Humble and often understated, the works of London-based Norwegian designers Amy Hunting and Oscar Narud provide an antidote to the excess and novelty so often fetishized by the design industry. Featuring furniture and spatial installations, their designs stand out because of the radical purity of their forms, achieved through considered and systematic reduction. “We try to use quite simple geometric shapes and forms so we strip away things that aren’t necessary and we really have to fight for the reasons to keep some elements in a way,” explains Hunting. “It’s about trying to figure out what’s at the core of that form and object, getting to the essence.” The couple’s creative process usually starts from her making freehand sketches to capture the emotion and expression of the form, before putting down the dimensions and starting to work with materials. More advanced drawings and technical sketches fill stacks of notebooks hidden under their desks but it’s these first naive illustrations that line the walls of their studio. Their wavering lines and animate expressions echo in the final pieces, lending their raw Nordic minimalism a gentler, softer edge.
Although the starting point for Hunting & Narud’s projects is often a two-dimensional sketch, the finished objects are highly spatial and work to elevate their surroundings. “We always consider each piece in context when we design them; we don’t just look at an isolated object but think how it will interact with its environment,” says Narud. It’s especially the mirrors — both the smaller wall piece Rise and Shine and the highly sculptural Copper Mirror — that seem to invite interaction and break up the order of the space. “We’re interested in how reflections can dramatically change the whole setting,” adds Hunting, explaining that their mirrors function less as practical pieces for everyday use and more as tools for revealing unexpected dimensions and perspectives, unlocking new angles. “Function can be fluid and dependent on the context. The copper piece functions perfectly well as a mirror surface but for us it’s much more important how it reflects and captures the light and the space.”
Originally from Norway, they both completed design education abroad — Hunting at the prestigious Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts (KADK) in Copenhagen and Narud at the Royal College of Art (RCA) in London — but the design heritage of their home country remains an important theme in their work. “There’s obviously this romanticized cliché of Scandinavian style but a lot of young designers are now trying to push back,” says Narud when we talk about their aspiration to reinterpret the stereotypical notions of a Nordic aesthetic. “Scandinavian design is redefining itself with our generation. We all struggle with the weight of the heritage but there’s a lot of stuff happening now.” For him, that means approaching Norway’s heritage from a more honest point of view and drawing inspiration from mining industries that are important for the country’s economy and natural resources such as granite and copper.
This integrity in working with both materials and forms — “not trying to hide things because they shouldn’t be there” — is what gives Hunting & Narud’s pieces a timeless quality and longevity that’s often missing from the design industry. We paid a visit to their Stoke Newington studio space to have a closer look at their work (and to meet their lovely daughter, Vega!).
Hunting (left) and Narud (right) in their studio. The designers share a large industrial space with a host of Sight Unseen favorites — Peter Marigold, Raw-Edges, Tomas Alonso, and many more. They decided to find a shared workshop after graduating from RCA in 2006. “Getting this space was very much about wanting to continue the kind of work that we did there,” explains Narud. They see themselves as a collective yet it’s more about the support of the group than collaborating on specific projects. “We often show together at exhibitions so it’s more about bringing together all the individual approaches. Organizing an exhibition on your own can be a challenge so if there are 12 of us that makes it much easier.”
Hunting holding their five-month old daughter, Vega, a regular guest at the studio. “It’s a really strange time in the studio because we all had little ones quite recently. I don’t think we’re quite used to it yet but that means we have even more in common,” laughs Narud.
Sketches for their Timepiece textiles collection for Oyuna Cashmere. Working for the first time with the material, Hunting and Narud decided to research the production process, quantify the time that goes into manufacturing, and translate the outcomes of their research into black-and-white geometric patterns.
Final design of the Timepiece throw. The geometric patterns represent the amount of hair grown by a cashmere goat in a day, week, month and a year.
The Rise and Shine mirror resting on Hunting’s desk. Although Hunting and Narud’s pieces often feature precious materials, their use is never an arbitrary choice. “It’s a combination of factors, not just the value of the material. Like the mirror here — it has solid brass elements but than it also has plain plywood backing. The brass was chosen purely because of the weight. The small counterbalance piece weighs the same as the surface of the mirror,” explains Narud.
The Copper Mirrors, like most of Hunting and Narud’s projects, began from a simple sketch, which now takes an honorary place in their studio.
Hunting unpacking the fragile surface of a Copper Mirror, which had recently traveled back to the studio from Libby Sellers’ gallery. The color of the metal evolves over time, changing from rose gold shades to deeper, mature oranges. Hunting tells us they’ve been often tempted to see how the piece would react to humidity; “one day we’ll just leave it outside and see how quickly it turns green.”
The Copper Mirror standing in a shared storage space. The creative process behind the project represents Hunting and Narud’s aspiration to redefine the stale notions of Scandinavian heritage. “The pieces were first made as part of the set design for fashion show Fashion Scandinavia and the choice of materials had to reflect Scandinavian heritage,” explains Narud. “But we knew we couldn’t go down the obvious pine route so we chose to look into things like granite and copper mining, steel — the really big industries in Norway.”
Although the polished copper surface is central to the mirror’s design, the coarse finish of frame and base give it a raw, unrefined expression. Narud explains that “the steelwork of the frame is really rough, it can be left to rust, that’s how it should be. The stone is also just cropped, not cut — it’s a natural stone that’s just cut down before being shaped into a specific form.”
Hunting at the desk, going through one of the many sketchbooks filling their drawers. She explains that her process “is really not computer heavy. I do more sketching and Oscar is always the one pushing to lock things down and decide on some diameters.”
For Hunting and Narud, sketching is a way of thinking and developing the concepts but they both recognize the need to “go beyond that sketch at some point and lock down dimensions,” says Narud. “Because sometimes you make a drawing and it all looks right but it’s just because of the way the lines come together and if you translate it into a bigger piece it suddenly looks out of proportion.”
“Giving yourself some rules frees up a lot of headspace,” says Hunting, explaining the process behind the design of the wood-and-glass Apex tables. “We decided quite early on that we would work with geometrical shapes because then the form is already there so you can experiment with the materials, combinations and proportions.”
The workshop functions as a prototyping space but the final pieces are often produced by specialized craftsmen. “With the Apex tables we started from doing early tests in the studio but we knew we could perfect the design if we worked with experts. For this piece the wood was turned by a woodturner in Kent and the glass was blown in the Czech Republic,” says Narud. “We outsource things because we don’t want to limit the stuff that we do to things that we can only make ourselves and it’s great to work with people who have more skills and experience.”
A range of color tests for the new Apex tables. Rather than treating their designs as complete blueprints, Hunting and Narud allow them to constantly evolve and develop. “We produced a lot of batches of these Apex tables now and each time we thought we can change and tweak it a little bit,” she explains.
The shelf behind Hunting’s desk reveals a range of material samples and models for their current project, a sculptural counter for a hotel lobby.
Narud’s creative process is dictated by a hands-on approach. “We normally go into the workshop with fairly detailed sketches but once you start fiddling around with materials in 3D you often realize that things actually have to be different. That’s the advantage of having a workshop — it informs a lot of our designs,” he explains.
Hunting’s and Narud’s desk space allows them to face each other and bounce off ideas. “This is where we sketch, draw and discuss things. Being two people there’s this constant dialogue about what we should do and how we should do it,” says Hunting.
A detail of Hunting’s workspace.
A detail of Narud’s workspace.
Unrealized ideas often prove useful in least expected moments. Hunting’s drawer holds a selection of material samples and industrial offcuts collected over the years. “We are constantly looking for new materials and solutions, mostly around hardware shops.”
Narud’s workspace is thoroughly organized but it also constantly evolves — sketches stuck on the walls are quickly replaced by new ideas.
The combination of expressive models and technical drawings scattered around Hunting and Narud’s studio reveal the duality of their creative approach. “We always try to show clients both hand drawings and 3D designs. Some people have this imagination to see beyond the sketch but some just can’t see it translated into an object.”
If someone was going to attend the London Design Festival in our place this year — a circumstance that normally fills us with a mix of raging jealousy and resigned disappointment — we're super glad it was Matylda Krzykowski, one of our favorite fellow design bloggers, who on her site Mat and Me manages to nail the same up-close-and-personal vibe we hew to here at Sight Unseen. She captured the perfect overview of the fair for us, even though she only had one day to explore it: Her plane in from Hong Kong landed at 5:40AM this past Saturday, at which point she quickly took a bath, rearranged her suitcase, and bolted back out the door by 9:30AM to begin her reportage. "I had literally had six 6 hours that day to look around before departing to Switzerland the next day for my duties at Depot Basel," she says. "I started off in South Kensington, then hit the Brompton Design District, then Central London, and finally the East End." How's that for dedication? Check out the things she spotted, and the people she said hello to along the way, after the jump.
Designers around the world owe Johanna Agerman Ross a drink, or perhaps even a hug: Her new project, the biannual magazine Disegno, is devoted to letting their work breathe. “I always found it frustrating working for a monthly, because I couldn’t give a subject enough time or space to make it worthwhile,” says the former Icon editor. “For a project that took 10 or 15 years to make, it felt bizarre to represent it in one image, or four pages.” Founded by her and produced with the help of creative director Daren Ellis, Disegno takes some of the visual tropes of fashion magazines — long pictorial features, single-photo spreads, conceptual photography — and marries them with the format of a textbook* and the investigative-reporting ambitions of The New Yorker. The story about Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec which we’ve excerpted here, for example, fills 22 pages of the new issue and runs to nearly 3,000 words; it’s accompanied by images captured over two full days the photographer spent with the brothers, one in their studio and one at the Centre Pompidou-Metz, where they were installing their latest retrospective, “Bivouac.” And articles on Martin Szekely, Azzedine Alaïa, and Issey Miyake’s Yoshiyuki Miyamae are set either over lunch, or in the subject’s living room. The focus, says Agerman Ross, is on proper storytelling. “The people behind the project, the process of making something, even the process of the writer finding out about the story — that’s all part of it,” she says. “It’s the new journalism.” Obviously, we couldn’t agree more.
“Another Cats Show” may have started as a one-liner, but that doesn’t mean it fails to land the joke. The exhibition, which closed this week at the Los Angeles gallery 356 Mission, included feline-themed pieces from 301 artists and proved that what they say about die-hard cat lovers is pretty much true: They may be crazy, but they also totally mean it. “People assume cats will be funny,” says Ooga Booga founder Wendy Yao, a partner in the space. “It is casual and inclusive, and gives artists a chance to do something not quite as monumental.”