. The idea came from childhood memories of visiting fairs in her hometown of Tegelen and Kiki began the conception of Soft Candy Bag with a carefully stitched textile, then cast it in clay, giving it the playful appearance that is her trademark.

Cutting, pasting, layering, and patching different elements created a vibrant and colorful composition in the Collage Cushions for Weeef. “As we expand this patchwork onto a larger canvas, we weave a series of playful, textured cushions that breathe life into the space,” says Kiki. “Each cushion tells a unique story, a fusion of diverse textiles that harmonize into a visual and tactile object.”

When the Dutch museum Singer-Laren commissioned Kiki and Joost to create an outdoor bench for its new extension, they reached for the 18th-century text The Analysis of Beauty by William Hogarth for inspiration. In it, he refers to a “serpentine” line – a wavy or winding line as opposed to one that is either straight or simply curved – as “the line of beauty” or “the line of grace.” “According to the theory, S-shaped curved lines indicate liveliness and activity as opposed to straight lines, parallel lines or right-angled intersecting lines, which signify stillness, death or inanimate objects,” say the designers. “The town of Lauren, in North Holland, is already known for a lively artist community, so The Line of Beauty and Grace is a homage to the artistic frenzy of the area and its unique museum.”

Structuring Chaos is Kiki’s exploration of the tension between order and chaos and the tension between them – sailing knots that are held together with raku-fired ceramic elements. “These ceramic elements symbolize anchoring ourselves in life and the ropes are meticulously crafted by hand – a process as time-consuming as it is meditative,” says Kiki. “These colorful ropes act as conductors of harmony, emerging from the friction – Structuring Chaos resonates with the human desire for control and order in an unpredictable world.”

Inspired by the Friedrich Fröbel quote, “Play is not mere playfulness; it possesses a high seriousness and deep significance,” Kiki turned to her 6-year-old son Ko for inspiration for her Ko Tinker Sculpture – hence its name. Her aim was to capture the freedom children experience when they play without constraints, allowing their minds – and hers – to wander into previously unexplored territories. “This body of work celebrates the art of play, discovery, and following one’s emotions to create freely,” she says. “Fear has no place here. It is a world of openness and purity, characterized by a delightful flow.”

Exploring the creative potential of left-over brass components, Joost tapped into a wellspring of inspiration that evolved into the Brassbars series of wall lamps. “These lamps capture the reflections and treatments of this precious material,” he says. “A slender strip of light enhances the overall aesthetics, casting a gentle glow that accentuates the brass’s exquisite features, making these lamps both a source of illumination and works of art.”

Kazerne is a 2,500-square-meter combined meeting, exhibition, and hospitality space housed in a former military police barracks (and adjoining warehouses) dating back to the early 19th century. When Design Milk last visited in 2015, the renovation was only a year in – now it is complete and diners can eat surrounded by powerful design installations. For Dutch Design Week 2023, a show called Evolving Harmony: Intertwining Hope and Design has been curated by Annemoon Geurts exploring a “radically different” way to “live, produce, and consume together.”

The space adjacent to the main dining area was given over to three large sculptural pieces, two of which were by Eindhoven-based designer Grietje Schepers, who graduated from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2008. Ellipt 007 (above) is made from natural Dutch wool felt – the light and shadows it casts were conceived to create “mesmerizing patterns” and “alter the sensory perception” of the space. The three-dimensional form was created using an intricate pattern cut into flat felt with no waste.

The third piece is by a more recent DAE graduate, artistic researcher, and designer Ori Orisun Merhav. Made by Insects is part of an ongoing research project into the natural polymer lac (more commonly known as Shellac and used as a coating) which is made from the secretions of female lac bugs. What started with a research project in Thailand to study the insects has evolved into a library of new techniques for working with this material in new and innovative ways and a body of work that demonstrates those techniques.

Fragments N21C and N21H (above and top) by Nanette de Kool are a collage of memories captured in photographs, video stills, and fragments of conversations, that are then screen-printed onto used and reconstructed textiles to evoke your own stories and memories. The Illinois Institute of Art graduate has a background in fashion design and styling.

Selyn was founded in 1991 when Sandra Wanduragala set out to create a sustainable income source for 15 women in Sri Lanka by reviving the dying art of handloom weaving in her home garage. Today it is a fair-trade certified company employing more than 1,000 female artisans across rural Sri Lanka.

As well as traditional crafts, Selyn uses cutting-edge technology to provide transparency into its supply chain. By simply scanning the button attached to the top of this bag, you can see who made it and when they were last paid, verified by the maker herself, as well as information about materials, dyeing methods, and environmental impact.

In September 2022, the company was commissioned by the ambassador to the Kingdom of the Netherlands in Colombia to collaborate with interior architect Nicole van der Velden, to renovate his office and residence in line with his circular economy principles. Alongside reupholstered furniture, this quilt (above) was produced to tell the story of the project through its scanable buttons.

With support from Creative Industries Fund NL, Isaac Monté has 3D-printed three giant clams – representing different stages of a stone mason’s apprenticeship – from Stone Paper made from byproducts from the limestone industry, such as calcium. Due to its unique viscosity, this necessitated the development of novel extrusion techniques. Through his work, Monté pays homage to the ancient craft of stonemasonry while redefining it for the modern era.

Everyday Paradise (above) was co-curated by Lili Tedde and Lidewij Edelkoort to enable visitors to “search for beauty, soothe our soul, and heal our mind; to recompose our battered being” in a climate of “ongoing war, endless waste, accelerated climate change, and our loss of agency to AI.” Edelkoort is quoted as saying “The selection of these exotic masterpieces was done with the expert eye and experience of Lili Tedde, passionate about helping others discover her beloved Brazil through multiple publications and exhibitions,” however, I found the decision to credit everybody involved apart from the designers and makers of these pieces, plus the use of terms such as “exotic” and “outsider,” problematic and perhaps symptomatic of some of the problems the exhibition was designed to soothe if not solve.

House of Dreams explored the bedroom of the future with a “bedstead made of only responsible and locally harvested materials, a safe place to close your eyes, take a nap, refresh your mind, and dream a dream that stays your own.” The project was conceived by ConverseArchitects, made from reused Velux window frames, and filled with a specially made mattress, futon, topper, and pillows containing only materials from Dutch soil made by Futon Factorij. 

“Since we want to showcase a simple bedroom, it seemed appropriate to us to exclusively pick real and tangible materials and products,” say the architects. “By staying close to the origin of the products we want to show the simplicity of our basal installation. Our goal is to pick our materials from Dutch soil and work together with real craftsmen.”

Finally, the gourmet circular farm Vaderland hosted a pop-up restaurant for the duration of Dutch Design Week. Designer and farmer’s daughter Lianne van Genugten and chef Joep Brekelmans are building the farm using “an iterative design process, in collaboration with nature” they say. “This means perpetual movement, fine-tuning, balancing, and optimization, again and again. With respect and attention for what the earth asks and gives, they are developing a nature-inclusive farm.”

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

Material Matters is one the newest and most exciting additions to the London Design Festival. Only in its second year, it is held at The Barge House on London’s Southbank, making it a bit of a destination location, but well worth the trip. It has been co-founded by industry heavy-weights former editor of Crafts Magazine and Blueprint, Grant Gibson, and former deputy director of the London Design Festival itself and director of both 100% Design and Clerkenwell Design Week, William Knight, so you know you’re in safe hands.

The tempo is set from the moment you walk into the industrial atrium that waits behind the front doors. Likened by Grant to a magazine’s front cover, Planted, an installation by Danish designer Tanja Kirst comprises 10 textile pieces — made from hemp and yarn spun from oranges, seaweed, and pineapple — suspended from the double-height ceiling, inviting visitors ‘to experience new degradable and circular materials through experimental processes.’

MOD+ by Lima-based furniture design studio Retablo is a modular shelving system made from 100% recycled plastic and turned wood, native to where it is made in Peru. The whole thing is shipped flat and can be reconfigured as required.

Symposium of Gods and Spirits: Part 1 is London-based Ultramar Studio’s debut collection, inspired by ancient Greek gatherings for intellectual discussion. Hand-crafted by Hong Kong born Ewan Lamm as a response to both global crises and his own personal experiences, ‘as a haven for where Gods and spirits collaborate for global betterment.’ Positioned opposite the bar within Material Matters as it was, that might have been a lofty aspiration, but there were at least a few conversations aiming to put the world to rights. The Torii Stool (above) was inspired by the Japanese mythological structure and constructed with two arched legs joining with two beams to form the seat.

Wicker story is an off-shoot of Prelab Design Studio, an architecture and design practice based in Hyderabad, India. It was founded in 2019 by Priyanka Narula in response to a personal quest to define the future of design in the Indian context.

‘Our work involves the translation of digital processes for complex designing for easy adaptability to Indian craft and material systems,’ she says. ‘Wicker story, apart from being an effective tool to realize customized and complex geometries, also transcends scale and geometry and defines new protocols for design. Our products are 100% sustainable  and offer a zero waste production methodology.’

Made entirely from London-based waste, the curiously titled Growing Up I Never Wanted To Be An Office Chair was designed by Byron to challenge the monotony of conventional seating design and offer a playful alternative that might awake the childlike sense of fun in all of us.

One of the most touching pieces showcased at Material Matters was a reimagining of the cremation urn entitled Americano & Newspaper by Simon Frend. Handmade from recycled materials, these ‘ephemeral eco cremation vessels’ are designed to completely biodegrade into the earth when they are buried along with a loved one’s remains.

Solidwool has been around for a while. The idea behing the brand is to capture wool from Herdwick sheep – the iconic breed that was historically used in the UK carpet industry, but has fallen out of favor and is now considered an almost worthless byproduct of sheep farming – in eco-resin to create high-value furniture and accessories. The brand has recently been acquired by Roger Oates Design and a process of re-engineering the material, developing production and re-designing the Hembury Chair (above) undertaken. It was good to see that the results felt true to the original intent.

Mycelium feels like the material of the moment, so it wouldn’t be a show about materials without at least a couple of examples and fumo panels were one – wall covering panels comprising of fungal mycelium and agricultural waste like hemp and sawdust. ‘We allow biology to create highly sustainable material while transforming natural waste into solid biocomposites using fungi mycelium,’ they say.

Material Magic was a showcase from the Minerva Art Academy led by Jack Brandsma into alternative natural binders such as magnesium and potato starch. ‘Natural fibers like hemp are often used as reinforcement in combination with a synthetic binder, which makes the composite material hard to recycle,’ says Jack.

Perhaps the most surprising waste material on display was the use of the display lenses that eye doctors pop out of spectacle frames when they put your prescription lenses in. London-based designer and entrepreneur Yair Neuman has a long-running collaboration with British eyewear brand Cubbits, which started with a series of lights he designed for their stores.

He has now developed Delerex®, an innovative material made from discarded lenses, without the use of glues or bonding agents, which is used exclusively in his work. In the most beautifully circular move, he has now developed Fused, a collection of glasses frames that you can buy from Cubbits stores across London.

British designer Gareth Neal has collaborated with Dutch design studio The New Raw to pioneer a new 3D-printing method that uses three-times-recycled plastic and prints in intentionally imperfect loops rather than layers to mimic craft techniques and reduce errors. The result is a collection called Digitally Woven.

Interior leatherwork studio Bill Amberg exhibited the furniture that came out of its collaboration with the Knepp Estate, renowned for its ground-breaking ‘wilding’ project, the driving principle of which was to establish a ‘functioning ecosystem where nature is given as much freedom as possible.’ The collection uses leather from the estate’s English longhorn cattle. ‘We’re delighted to be collaborating with Bill Amberg Studio to honor our animals, in the way our ancestors would have done, by using their skins – with care, craft, and gratitude,’ says Knepp’s Isabella Tree.

And finally, one of the absolute highlights of the show was a mini-exhibition called Material Change by London-based design studio Pearson Lloyd. Reflecting on the changes they have made to their own practice over recent years, they explored themes such as ‘design with data,’ ‘design with waste materials’ and ‘design for circularity’ with honesty, pragmatism and clarity – qualities that are all-too-often missing from the environmental debate.

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

Shoreditch Design Triangle was established in 2008 to celebrate the creative industries in East London, and is hosted by the companies who live and work there. “Blending together product launches, exhibitions, installations, workshops, talks, tours, and culinary delights – the event gives visitors the opportunity to spend the day wandering around the East End on foot and still not see everything there is to see,” say the organizers. I did my best…!

Dan Tobin Smith’s Letter C – Collapse (above) is a new piece as part of his ongoing Alphabetical Series. “Inspired by the Bell inequality test, Dirac’s three polarizers experiment with the hidden nature of materials and perception, the sculpture exploits the strange phenomenon of polarization and material,” he says. “The typographical form, concealed in plain sight, is then revealed by the materials’ previously unseen characteristics.”

Inside, a series of tiny models of playgrounds by Tobin’s Optical Arts Studio cast dynamic shadows as they spun alongside films and stills that found typographic forms within the playground structures.

Just down the road Lee Broom, who opened his Shoreditch showroom in 2010, has recently expanded by taking on the space next door. Design Milk has been following his career since day one, so it was wonderful to see this new expansion and to see so many of the pieces launched in Milan ’22.

B Corp-certified lighting brand Tala launched the Mantle Portable Lamp (shown above in cobalt blue), which comes apart so the bulb, battery, and interior circuitry can all be replaced. I love the use of portable lights for, not only outdoor spaces, but also indoor nooks where a trailing cable would be problematic.

Shoreditch stalwart SCP worked with Carl Clerkin and friends to bring some much-need levity to proceedings with its tongue-in-cheek Federation of Furniture Fanciers SCPeep Show hosted by the Closed Curtain Club which riffed on Victorian sensibilities around the female form, but applied to furniture and accessories. The Doorknob Feeler Theatre (above) invited visitors to “have a good feel” of this cast aluminum Jasper Morrison FSB Doorknob.

The Confession Bucket by Poppy Booth is made of galvanized steel with confession grill holes and invited visitors to “pull bucket over head and confess, release slowly after use.” Its gentle and silly humor was so very welcome as LDF returns to form after some very serious world events.

On a more sensible note, SCP was also presenting a new collection of WonderGlass pieces by British architect and designer John Pawson including Berg, a glass coffee table that creates mesmerizing shadows underneath.

Carl Clerkin was also presenting Sons of Beasley with designer and colleague Alex Hellum. Alongside a new collection of chairs, there was a fully equipped live workshop where Carl, Alex, and friends were be making things by hand from offcuts, components, and materials donated by local cabinet maker Plykea – makers of door fronts and worktops for IKEA kitchens.

Upstairs SCP was showcasing its new foam-free method of upholstering furniture that comprises all natural materials including burlap, latex, and coconut fibers, recycled wool, latex, needled wool, multi-density wool, feathers, solid beech, birch and poplar plywood, webbing, and metal springs – upholstery foam is horrible for both the environment and the people who make, work with and use it, so this is a really important development.

This approach is now used across all of SCP’s sofas – including the low-lying Peonia by Wilkinson & Riveria, which they describe as a “family and friends sized sitting space.”

Element by Philippe Malouin is a modular “sofa system” that can be arranged perfectly traditionally, or into this playful “enclosed conversation pit” for the “ultimate comfort, conversation, and conviviality.”

If SCP is a Shoreditch Design Triangle stalwart, The Collective is the new kid in town. Designed by Studio Cass, its new Charlotte Road home is housed in a former button factory, and instead of looking like a showroom comprising a series of spaces – a kitchen, a bar, meeting rooms – that enable it to showcase the products, expertise, and quality behind The Collective and its associated brands.

One of those brands is EchoPanel® – acoustic panels made from PET offcuts – and even as the drinks started flowing and the evening’s party moved into full swing, the quality of sound in the space was palpable.

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

“London’s favorite design fair is back” reads the London Design Fair’s website – and it is and it isn’t. The show, formerly known as Tent, is under new ownership, much smaller than in its pre-COVID heyday, and less tightly curated, but nonetheless it did contain some absolute gems. One of the highlights, not just of the London Design Fair but of the whole festival, was ‘You CAN Sit With Us’ curated by 2LG Studio, a London-based interior design and styling consultancy, founded by creative duo, Jordan Cluroe and Russell Whitehead (below left).

US Congress member Shirley Chisholm is credited with coining the oft-quoted expression, “If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring in a folding chair.” But with Russell and Jordan about, you won’t be needing one. You CAN Sit With Us (emphasis on “can” and referencing the 2004 movie Mean Girls) is a curation that responds to prejudice they have felt and still feel from the industry. They placed a long dining table at the heart of an installation designed to explore inclusivity and asked emerging designers to each design one chair, giving them a platform so they wouldn’t experience the same barriers.

The other part of the fair that really shone was the British Craft Pavilion and the first stand through the door belonged to furniture maker Nick James. Nick describes himself as “a highly skilled craftsman and tree lover.” He’s an advocate of traditional woodworking techniques, uses British-grown wood, making everything by hand in his Newcastle-upon-Tyne workshop, and feeds his creativity by spending every Wednesday in his local woodland.

Pamela Print spent 14 years in the fashion textiles industry and now relishes the slow pace of natural dying and hand weaving. Her Kantha III artwork (above) is hand-dyed using indigo and logwood plant dyes. As well as artworks, she also makes scarves, cushions, throws, and weaving kits.

Will James runs Knot Design from a small studio and workshop in central London, making to order and celebrating the natural imperfections of wood. Like many of his products, the Dickens Wall Shelf (above) can be completely customized by size, timber, and number of shelves, so it’s just as perfect for a tiny nook as it is to provide “a sprawling display for your cherished collectibles.”

Woven Memories cushions’ unique designs are created with an online tool that can turn any typed message into binary code and therefore a visual pattern. They are made from locally sourced and deadstock yarn to ensure their sustainability message is as embodied as the message coded into their designs.

Barbara Gittings is a Brighton-based ceramicist, specializing in Nerikomi techniques. Inspired by a former career in textiles, these involve adding oxides or stains to the clay to color it and then joining, slicing, and rejoining layers of colors to build up patterns through the clay, which she then slab-builds, biscuit-fires, and sands down before a final smoke firing and polish. The result evokes the multi-layered effects of nature, such as the laying down of strata, weathering, and erosion.

Pointing out negative spaces in the doorway opposite her stand that she is already convinced will inspire future work, Jane Cairns explains that her work (above) “is about finding beauty in the ordinary; about recognizing the accidental poetry in the unnoticed and overlooked,” she says. “Living in the city, this is often found in apparently insignificant visual details of the built environment – the space on a wall where something has been removed, a juxtaposition of materials, the sculptural qualities of found forms.”

Each lamp by Margate-based Lux Pottery is a slab-built stoneware artwork in its own right, brought to life with a vintage-style lightbulb. She also makes wall hangings inspired by her surroundings in referencing mid-century design motifs.

Outside of the British Craft Pavilion, a couple of stands really stood out, one of which was Brighton-based Spark & Bell – a sustainable lighting company that is even creating its own sheet materials from recycled plastic.

Another sustainable exhibitor of note was Studio Lia Karras, all the way from Winnipeg, Canada. Lia specializes in custom handwoven textile art for architectural spaces made with reclaimed and reimagined materials – often taken from the very buildings the resulting pieces are commissioned for.

“I believe that abundance could look different,” she says. “I believe in living and working gently and leading a lifestyle and practice where beauty, quality, and sustainability are in balance. In all of my work, I strive to contribute without taking; to make the best possible use of the resources available to me by thoughtfully re-imagining the materials at hand. I strive to create something beautiful, functional, subtle, and tactile.”n for circularity’ with honesty, pragmatism and clarity – qualities that are all-too-often missing from the environmental debate.

All other photography by Katie Treggiden.

Mother Goddess of the Three Realms: Cross Encounters, Joining Threads was the title of “a celebration of UK and Vietnam’s cross-cultural and shared design heritage” curated by WAX Atelier (London) in collaboration with Blue H’mong craftswomen of Po Co village (Mai Chau Province) and KILOMET109 (Hanoi) as part of both London Design Festival and Vietnam Design Week.

The same group collaborated on Mother Goddess Rope (top and above), which is made from collectively sourced hemp, linen, nettle, silk, and wild yam root and bound together in song and dance.

A film screening area featured theater curtains and a backdrop made from naturally fire-retardant hemp, wool, and bast by British textile brand Camira and a pink theater rope made from cotton and silk by Brian Turner Trimmings Ltd, commissioned especially for the occasion. Two films were shown – Domestic Spinner by Yibing Chen, which explored the connections between spinning and women’s identities, and Mother Goddess of the Three Realms by Rocio Chacon and Yesenia Thibault Picazo (co-founder of WAX Atelier), which gave the exhibition its title and follows three groups of women as they create a 20-meter-long braided rope as an offering to the Mother Goddess to represent heaven, water, and forest.

The Nine Lives Shoe by Jennifer Duong and Natasha Hicks is made from recycled rubber, cotton, and nylon 4-stranded braided Caliga. It was designed for the “urban explorer” during Walking the City – a free summer school program led by STORE Projects to address the social imbalance in the creative industries.

Aimee Betts is an embroidery and textile artist specializing in traditional forms of stitching, knotting, and fabric manipulation, which she translates into contemporary designs. For this exhibition, she was showing ash batons, crapped and overhand stitched with wax cotton cord, leather cord, jute cord, and ceramic coated cord as well as samples made from the same types of cord and soutache cord, brass, tassel mould, dowel, rope, and vintage linen, combining traditional stitches with ones she has conceived herself.

Designed and made by Nice Projects, the simply titled Bench is made from hemp rope and wood to provide visitors to the exhibition with a place to rest, “converge and commune.”

Rope in Action is a sculptural structure running through the space that uses ubiquitous hardware items to showcase the rope strung and knotted through space.

Studio Raw Origins showcased Hemp, Earth + Politics – a demonstration of UK hemp decomposition processes into yarn, fiber, nutritional protein, and hemp seed oil – a small selection of their ongoing research into the thousands of uses for this carbon sequestering, zero waste, soil regenerating crop.

A Study in Bamboo by artist and molecular scientist Cynthia Fan is made from bamboo harvested over the summer from a garden in the area of London where the exhibition took place and is one of a series of compositions that enable an opportunity to gather field notes about the plant’s strength.

Sanne Visser, better known for her ropes made from human hair, was running rope-making workshops throughout the exhibition to demonstrate the process and offer visitors the chance to try it for themselves. She also had a dog lead made from human hair on display – part of her ongoing project, The New Age of Trichology, that connects hairdressers with spinners to promote this regenerative, non-extractive material for rope-making.

WAX Atelier collaborated with Brian Turner Trimmings Ltd to repurpose rope used for the recent British royal wedding into a temple decoration simply named Temple Tassel.

The Bee Skep Hut by Lyson Marchessault, Jesse Beagle, and Hayatsu Architects comprises a coppiced chestnut frame and a hazel and corrugated hemp fiber roof, wattle and daubed with London clay, hemp, and sand.

GREEN GRADS is a UK initiative founded and curated by design journalist, Barbara Chandler, to platform UK graduates who are engaging with environmental issues, such as climate change, the circular economy, and biodiversity. Barbara talks about the work she chooses to feature as “running the gamut from art to engineering” and Roberta Schreyer’s Dreamstones (above) are firmly in the former camp. Her soft sculptures draw attention to the climate crisis and our broken relationship with nature. “My work exhorts humans and nature to live in balance on a beautiful Earth,” she says.

Now in its third year, this fledging initiative has flown the nest taking over the entire floor third floor of the building that houses iconic British department store Heal’s, and showcasing more than 50 of the most innovative and important projects at the London Design Festival.

Caroline LA Wheeler is an artist, researcher, and jeweler and her project for GREEN GRADS, “Grains and Chains,” uses a historic Gunter’s chain to raise awareness of the depletion of the second-most used resource on Earth – sand – and its impact on the landscapes and habitats it is extracted from. A series of short texts and images tell the story, while the 66-foot-long surveyors tool she deploys as a metaphor dates back to the 1600s and would have been used to measure out both the British Empire and the American wilderness as it was turned into early settlements.

Jessica Kirkpatrick is seeking to establish the contribution textile designers can make to reducing the pollution and waste currently inherent in the printing process. “Sustainability and circularity are a constant in my work as I evolve my practice to support our planet’s growth rather than hinder it,” she says. Her detailed research involves experiments to extract the most vivid of colors from local plants in her home county of Lancashire.

Elena Branch presented The Climate Collection, a collection of illustrative designs for wallpaper and upholstery textiles inspired by Russian Constructivism that speak directly to the perils that face us if we don’t act. “I’m using illustration and prints to raise vital awareness of the current climate crisis,” she says.

Dùthchas is a Gaelic word that is difficult to translate directly, but Maisie Keery sees it as “the intersection between landscape, nature, culture, and community – a place of home” and chose it as the name for her collection. Inspired by her Shen (grandfather)’s village of Cromor in the Isle of Lewis, and traditional crofters’ wear. She collected wool off fences and hand-dyed it with materials collected from the village such as food waste. “A village once rich with textiles is now being slowly forgotten,” she says. ” As a statement, I worked in the same way my ancestors would have done.”

Lucianne Canavan (above) describes herself as a multi-disciplinary artist-designer not wanting to be pinned down to a single material or approach, and it’s to her a credit. She collaborated with Lucy Ralph (below) to create a Repair Hub offering live mends throughout GREEN GRADS as well as showcasing her own work – for which she combines traditional repair techniques with her own unique combinations of patching, darning, and felting.

Lucy Ralph, aka “Lucy Trousers,” is the other half of this dynamic duo and her work explores the idea that we often discard clothes, not because they are damaged, but simply because we have grown tired of them. Her bold brand of visible mending seeks to both bring a sense of newness back to older garments and to communicate how long clothes can – and should – last.

Irish-born, London-based Royal College of Art graduate Joanne Lamb specializes in creating almost impossibly delicate woven baskets that represent the seasons, with the aim of inspiring people to appreciate nature more and to create “using their human instincts or drawing on their own cultural heritage.” The Imbolc Collection, her first, is named for the ancient Celtic holiday celebrating the earliest stirrings of spring. “I’m sharing my everyday urban experiences, bringing together art, nature and joy and pointing the way to a fairer and greener world,” she says, and has further collections inspired by summer, fall, and winter planned.

“It’s firewood at best” were the words Brighton University design and craft graduate Sholto Murray wanted to challenge. “We should be using timber that is otherwise wasted,” he says. He has sourced discarded wood from across Sussex to make vessels that retain their imperfections and irregularities. “Using local timber, felled to increase biodiversity or decrease the spread of disease, I will continue developing a style of my own. I’ll use What3Words to help increase the traceability of my material and engage the public with my craft.”

A textile artist who specializes in working with offcuts and waste fabric, Isabel Fletcher recently returned to university to study for a Master’s in textiles at the Royal College of Art. “For me, the way something was made leaves traces on otherwise disregarded offcuts,” she says. “Waste is often an extension of skilled hands and old craft. Let us value it, learn its stories, and see its beauty.”

“Industrial Offcut Studies: Hard and Soft” (above) is a series of sculptural pieces Isabel created especially for GREEN GRADS using the waste from the show’s sponsors, Benchmark, Naturalmat, and SCP. These sort of pieces would usually emerge as part of her research and development process – “thinking in three dimensions” – and this is the first time she has shared anything like these as finished objects in their own right.

Interdisciplinary designer and algal research artist, Emma Money, has come up with Cyanoskin – a “living paint” that transforms buildings into carbon-absorbing structures, in collaboration with biologist Holly Souza-Newman and business expert Antionette Nothomb with support from Carbon 13, Barclays Eagle Labs, and UKGBC. It needs care and maintenance once painted, but for as long as it stays alive, a detached house covered in the paint could absorb as much CO2 as 95 mature trees.

Henry Davison’s Frond is a leather-like material made from kelp – an incredibly fast-growing seaweed that absorbs more CO2 than trees – he found a way to stop it from rotting and has made a wallet as well as the seat and back of this chair (above) to demonstrate its strength and durability. He won the Design Council award when he exhibited at New Designers this summer.

Linnéa Duckworth grew up in rural Dartmoor in the southwest of the UK and has a background as a dancer – now, inspired by her childhood, she creates naturally dyed and pleated fabrics, designed to fade and unfold over time. “I focus on the beauty and joy of the natural world as a catalyst for change, inviting a reawakening in the body and an emotional connection with the environment,” she says.

Photography by Katie Treggiden.

Among a design week that now boasts 13 separate design districts (count ’em!), Brompton Design District is the OG – London Design Festival’s first and oldest design district established in 2007 to “foster a space where new design can flourish.” 16 years on, Jane Withers’ curation explores the theme of “Conviviality – The Art of Living Together” and how design can not only flourish but forge positive relationships between people, the spaces they inhabit, and the wider world. And it delivers on that brief in spades.

‘Fels presents The Farm Shop’ (top and above) is a curatorial project that brings together 22 artists, designers, and architects to create a playful experience drawing from Grymsdyke Farm – a research facility, experimental fabrication workshop, and live-work space located in rural Buckinghamshire, in the UK. Curated by Marco Campardo, Guan Lee (above), and Luca Lo Pinto, the project includes site-specific dining homeware created over the summer of 2023 and brought together into an immersive space that uses food to explore the concept of “conviviality.”

Meanwhile “Contained 2.0” by Kamea Devons features Coca-Cola glass bottles re-blown into shapes inspired by the historical glass-blowing artist Ennion, as an exploration of the intertwined nature of globalization, design, technology, the economy, and society at large.

The partner exhibition to the gallery showcase within Cromwell Place was in a garage on nearby Cromwell Mews and extended the theme of “back of house” by demonstrating making processes and works in progress.

Back at Cromwell House, The New Craftsmen returns to its pop-up roots under the stewardship of internationally renowned gallery owner Sarah Myerscough and former product director Kathy Lacour, with a showcase of British craft entitled “Join, Assemble, Hold” across two rooms conceived as a kitchen and a drawing room. The Kitchen (above) features “crafted pieces that are connected or joined and conjure a sense of conviviality and togetherness.” The Nailed Pantry “overflows” with turned wood vessels and hand-wrought natural objects from Ash & Plumb, Darren Appiagyei, Takahashi McGil, Alex Walshaw, and Studio AMOS. The suspended installation of regional baskets behind it highlights rare and endangered basketry techniques, some of which rely on British woods that are at risk of extinction. The hand-turned bowls on the mantlepiece are by one-half of Forest & Found, Max Bainbridge.

The centerpiece in the “drawing room” is the tiled Welcome Drinks Cabinet by ceramicist Matthew Raw, complemented by iridescent glass objects by Jochen Holz. “His innovative and unique pieces draw us into his world of the playful and sublime,” says The New Craftsmen.

What do you do when you get invited to do your first solo show and the theme is “conviviality?” Rio Kobayashi understood the assignment, invited all his pals to take part, and turned it into a collaborative effort. Calling the show “One Hand Washes The Other,” he collaborated on every piece and brought them together into a space that “co-exists” as a living room for people to enjoy the company of design objects and designers, much like they might do in his own living room at home. His motto of “bringing people together and having fun” epitomizes conviviality and demonstrates his belief that “happiness is achievable by creating a life of quality both in the materialistic world and in our inner world.”

Kobayashi was born in Japan, trained in Austria, has lived all over Europe, and is now based in East London. His work reflects his journey, the relationships he has forged along the way, and his life story so far. Here’s to the next chapter!

All in Awe has created All Together – an on-street installation supporting the work of a mental health charity and volunteer center in the London borough of Kensington & Chelsea – a reflection on the subject of loneliness, inspired by the startling fact that this area of London has one of the highest numbers of single-person households in the country and one of the most profound economic disparities across the UK, reminding us that loneliness is universal, affecting people from all walks of life.

“Our mission is to bring together people who create change with designers to support their mission and vision through the power of design,” says Eva Feldkamp of All in Awe. “We know that design has a higher purpose and possesses the capacity to tackle social issues. Through our workshops, we shared practical tools and concepts of visual design, giving people a voice to express their thoughts collectively.” The flags (above) were designed as an output of one of those workshops to visualize different emotions.

Powershift, is a group exhibition curated by POor Collective, featuring the work of emerging artists, designers, and architects, to celebrate their collective power to create change when people work together. It won the London Design Festival’s “emerging design medal.” United Ties (above) by Shanince Palmer is a visual sculpture made, as part of a community workshop entitled A New Narrative, using braiding, knotting, and tying as a catalyst to “bring unheard voices together and express, imagine, and create a united future.”

Designer Giles Nartey created Interplay (above) – a daybed that doubles up a board for playing the West African game of Oware, which he learnt from his grandparents in Ghana as a child.

Designed not only for lounging on, but also for two people to sit opposite one another, it forms part of his research at London’s Bartlett School of Architecture, where he is exploring the ways in which African craft cultures can be used to embed rituals into objects.

Gonzo’s Underground Mix Vol 7 by Yumura TeruhikoInspired by an annual exhibition in Tokyo of the same name, WAVE: Currents in Japanese Graphic Arts, was curated for Japan House by artists Hiro Sugiyama and Takahashi Kintarō, to present the work of 60 of Japan’s most significant graphic artists, introducing many of them to the UK for the first time. Pop art, surrealism, and illustration appear alongside pieces representative of the concept of heta-uma, which translates as “bad, but good,” and refers to apparently unskilled art which reveals greater merit upon close inspection – challenging our perspectives of what is “ugly” or “beautiful.”

Bridget Harvey is a maker and practice-based researcher who has been examining repair, hope, and activism since 2012, through practices such as working as a repairer and maker, exhibitions, a practice-based PhD, an artist residency at the Victoria and Albert Museum, public speaking, and repair workshops.

Tell me about your childhood, education, background, and how you first became interested in repair.

In a lot of ways it was all very ordinary. However, I was always encouraged to make things, to tinker with things and to fix things. This might be making ideas that I had, or tie-dying clothes with my Gran, or helping maintain the house. While I was always encouraged to care for my things, repair them, re-use, and repurpose materials, I didn’t consciously notice my interest in repair until much later. I left school at 16, did a screen printing apprenticeship in Philadelphia and some other bits and pieces, then I settled in to a job at Waterstones bookshop for a few years, making and fixing things in my spare time. It was when I had been there for a few years that I decided to go back to studying, first at Morley College in Southwark, and eventually completing my PhD (on repair as practice) at University of the Arts London.

There are many words for repair with slight nuances in their meaning – mending, fixing, hacking, restoring, repurposing… which do you prefer in relation to your work and why?

I prefer repair, for me this has both the clear direct meaning and also the flexibility. To repair something is to take it to a state that suits the way you want it – so not necessarily the way it was designed to be used, but how you want it to work. I often use the term repair-maker as well, to emphasize the link between the acts of repairing and making something new.

How would you describe this project or body of work?

I actually work with a lot of different materials, but one thing I have been doing now for about eight years is exploring ways of repairing ceramics. I call the series Sides to Middle, which is actually a textile phrase (you would cut your old, worn bedsheet down the middle, and sew the edges together to create a new, stronger middle area to sleep on). I like this phrase because to me, it also riffs on writer Rebecca Solnit’s suggestion that hope can help bring ideas in from the fringes to the conspicuous center ground, make them more noticeable. So with this body of work I have been trying to show that we can repair all sorts of things, to show different methods (not always practical ceramic methods) and aesthetics, in objects that we are all familiar with – plates and bowls.

What is the inspiration behind it – where did the idea come from?

I was reading a book called Waste and Want by Susan Strasser – it’s a social history of trash, and in it she spoke briefly about old household approaches to ceramic repair. I started to look more into it, trying out ideas I found in my studio, and through that looking into and testing conservation methods. It really just grew form there.

Which repair techniques are you using and why? 

I am a bit nomadic – I have always taken a multidisciplinary approach to my practice, using different materials and drawing techniques from different areas. I am really interested in combining different materials so metals and woods with ceramics, testing out different glues, constructive ways of using plastics, and so on. I also always go back to textiles and textile techniques – darning, patching, binding, stitching.

How did you learn the techniques you use in your work?

Some I learnt at home growing up, particularly the textile techniques and also making and using jigs to support my work. Others I have learnt through workshops and other lessons. But most I have taught myself. I was lucky enough to do a residency at the V&A Museum, where I watched and spoke to a lot of conservators – observing the practices and the objects. I learnt a lot there and came across a lot of techniques I wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

How do your repairs change the function or story of the object?

Sometimes they don’t – they just return it to form, and I like that. Other times the object becomes the carrier of the repair story, it is almost more about the repair than the original object (that is particularly true of my museum/exhibition displays). Ideally, we see the object back in some form of use, with its repair in dialogue with and part of its use story.

How visible or invisible is the repair and why is that important?

I am not intent on my work always being visible. For me invisible or as-invisible-as-possible repairs fit better with post-modern and late-neo-liberal ideas around perfection and aesthetics of commercial goods and clothing. However, this often depends on design. That said, I also really like visible repairs and a lot of my work is visible. I like the discussions they provoke, the stories they tell, and the authorship/signature they provide. I also think visibility helps with overall acceptance of repair as necessary, and it can be a political statement about how or when we chose to discard things. I am really interested in care, and visible repairs make visible the care applied to that object.

How have people reacted to this project or body of work? 

Overall positively, although I have had questions about the necessity of it when it can be cheaper to replace things. This is a really good discussion to have – one thing that is often overlooked in repair work is the idea of privilege – having things which are repairable, having the time/materials/tools to do the work, ideas around aspiration and social acceptance.

How do you feel opinions towards mending and repair are changing?

Slowly! But they are changing. I think there is a long way to go before it is a truly mainstream culture though.

What do you think the future holds for repair?

Hopefully lots of it. I think we will see more legislation around repair and waste. France has just shown one pathway by introducing a bonus scheme for people paying to have clothes repaired. And I hope we will see more education schemes around repair – training, apprenticeships, expansion of the conservation discourse, etc. This is starting through ideas like Team Repair who send out kits and tools for kids to learn about repair, but ideally it will also be present in schools, higher ed and so on too. I love mending things and I love seeing others enjoying it too.

You can find out more about Bridget Harvey and her work here

Danish furniture brand TAKT has released its first sofa – Spoke – a collaboration with Anderssen & Voll. It’s designed specifically with repair in mind to be a long-life, low-waste, and entirely recyclable entry to the notoriously unsustainable furniture category. Design Milk caught up with Anderssen & Voll co-founder Torbjørn Anderssen to find out more.

Tell me about your childhood, education, background, and how you first became interested in repair.

We both come from creative homes. I’m the son of a musician and teacher, and Espen is the son of a ceramicist and architect. In our childhoods, we were always interested in making things, which led us to study design.

When I was younger, I would make patchwork clothes out of found materials, because I couldn’t find what I wanted in the shops. It wasn’t repair exactly, but it was being resourceful and bringing my ideas into the world. Also, my dad made the sofa that we lived with for decades, so that probably influenced me in some way.

Later, at Norway Says, our first Milan exhibition 23 years ago, we exhibited furniture made with our own hands. It traveled to the Design Museum in London. That’s where it all began for us.

There are many words for repair with slight nuances in their meaning – mending, fixing, hacking, restoring, repurposing… which do you prefer in relation to your work and why?

Repair to us means a design which is clearly fragmented into parts made from good, clean, and solid materials that could either be reinforced or easily exchanged. It is a very different design approach to the one we started out with 25 years ago where the unified, “covered-up” look was the aesthetic ideal.

We like repairing, fixing, and mending as they imply that the user is striving to revive the original design intent of the object. I think of hacking as something very different. Hacking alters objects, which is a more creative act that moves beyond the original design, so we prefer the term “repair.”

How would you describe this project?

Espen and I are different, so when we design we bring independent viewpoints and find a compromise that is stronger. This often means our designs have a duality to them, which we celebrate.

Spoke certainly has a Danish flavor to it, which is appropriate for TAKT, but also something about the no-nonsense woodwork that makes us think about Japan. So it’s in between those two design cultures, creating something familiar but new.

What is the inspiration behind it – where did the idea come from?

The scope of Spoke Sofa was to design a flat-pack modular sofa that once assembled would look like a solid whole – a sofa to fit the TAKT philosophy of transparency.

The design and aesthetics really derive from the functionality and manufacturing parameters. TAKT sells directly to customers and ships the furniture in flat boxes to their door, so the design comprises a number of individual components that can be made with a high level of accuracy. This is important as most furniture is glued together at the factory, when the manufacturer can approve its final form; Spoke is built by the customer at home, and could be repaired in a decade’s time, so it requires another level of detail to ensure all the components are interchangeable. This was a big factor in its design.

We’re very happy with how it’s come out. It proves that this level of quality within this model is possible.

Which repair techniques are you using and why? 

Spoke was designed for disassembly which means a composition of separated mono materials: a wooden structure and loose foam cushions. So each component can be replaced, repairing the whole via components. If the solid wood gets nicked or scratched it can be repaired with TAKT’s wood oils, so you don’t need to repair everything if you’re happy to display the scrapes and scratches from everyday life at home.

How did you learn the techniques you use in your work?

Espen’s mother was a ceramicist and father an architect, so he picked up handicrafts and ideas about design at home, but our skills and techniques really developed at the Bergen Academy of Art and Design and the Oslo National Academy of Art, where we studied.

Subsequently, we really invested time in going to design fairs when we graduated. We would go to Milan to see what other designers presented and note how people reacted to the work. We had our eyes open. That’s how we developed our own voice.

Around that time Espen was partly living in California as his wife was doing a PhD at the University of Santa Cruz. So we had that West Coast influence coming into our work, too.

We developed a global outlook, from our home in Norway.

How do your repairs change the function or story of the object?

We see repair as restoring the original function of our design rather than a way to change it, but the process of repairing develops an emotional connection with the furniture and embeds memories into the object.

At home, I have a rug in our living room that is really worn out from family life with two young kids. We love the rug but it hasn’t lasted as well as we hoped. So that could be the end of the story; we could throw it out. But I’ve started to patch it with some Norwegian wool yarn that I bought a couple of weeks ago. I was inspired by the Japanese technique of Sashiko mending. It’s been on my list to fix it for a long time and I’m enjoying creating new beauty and stories in this way. Now I have a hand in it, I’m sure I will keep it for a very long time.

How visible or invisible is the repair and why is that important?

We think you should always do your best to make the repair as beautiful as possible. A messy repair is to us an uninteresting fashion statement.

In Japanese culture, repairing is always adding value and beauty. Objects should not degrade as they are repaired, they should be improved and become more desirable. We need this cultural shift in Western cultures.

How have people reacted to this project or body of work? 

We are pleased with the positive reaction to both the form and the function of Spoke Sofa. It’s important that furniture that is demountable and modular is still beautiful and desirable. We are happy to have achieved both with TAKT.

A lot of people say they love the spokes in the backrest. I think they enjoy seeing the structure and, from a distance, understanding how it works and how they could put it together or repair it. It’s more open.

How do you feel opinions towards mending and repair are changing?

It was a big topic at 3daysofdesign this year, so it seems like they are being accepted. But it’s easy to assume that because people around us are talking about it that everyone is – the global market is huge and it will take time for everyone to understand and adopt it.

It’s funny because our parents and grandparents had all of the sustainability and circularity values that we are trying to introduce now, but they didn’t have the words for them because they were simply common sense. To some extent, we are trying to return to how they lived, but in the modern day. It should be quite simple really.

In the professional market, it’s demanded much more. The wear rate is much higher than in the home, so contract furniture does need to be repairable and brands do need to stock spare parts, but in the home, people throw a lot more away.

We feel that if something allows itself to be repaired, this is a sign of quality.

What do you think the future holds for repair?

More designs with the principles embedded within Spoke, which was designed for disassembly with a composition of separated mono materials: a wooden structure and loose cushions.

Design for repair should evolve new aesthetics. The principles allow us to return to familiar aesthetics, but I believe in the future we will retain the values but find new material and structural combinations that will look different.

For all of this to become more ingrained in design culture it needs legislation, which would force manufacturers to operate in more responsible ways.

You can find out more about TAKT here and the Spoke Sofa

British brand TOAST is leading the way in bringing repair culture into clothing, homewares, and accessories and now employs as many repair specialists (six) as designers. As well as offering a repair service for customers (3,579 mends and counting), the brand has recently launched TOAST Renewed – a collection of creatively repaired pieces. Design Milk spoke to one the very first members of the repair team, Emily Mae Martin, to find out more.

I completed my art foundation in my hometown and focused on costume design (combining my love of clothing and acting), I then moved to Musselburgh and studied costume design for the first semester, but decided it wasn’t for me, mostly due to the technical aspects of garment construction. I reapplied for more creatively open textile courses and began studying at Edinburgh College of Art the following September. I completed both my undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in textiles there, with my postgrad being the gateway to my interest in repair.

My master’s was all about sustainable fashion, mostly looking at new production methods using natural dyes, patchwork, and bespoke clothing. Mending often popped up in my research but I didn’t get much time to explore it during my studies as I was making things from scratch. I took some time in between my master’s years to teach myself a little and mend some items of my own, and I actually wore the first sweater I had mended at my degree show opening night.

What appeals to you about repairing objects versus creating something new?

The initial appeal of repair was from a sustainability angle – extending the life of a garment rather than discarding and buying new. Over time, my appreciation of repair has grown. As a maker and someone who loves clothing and textiles, it’s amazing to see a garment constantly evolving. It becomes more than an inanimate object, it is part of someone’s everyday life and holds within it human-made marks.

From a creative perspective, I am often overwhelmed when making something new, the endless options, and the pressure for it to be worthy of existing and not taking from our precious resources will do that! So working with existing items not only eliminates that guilt but also means that there’s something to respond to and be inspired by. I often include elements of the original garment into my repairs as I love how it looks.

I find that mending as a process is such an act of deliberate care that it can be healing for the garment and for yourself. It allows you to focus on one thing with minimal equipment, which is helpful for someone as easily distracted as me. This reduction of stimulus is great for my – and many people’s – anxiety, which is very different when creating something new, with ideas flying around everywhere.

There are many words for repair with slight nuances in their meaning – mending, fixing, hacking, restoring, repurposing… which do you prefer in relation to your work and why?

I find that mending as a process is such an act of deliberate care that it can be healing for the garment and for yourself. It allows you to focus on one thing with minimal equipment, which is helpful for someone as easily distracted as me. This reduction of stimulus is great for my – and many people’s – anxiety, which is very different when creating something new, with ideas flying around everywhere.

How would you describe TOAST Renewed – the collection of repaired garments recently launched by the brand, that you have been very involved in?

TOAST Renewed is a collection of previously damaged and/or faulty stock that has been creatively repaired by the team of six repair specialists working for TOAST.

Connecting back to the previous question, I would use different mending terms for the TOAST Renewed project. I mean I think the project title says a lot – to renew these pieces; to revitalize them is absolutely the goal. With customer repairs, it’s down to what is right for that particular customer and their lifestyle, whereas the Renewed pieces have to have a broader appeal and excitement to them. Without an already established personal connection, we have the opportunity to repair unused, but damaged stock and create a feature worthy of someone’s investment.

There’s definitely more design thinking that goes into these pieces, and I often use the TOAST current collections as inspiration for the items I work on.

What is the inspiration behind it – where did the idea come from?

Our TOAST Renewed collection extends our long-standing approach to cherishing materials and honoring the hands that make our pieces. It is the most recent addition to TOAST Circle, a space for us to foster longevity, celebrate the art of repair, and connect with our community over treasured pieces.

With each one-of-a-kind item, we demonstrate how mending can give clothing and soft textiles a new lease of life. We hope to shift perspectives that tears, holes, and other flaws diminish the beauty of well-crafted pieces. By renewing instead of replacing, we get to cherish items for a lifetime.

Which repair techniques are you using and why? 

I mostly use woven and Swiss darning, and sashiko-inspired patch repairs as that is what most of our garments call for. A handful of times I have used embroidery – mostly when covering stains, pen marks, etc.

There are multiple factors that go into which technique to use where, the two types of darning mentioned are typically used for knitwear repairs, but you can use woven darning on almost anything. I tend to darn the most as I love the process, and I’m a big fan of woven fabric but have never been able to weave on a large scale. It’s great to be able to be playful with color like that on a small scale.

A patch repair with reinforcement stitching is mostly used to repair holes or tears, especially when the surrounding fabric is wearing thin too. More recently I have taken to using simple patch repairs with whip-stitched edges as I love the look of these, especially on our workwear items.

How did you learn the techniques you use in your work?

I’ve been doing a lot of hand stitching, embroidery, and quilting in my textile work for a few years now, so just a few visuals online allowed me to pick up patch repair techniques quite quickly. For the darning side of things, I did a few online workshops and did a fair bit of research too. That all feels like a long time ago now though and I have developed these skills immeasurably while working at TOAST. I’ve been working in the repair specialist role for around two and a half years now, I’m working on approximately 9–15 items a week, so it’s almost become second nature to me – it feels very intuitive.

Having said that, I am definitely still learning all the time, and it’s exciting to get something challenging, whether it is working with delicate fabric, damage in a tricky area of the garment, or really anything new! Also, the online community of menders is endlessly inspiring and I see new tips and tricks and approaches to repair all the time.

How do your repairs change the function or story of the object?

I feel like with customer repairs it’s varied whether the function changes or not, plus we don’t always get to hear about the garment’s life once it is back with the wearer. I do find that most people are excited to just be able to wear the garment again without fear of further damage. There is such joy and relief in customers who can get an item repaired that they have become very connected to. It seems that often people don’t truly notice the value in some of their clothes until they might not get to wear them again.

One definite function change I do remember is that I had to do a very large patch repair on the seat of some beautiful silk trousers, which turned out to have been damaged by the owner wearing them to cycle in! I did advise her to maybe not do that in the future and use them for less active pursuits!

How visible or invisible is the repair and why is that important?

For the Renewed collection all items are repaired visibly in order to celebrate the craft of repair and allow customers to purchase a unique item. Having a repair be visible embraces aging, change, and imperfection, and this message imbued in something worn so close to the body can be a powerful one.

Practically I think that having a repair already visible on a garment will encourage future repairs or will at least make them less daunting. The pieces in the collection also provide a great resource for inspiration for our customers, especially those who are new to visible repairs and aren’t always sure what they’re asking for.

Having said that, the option for our customers to have invisible, or at least discreet, repairs is also important. Not everyone enjoys the aesthetic of repair work, and it isn’t always suitable for the garment and how or where it is worn. For example, clothes worn in corporate professional settings provide this challenge.

How have people reacted to this project or body of work? 

It seems to have been very positive from the feedback I’ve heard and the items are selling well too. I’ve had a few customers who are seeing visible mending like this for the first time and are then really encouraged to use our repair service.

How do you feel opinions towards mending and repair are changing?

People definitely seem to be embracing it more as an option for them, whereas previously they just saw it as something their parents or grandparents did. I feel like the wartime connection of the “make do and mend” era is slowly dissolving and people are seeing how it can be applied in our modern wardrobes. It is increasingly being seen as a viable way to add newness and individuality to their clothing without investing in a whole new garment. I would say this is largely thanks to the growing bunch of incredible repairers out there that have such a variety of styles and great craftsmanship. It does seem to be creeping away from something shameful and into being aspirational.

Working at TOAST in this role over the past few years, I have seen the popularity of the repair service grow and grow. To then see other larger brands begin to offer a similar service is incredible. It feels as though it is slowly developing into something that is part and parcel of the consumer experience – hopefully anyway!

What do you think the future holds for repair?

Hopefully just more of it. I always say “the more the merrier” when it comes to repairers – there’s plenty more to textiles to be mended (even just in my personal pile!). It would be great to see basic sewing and repair skills being taught to younger people, both for the planet and for themselves. Most people I’ve had the pleasure to teach have spoken of how relaxing and meditative mending is, and how empowering and rewarding it can be. No one loses in the art of repair, and an “art” it is. I hope that more people come to learn this in years to come.

You can find out more about TOAST Renewed here.

UK-based Green&Blue is on a mission to make homes and havens for wildlife. As a certified B Corp, they’re committed to doing this with consideration for people and the planet at the heart of what they do. From their Cornish workshop, they design and make a range of habitat products for different species with the Bee Brick, their innovative home for solitary bees, becoming a planning requirement within new builds in three counties across the UK – Cornwall, Brighton, and Dorset. We spoke to co-founder Gavin Christman to find out more…

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability.

I grew up on the edge of the industrial Midlands surrounded by glass foundries, metal fabricators, and ceramics factories. Though it was our industrial heartland, it’s woven together with stunning wild places, canals, and rivers, forging a lasting connection with nature. Growing up where I did, design and engineering are in my blood, as they are for so many from that area. Art college and then a design degree from Brighton followed before joining Dyson for what I thought would be my dream job.

How would you describe your project/product? And What inspired this project/product?

In 2005 I cofounded Green&Blue with my wife Kate and we set off to follow our dream of living and working in Cornwall. Our ambition was to manufacture wildlife products that would be made in the UK and designed to last a lifetime. As designers, our products are created in response to the challenges we see in the natural world. For example, the Bee Brick, a nesting site for solitary bees, is inspired by the way solitary bees have nested in brickwork or crumbling mortar for hundreds of years. Bee Brick seeks to replicate this for modern construction. As a company, our mission is to make homes and havens for wildlife, and to reconnect people with nature.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

We make the Green&Blue range from locally sourced aggregates which are a byproduct of the China Clay industry here in Cornwall. Much of the stone extracted is used in industry but certain grades have very little commercial use. The concrete mix we have designed makes use of those aggregates, turning a waste material from a quarry just up the road from us into homes for wildlife.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

The innovation behind products like the Bee Brick lies in the fact that they can be used in place of standard bricks or blocks to make space for nature. Being designed for construction means the range needs to be strong, durable and trusted by the construction industry. This led us to concrete as a material, however we couldn’t ignore the environmental impact of cement. Knowing we had an incredibly strong and durable material in abundance on our doorstep allowed us to mitigate for this and create our own concrete mix using 75% recycled material.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

Each day in our workshop, waste aggregates are combined with a cement binder, they’re mixed and poured into product moulds, vibrated and then cured overnight before being removed from the moulds the following day and processed, ready to be packed into boxes or onto pallets for delivery to construction sites.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

Our products are designed to last at least as long as the building they are installed in. I believe sustainability is primarily about making products that last as long as possible and have the least amount of impact during their manufacturing process. Should a building with our products reach the end of its life the brick and stone elements will be reclaimed, crushed and turned into recycled aggregates for further use in construction.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

The first Green&Blue product that used the waste aggregate concrete was the Bee Brick. However it took many prototypes before we had a product that worked, perseverance is key to product innovation! There’s a degree of magic and alchemy involved in creating the concrete mix, but as a team, we are motivated by these challenges, by problem-solving, and by trying to reduce our impact on the planet at every turn.

How have people reacted to this project?

The response to products like the Bee Brick and our other integrated nesting sites like Bat and Swift Blocks has been really positive and is only growing. As we become increasingly aware of the crisis in the natural world we need solutions like these to halt our biodiversity loss. Once common birds like swifts, sparrows and house martins have been added to the red list for birds of conservation concern and with the amount of construction happening, we have to rethink those spaces and ensure they provide for wildlife as well as humans. We have to remember to exist within nature rather than separately.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

I believe people’s opinion of waste materials is changing but far too slowly, we seem reluctant to shift our lives away from consumer products that have little or no consideration for recycling. However, movements like B corporation and 1% for the planet are encouraging businesses to do better and to lead the way, we’re proud to be a part of that.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

I think a fundamental shift from using virgin materials is critical to our future. We should aim to judge a product’s success by how much waste material is contained, by how little it takes from the earth’s resources. This is one of the biggest challenges we set ourselves at Green&Blue, to consider impact within every part of what we do.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Green and Blue here.

London-based jeweler Corrie Williamson makes jewelry and hanging mobiles – which she describes as ‘jewelry for the home’ – from wooden and metal offcuts leftover from the work of other designer-makers, usually of larger objects such as furniture and musical instruments. She has collaborated with brands such as Jigsaw, Toast, Amnesty, Tate Modern, and Selfridges, and works from a studio in her garden nestled between the hustle and bustle of East London and the serenity of Hackney Marshes.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability.

As a child, I was always making things and I have many memories of all the household materials and equipment I would use for my creative projects. My mum let me use her sewing machine all the time, the iron for making wax paintings, and the food processor for recycling paper into pulp. I was chopping up candles and using the kitchen pans to melt them down and remold them into things. She was a really supportive mum like that – I was and still am really lucky! I liked to work with whatever was around me in the house. As a kid, your world is a little more limited in that way and so I think working with waste materials has just become an extension of that. I did an Art Foundation course in Brighton and then had a brief change of plan and started an academic degree in Visual Culture at the University of Brighton. During the second year, we got to do a project for one term in the textiles studio and I got hooked back in. Luckily, the university allowed me to transfer onto the Textiles BA course so I ended up back where I was happiest; experimenting with materials, processes, and making things again.

I would often use found objects in my designs and as starting points for projects so I think the seeds were sown from an early age. While I was studying for my degree, I became interested in jewelry making and the scrap dealer I bought silver from would save me bags of broken watch faces which I used to turn into jewelry. I serendipitously got myself a jewelry agent in Japan, so by the time I finished my textiles degree I was already selling pieces of jewelry. It felt right to carry on with this after I finished and no longer had the access to the workshop facilities that came with being in education. After graduating I got a studio space with a whole collection of other artists, makers, and craftspeople and that really informed where my work would go after that.

How would you describe your project/product?

They vary, but the main thread is the materials I use. I make jewelry and mobiles mainly at the moment using a combination of metals and wood. The designs are paired back and minimal but they come from an experimental making process and I hope there is an element of playfulness in the work.

What inspired this project/product?

The mobiles I have been making lately were originally made for my daughter Pearl when she was a baby and they were an extension of my jewelry-making process. I use similar materials and techniques in both. The creation of the mobiles felt like a natural progression from the jewelry – movement was already playing a small part in my designs but because of the scale and limitations with jewelry, it wasn’t until I took it off the body that new ideas with movement and shadow could come through. I like the idea of creating jewelry for your home.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

The wood I use is a waste material – I source scraps and small pieces from the offcut bins of furniture makers. Originally I had a friend whose Dad is a furniture maker who makes a lot of beautiful pieces from bog oak. I asked him if I could use scraps of his for making jewelry and he started to save me pieces that were of no use to his work but were perfect for what I needed. I found this way of connecting with other makers really enjoyable and it is a great excuse to have a look at what people are doing in their workshops and see what they are making and how! Now I have a few different furniture makers saving things for me, and at times I have had instrument makers saving me bits and bobs too. I try to build up a little stock of woods in my workshop so I always have pieces to choose from when I am making new designs rather than having an idea of what I want and trying to go out and find that piece.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

It has been something I feel has happened very subconsciously at first, but as I have progressed through different materials, the world has changed and awareness for creating things that have a lower impact on the planet has become much more to the forefront of lots of people’s minds. So for someone who feels very intrinsically linked to the materials I am working with, looking at their impact on the world is a really important part of this.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

The materials are mainly processed by me in my workshop, through cutting, sanding, and finishing, and then assembling – all by hand.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

I only use natural finishing oils that come directly from nature. I join the materials together and I have developed techniques for this that don’t involve any chemical glues so I am looking at the end of life of the product as well and if all parts can either biodegrade or be recycled.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

I actually don’t think I was aware that I was using a “waste product” as such until after I had been working in this way for a while. It came so naturally that it’s only on reflection that I have seen my work in this way.

How have people reacted to this project?

People have been really engaged with where the materials come from and the fact that no two pieces can be exactly the same. I have had customers send me pieces of wood from trees in their garden to use in the work. It is so brilliant to have customers so invested and engaged in the materials.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

I think opinions are changing in a positive way, but there is also a difficulty particularly where larger companies can use their use of waste recycled materials in a superficial way to tick sustainability boxes rather than engaging authentically.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

I think it is a very exciting field in terms of what we will see developing. There are so many innovative people out there coming up with ways to use up waste materials and it is these collective small changes that excite me.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Corrie here.

Darren Appiagyei is a London UK-based woodturner. He graduated from UAL Camberwell College of The Arts, where he studied 3D design in 2016. Darren’s work is about highlighting the intrinsic beauty of the wood and celebrating features such as knots, cracks, bark, or distinctive grain, which are often seen as flaws. He works only with wood from fallen trees that would otherwise be chopped up for firewood. We caught up with Darren to find out more…

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability.

I was born in London to Ghanaian parents, who were very invested in the Ghanaian culture, so my childhood home was adjourned with traditional Ghanaian objects such as the Ashanti stool and the neem wood sculpture. I was very much a creative person in my own little way, I would endlessly draw for hours patiently shading and dotting away. I continued to be creative into my GCSEs and A-levels. It was at University where I developed a sense of direction; I studied 3D design at UAL Camberwell College of the Arts – in my second year we had a unit where we had to learn a new skill and I gravitated towards the lathe, which was hardly used. Learning how to turn was a gradual process of learning and developing with the help of YouTube and the university technicians. Through trial and error, I slowly gained a real appreciation for wood and its grains and textures. I fell in love with the material – I was absolutely spellbound as the wood revealed itself to me as I carved. My interest in sustainability developed as I researched a variety of woods further and understood their properties, depending on where the wood was sourced as well as the difference between trees that had naturally fallen and trees that have deliberately been cut. Once I graduated, I won The Worshipful Company of Turners and Cockpit Arts Awards in 2017 and started to develop a sustainable practice. I was introduced to Woodlands Farm in Shooters Hill, from which I source my wood, only using wood from fallen trees.

How would you describe your project/product?

Making with wood is a collaboration between me and the material. It’s an honoring of the intrinsic beauty of the wood; it’s all about allowing the wood to speak for itself rather than refining and polishing it into something it’s not. Enhancing the imperfections of the wood, my approach is simply about allowing the organic beauty of the wood to shine, whether it be a grain, a knot or just the texture of the wood. Every vessel is a representation of the beauty of wood in its natural state. I like to think of my work like people – everyone is different in their own way, with unique experiences and this is what makes both people and wood so special, every piece is so different even if it’s the same species. I work with a variety of woods; from oak burr – which is a diseased part that has to be cut off oak trees so it won’t cause the whole tree to rot – to spalted beech which has a highlighted element caused by fungi.

What inspired this project/product?

Being a lover of nature inspires me. Growing up in Greenwich, I was fortunate enough to have Greenwich Park just around the corner from home. The park has always been a peaceful haven for me – there is something about walking, thinking, talking with friends, living in the present moment and appreciating my surroundings. I find nature quite magical – can you imagine if trees could talk? The stories they would tell, the history they have lived through…

My cultural identity is another strong influence on my work – it has enabled me to be bold, to dare to break the mold, and to be authentic in my work. I also hope my audience can see the influence of African art in my work aesthetically.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

The majority of the wood I used is sourced from Woodlands Farm in Shooters Hill. They have tree surgeons who remove wood that has naturally fallen. It’s a magical moment when I rummage through the woodpile and wait for the wood to speak to me, as I try to imagine what I could do with each piece and the shapes I could make to accentuate certain aspects of the wood. It’s a patient approach as I forage through the wood logs, which are most likely to be cut down into square logs and used as firewood otherwise.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision

We live in the ‘Amazon era.’ We order things and they come straight away without a thought. Going to the woodlands farm instead of going to a timber shop where the timber has been seasoned and cleaned up – seeing the raw wood in its natural state really made an impression on me; this wood has the potential to have a second life and deserves to be used effectively, rather than merely being used as firewood which eventually diminishing into ashes.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

My making process starts from the moment I am at the Woodlands Farm, when I envisage the shapes I could create as I observe the natural features of the wood. The making process proper ultimately begins when I start to carve into the wood and it reveals itself to me, it’s like an egg hatching – it’s a delicate and slow process. It’s a collaboration between me and the wood as I use bowl gouges and chisels. It’s a therapeutic process as I carve on my lathe (a union graduate lathe) and the wood reveals itself to me; it could be a detail, a knot, or a transition in tone that catches my attention. Instinctively, I allow the detail of the wood to dictate my design as I simply aim to enhance features. Once I am satisfied with the shape of the wood, I hollow out the inside. It can be an intense process as I thin the walls to my vessel – it’s a bit like grinding into concrete if it’s seasoned wood, whereas it’s like carving into clay if it’s green wood which has been freshly cut. The sanding stage is a slow and gradual process. I see sanding as quality control it’s a time to observe and remove scratches and mistakes. Depending on what I am doing, I may burn the surface of the wood or just leave it as it is. The most frequent question I get is ‘how do I know when to stop?’. It’s intuition, you just know. It’s like in Forrest Gump. Forrest starts running after his heartache with Jenny, he keeps running and gets to the point where people jog along with him, and then suddenly he just stops jogging; he is satisfied and knows he’s done enough. It’s a similar feeling when it comes to my work, once I am satisfied, I add a couple of coatings of Danish oil and it’s finished.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

The great thing about wood is that it’s quite a tactile material, especially if it’s hardwood. Of course, it is biodegradable, but I do romanticize the idea that my work could become a family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next. I like to think it’s part of my legacy, that when I die a part of me lives on through my work. I have also been looking into how I can close the circle – my aim is that with every vessel I make, I will plant a tree to leave something for the future generations of wood makers.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

I was amazed by the details of the wood. It made me see the wood in a whole different light and I had an eagerness to work with the material again to explore further and push its limits. I was quite excited and I spent a lot of time observing the wood – touching it like a child who receives a toy for the first time, just playing with the material.

How have people reacted to this project?

I love it when people react to my work and understand the origins of the material, they compare it to certain details they may have seen on trees and that truly makes me happy. To know that something I have created has made someone appreciate nature, trees, bark and branches – all things they see every day in their life but may not have taken much notice of before, makes me very happy.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing? What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

I believe people are more willing and open to using waste; experimenting and finding solutions. People are certainly open to learning about how I use waste and understanding how even this stunning wood is waste, essentially. There is a curiosity about raw materials and a desire to change views and give wasted materials a second or third life. Ultimately the future is bright and it’s important those of us who who work with waste materials continue to do so; in order to educate and inspire the next generation of makers.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Darren here.

bFRIENDS by Bene is a collection of desktop accessories made from discarded food packaging. Pen pots, trays, and a smart phone stand, are all 3D printed from 100% recycled PLA, a cornstarch-derived bioplastic, that has been diverted from landfill. The collection was designed by London-based Pearson Lloyd and produced by Batch.Works. We spoke to Luke Pearson (below, left), co-founder of Pearson Lloyd, to find out more.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability. 

Growing up in a fairly rural setting meant entertaining oneself was key to not being bored. Having two creative parents, a painter father and a fashion designer mother, meant there was an abundance of tools and materials around me. I was lucky enough to grow up in a rambling, mostly undecorated, house which meant making a mess was okay. As a result, I created my reality and entertainment through the things that I made. A fairly frugal view of the world meant repairs were always attempted and my mother grew all our vegetables, so I’ve always shied away from consumption unless I really need something. The idea of waste has always troubled me and a ‘repair and make things last’ mentality found its way into my design thinking. Having toyed with the idea of being a physicist and engineer, the penny slowly dropped that design was what really excited me so a tiny prompt from my dad pushed me off to art college. At Central St Martins, my degree thesis was about conspicuous consumption and if we would, without legislation, be able to curb this desire. At Pearson Lloyd, we have always tried to be careful with what and how we design, but as time goes on the rules change and the boundaries tighten.

How would you describe your project/product? 

This is a very collaborative project that we instigated having met a young start-up opposite our new studio in London. bFRIENDS is a playful collection of user-friendly desk accessories for the office and the home produced by our long-term friends Bene and manufactured by start-up Batch.works. The collection ranges from very specific small items and ambiguous products with mixed functions to shared accessory trays for group work. All of it is 3D printed from recycled food packaging.

What inspired this project/product? 

For a long time, we have wanted to design a line of accessories, but the costs of tooling are prohibitive for what might be relatively small production runs. Additionally, the amount of tooling required means that, unless you make a lot of one single product, it’s highly wasteful in terms of the energy and raw materials used to make the tooling alone. Meeting Batch.Works during the lockdown last spring, who specialize in producing items in recycled PLA, was a catalyst. In these uncertain times, we wanted to make something with very little impact but also something that could be modified, updated, or even canceled with very little impact. Something smart and agile. Something fun. 3D printing offered the perfect process.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them? 

We are using PLA, which is the thermoplastic polyester most commonly used in 3D printing. Batch.Works were already working with a bioplastic PLA recycled from food packaging, so the bFRIENDS product has already had a first life. This lowers the carbon impact massively from virgin plastics made from the petrochemical industry. The fact the desk accessories don’t require very high structural performance parameters meant PLA was very suitable.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision? 

Recently, we are trying to persuade manufacturers to take bigger and bigger steps, but we have always discussed what proportion of recycled material can be put into our products and tried to ensure non-recyclable materials are kept to a minimum.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product? 

There is a roll of PLA filament a few millimeters in diameter, which is heated and squeezed through the nozzle of a 3D printer which effectively draws the shape in 3D. There is no handwork required.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy? 

Yes, the products can be chipped and made into new filament to make a new product. We are implementing a collection facility with Bene so that people can simply return unwanted items to a Bene showroom and they can be taken back for reprocessing.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype? 

It’s thrilling to make a new product out of an old one that has a totally different function but discloses no evidence of that previous life.

How have people reacted to this project? 

So far, people like not only the story and intent but also the playful shapes and colors we have used.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

Very quickly but not quickly enough. I think it’s still a first-world privilege in some ways to worry about waste, but sadly it generally affects developing nations’ economies and people first. The problem is visibility. So often what’s not seen is impossible to comprehend and what the world generates in terms of waste is terrifying.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material? 

A few years ago I took a group of RCA students to Brazil. It was hard to find waste in the city. Everything was scavenged at the end of the day and turned into something new or useful. Necessity and poverty drove this, rather than sustainability, but it made me consider waste as a valuable material in a new way. We have to shift our values, but as materials inevitably become more expensive, people will be forced to use them more carefully or use them again. I hope this is not too late. We need to change the culture now.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Pearson Lloyd here.

Stockholm-based Martin Thübeck graduated with a master’s degree in Spatial Design from Konstfack University College of Arts, Crafts and Design in 2020. His Betula Collection features a frame made from identical pieces of reclaimed wood, connected by a single joint. For the chair, rawhide rejected by the leather industry is dried around the frame to hold it in place, while a dresser features cord – both designed for disassembly.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability.

For as long as I can remember I have loved to draw, paint, and create things with my hands. The ability to materialize my imagination gave me a strong sense of freedom and acted as a catalysator to imagine even more. My constant creativity landed me a middle spot in a school with a focus on art and design. During these years I spent a lot of time painting and as my skill grew, the pressure to continue that path only got bigger. When it was time to decide on a direction for senior high school, I was offered a spot at a prestigious art school, but the pressure from all the years made me rebel and apply instead for an education in cabinet making. A much less prestigious and more pragmatic direction, but something I longed for at the time. There, I found it very rewarding to have an artistic background when learning carpentry. I work for many years with carpentry before the passing of my mother made me apply to Konstfack, where I fully explored my pragmatic and artistic side. The education has a strong focus on sustainability and today forms the backbone of all my projects.

How would you describe your project/product?

The Betula project is a collection of furniture made from the waste generated by a Swedish birch sawmill. It is a reaction to the part of modern forestry that people tend not to see – and how the material’s origin is generating a lot of waste. In the project, I have experimented with the power of the single building block and how modularity can prolong the lifespan of furniture.

What inspired this project/product?

The project started out as an investigation into how Swedish forestry has evolved over the past hundred years and how this is affected by climate change. Sweden is one of the world’s largest exporters of forest-based products and this has affected how the Swedish forests look today, the majority of which have been planted. Today only 20% of the trees are ‘leaf trees’ as the biggest profits have been found in pine and spruce, which can be planted closer together. With the rapid change in climate it has become evident that these planted forests are very vulnerable to storms, pests, and fires. To prevent this there is a need for much more biodiversity of the sort you would see in ancient natural forests.

This made me interested in the third most common tree in Sweden, Birch. Birch constitutes 12% of the total Swedish forestry and is the most common leaf tree. To get an image of the birch industry I visited one of Sweden’s biggest Birch sawmills. Their clients expect only the best quality with as straight fibers as possible – and a pale color at odds with the natural reddish color Birch often displays naturally. In order for the sawmill to compete, the owner of the sawmill explained that roughly 70% of all the logs that come into the facility are considered waste and burnt. The way the production line is set up, all material goes through the entire refining steps and then gets sorted before the drying process. If something goes wrong in the drying process this can also discolor the wood and render it useless for the furniture industry.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

At the sawmill, I saw giant piles of waste material that only have minor variations from the desired standard, that sometimes weren’t even visible. These piles inspired the idea to explore how the least amount of work could affect the value of the discarded material the most. By using the dimension of the material and only altering their ends, finding a simple joint that could fit both into itself in several ways and also join along the pieces. The result was to mill a cut one-third of the thickness and as deep as the widest profile of the material.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

Unfortunately, waste is such a widely accessible material, so I started using it long before I even understood the concept. As I got older, I started to question things more and I enjoyed showing the potential in the unwanted. When I started to study design and learning more about sustainability, the concept of using waste came very naturally.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

In this project, I wanted to explore how the least amount of work could affect material the most. The pieces are only cut in length and a groove is milled in either end, creating a ‘tongue and groove’ joint except that the tongue is the thickness of the material and the groove is the cut in the end of the material.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

I found inspiration in Gerrit Rietvelds ‘Krat’ system where he took inspiration from an object which denotes other functions, such as a packing case. And Enzo Maris ‘Autoprogettazione?’ project where he wanted to educate consumers about design. In both these projects, nails held the boards together. I wanted to explore if I could find a more flexible alternative way to hold the structures together – experimenting with paper cord and rawhide.

Close to the sawmill is a tannery and leather is a material that also has strong visual preconceptions and expectations. When visiting this tannery, I learned that a lot of the hides that come from the slaughterhouse have scares, mosquito bites and other defects that will show after the tanning process. These hides or parts of hides will then be considered waste.

Wood and leather have a long history of being used together. Instead of traditional upholstering I let the soft hide dry and shrink around the wood structure of the Betula chair making it sturdy and strong.

This was a way of prolonging the life of these pieces as they can be separated and put back together as something else.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

I think my first reaction was surprise at how little work could change the value so much. It went from being waste to a building block that I instantly started playing around with trying to figure out what to build. This process is still ongoing and the furniture collection is slowly growing.

How have people reacted to this project?

Due to the pandemic, the project has not been shown in its entirety but the few times I have had the possibility to show it, I have tried to engage people in the building possibilities. This way people have touched and reflected on the material in a much deeper way. Hopefully, the project can be shown soon and to be experienced, so more can learn about the potential in the unwanted.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

I believe more and more people see the potential, not only financially but also the necessity if we want to continue to inhabit this planet. I find hope in the growing number of projects showing ways of moving towards a more sustainable way of living.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

I hope that we soon stop viewing anything as waste and start to see everything as potential raw materials.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Martin here.

Disharee Mathur is a graduate of the MA/MSc Innovation Design Engineering program at the Royal College of Art and Imperial College, London. She received her Bachelor of Fine Arts in Interior Design at the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) and has worked at internationally renowned Interior Architecture firms – Studio O+A (San Francisco, USA) and Gensler (Bangalore, India). Today, she is an interdisciplinary designer working across products, interactions and interiors – and her NewBlue project reimagines damaged sanitary ware into vases and accessories.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design and sustainability.

I grew up in Jaipur (India) where hand crafting is part of the daily social fabric and culture – whether it is cooking cuisines crafted with spices or using block-printed textiles across the home. I come from a family of doctors who are also singers, writers and musicians. I used to draw and paint as a child. Later, I started doing still life painting at high school and was mentored by my aunt who is an artist. That was when I learned to observe both things and people closely. My interest in painting led me to design. I secured a scholarship to study at the Savannah College of Art and Design. At SCAD, I was enthralled by the possibilities that creative disciplines offered. I started with animation, learning about creating 3D environments for VFX drew me towards designing spaces, and ultimately I majored in Interior Design. There was a materials library in the department that made me feel like a kid in the candy store! After SCAD, I worked in the industry for a few years and wanted to diversify my scale of work across disciplines. I was interested in applying artistry to principles of strategic design and sustainability. These dots connected at the RCA and Imperial College, during my masters. It was exciting to learn about circularity and find overlaps between my cultural practices & crafts and the western definition of circularity in design – and “making with waste” was also not far from tradition at home – whether it was creating outfits out of my mum’s old saris or my grandma using lemon peels for pickles.

How would you describe your project?

NewBlue is a conversation between a traditional pottery craft, material science and design that sheds light on a new perspective on craft preservation and waste management. The project revives an ancient craft practice using ceramic waste as an ingredient in the NewBlue Pottery recipe. The waste is used as a strengthener while keeping the artistry and technique of the Jaipur Blue Pottery craft intact. NewBlue diversifies Blue Pottery beyond pottery, to explore new scales and applications for the craft and their product range into furniture and architecture.

What inspired this project?

Conversations with craft communities in Jaipur and the local government’s efforts to find land to accommodate sanitary ware waste. India has the largest concentration of craft in the world yet only 2% of the global handicraft market share. These numbers reflected reality when I started interviewing craft units and communities in my hometown. The Jaipur Blue Pottery craft was studied to understand the scenario from the ground up. While the craft is celebrated for its ornamentation and technique, less than 300 artisans are practicing today. Apart from the low incentive for the next generation to continue the practice, artisans mentioned material deterioration and low material strength as challenges to the development of the craft. This inspired me to focus on material innovation for craft preservation. Using the waste was also an incentive for the craft units to become eligible for state economic opportunities as contributors to local waste management. Recent craft preservation efforts were geared towards preserving practices as artifacts, rather than enterprises in the economy. I was inspired to find an intersection between traditional craft and scientific innovation to seek a contextual solution.

What waste material are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

I am using rejected sanitary ware (sinks and toilets) from local retail stores in Jaipur.  Most of these stores have 3-4 rejected pieces in shipment with cracks and defects, that cannot be sold, so end up becoming waste. We use these pieces as a raw material for NewBlue in the Jaipur Blue Pottery workshops – they are used as a strengthening ingredient. These are processed using the existing workshop equipment. We selected this material after over 50 experiments with different waste materials and doing compressive strength and material hardness tests on all fired samples. The samples with the sanitary ware waste showed the best results. The artisans reviewed all the samples and gave feedback along the way. The selection criteria were accessibility of the ingredient logistically and economically while retaining the aesthetics and processes of the traditional craft. Recycling glass is already a part of the ancient recipe so introducing another waste material is not too far from tradition. We source this waste in the same way the artisans source recycled glass from local art-framing stores. The small quantity of the waste required in the recipe allows wider accessibility for sourcing.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

I first became interested in using waste because of its excess and, as a result, its accessibility. After learning more about the quality of ingredients in industrial waste like ceramics, that motivated me to experiment with the material as a potential resource for use. On reflection, it’s also a great tool for prototyping and testing ideas for form and textures.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

NewBlue material is made with the addition of waste as an ingredient in the traditional Blue Pottery process. Blue Pottery is one of the few pottery techniques in the world that does not use clay. They use locally sourced quartz powder, recycled glass, plant-based gum, and sand as binders ground together and kneaded to make a dough. The dough is then molded like a flatbread, sun-dried, and finished with intricate motifs in oxide pigments as an underglaze. These ceramics are fired only once at low temperatures of 790-800 degrees celsius. The traditional craft practice remains untouched as this material can only be made and used in existing Blue Pottery craft workshops. The NewBlue material variations are named as “A synonym and Antonym for Jaipur Blue Pottery” for this very reason. The Synonym material is synonymous with the craft in color and texture but with doubled strength. It is embodied as an end-table from existing traditional molds, showcasing the newly acquired strength and scale of the material. The Antonym is unglazed and embodied as passive cooling architectural tiles showcasing the material strength with porosity.

What happens to your products at the end of life, can they go back into the circular economy?

The artisans have traditionally experimented with mosaics to find ways to reuse the pieces and these can be broken down again to make smaller pieces to be put back in circularity. However, more robust research is required to make this reach its full potential at the end of life.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product /prototype?

It was magical! There were so many happy accidents as we experimented with different types of waste, from terracotta street vendors to a china clay factory. We found new colors and textures which we couldn’t use at the time to be strict with craft compatibility. But I’d love to explore some of those for other pieces!

How have people reacted to this project?

It has been really positive and encouraging so far – and I’d love to take this concept to more remote rural communities that were not able to test this in their workshops due to pandemic restrictions.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

There are different perspectives in the East and the West. Designers in the West are really open to using waste as a resource but are sometimes limited in finding sustainable manufacturing techniques to process it at all times, while the East has strong cultural traditions around using certain types of waste in their practices but is sometimes not open to use all types of waste materials. There is real potential in the two perspectives transcending borders to adopt the ‘waste is wealth’ method of making.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

It’s exciting to discover different types of waste as material resources that may further feed into the economy. I am always enamored with how beautifully nature creates and processes waste – dried leaves in autumn are a great example. I hope as designers we are inspired by nature’s processes to feed future circular systems – whether it is material movement or processing what’s left behind after use. The future of using waste material may also draw from past traditional practices of making with local abundance – waste or used materials.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Disharee here.

Mon Terra was founded by Tamara Efrat, a multidisciplinary designer and entrepreneur, and Yuval Dishon, a process engineer and maker. Both are from Tel-Aviv in Isreal – although they met in Boston during a three-month social entrepreneurship program and decided their shared values and complementary skillset made them a perfect match. Together, they turn agricultural plastic waste into furniture and accessories. We spoke to them to find out more.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design and sustainability.

Tamara – I studied fashion design for my bachelor’s degree and design and technology for my master’s degree. After finishing my studies, I decided to be independent and to open my own studio, where I could vision, create and most importantly collaborate with people from different disciplines. My work explores the relationship between craft and contemporary digital technology. As a designer that creates new objects, I feel it is my responsibility to take better care of the planet in terms of the materials I use, the processes I implement and the quality of the products I create. In the past year, I decided that I wanted to focus on social and environmental issues. In 2019, I flew to Boston for three very intensive months to participate in a social entrepreneurship program where I met Yuval and we founded Mon Terra together.

Yuval – Growing up, it was obvious at home that we didn’t waste water, that we didn’t purchase unnecessary things and that we recycled (back then it was only paper); it just made sense to me, but I’m not sure I understood the reasons. I have always had a passion for understanding how things work and why they are the way they are. Over time, I have become more knowledgeable about and aware of sustainability, until it has become an integral part of my being. My academic background and some of my professional background are actually in medical research and devices, but about five years ago, I joined an urban agriculture start-up. Not only was this venture important for the environment and healthy living, but working there helped me find my field of creativity: problem-solving and process development. This was a good jumping board from which to launching Mon Terra with Tamara, who has such a complementary skillset.

How would you describe your project?

Mon Terra is an ecologically committed venture addressing the issue of plastic waste produced by the agricultural industry. We collect plastic plant pots discarded by local gardeners and nurseries, then clean and shred them before using them to manufacture our products.

What inspired this project?

Seeing the huge amount of plastic waste Israel produces alone every year: over one million tons of plastic, only a quarter of which is currently being recycled. It is estimated that 26,000 tons of plastic waste are produced annually by the Israeli agricultural industry.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those? particular materials and how do you source them?

We start the process by collecting the precious raw material – discarded polypropylene plant pots – from gardeners and nurseries.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

The pots are cleaned and shredded using an industrial plastic shredder, which turns them into tiny plastic flakes. Great care is taken in shredding and stocking the different types of flakes, based on parameters such as color or quality. Although the pots are all polypropylene, they may contain different additives and therefore behave differently during the reincarnation process. The plastic is carefully weighed, placed into molds, and melted using a variety of techniques. Polypropylene’s melting temperature is rather low (130-170 degrees celsius), rendering this process relatively low-energy.

Finally, each product requires a set of post-processing steps, like drilling, wiring or sanding. During post-processing, some plastic waste is created from the raw product. This plastic is collected and reused in other products, so nothing ever goes to waste.

Each and every product is handmade by Mon Terra. This ensures that each product is of high quality, and also renders each product unique. At Mon Terra, we believe in “truth to material”, so although most of the products require some post-processing, we aspire to make as few changes as possible to the raw product – the manufacturing process is thus apparent in each product in a unique way.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

Initially, we were designing an ecological product for urban agriculturists. While researching raw materials and manufacturing facilities, we were alarmed by the magnitude of plastic waste produced by the agricultural industry, an industry crucial to our health and our environment. It became clear that we should devote our efforts to helping the agricultural industry to join the circular economy. We began collecting discarded plant pots from gardeners and nurseries, who were happy to collaborate, and then we started researching and experimenting with small-scale plastic recycling. Quite a bit of research, experimentation, trials and errors were involved in perfecting the “plastic reincarnation” process as we like to call it.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

We design and manufacture high-end and durable products so they are long-lasting, and we make them unique so our customers feel connected to them and keep them for much longer, but yes, absolutely. All our products can be recycled again when they finish their lifecycle. We constantly receive offers for collaborations with different designers and manufacturers, but unfortunately, we must turn them down as they normally propose mixing our raw material with theirs, which would render our products non-recyclable. We take great care to avoid mixing different types of thermoplastics, and therefore we currently limit our products to only polypropylene.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

When we first saw the transformation we were amazed! The new reincarnated material we developed looked similar to stone and marble. Honestly, it was astounding, we were expecting to recycle the plastic and hoped it would look nice, but we immediately realized we are actually upcycling. When we started posting our products on social media we also started getting many offers for collaborations from different artists and designers. When we started getting attention from large manufacturers and sellers, we realized we had managed to transform and upcycle the original material – plant pots – into a very interesting material.

How have people reacted to this project?

We get amazing responses from people around the world. People are amazed when they realize the products are not stone or marble, and even more so when they find out they are made from 100% recycled plastic. We have also been contacted by other designers, manufacturers and sellers. All this wonderful feedback has provided amazing motivation and made us realize we must be doing something right – both design-wise and in terms of the environment.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

In Israel, where we come from, people are not very familiar with buying sustainable products, at least not as much as in the rest of the Western world. One of the main objectives of Mon Terra was to expose as many people as possible to the opportunities of waste utilization. We know many people envision recycled products as low quality or something they see their kids do at kindergarten, which is why it was crucial to us to develop high-end, design-led products.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

We think waste as raw material is the future. There just isn’t any other way – our resources are diminishing quickly. This field is developing these days but not fast enough. At some point, it will become inevitable. We believe that generating less waste is key, alongside its recycling. We believe waste should stop being called ‘waste’, as it should always be raw material for other applications, and if a waste product cannot be recycled or reused – it should have been made of a different material to begin with. We believe in the numerous interesting, inspirational, intelligent circular economy ventures that are developing these days and are happy to be part of this movement.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Mon Terra here.

We’ve all experienced that frustrating moment when an umbrella gets blown inside out, the force of the movement breaking the spindles and rendering it useless. The thing is that the majority of umbrellas are simply not designed to last, with an average lifespan of just six months. In order to turn this frustration into something positive, Anti takes discarded and broken umbrellas, disassembles them, and upcycles them into desk and table lamps. We spoke to UK-based founder and CEO Mark Howells to find out more.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design and sustainability.

I grew up In Hertfordshire in a working class family. My mother can draw and paint and my father is very musical; writing and performing electric and acoustic guitar-based music to this day at 70 years of age. My first exposure to design was via a foundation course in art and design at Watford in the 1990s. I was drawn towards the traditional arts as opposed to design, until I was asked by a tutor, who ran a 3D Design class, to select an object from a series of waste objects she had scavenged from a beach and produce a new product. I chose a section of a washed-up bicycle tire and made a watch strap that buttoned over the tire tread. I loved the process of learning to unsee the original utility of an object and unlocking a new purpose unseen by anyone else before. This led to an explosion of designs using waste. At the time I had a cleaning job in the evenings at a very large office and I would collect items of interest that had been discarded in bins – in particular, computer components – and repurpose them. It was these designs that secured me a place on an Industrial Design degree at Cardiff University. Although I learned a huge amount, I really had no real interest in becoming an Industrial Designer – the assembly line approach of the time was a far cry from the work I had been doing to secure my position on the degree course in the first place. This was the ’90s and sustainability wasn’t a mainstay of the curriculum. I decided to take the drafting skills I had developed and head towards engineering. I worked for various environmental consultancies, which led me to building and land surveying, eventually as a board-level director of a successful surveying practice. In this role, I gained exposure to starting new business units and small businesses – which inspired me to fulfill a long-harbored desire to return to sustainable design.

How would you describe your project/product?

Anti’s first collection is upcycled lamps made of discarded umbrellas that were otherwise destined for landfill. The collected umbrellas are disassembled into their separate materials groups (e.g. plastics, metals, nylon) and are made into desk and table lamps. Over 1 billion umbrellas are made each year but are not designed to last, with an average lifespan of just six months. Anti addresses a waste issue by designing with waste, not creating it – and the new products are easier to disassemble at end-of-life than the umbrella was in its original state. This is the first waste stream we are concentrating on, but there will be others. One of our key focuses is to design repeatable upcycled products that can be made/manufactured at scale. The more we sell, the more waste we reuse, and the more good we can do.

What inspired this project/product?

After living in London and Tokyo, I became very aware of the wastage around umbrellas. In Tokyo, umbrellas are everywhere, you see endless rows of broken umbrellas at railway stations and outside shops. On a typical rainy day in Tokyo over 3,000 umbrellas are handed in to lost property, London underground deals with a similar problem. Our research suggests as many as one billion umbrellas are broken, lost or discarded each year worldwide. Umbrellas are just one example of an everyday product that has an important utility and value, but is flawed. It solves one problem but causes another. In the case of umbrellas it keeps us dry, and is portable, cheap and available on every street corner, but is made of different material types and so it’s difficult to disassemble at the end of its life, which makes recycling at scale difficult.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

Both lamps are made from discarded umbrellas. We have collected these over the last few years primarily from lost properties and from city streets, bins and train stations. We also use a 3D-printed recycled plastic filament for two components and several metal components that are made from recycled materials.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

The design potential of using waste has interested me since higher education, however, the first real exposure I had to the environmental impact of how we were dealing (or not dealing) with waste was when I was a junior technician at an environmental engineering consultancy. I saw how landfills were designed firsthand and even had the opportunity to see one being built. Landfills were recognized even by the landfill designers at the time to be a poor solution with many issues e.g., the plastic membranes often split or ripped leaking the toxic water (leachate) that had percolated through the waste over time and into the soil and worryingly possibly into the groundwater. To see these vast cavernous sites being built, often in areas of countryside, just felt wrong and you could really see the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality we have associated with waste. The new items we purchase are made of the exact same materials we were throwing away; I have always believed that it’s our perception of what we deem as waste that needs to change. If you view any perceived waste item by its material type and form as opposed to its original utility and the stigma associated with something old or used, then it’s free to take on a new role. It’s down to us as designers to unlock this potential.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

The umbrellas have to be disassembled into their individual component types and, in some cases, cleaned and repaired. The 3D-printed parts also need to be cleaned and finished. Then both lamps are primarily made through a process of assembly as opposed to manufacturing. This is also more energy-efficient.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

I encourage each customer to return our products at end of life via our Take Back scheme. We will happily take back any of the products produced at our workshop. These will be disassembled and reused as the basis for new designs or as a last resort disassembled for recycling. Having these products returned really is of great value to us. Both lamp designs are easy to disassemble, which allows us to recapture their material value very quickly.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

It really does feel like a kind of alchemy when you get it right. My objective Is to produce beautiful products from waste streams that at first, or even second, sight have no reference to their original purpose and utility. I know my work is done when someone suddenly realizes that what they are looking at is not what they thought, and yet it was there in front of them the whole time. To provide that surprise and joy is the best feeling.

How have people reacted to this project?

It’s been really positive so far. I think people are genuinely surprised that you can create something that looks beautiful from something that is not considered so. I’ve been particularly pleased with receiving great responses from fellow designers and sustainable designers.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

I believe people are now more accepting of recycling and products made from recycled materials and in many cases, there’s now a demand for these. Upcycled products, however, are sometimes devalued in what people might pay for them due to the monetary tag associated with their previous life. That’s interesting because, in my opinion, the creative innovation to successfully develop an upcycled product (particularly at volume) is far more challenging, and ultimately more impressive, from both the point of view of the creative process and the end product point.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

Ultimately, we should get to a stage where we do not see waste as rubbish. I believe circular economy principles will be the panacea to the fear and hurt we are feeling more strongly than ever towards the damage to the planet. Politicians, businesses, designers, and individuals will genuinely want to change the way we live, you can see the younger generation are already asking all the right questions and have the hunger to find the answers. Upcycling, in the sense of taking a linear lifecycle product and transforming it into a circular lifecycle product, can be a stop-gap to buy us more time until we are designing with circular principles ingrained into everything we manufacture from the outset. Developing biomimicry and biological fabrication where we can grow our products and they can safely return to the earth without the need for retrieval systems is a really exciting future. Although there is incredible progress in this area, we are, realistically, many decades from this becoming mainstream, and therefore the role of upcycling is critical to providing the time to achieve that transition.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Anti here.

Stockholm-based Form Us With Love is an unusual design studio in that it is also an incubator of sorts, with team members free to explore and establish ventures that sit within and without its perimeters. The original co-founders of Form Us With Love – Jonas Pettersson, John Löfgren and Petrus Palmér – teamed up with entrepreneurs Johan Ronnestam and Fredrik Franzon to take conventional architectural products and make them more visually appealing, co-founding BAUX (Palmér has since moved on from FUWL to run Hem but remains involved with BAUX). In doing so, they took the exceptional thermal and acoustic insulation properties of a Swedish-made building material called Träulit, first invented in the 1940s, and completely reinventing its aesthetics. More recently, they have given production offcuts a second life as a commercial acoustic solution, BAUX Acoustic Flexfelt System, that is fully compostable at the end of its life. But this is far from FUWL’s only experience of working with waste – the design studio has created furniture for IKEA from recycled PET plastic and is currently exploring possibilities for previously unrecyclable glass. We spoke to Jonas Pettersson to find out more.

Tell me a little bit about your education and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design and sustainability.

We [Jonas Pettersson, John Löfgren and Petrus Palmér ] met at industrial design school in Sweden and during the last year, we discussed the potential of starting our own studio. The idea was to create our dream work environment rather than trying to figure out a good business idea. The discussion took shape and the same day as graduation, we ran to the bank and set up Form Us With Love.

How would you describe your product?

At FUWL we have co-founded the sustainable acoustic brand BAUX and since the launch, we have continued to grow its range. First out was Wood Wool, an established building material that we turned into a global interior solution loved by Stella McCartney, Google, United Nation, and many more. Second, we launched a unique paper pulp solution, made from 100% natural ingredients, that meets the needs of workspaces but is also compostable at its end of life. What we’ve been working on next is taking post-production textiles offcuts and giving them a second life as a commercial acoustic solution. It’s a 100% traceable source, which often is the challenge when it comes to waste. The new product will not only introduce a new sustainable material, but also move BAUX into new product categories to support the challenges of tomorrow’s architecture.

What inspired this product?

The inspiration is rational. We, together with BAUX, are on a constant quest to meet the future expectations of architecture when it comes to both acoustics and sustainability. In close dialogue with the textile industry in Sweden, we figured out how to implement offcuts into a second life product. It’s important to understand a material’s properties and then use it to its full potential. In this case, we have made the offcuts visible to avoid adding additional material as well as communicating its story to its users.

What waste (and other) materials are you using, how did you select those particular materials and how do you source them?

We are in constant dialogue with industry partners – be they material scientists, experts, recyclers, producers, etc. From our experience, it’s crucial to see design as a collaborative process, listen to different insights and perspectives to bring forward real change. Upcycling these offcuts was a direct result of our approach to collaboration. Designers can bring both a critical and curious perspective to a problem.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

When we were in school fifteen years ago, the industry was not too interested in the topic of “what to do with waste.” The world has changed, and even since a few years back, our approach and know-how is more relevant than ever. The first time we worked with waste on an industrial scale was with IKEA, where we explored several potential waste streams that turned out to be the material solutions for the wood PP Odger chair and the recycled PET Kungsbacka kitchen system. Our motivation is to change the perspectives, from waste to value.

What processes do the materials have to undergo to become the finished product?

It’s hard to give one clear answer, as it depends on how the material will be used and at what scale. Our job as designers is to figure out solutions that work both for culture and industry, in other words, to identify the both use and its supply.

What happens to your products at the end of their life – can they go back into the circular economy?

Yes – it’s a circular solution. The product is made from a mono-material blend and can be taken back and reproduced. Thinking about end-of-life is important, but also how a product’s lifespan can be prolonged from both quality and aesthetic values.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

There is always quite some excitement for the project team to see how design prototyping leads to new solutions from the waste. For a few years, we have a joint venture looking into waste from the glass industry. The glass has been dumped in the ground for decades and this particular glass contains toxic heavy metals that affect the groundwater. The project team consists of recyclers, designers, scientists, and engineers. Just a few months ago we managed to separate the heavy metals from the glass. Now we’re leading a design exploration to find applications for refined glass.

How have people reacted to this project?

One of the first projects we did from waste on an industrial scale was with IKEA and the Odger chair. It was a challenging project and during the process, it was a lively debate around how the global consumers would buy into the products when seeing a new material in that context. The timing was just right – people were ready to re-think what beauty is, from perfection to imperfection. That was rewarding for all people involved fighting for change.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

There has been a dramatic change, at least what we see, both from global brands we work with, and from its consumers. It’s a hard topic, so we believe it’s our job to be informed, and bring forward solutions that are best suitable to improve life for people, business, and the planet.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

The future will be more informed and more sustainable but, at the same time, people will continue to value convenience. We believe designers with a critical approach can play an important role to find solutions that work for people, the economy, and the planet. The lack of resources and increasing price of materials will speed up this change. It’s going to move from nice-to-have to a must-have, simply because resources will not be enough to meet the world’s growing population.

To read the article at its source click here, or find out more about Form Us With Love here.