From 20 November to 6 December 2025, Noor Riyadh, the world’s largest light art festival, returned with over 60 installations by 59 artists from 24 countries, presented across six major sites including Qasr Al Hokm District, King Abdulaziz Historical Center, stc Metro Station, KAFD Metro Station, Al Faisaliah Tower, and JAX District. Curated by Mami Kataoka, Sara Almutlaq, and Li Zhenhua, the 2025 theme, ‘In the Blink of an Eye,’ reflected Riyadh’s rapid transformation and positions the festival as a platform for public participation and artistic experimentation. In an exclusive interview with designboom, Noor Riyadh’s director Nouf Almoneef, takes us into a journey of light and art, touching on the festival’s mission to bring art to the people by making it accessible in everyday life and creating meaningful, memorable moments for everyone who engages with it.

‘Noor Riyadh is now in its fifth edition, and what keeps it meaningful is how deeply it belongs to the people of this city. We built it as a platform for creativity – for artists and for audiences who wanted to see themselves reflected in the works. Every year we rethink the locations so that art becomes part of daily life, whether that means placing installations in historic courtyards, public gardens, or metro stations. Our mission is always to bring art closer to the people,’ begins Nouf Almoneef, Director of Noor Riyadh.

Between the lines by Abdelrahman Elshahed | image © designboom

‘making Riyadh one of the world’s most livable cities’

Noor Riyadh’s most defining quality is its accessibility. By distributing artworks across historic zones, cultural districts, and newly launched metro stations, the festival transforms Riyadh into an open-air gallery. The curatorial strategy ensured that encounters with light art happen not only in traditional art venues but within places of everyday movement, commuter corridors, public plazas, pedestrian routes, and family gathering areas. This approach aligns with Riyadh Art’s long-term mission to integrate creativity into the capital’s urban fabric and create ‘everyday moments of joy,’ a principle emphasized across the program’s strategic documents.

‘By choosing different locations each year – parks, heritage sites, gardens, metro stations – we create a network of public spaces that are connected through light; this is how we make the festival accessible. That sense of belonging is essential to our vision of making Riyadh one of the world’s most livable and creatively engaged cities,’ continues Nouf.

Liminal Space Air-Time by Shinji Ohmaki

the six locations create a geographic journey through riyadh

Beyond its large-scale installations, Noor Riyadh sustains a citywide public program that includes workshops, talks, performances, and family activities such as Printed Stories, Dancing Threads, and Stories from the Shadows—all designed to engage audiences of different ages and backgrounds. This community-driven programming complements Riyadh Art’s broader achievements, which include over 6,500 community engagement activities and 9.6 million visitors since launch. By inviting residents not only to observe but to participate, Noor Riyadh positions public art as a shared civic experience rather than a spectacle.

The 2025 theme, ‘In the Blink of an Eye,’ reflected Riyadh’s rapid evolution from heritage sites like Qasr Al Hokm to the sleek infrastructure of the newly launched metro network, showcased in festival documents as symbols of the city’s forward momentum. The artworks amplified this narrative: kinetic sculptures visualize movement, light projections reframe architectural history, and metro-based installations mirror the rhythms of urban life. Together, the festival’s six locations created a geographic journey through Riyadh’s past, present, and future.

‘We chose locations that reveal how the city is expanding – its heritage districts, its cultural centers, its futuristic metro lines. When visitors move between these sites, they experience the story of Riyadh itself: a place honoring its past while building bold new futures. For many people seeing these changes, the artworks help make sense of the transformation by offering moments of reflection within the movement.’

Sliced by Encor Studio | image © designboom

As part of Riyadh Art, one of the four original Vision 2030 mega projects, Noor Riyadh plays a pivotal role in shaping the cultural infrastructure of the capital. Permanent installations, educational programs, and public-realm activations continue to expand the city’s creative footprint. The festival’s long-term legacy lies not only in its scale or global recognition but in how it fosters civic pride, cultural exchange, and everyday access to creativity.

‘I think Noor Riyadh after 2025 has already been recognized internationally and locally, but recognition is not our only goal. What we want is to create meaningful, memorable moments for people, for visitors, for artists, for curators, for residents. As Riyadh continues to evolve, Noor Riyadh will grow with it, building stronger connections between communities and art. This is how we imagine the future: a city where creativity is a shared language, part of daily life, and part of who we are becoming,’ concludes Nouf Almoneef.

Light Float Down Like A Feather by Wang Yuyang

Atmospheric Seeing by Studio Above&Below

Between Light and Stone by Nebras AlJoaib

Center by Ivana Franke | image © designboom

Synthesis by László Zsolt Bordos-Christophe Berthonneau | image © designboom

Troppo Fiso! by Traumnovelle

Luna Somnium by Fuse | image © designboom

event info:

name: Noor Riyadh 2025 | @noorriyadhfestival

organization: Riyadh Art

curation: Mami Kataoka, Li Zhenhua, and Sara Almutlaq

dates: 20 November – 6 December, 2025

location: Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

The post noor riyadh sheds light on how public art can create a more livable, connected city appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Athens-born artist and self-taught designer Harry Rigalo works at the edge between design and sculpture, where objects hover between furniture, relic, and offering. His practice approaches materials as active systems rather than tools. ‘I stopped seeing materials as isolated objects and started understanding them as parts of a system that activates space and the body,’ he tells designboom.  

This approach is currently reflected in Forms Without Briefs, Rigalo’s exhibition at The Great Design Disaster in Milan, on view until December 30th. In recent months, clay has become central to his practice. Raw, unstable, and time-bound, it collapses drawing and building into a single gesture, forcing the maker into constant dialogue with the material. ‘Clay never gives itself completely. You don’t decide. You negotiate,’ he says. The openness of the material, until the final, irreversible moment of firing, reinforces a way of working grounded in uncertainty, correction, and presence. designboom discusses with the designer his early years on Olympic-scale construction sites, his recent immersion in clay, and his commitment to process over outcome.

all images by Luigi Fiano, unless stated otherwise

from construction sites to process-led practice

Harry Rigalo’s relationship with making was formed early and physically. At fourteen, he began working on Olympic-scale construction sites in Athens, handling concrete and steel and learning through fatigue, repetition, and failure. That ‘unglamorous’ education instilled an instinctive understanding of weight, tension, and structure that continues to guide his work today. The knowledge never became a set of rules; instead, it remained something felt. ‘The result isn’t meant only to be explained, but to be felt,’ the artist notes.

His early practice was marked by structure and composition, drawing from collage and music, where materials operated like notes within a score. Over time, however, that score loosened and process began to outweigh outcome. ‘Process is a space where participation matters more than control,’ Rigalo explains during our conversation. 

Across his work, function remains present but unsettled. Some objects behave as chairs, vessels, or holders, while others resist typology altogether. Function, for Rigalo, can clarify but also constrain. ‘Function can make an object easier to read. Removing that obligation opens a different kind of relationship,’ he reflects. Read on for our full discussion with the Greek designer.

Harry Rigalo works at the edge between design and sculpture

interview with harry rigalo

Designboom (DB): You found your first training ground at olympic-scale construction sites at the age of fourteen. How do those physical lessons, weight, tension, fatigue, failure, still shape the way you design and build today?

Harry Rigalo (HR): I didn’t start from a desire to design objects. I started from a desire to step outside the world I already knew. At fourteen, through a family connection, I found myself on construction sites preparing for the 2004 Olympic Games, a strictly structured environment based on studies, drawings, and constructional precision. It was a large-scale undertaking where theory and practice coexisted, but without room for personal narrative or expression. I worked with concrete, steel, wood, plastic, and brick.

At the time, I didn’t know what this experience would become. It was physically demanding and eventually not something I wanted to pursue professionally, but it gave me a deeply embodied understanding of materials. I learned how weight is transferred and how it translates differently depending on function, how structures behave, how materials react, how they are worked, and how different elements are combined so that something individual becomes functional within a much larger system and scale.

Years later, when I began placing materials myself, that knowledge resurfaced almost instinctively, not as technical rules, but as a physical sense. I stopped seeing materials as isolated objects and started understanding them as parts of a system that activates space and the body. Even today, whether I’m making something functional or something that resists use, I still work through these questions. How weight moves, how a form stands, how material operates in relation to scale. The result isn’t meant only to be explained, but to be felt.

objects hover between furniture, relic, and offering

DB: You found your first training ground at olympic-scale construction sites at the age of fourteen. How do those physical lessons, weight, tension, fatigue, failure, still shape the way you design and build today?

HR: I don’t think we choose materials in a neutral way. There’s always a form of attraction involved, a desire to meet a material and allow it to respond. Clay entered my practice at a moment when I was looking for immediacy, for a way to move from thought to making without filters. In my earlier work, the process was more structured. I was composing different materials through a kind of material collage, and even then the objects were never meant to be entirely comfortable. They still answered to structure. I could say, this is a chair. But the chair itself carried a question. It asked whether a chair always needs to behave like a chair, or whether discomfort could be part of its meaning.

With clay, drawing and building collapse into the same action. What you imagine begins to exist almost immediately in your hands. That directness allows instinct and improvisation to lead rather than follow. Working at larger scales intensified this relationship. As the clay body grows, difficulty and risk increase, and the dialogue between body and material becomes sharper. Clay offers freedom, but it also has limits, and those limits are learned physically. The shift wasn’t a rejection of structure, but a desire to reduce mediation. I wanted to move from inspiration to realization more directly and to build an atmosphere rather than just an object.

Forms Without Briefs, Rigalo’s exhibition at The Great Design Disaster gallery

DB: You’ve been immersed in clay these past months. What did this material teach you that other materials never managed to?

HR: In many ways, clay became synonymous with the philosophy of this body of work. At first, I approached it as a tool. Very quickly, however, it revealed something else, the quiet nature of movement and becoming. Clay never gives itself completely. It’s always in transition. It carries a dual character, addition and subtraction, building and erasing, and through that, balance emerges through form, tension, and symbolism. You don’t decide. You negotiate.

What fascinated me most was its relationship to time. Until the very last moment before firing, everything remains open. A form can always return to something softer, more uncertain. Once it enters the kiln, that openness disappears. Clay becomes ceramic, a different material altogether, and a specific moment is fixed. In that sense, firing feels almost like a photograph. A single state is captured, removed from its previous flow, and carried forward. Not as an ending, but as a moment that continues to participate in movement from another position.

That relationship was intensely physical and compressed in time. My first encounter with clay, from early tests to the final exhibition, unfolded within seven to eight months of daily contact. Long hours, mistakes, repetitions. During that period, I worked through nearly 800 kilos of clay. Not as a way of mastering the material, but as a way of meeting it, while understanding how much I was still at the beginning. Those months were marked by silence and an almost ascetic rhythm. Days of repetition and concentration created a calm intensity that left a quiet afterimage. It was refreshing, and it set a tone. One I hope to return to in future work, finding that same quality of focus again.

Thili

DB: You’ve said the process matters more than the final result. What does process mean to you now?

HR: For me, a work always emerges from a process, and the process begins with desire. At its core, desire starts with attraction, the pull toward a body. Sometimes that participation becomes the act of making a body, an object, a form, a work. Process is how that impulse takes shape. It’s a space where participation matters more than control, and where intention is formed through engagement rather than imposed. What matters to me is not simply to be seen critically, but to be seen through the process itself.

Process reflects movement, flow, truth, and offering. I’m sensitive to the movement of the world around me, and my work is simply a way of taking part in that movement. Not stopping it, but standing within it. For me, flow is very close to truth. Nothing in flow is fixed, just as nothing in truth is fixed. Perhaps the greatest challenge is accepting a non fixed understanding of ourselves and allowing who we are to remain open and in motion.

Elksi

DB: While some of your works remain functional, others resist typology altogether. How do you decide when a piece should behave like furniture and when it should resist that expectation?

HR: When I work on a collection, I think of it as a scenographic condition, a spatial composition. Some pieces function as abstract forms within that landscape, while others act more like offerings. Furniture, and functionality in general, is already a form of offering, allowing a body to sit, rest, or engage. That sense of offering remains important to me. I still belong to the functional side of design, and it continues to inspire me. At the same time, I don’t feel the need to bind every object to use. For me, whatever is produced deserves space, whether it functions or simply exists.

This collection is also the first time I allowed myself to create purely non-functional works, pieces that exist solely through their sculptural presence. That came from another need, the desire not to always be understood. Function can make an object easier to read. Removing that obligation opens a different kind of relationship, one that asks less to be explained and more to be experienced.

Monk

DB: There’s a recurring description of a feminine energy in the forms, not gendered, but intuitive and insistent. Is that something you consciously guide, or something that simply happens when you work instinctively?

HR: It’s not something I consciously guide. It’s something I notice afterward. In my relationship with process, there’s always a quiet pull, a form of attraction that creates a relationship with the material and remains mostly silent.

What is often described as feminine energy, I experience more as a quality of presence. A softness that doesn’t weaken the form, but allows it to exist without imposing itself. A receptivity that holds space rather than demands attention.

I’m interested in creating forms and atmospheres that can be encountered rather than explained. Something you can stand in front of, or within, without being instructed how to feel. If there is femininity in that, it’s not symbolic. It’s experiential.

Aiwaitress

DB: Your work sits between object, relic, vessel, and offering. Do you feel closer to designers, sculptors, or neither, and why?

HR: I don’t feel a strong need to position myself strictly as one or the other. What matters to me more is existing within the act of making rather than within a definition. I’m deeply interested in the multiple sides of human expression, the structured and the abstract, the logical and the instinctive. Both continue to inspire me, and I feel active in both territories. Logic, for me, doesn’t cancel emotion. Sometimes it carries a purer one. And instinct, when observed carefully, has its own intelligence.

At the end of the day, everything is form. What feels essential is remaining open, playful, and free. I’m not interested in chasing trends. Movement exists around trends, not inside them. What I aim for instead is a language that carries motion while remaining grounded in classical foundations.

Isofagus

DB: What’s the next material, rhythm, or question calling you?

HR: My relationship with clay is definitely not finished. What’s emerging now is a new phase, one that respects the material’s qualities while opening it to new encounters. I’m interested in bringing other materials into dialogue with clay, not to overpower it, but to explore new relationships and a different kind of scenography. Working with clay has also pushed me strongly toward thinking about scale. Larger, more architectural forms feel increasingly important to me, and this interest in large scale work is something I know will continue to grow. Alongside this, I continue to design digitally, developing ideas and models that can evolve through collaborations within functional design, which remains an essential part of my practice.

I also know I will return to materials from earlier phases of my work. Marble, in particular, feels unfinished, ideas that were paused rather than completed. At the same time, I’m beginning to explore glazes and color in clay, opening it toward a more playful direction. This naturally connects to my interest in recycling, industrial elements, and even smaller scale objects, including jewelry.

Looking ahead, what matters most is continuity. Forms Without Briefs marked the beginning of a longer trajectory that will continue through my collaboration with The Great Design Disaster gallery. The trust and support of Joy Herro and Gregory Gatserelia encouraged me to move more freely toward non-functional and large-scale work, while keeping space open for functional design to evolve alongside it. The next step isn’t a single material or answer, but an expanded field where scale, materials, and collaborations continue to move together.

clay has become central to the artist’s practice

function remains present but unsettled | image by Antonis Agrido

clay collapses drawing and building into a single gesture | image by Antonis Agrido

some objects behave as chairs, vessels, or holders, while others resist typology altogether | image by Antonis Agrido

Harry Rigalo in his studio | image by Antonis Agrido

project info:

designer: Harry Rigalo | @harryrigalo

gallery: The Great Design Disaster | @thegreatdesigndisaster

location: Via della Moscova 15, Milan, Italy

dates: November 3rd – December 30th, 2025

The post harry rigalo discusses material, process, and presence between design and sculpture appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

For the first time in its eight editions, Tanween (Ithra) introduced creative partners as part of its program, marking a significant step in the platform’s evolution. In this edition, Isola Design Group and Dubai Design Week joined as creative partners, expanding the event’s reach across the Gulf region and beyond. Through exhibitions, dialogue, and shared expertise, both platforms amplified Tanween’s international outlook while reinforcing its community-driven foundation. In conversation with designboom, Isola Design Group’s Creative Director Elif Resitoglu and Dubai Design Week Director Natasha Carella reflect on how this collaboration signals a maturing regional design ecosystem built on cooperation rather than isolation.

Ithra partners with Isola Design Group and Dubai Design Week for Tanween’s 8th edition | all images courtesy of Ithra

the collaborations nurture the country’s creative landscape

For both partners, collaborating with Tanween means tapping into one of Saudi Arabia’s most influential cultural institutions, one that nurtures the country’s rapidly expanding creative landscape and serves as a gateway for regional dialogue. Elif Resitoglu describes the partnership as a meaningful continuation of work that began three years ago and has grown into a deeper cultural exchange, while Natasha Carella views it as recognition of a shared mission across Gulf design platforms: expanding representation and elevating nuanced design voices from the region.

‘Collaborating with Tanween means a lot for us. We first worked with Ithra three years ago in Milan with a small participation, and seeing it grow into something larger is very meaningful. Ithra is opening the door for a real exchange between international designers and the Gulf community, and this collaboration becomes a bridge where both sides learn from each other,’ says Elif Resitoglu, Isola Design Group’s Creative Director.

‘It’s a cornerstone cultural institution in Saudi Arabia, and being invited as Dubai Design Week as a creative partner is such meaningful recognition. We operate at the intersection of design, community, and public engagement, and this collaboration reflects a maturing Gulf ecosystem,’ mentions Dubai Design Week Director Natasha Carella.

expanding representation and elevating nuanced design voices from the region

two partnerships that explore underrepresented stories

Aligned with Tanween’s theme, Design the Unspoken, both partners explore hidden needs and underrepresented stories through their participation. Isola’s exhibition Shared Oasis highlights coexistence between humans, nature, and culture through works that reflect global concerns while rooting solutions in local contexts. Meanwhile, Dubai Design Week’s involvement centers on amplifying underrepresented design languages across the Arab world, ensuring that diverse voices are not flattened or generalized.

‘This year’s theme is interesting because it speaks about design that hasn’t been articulated yet. With Shared Oasis, we wanted to show our relationship with people and nature — pieces that relate to animals, surroundings, and everyday life. Design does not need to be showy; it should also improve quality of life and reflect how different cultures experience the world,‘ says Elif. 

‘I love that the theme speaks about the unspoken because it aligns with our mission. Across the Arab world, design is often flattened into one narrative. These programs let the voices here speak for themselves. It’s essential for a platform like Tanween to exist, because it creates a key moment where makers, designers, and institutions come together to show what’s truly happening in the design scene,’ adds Natasha.

both partners explore hidden needs and underrepresented stories through their participation

Both collaborators emphasize that placing international and regional designers side-by-side at Ithra creates new learning conditions. For Isola, the exhibition allows global designers to discover Saudi culture firsthand, while giving Gulf designers access to diverse design perspectives they don’t often encounter locally. Dubai Design Week sees this exchange as crucial for representing the many nationalities shaping today creative identity.

‘Bringing designers from all over the world to the Gulf region gives local designers a chance to see what’s happening globally and adapt it to their own context. At the same time, international designers discover a culture they don’t yet know. They come here and find new perspectives, new behaviors, and new ways to approach design problems unique to this region,’ continues Elif. 

‘Representing underrepresented voices is central to our work — not only local voices, but also the many nationalities that shape the fabric of Saudi Arabia and the UAE,’ mentions Natasha. ‘Tanween creates a moment where these communities come together to exchange, debate, and learn. I really respect the platform and the team because you can see the thought and passion behind everything they do.’

these partnerships allow global designers to discover Saudi culture firsthand

Isola’s curatorial approach emphasizes shared learning and cultural insight, offering a multilayered exhibition supported by a booklet encouraging visitors to exchange thoughts and spark future collaboration. Dubai Design Week contributes conversations and programming that highlight the collective strength of regional platforms working side-by-side. Both partners see the collaboration as the beginning of broader regional links, from shared exhibitions to traveling installations, knowledge exchange, joint residencies, and co-developed design programs. Their vision aligns with Ithra’s long-term strategy to develop Tanween’s platform into a regional anchor that fosters creativity, innovation, and cross-cultural understanding.

With Tanween evolving into Ithra Design Week in 2026, creative partnerships will become a central pillar of the platform’s growth, enabling shared exhibitions, knowledge exchange, capacity building, and cross-border programming. This evolution preserves Tanween’s core while expanding its scale and reach across the region and internationally.

‘These collaborations bring so much to the Gulf region while also bringing the Gulf outward. As Isola, we aim to introduce communities to one another and create collaborations between emerging, young, and established designers. Doing this at Tanween is exciting, and I believe it will grow into something even larger,’ expresses Elif.

‘This partnership is just the beginning. There is so much we can do together — from capacity building to joint exhibitions and shared knowledge. We want to ensure the region is represented internationally through strong, meaningful work. Tanween creates the platform for that, and I’m excited for what comes next,’ concludes Natasha.

both collaborators expressed that such partnerships signal a maturing design ecosystem where institutions increasingly work together rather than in isolation

aligned with Tanween’s theme, Design the Unspoken, both partners explore hidden needs and underrepresented stories

event info:

name: Tanween | @ithra

dates: 17-22 November, 2025

location: 8386 Ring Rd, Gharb Al Dhahran, Dhahran 34461

The post tanween collaborates with dubai design week & isola design group enriching gulf ecosystem appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

From November 17–22, 2025, the 8th edition of Tanween transformed Ithra into a multidisciplinary laboratory for design, empathy, and experimentation. Across exhibitions, Majlis talks, the Tanween Challenges, and the hands-on Day with an Expert programs, the event examined how design can reveal hidden needs and generate meaningful societal impact. This edition also marked a pivotal moment for the platform: from 2026, Tanween will evolve into Ithra Design Week, expanding its scale while preserving the community-driven core that has shaped the event over eight years. designboom interviews Shahad Alwazani, Tanween Lead, about the philosophy behind the platform and how this transition positions Ithra as a growing anchor for regional and global design exchange. 

‘This year (2025), Tanween designs the unspoken. It could be environmental, social, cultural, or educational — but it always returns design to humanity. We focus on the actual needs of people across many disciplines. That is the real role of Tanween: to experiment, to inspire each other, to support each other, and to develop ideas with ambition. Each edition builds a thematic path in the design process, allowing designers to explore what truly matters,’ says Shahad Alwazani Tanween Lead.

Shahad Alwazani, Tanween Lead | all images courtesy of Ithra

‘we want to highlight empathy in design’

At the heart of Tanween was a deliberate shift toward empathy as a design method. Rather than centering aesthetics alone, the program invited designers to step into the lived realities of users and communities, translating overlooked needs into tangible outcomes. This approach reframed design as a practice of listening, one that responds to social, cultural, and emotional dimensions often absent from conventional briefs, and one that resonates strongly within the region’s rapidly evolving creative landscape.

‘For the 8th edition we wanted to highlight empathy in design: how designers should place themselves in the user’s or community’s position to understand, to empathize, and to feel real needs. Tanween opens this window for designers so their voices can be heard, and so they can tell the stories and challenges of their own people. It is both a showcasing platform and a learning experience for everyone to understand the importance of design,’ continues Shahad.

the program called on designers to inhabit the perspectives of users and communities

a full day with a design expert goes beyond a typical workshop

As Tanween continues to grow, collaboration remains its central engine. Signature formats such as Day with an Expert reflect this ethos by replacing traditional masterclasses with immersive, human-centered learning experiences. Designers spend extended time with global practitioners, engaging in dialogue, observation, and shared exploration. This cross-disciplinary structure mirrors contemporary design practice, where architecture, fashion, interiors, graphics, and research increasingly intersect.

‘One of Tanween’s signature offerings is Day with an Expert. It goes beyond a typical workshop and function as a full experience where designers spend the day with the expert, learning in a more interactive, human way. Designers speak many languages; an architect can be a fashion designer or a graphic designer. Tanween encourages this openness, allowing creators to explore all fields,’ she adds.

as the platform continues to expand its reach, collaboration remains its driving force

The evolution into Ithra Design Week builds directly on foundations laid during this edition. Strategic collaborations with Dubai Design Week and Isola Design Group as creative partners, alongside exhibition partners such as Iwan Maktabi, Bricklab, Rizomasr, and Mujassam Watan, signaled a shift toward a broader, interconnected design ecosystem. Beyond the campus, guided tours developed with the Municipality of Khobar extended Tanween into public space, while outcomes from the Tanween Challenges, including permanent pavilion installations, demonstrated how design can translate into lasting community impact.

With its transition towards Ithra Design Week, its core remains intact: a platform rooted in experimentation, empathy, and community; what changes is scale and reach. Design will be further integrated across Ithra’s museum, library, cinema, publishing programs, and IdeaLab, while expanding beyond its walls to activate public spaces across the Eastern Province. In this next phase, Ithra Design Week aims to strengthen regional dialogue, elevate designers’ visibility, and position Saudi Arabia as an active participant in the global design conversation, without losing the human-centered ethos that has defined Tanween from the start.

‘Tanween is making a shift into something more global and more aligned with the design industry. We are collaborating with platforms like Dubai Design Week and Isola to expand our reach and amplify our message. Tanween is designed for the community and by the community. It responds to their questions and needs, transforming them into something tangible. As long as the community is with us, Tanween will keep evolving,’ concludes Shahad.

Tanween aims to strengthen dialogue across the Gulf region and beyond

Tanween’s cross-disciplinary structure mirrors the fluid nature of contemporary design

‘Tanween is designed for the community and by the community’

event info:

name: Tanween | @ithra

dates: 17-22 November, 2025

location: 8386 Ring Rd, Gharb Al Dhahran, Dhahran 34461

The post tanween impacts regional dialogue by being ‘designed for the community, by the community’ appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Situated at the corner of Broadway & 28th street, on the outskirts of Manhattan‘s Flower District, the Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad takes on a fresh, more relaxed approach to luxury hospitality. Rising 150 meters (500 feet) above New York’s streets, the hotel has been developed by Flag Luxury Group in close collaboration with Rafael Viñoly, while design studios such as Rockwell Group, Lázaro Rosa-Violán Studio, Martin Brudnizki, and SUSURRUS International have all contributed to its interior spaces. Together, they deliver a bold, contemporary design that honors the hotel’s setting while offering a warm, welcoming space for guests and the local community alike. 

‘It’s very much a community space and that was essential to us from the start,’ Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos, president and COO of Flag Luxury Group explains. ‘We wanted the hotel to genuinely belong to the neighborhood, not to be a place with velvet ropes or an attitude of exclusivity. Public spaces are called public for a reason, and I don’t believe in the era of “cool” hotels and velvet ropes that keep people out. Our goal was always to be welcoming to both guests and locals, and I love that the lobby bar has quietly become the neighborhood’s best-kept secret.’ 

The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad exterior, image by Iris and Light

FLAG LUXURY GROUP AND RAFAEL VIÑOLY’S COLLABORATION

The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad occupies a 50-story-high tower designed by architect Rafael Viñoly, whose work began with the constraints of a compact footprint. Completed in the summer of 2022, the hotel comprises 219 guestrooms, 31 suites, and 16 one and two-bedroom penthouse residences alongside six unique food and beverage destinations and the signature Ritz-Carlton Spa & Fitness Center. The plans grew through an interior-first process to meet the demands of a vertical hotel. Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos recalls long working sessions with the now-late architect focused on precisely carving out each area in response to the needs of its program. ‘It was the only hotel he built, and he was a big Ritz-Carlton fan,’ she says. ‘I did a competition with five different top architects, and he was the only one that just wanted to work with me all the time. I had maybe one or two meetings with the other studios, but he was reaching out every day to know more about my vision and what I wanted to achieve. When he finally presented his plan, it was the one that made the most sense.’

Olarte de Kanavos and Viñoly worked in close collaboration to develop a well thought out architectural scheme that balanced between a highly luxurious experience for the guests and a financially viable operation. ‘Some of the other architects wanted to make a building from the outside in and would sacrifice on the number of rooms, and I couldn’t do that because we had such a small plot of land. I had to have an architect that could build it from the inside out because there was no way that we could fit this program and make it economically viable without that. There’s always that push and pull between what you’re dreaming in your head and then the reality of how you are going to pay for it.’

lobby area, image by The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad

Interiors inspired by the neighboring Flower District

Alongside Rafael Viñoly Architects, firms including Rockwell Group, Lázaro Rosa-Violán Studio, Martin Brudnizki, SUSURRUS International have each developed parts of the hotel’s interior, including the two restaurants, Zaytinya and the Bazaar by José Andrés, as well as the Lobby Lounge and Nubeluz, the hotel’s rooftop bar offering sweeping 270-degree views across Manhattan. Along the ground floor, the material palette softens the transitions between the outside world and the lobby. Floral references echoing the neighboring flower district appear through texture and line, creating a gentle connection to the district without leaning on literal motifs. 

Guestrooms and suites continue on this approach with neutral palettes and furniture pieces selected to lend a more domestic atmosphere that mimics a Manhattan penthouse. Almost everything in the hotel has been custom-built particularly for this location, embodying Olarte de Kanavos’ idea of what true luxury is. ‘To me, luxury is knowing that things have been handcrafted, that things have been bespoke, that they have been especially chosen, in the selection of the fabrics, the materials.. Almost everything in this hotel is custom, very few things are not. It’s something that was really made specifically for here, you’re not going to see my minibar anywhere in the world. It’s not a copy of anything, we didn’t buy it the way it was and then wrapped it different. It was totally designed and created just for this property.’

The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad floral cart, image by BFA

taking the stuffiness out of service

The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad takes shape within a steadily growing district that still maintains its independent shops and small businesses. Olarte de Kanavos recognized this balance early and envisioned a hotel that would contribute to neighborhood life while serving guests with a high level of attention. ‘It’s an unusual neighborhood, dotted with business and residential. Most neighborhoods in New York are either or, so to have a hotel in a neighborhood that is alive 24-7 is pretty incredible. We just felt that the new epicenter of New York was moving south, and that NoMad was going to be the new epicenter.’ Her approach reflects a desire for convivial luxury and inclusivity, expressed in her view that the neighbourhood not become all luxury, but instead ‘should still be a little bit of everything.’ This awareness extends to the hotel’s social environments, which are open to both guests and locals alike, supported by food and beverage concepts from Chef José Andrés that activate the property from the street-level to the rooftop.

Olarte de Kanavos often describes this property as ‘the next generation Ritz-Carlton,’ shaped for a younger clientele who seeks experiences that feel bespoke and vibrant. She observes that people today prefer an atmosphere with intimacy and personality, where the design is intentional and the service is warm. ‘I was just in a hotel uptown for lunch today and it very much felt like that same old-fashioned thing where you walk in and the front desk is like the cathedral, and then you sit in the lobby bar and everybody’s whispering, and the music feels like you’re in an airport lounge. That was not what we wanted here. We wanted to bring in elements of surprise and delight, to make the experience fun by discovering something a little bit different at every corner.’ Alongside a bespoke experience, luxury for her translates to great service, delivered with a smile. ‘You need to take the stuffiness out of the service, that over-formality. I think that people can still deliver great service without it being so hyper formal, and it should be fun.’

lobby seating, image by Björn Wallander

a CONVERSATION with Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos

designboom (DB): How did you get into the hospitality business?

Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos (DOK): I grew up around hospitality, I had an uncle who had a small hotel in Bogotá and my mother had restaurants. I decided to pursue that and I went the Cornell University Hotel School, and shortly after being in the hotel school, I realized I didn’t want to have anything to do with managing hotels. I realized that my interest was more about creating the hotels and that I wanted to become that person and start developing hotels. We had a class on Fridays and it was called Cookies with Clark. Clark was the dean of the hotel school and he would have speakers from all over the world that were graduates from the hotel school, and they would tell us what they did, what they’re doing now, how they got there.

One session was about a hotel developer that was developing these properties in Hawaii. He would show this barren piece of land with nothing on it, and then these incredible, beautiful hotels that he was building and how he was really creating them for the joy of his customers. That just hooked me and I realized that this is what I want to do. I want to build the hotels and other people are going to manage them, but I want to be a part of that creative process. Ever since then I’ve really focused on that part of the business, the real estate side, but also the guest experience, the architecture, the interior design, the whole experience and how it touches the customer. After graduation I worked in real estate to learn about New York real estate and then I got my degree at NYU in the real estate development master’s program, and shortly thereafter, I met my husband and we became partners. And the rest is history.

lobby bar, image by Björn Wallander

DB: Can you tell me more about how you started developing Flag Luxury Group’s property portfolio?

DOK: One of the first properties we did was the Regent Hotel downtown that then became the Cipriani Wall Street Hotel, and then it became residences. We did that as a fee developer, and while we were doing that, we were fortunate enough to get what they call the geographic exclusive from Ritz-Carlton to develop hotels in Miami. So once we had that, then we were able to open up hotels there.

So we did the Ritz-Carlton in Coconut Grove, the Ritz-Carlton in South Beach, and the Ritz-Carlton in Jupiter. And Jupiter was spa and single family homes, it wasn’t actually a hotel, but it was Ritz-Carlton branded.

Then we gave the rights to some of the other people that built other Ritz-Carltons in Miami. And since then, we purchased the One Bal Harbour and turned that into the Ritz-Carlton. We also own the adjacent Sagamore Hotel, which we are in the process of converting into an all-suite expansion of the existing The Ritz-Carlton, South Beach Hotel. This is our sixth Ritz-Carlton. We also have hotels in Orlando, and we’re looking to build other things here in New York.

Zaytinya, image by Jason Varney

DB: How did you decide to invest in this location? How did you make it into a destination in the area? What was the concept behind it?

DOK: As a lifelong New Yorker, and especially interested in real estate, I was paying attention to how the city was growing, and at a certain point in time, downtown became the magnet for everything. Everybody wanted to go there, the real estate started becoming much more expensive there than even on the Upper East Side that usually was where all the most expensive real estate was. You could feel that pull of New York going south and all the young people wanting to live south, below 34th Street.

We realized that the opportunity to build a hotel downtown where everybody really wanted to be was very low because in SoHo and West Village, they have height restrictions and it’s not easy to try to get a big hotel down there. All of a sudden, because all those neighborhoods became so expensive, people started discovering this neighborhood and Madison Square Park. And then the NoMad Hotel opened, which is now The Ned, and between the owner of that hotel and Leslie Spira Lopez, who owns a lot of buildings here, they coined the name NoMad.

And we thought, wow, this neighborhood is on the verge. We started looking at the records and sure enough, a lot of people were pulling permits for luxury condominiums. But already this is dotted with what they call like Silicon Alley, a lot of these high tech companies have businesses here.

Zaytinya Bar, image by Björn Wallander

DOK (continued): So it’s an unusual neighborhood where you have it dotted with business and residential. Most neighborhoods in New York are either or. So to have a hotel in a neighborhood that is alive 24-7 is pretty incredible and we just felt that the new epicenter of New York is moving south and that NoMad was going to be the new epicenter. As soon as we bought the land, we accelerated that happening because people knew we were going to do a Ritz. So the neighborhood just became so much more dynamic.

And it had an impact right away, even though it took us eight years from the time we bought it to the time we opened. But just getting through the entitlements and everything else, people started investing more in the neighborhood.

As soon as we took down all the scaffolding from our building, it changed the whole traffic pattern because nobody used to walk down Broadway ever. But people were excited, they knew what was coming, and as soon as we took down our scaffolding, people stopped walking down Fifth, they stopped walking down Madison, and now they all walk down Broadway, and it just created this funnel of energy of people. And it’s really transformative for the neighborhood to have a Ritz-Carlton here.

Zaytinya, image by Jason Varney

DB: I also think that with all the amenities, the restaurants and the rooftop bar, it creates some kind of place for the community as well, for the people that are part of the city.

DOK: Yes, it’s very much used by the community, and that was something that was always really important to us. We wanted to make sure that we were part of the community. When you’re building a hotel, there’s a whole plan called the public spaces, because they’re meant to be public. It’s not meant to be a velvet rope that you can’t get in or anything. The days of those velvet ropes and those ‘cool’ hotels, I don’t believe in that at all.

I believe in just being welcoming to all of our guests and our neighbors. I have to say the lobby bar, is like the neighborhood’s best kept secret. They don’t tell anybody because they don’t want anybody to know, but those are all locals.

Master Bedroom, image by The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad

DB: What I find very interesting is that this neighborhood is not what we’d generally call 100% luxurious. How did you approach developing a Ritz here?

DOK: We’ve pioneered neighborhoods before. For example, when we opened up the Ritz-Carlton in South Beach, that was an area that was kind of dangerous and kind of shifty. People really in the luxury world weren’t going there, there were no luxury hotels.

When you have a Ritz-Carlton, it kind of gives the neighborhood a stamp of approval, that it’s okay to be there. I feel like part of the joy of visiting New York is also witnessing some of the scrappiness, right? That’s just kind of a part of what it is.

I don’t expect that the neighborhood will become all luxury one day, it shouldn’t, it should still be a little bit of everything.

Madison Suite Bathroom, image by Björn Wallander

DOK (continued): Given that our target was the younger customer for Ritz-Carlton, we knew very specifically who we were targeting, and Ritz-Carlton’s customers have been getting younger and younger. The younger they were getting, they started going to boutique hotels or other hotels and not using the traditional Ritz-Carlton uptown.

Because they don’t want to be uptown anymore. It’s a beautiful hotel, they’ve got a great restaurant and everything, but they just don’t want to be in that location. So we knew that if we targeted the younger customer, the younger customer’s more accepting of being in a very mixed neighborhood. They don’t need it to be all, you know, disinfected and antiseptic.

And they are going to pioneering areas for clubs and bars and things like that anyway, so we felt that our customer would really love it. And what’s incredible here is that we’re literally 10 minutes away from almost anything.

Ritz-Carlton Suite living area, image by The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad

DB: I feel the brand is somehow associated with a more established, classic luxury idea, and it’s very interesting to see this more fresh approach.

DOK: Yeah, because this is really the next generation Ritz-Carlton, this is how people see luxury today. Younger customers really want an experience that feels bespoke, and not to feel like they’re in such a giant building that has so much that you’re lost in it. They want a sense of intimacy, they want to be welcomed, they want it to be design-forward, and the design has to be interesting, it’s got to be vibrant.

They want to feel the energy from the restaurants, from the bars, you know, to feel like there’s something going on, not that you walked into a mausoleum.

I was just in a hotel uptown for lunch today and it very much felt like that same old-fashioned thing where you walk in and the front desk is like the cathedral, and then you sit in the lobby bar and everybody’s whispering, and the music is just not vibing. You feel like you’re in an airport lounge.

That was not what we wanted here. We wanted to bring in elements of surprise and delight, to make the experience fun by discovering something little bit different at every corner. We worked with five different interior designers here to create all of these fun, different, unique experiences.

Liberty Club Suite living area, image by The Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad

DB: I wanted to ask you about the architecture. The building was done by Rafael Viñoly, right?

DOK: Yes, it was the only hotel he built, and he was a big Ritz-Carlton fan. He was so proud to get this job and we actually spent so many hours together, he would draw on his computer or a sketch pad and we would talk it through the whole time. I did a contest where I had five different top architects and I paid them for it so they would show me substantive work.

He was the one that just wanted to work with me all the time, the other other architects, maybe we had one or two meetings, but every day he was like, ‘let’s sit and talk more, I want to know what your vision is, I want to know what you want, do you like the rooms like this?’ We just sat there and talked so much, and when he finally presented his plan, it was the one that made the most sense. That’s how we picked him and it was really exciting, we were very close.

Ritz-Carlton Suite bathroom, image by The Ritz-Carlton New York, Nomad

DB: How was your collaboration? How much were you involved during the process?

DOK: In every detail. I mean, me and Rafael basically made this building. And, you know, as an architect, especially a contemporary architect, the architecture is everything.

They want to make a building from the outside in, and what I explained to all the architects was that I can’t do that because I have such a small plot of land. It’s a very little, tiny, tiny site.

It’s not very big for everything that we have to fit in here, which is a lot of program. And we fought like literally for every square foot. Everything really had to be so carefully thought out, we couldn’t miss one square foot. So I had to have an architect that could build it from the inside out. And that’s really important. Because there was no way that we could fit this program and make it economically viable without that.

And with some of the other architects, they would sacrifice on the number of rooms or this or that. And then it just wasn’t going to pencil for us, financially. So there’s always that push and pull between the finances, between what you’re dreaming in your head and, you know, what you want, and then the reality of how are you going to pay for it.

And because I went to an undergraduate business school, I can think I’m with both sides at the same time and try to make it match without sacrificing the experience. It’s a lot more work for my team because we have to value engineer, everything, things that nobody sees, and we want the guests to have the most luxurious experience. But it is a lot of work to make that happen.

The Bazaar restaurant, image by Björn Wallander

DB: I think that’s one of the reasons why it stands out in such a competitive landscape like New York, too, is because it’s very guest-forward. A lot of the experiences are very guest-centered and guest-forward.

DOK: People are looking for that. I mean, you look at all the boutique hotels and how well they do and how much people identify with the personality of that hotel or whether it’s the designer or the owner that has a really specific point of view.

And this hotel is the kind of place where you’re kind of getting the best of both worlds. You’re getting an owner that understands and is really passionate about what the owner wants to deliver to the guest with the very best operator in the world, in the luxury world today. It’s a really unique experience because a lot of times the boutique hotels can’t offer that kind of thing. They can’t offer also the same kind of program, they don’t have the same kind of spa that we have or room service for the amount of hours that we have room service.

A lot of them don’t even have room service, right? We’re offering a full-service hotel, but with this bespoke boutique experience.

The Bazaar, image by Björn Wallander

DB: How would you define the experience of a luxurious place today? Like what are the key elements that compose this experience?

DOK: Luxury as a term can be really overused, right? And it can mean a lot of things to a lot of people, but what it means to me is knowing that things have been handcrafted, that things have been bespoke, that they have been especially chosen, in the selection of the fabrics, the materials.

Almost everything in this hotel is custom, very few things are not. It’s something that was really made specifically here, you’re not going to see my minibar anywhere in the world. It’s not a copy of anything, we didn’t buy it the way it was and then wrapped it different. It was totally designed and created just for this property.

I think that first has to do with craftsmanship, and with attention to detail in all of the physical spaces, and then, of course, luxury is an experience. What people want is they want service, and they want service with a smile. They want people to be generous. They want people to be anticipatory. And, of course, this is what Ritz-Carlton delivers so beautifully on. The experience is everything.

Nubeluz, image by Björn Wallander

DOK (continued): So how can we bring it all together, which is, have a friendly place to check in but know that you have access to a beautiful living room, knowing that you have access to all these extra bars and that we have two restaurants and we’ve got an incredible chef in-house, Chef Jose Andres that is also doing all the room service and all of the amenities. He’s really baking his own bread you know, everything is from scratch down there. His attention to detail is incredible.

And that experience, knowing that everything really does have a person behind it and people really care about what they’re delivering, that is what is bringing the experience to life.

For the younger customer, I think it’s about not having to be in a stuffy room with a white tablecloth to have a caviar. You can have your jeans, have a nice shirt, but you don’t have to wear a blazer and you can do caviar bumps upstairs. That’s now luxury, right? Luxury is being able to have your caviar and a bottle of champagne, spend $10,000 if you want to with your friends, but wearing jeans, not having to wear a jacket and a suit and all of this. It doesn’t feel luxurious anymore to the younger customer.

They still look smart and they still look elegant, just because you’re casual doesn’t mean you don’t look good, nobody here looks trashy or anything, but I think it’s really important when you understand the psyche of your customer.

the bar at Nubeluz, image by Björn Wallander

DB: It all feels more like ‘inclusive luxury’, where you factor a lot more elements in rather than just appearing expensive or unattainable.

DOK: The shift is really about including more, yes. You need to take the stuffiness out of the service, that over-formality.

DB: A lot of times you go to these new design hotels and they are very well designed, but the service is not there anymore. Even for super simple things, like slippers in the room, that you have to call and ask for. It’s very simple things that make a difference in the end.

Bar Seating, image by Björn Wallander

DOK: Many times the boutique design hotels, they don’t understand what the customer really needs, right? Some things are just really basic that Ritz Carlton knows so well.

Like when we design a bathroom, for example, all the dimensions have to match what Ritz Carlton expects, so they give us they give us very specific guidelines like we have to have a certain number of drawers, a certain amount of hanging space, a certain amount of space for cosmetics, lighting, all of these things have to be a part of your design.

You can’t just design any room and say, oh, Ritz Carlton’s gonna put their name on it. That is a really beautiful thing because they know the science of that room design of how it needs to service the customer and how the customer has to have everything in its place. It’s a science and people that are used to a luxury hotel know that they’re still gonna find everything here even if we are catering to a younger customer, but we do get the older customer too.

I think that people can still deliver great service without it being so hyper formal, and it should be fun.

project info:

name: Ritz-Carlton New York, NoMad | @ritzcarltonnewyorknomad

architect: Rafael Viñoly Architects | @rva_ny

design teams: Rockwell Group, Lázaro Rosa-Violán Studio, Martin Brudnizki, SUSURRUS International

developer: Flag Luxury Group | @flagluxury
location: 25 W 28th St, New York, NY 10001

photography: © Björn Wallander, Jason Varney, Iris and Light, BFA ,The Ritz-Carlton New York, Nomad

The post ‘I don’t believe in velvet ropes’: inside the ritz-carlton new york, NoMad’s convivial luxury appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM)’s Factory 5.0 is a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator, co-authored by 10,000 king worms metabolizing Styrofoam in real time. ‘When we design built environments, we’re reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, one that has always supported complex, multi-species life,’ the architect tells designboom. ‘My instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system.’

Founder of the studio, Aditya Mandlik, frames the work as a call to rethink architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution, a moment defined by the convergence of human and non-human intelligence. ‘Making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a co-evolution shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales,’ the architect notes.

At the core of the project is plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era, reframed through decomposition ‘Plastic became a lens to understand how drastically our intentions and consequences can diverge,’ Mandlik tells us. ‘Working with worms revealed that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we consider irreversible problems.’ Speaking to designboom, Mandlik positions Factory 5.0 as a framework for rethinking material futures, using decomposition to expand architectural imagination.

all images courtesy of Studio Aditya Mandlik

how worms reshape the geometry of the structure in real time

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components interlaced with 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers. These interiors become operational terrains where worms, approached as collaborators of the project, actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion. ‘Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, always recalibrating in response to temperature, light, and moisture,’ Mandlik explains. ‘These feedback loops began to dictate the pavilion’s evolving porosity.’ This procedure results in a continually transforming architectural section, revealed in various ways as visitors move around and through it.

Unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language. Worms clustered for warmth below 20°C, migrate toward darkness, and even metamorphose when isolated, behaviors that influence spatial rhythm and material decay rates. ‘Designing with decomposition demanded accepting that anything we create should ultimately be able to return to natural systems,’ the Mumbai-based architect tells designboom. This approach shapes decisions from assembly logic to the portability of the pavilion. Factory 5.0 was already in its second life at DDW, having been flat-packed, transported, and reconfigured from its Mumbai debut.

This adaptability extends into its afterlife. ‘Disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase,’ Mandlik notes. After the exhibition, timber components are repurposed, while worm-transformed Styrofoam plates, sensitive to light, sound, and human presence, are preserved as memory objects and later used as molds for casting metal lights. The project becomes a living model for regenerative architecture in a world where biological and technological intelligence co-author space. Dive into the full Q&A below.

a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator

Interview with Aditya Mandlik

designboom (DB): Factory 5.0 introduces worms as active co-creators. What first prompted you to explore biological intelligence as a design partner?

Aditya Mandlik (AM): For me, collaborating with non-human intelligence has always felt like a natural extension of architectural thinking. When we design built environments, we’re effectively reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, a layer that has long supported complex, multi-species life. So my instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system. With Factory 5.0, this became particularly critical. Since the installation was conceived as a prototype for architecture in the Fifth Industrial Revolution, we chose to work with natural decomposers to break down single-use plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era. That act of decomposition became both method and message, positioning architecture as a metabolic, co-authored process rather than a purely human-driven one.

co-authored by 10,000 king worms

DB: As you mentioned, the project sits within the theme of the Fifth Industrial Revolution. How do you define ‘non-human intelligence’ in an architectural workflow, and what does it contribute to the act of making?

AM: Architecture becomes truly contextual, geographically, socially, culturally, and ecologically, only when every actor present on a site is allowed to perform. I’ve always believed that the planet operates through a dense web of behaviors, where each entity, human or non-human, contributes its own role to a constantly unfolding system. These behaviors are not passive; they are forms of intelligence that shape, negotiate, and adapt the environments we share. So when I speak of ‘non-human intelligence’ in architecture, I’m not thinking of it as an add-on to the design workflow. Instead, I see it as an existing field of entangled, cooperative interactions that we must learn to work with rather than override. In that sense, making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a coevolutionary act, shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales.

the worms metabolize Styrofoam in real time

DB: Why did you choose plastic as the primary site of decomposition, and what did the worms reveal to you about its future?

AM: Plastic is, in many ways, the great material triumph of the First Industrial Revolution. It reshaped human behaviour, accelerated production, and became inseparable from modern life. What interested me was this contradiction: a material originally engineered with ecological intent has, within a single generation, shifted into the category of ‘waste.’ Plastic became a lens through which to examine how drastically our intentions and their consequences can diverge over time. Working with worms made this contradiction even more compelling. Their ability, together with the bacteria in their microbiome, allows to break down complex molecular structures like single-use plastics, revealed something deeply optimistic. It suggested that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we perceive as irreversible problems. This collaboration points toward a future where small-scale worm farms could become decentralized systems for decomposing not only single-use plastic but other organic waste as well. It reframes the issue from one of disposal to one of co-evolution, where natural intelligence and human design actively negotiate the lifecycle of materials.

rethinking architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution

DB: How did you approach designing a structure whose form and meaning emerge through processes of decomposition?

AM: The pavilion was conceived as an active dialogue between space and matter, its form articulated as a vector, a directional force urging us to rethink the foundations of how we build. If we are to imagine alternative futures, we must first intervene in the material realities we currently inhabit. In this sense, the afterlife of single-use plastic became a crucial point of departure, not merely as a problem to be managed, but as an ecological agent capable of reframing architectural imagination. Designing with decomposition demanded an acceptance that anything we create should ultimately be capable of returning to natural systems. This principle shaped every aspect of the project—from embracing material deterioration to defining the pavilion’s assembly logic. Factory 5.0 was therefore conceived as a fully disassemblable structure, enabling its components to be repurposed or reintegrated long after it’s exhibition in Mumbai. The pavilion itself was already in its second life at Dutch Design Week 2025, having been transported, reconfigured, and re-adapted specifically for the climate and conditions of Eindhoven. In this way, the pavilion’s form, meaning, and visitor experience were never intended to be fixed. Instead, they were designed to evolve through cycles of breakdown, transformation, and return, mirroring the metabolic processes that animated the project from within. Factory 5.0 ultimately positions decomposition not as an endpoint, but as a generative force shaping both architectural expression and ecological imagination.

at the core of the project is plastic

DB: What were some of the most unexpected behaviors or feedback loops you observed during the worms’ metabolic process?

AM: One of the most unexpected insights came from observing how socially and environmentally responsive the worms were. Across experiments with multiple species, we studied how they reacted to variations in temperature, light, moisture, and even sound. Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, constantly adjusting and recalibrating in response to subtle environmental shifts. When temperatures dropped below 20°C, the worms instinctively clustered together to exchange body heat. In contrast, a worm left alone for two to three days often initiated metamorphosis, cocooning and transforming into a darkling beetle within a week. Their strong preference for darkness was equally revealing; exposure to light compelled them to migrate toward shaded areas, often resulting in higher aperture densities in those regions of the styrofoam panels. These feedback loops became foundational to understanding how the pavilion would behave, transform, and ultimately decompose over time. They also directly informed our preparations for installing the pavilion in the city centre. To help the worms acclimate to the Eindhoven’s weather, each acrylic container was equipped with insulation film, containers holding moisture-absorbing gels, and external UV-A/UV-B thermal lamps. Adjusting these parameters allowed us not only to support their metabolic processes but also to intentionally mediate aperture densities in specific zones of the panels, shaping the pavilion’s evolving porosity as an active design tool.

plastic is reframed through decomposition

DB: Factory 5.0 can be flat-packed, reconfigured, and repurposed, extending its material life after exhibitions. How does this design-for-disassembly strategy align with your vision of metabolic architecture?

AM: Design for Disassembly, for me, emerges directly from the intelligence embedded within the informal urban fabric of Mumbai, a landscape that is continually dismantled, reconfigured, and reinhabited across generations. It is not only an ecologically sensitive strategy but also a culturally attuned one, acknowledging the fluid, intergenerational patterns of occupation shared by both human and non-human actors. Within the broader framework of metabolic architecture, Design for Disassembly becomes a means of embracing uncertainty. It enables structures to adapt, mutate, and respond to conditions that neither designers nor other participants can fully anticipate. In this sense, Factory 5.0’s ability to be flat-packed, reassembled, or repurposed is therefore not just a logistical choice. It extends the material life of the pavilion while situating it within a continuous cycle of transformation, reuse, and reintegration. In that sense, disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase.

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components

DB: Looking ahead, what potential do you see for architects to collaborate with other biological systems, and how might this shift the profession toward a truly post-anthropocentric future?

AM: I believe architecture has remained deeply human-centric for most of its history, shaped first by our evolutionary instincts and later by the pressures of rapid urbanization. In constructing the modern city, we have often produced hyper-sanitized environments that separate us from the ecological systems we are inherently part of. What we tend to overlook is that humans themselves are complex biological beings; recognizing ourselves as nature is the first step toward reframing how we design. Looking ahead, I see enormous potential for architecture to collaborate not only with biological systems but with the dense fabric of behaviors, patterns, and intelligence already present on every site. These living interfaces, microbial, botanical, geological, atmospheric etc., continuously negotiate and transform the environments we inhabit. Engaging with them allows architecture to shift from being an imposed, static form to becoming an entangled and co-evolving process. Also, for this shift to meaningfully unfold, architects cannot operate in isolation. Policymakers, engineers, industries, and communities must also acknowledge these biological systems as co-residents and co-authors of the built environment. Only then can we move toward a truly post-anthropocentric future, one in which architecture is created not just for humans, but with and alongside the intelligence of the broader living world.

the structure incorporates 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers

worms actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion

a continually transforming architectural section

unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language

worms clustered for warmth below 20°C migrate toward darkness

Aditya Mandlik observing the worm behavior

project info:

name: Factory 5.0

architect: Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM) | @studioadityamandlik

biological agents: 10,000 king worms

The post aditya mandlik on turning decomposition into design in a pavilion built with 10,000 worms appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

At Custom Lane in Edinburgh, Doyenne Studio presents Feminine Literacy, an exhibition that repositions the word feminine as a design methodology with real systemic weight. Rather than associating it with style or softness, the curators describe it as ‘an approach that is collaborative, decentralized, non-linear, fluid, empathetic, and holistic,’ a definition that threads through the work of the 28 women and non-binary international designers featured across fashion, product, material innovation, and system design.

Running until December 7th, 2025, the showcase positions feminine literacy as a critical, future-oriented lens for working with materials, ecosystems, and communities, bringing together a wide range of works that translate these ideas into material and systemic experimentation, from ceramics made of industrial waste and endlessly recyclable biotextiles, to garments activated by bioactive organisms, regenerative British fibres, and chitosan-based biomaterials rooted in Galician craft. The exhibition spans mouth-blown Palestinian glass, acoustic tiles grown from plant roots, oyster-shell-based concrete alternatives, and clay structures shaped by natural geometries. It also highlights projects that address social inequities and care, whether through inclusive glassware, sensory garments for neurodivergent children, feminist welding spaces, adaptive uniforms, or speculative tools for intimate self-care. 

In conversation with designboom, Doyenne Studio co-founders Giulia Angelucci and Mara Bragagnolo reflect on why this shift feels urgent now. ‘Design has detached itself from interconnection,’ they tell us, ‘so now more than ever a life-giving approach is needed.’  We sat down with the curators to unpack the theoretical backbone of the exhibition, its regenerative ambitions, and the challenges and freedoms of gathering multiple perspectives under one conceptual horizon.

all installation images by Abbie Green

outlining a new design paradigm at Custom Lane, Edinburgh

For the founders of the women-run research and design practice, Giulia and Mara, the show is the culmination of years spent researching fashion futures, material methodologies, and inclusive design frameworks. Their backgrounds, spanning spatial design, art direction, olfactory environments, and systemic research, come together here to form a curatorial voice that is both rigorous and intuitive. One of the clearest provocations emerging from the exhibition is their assertion that ‘waste, extraction, pollution and exclusion are by design,’ and therefore design also holds the tools for reconfiguring the systems that produced them.

Curated in partnership with Common Practice, the exhibition unfolds through four thematic strands, Holistic Systems, Interspecies Collaboration, A Culture of Care, and Future Craft, each offering a different angle on how design can operate beyond extraction and efficiency. As the curators put it, the selected works ‘dare to imagine and design otherwise,’ proposing alternatives to linear production, extractive material cultures, and the myths of efficiency that have shaped dominant design narratives. The setting of Custom Lane, a collaborative center for design and making developed by GRAS, reinforces the ethos of shared space, practice, and futures.

What follows is a deeper look into these ideas through our conversation with Doyenne Studio, touching on eco-feminist theory, craft as ancestral knowledge, interdependence as method, and the generative challenges of working with many voices under one conceptual horizon. Read on for our full discussion below. 

Ignorance is Bliss by Agne Kucerenkaite

interview with doyenne studio

designboom (DB): You frame ‘feminine’ as a design methodology rather than a gendered aesthetic. How did you arrive at this interpretation, and why is it important now?

Doyenne Studio (DS): Within the context of the exhibition, feminine refers to an approach that is collaborative, decentralised, non-linear, fluid, empathetic, and holistic. The curation is the result of many years of research in the field of fashion futures and design innovation, specifically looking at color, product, and material methodologies with ecological and inclusive thinking at their heart. 
We all have a feminine and masculine side, women and queer designers naturally gravitate towards the regenerative approach simply because they are allowed to explore it more than men on a societal level. Design has detached itself from the idea of interconnection with the environmental, societal, and political implications of choices that are by design. So now more than ever, a life-giving approach is needed. Ultimately, we design for living beings, and the consequences of exclusion, pollution, and overproduction can be tackled by the industry if we allow ourselves to explore alternatives.


Hair Cycle by Sanne Visser | image by Rocio Chacon

DB: How does ecofeminist theory inform the selection and curation of the works in this exhibition?


DS: The exhibition challenges the dominance of the masculine in our approach to design and life in general. By a masculine approach, we mean a linear, competitive, logical, productivity-oriented approach. Our current systems are out of balance because this methodology needs its feminine counterpart. There is a connection between this approach, which is encouraged by capitalist and patriarchal ideologies, and the increasing extraction, oppression, and destruction of species, communities, landscapes, and resources. Eco-feminist theory illustrates these dynamics, and it is about time we weave this perspective into our design conversations. Waste, extraction, pollution, and exclusion are by design, so design holds an enormous potential in tackling these issues. The works we have selected in Feminine Literacy deal with these topics, and they dare to imagine and design otherwise.

wasted human hair becomes sustainable materials

DB: Can you give a specific example of a design in the exhibition that embodies interdependence, care, or systemic thinking?

DS: Every project we have selected embodies these themes, but if we had to pick a handful, they would be: Resting Reef by Aura Murillo and Louise Skajem, a death care service that allows you to turn your loved one’s ashes into life-giving marine sculptures that restore coral reefs, creating rituals of death that center life. Co-Obradoiro Galego by Paula Camiña Eiras, which celebrates Galician cultural identity by combining traditional basketry techniques with innovative biomaterials made from by-products of the fishing industry, ultimately demonstrating how heritage crafts can evolve for a regenerative future. Ignorance is Bliss by Agne Kucerenkaite, an ongoing research-based design project that transforms industrial waste and secondary materials into high-value ceramic surfaces for interior and exterior use, replacing factory-made components and reducing the need for virgin resources. Ignorance is Bliss is giving a new identity to waste and to the built environment, with empathy for planetary health.

bringing together works by 28 women and non-binary international designers

DB: What challenges arose in bringing together 28 international designers with diverse perspectives under a single conceptual vision?

DS: For us, it’s more challenging not to have diverse perspectives in our projects, so this felt quite natural. The main challenge has been postage. The works naturally belonged to and created the themes we have illustrated within the exhibition, so the curatorial process felt very organic and authentic.

Clò An Tìr by Alis Le May

DB: How do narrative and storytelling function within the exhibition to communicate complex ideas about interconnection and care?

DS: Narrative and accessibility are central to our curation. The exhibition explores interconnection, care, collaboration, and heritage across different categories. We have broken down the concept into four main concepts: Holistic Systems, Interspecies Collaboration, Culture of Care and Future Craft. Each section illustrates a feminine attribute applied to design, thinking in a systemic and decentralized way, creating through collaboration, designing with empathy, and mastering intuitive wisdom through craft. Narrative is important because it contextualizes the works and amplifies the message of both the exhibition and the projects. We decided to use a clear visual and sensorial language with color coding to guide visitors intuitively through each section, avoiding overwhelm and making the space design more accessible. The identity and design of the exhibition reflect the feminine approach at its core. Even the table supports are made from recycled bricks by Kenoteq, an award-winning innovation company that has collaborated with us in the space design.

Ornamental By, Lameice Abu Aker

DB: The exhibition highlights heritage, craft, and land-based knowledge. How do you see these practices influencing future design frameworks?

DS: Craft practices carry ancestral wisdom that is deeply tied to materiality, artistry, and emotion. Each creation becomes an expression of time, skill, and devotion. Traditions remind us that design can be more than a purely intellectual or efficiency-driven act, it can be an embodied, soulful practice, deeply connected to land, knowledge, and legacy. As we look toward the future, integrating these principles can lead to design frameworks that are slower, more intentional, and rooted in respect for both cultural and ecological systems. What are the folklore and rituals of the future? What culture are we crafting?

blending ancient Canaanite craftsmanship with contemporary design

DB: In what ways do you hope Feminine Literacy will influence broader design practice, beyond the exhibition itself?

DS: We hope that the exhibition will inspire and serve as a catalyst for other designers to rethink the role they play within the industry. A design approach that uses nature and coexistence as a starting point will always lead to innovation and relevance. We also hope this exhibition will be equally grounding and imaginative, expanding our sense of possibility, connection, and agency in the broader systems we belong to.

Minimal Matter by Rameshwari Jonnalagadda

an exhibition that repositions the word feminine as a design methodology with real systemic weight

Resting Reef transforms cremation ashes into living memorial reefs

Aurore Brard, Moving Memories

designed to ground users in the present and support meaningful interaction for people with dementia

Co-Obradoiro Galego by Paula Camina

project info:

exhibition: Feminine Literacy

curators: Doyenne Studio | @doyenne.studio

designers: Agne Kucerenkaite | @makewastematter, Alis Le May | @alis_le_may, ALMA Futura | @_almafutura_, Anna Zimmermann | @annazimmermann.eu, Resting Reef | @restingreef, Aurore Brard | @aurore_brard, Cancellato UNIFORM | @cancellatouniform, Eve Eunson | @eveeunson, Jessica Redgrave | @jess_redgrave, Lameice Abu Aker | @ornamental_by, Lena Bernasconi | @lenaberna, Linda Ammann | @li.maaaaa, Mathilde Wittock | @mwo_design, Mireille Steinhage | @mireillesteinhage, Monika Dolbniak | @monikadbn, Trisha Gow | @stuckwithaname, Paula Camiña Eiras | @paula.camina, Rameshwari Jonnalagedda | @_se.rame, Rosie Broadhead | @rosiebroadhead_, Sanne Visser | @studiosannevisser, Scottish Fungi Dye Group, Studio Sarmīte | @studio_sarmite, Silke Hofmann | @silk_hofmann, Veronica Collins
in partnership with: Common Practice | @common___practice

location: Custom Lane Gallery, 1 Customs Wharf, Leith, Edinburgh EH6 6AL

dates: November 8th – December 7th 2025

poster design & identity: Giulia Saporito | @giulia.saporito

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Adam Pendleton presents Who Owns Geometry Anyway? at Friedman Benda in New York, where a series of sculptural furniture forms reorients the gallery into a measured field of geometries. Polished stone tables, carved volumes, and sharply defined wall interventions create a spatial environment tuned to material presence. designboom attended the opening to speak with the artist — read the full interview below!

Pendleton frames each piece as a form that activates space, describing the works as creating ‘a very specific feeling and temperature, and sense of both time, space, and material.’ The installation’s low-slung rounds, punctured surfaces, and triangular wall planes make this sensitivity immediately legible.

Visitors encounter shifts between matte and gloss, heavy mass and visual levity, all contributing to what Pendleton characterizes as a heightened awareness of surface, texture, and the experience of moving through a room.

image courtesy Friedman Benda and Adam Pendleton | photography © Izzy Leung

hyper-specific geometries occupy the stripped-back gallery

The exhibition at Friedman Benda evolved through what artist Adam Pendleton calls a dialogic process, shaped by intuition and precise adjustments. A square became two opposing triangles, while ceramic works planned as singular elements are assembled into grids during installation. Pendleton describes this approach as a ‘confluence of being hyper specific and intuitive,’ a method that allows the objects to shape one another as they settle into place.

Across these forms, material choice governs tempo. Pendleton speaks of the stone pieces as ‘slow’ with a palpable weight, even as they appear almost weightless. This dynamic shows his ongoing interest in forms that resist fixed categorization — objects that hover between sculpture, design, and something still in the process of becoming. Within the stripped-back gallery space of Friedman Benda, Who Owns Geometry Anyway? opens another chapter in Adam Pendleton’s ever-changing dialogue with form and space.

image courtesy Friedman Benda and Adam Pendleton | photography © Izzy Leung

a dialogue with adam pendleton

designboom (DB): Could you speak about the scope of the collection? What pieces are involved, and what materials did you use?

Adam Pendleton (AP): In the show, there are seven forms, and I think about them as forms that activate space and can be used in relationship to it. They’re exhibited alongside a light fixture called Drawn, which is, for me, a drawing with light, and then two wall works — the glossy white triangle and the matte black triangle — and four ceramic paintings. All of these works, in relationship to each other, create a very specific feeling and a sense of time, space, and material.

DB: What kind of feelings are you hoping to evoke?

AP: I like to create works that heighten people’s attention to space, form, light, surface texture, and weight. We encounter all of those elements all the time, but we aren’t always aware of them. I want to make things that slow us down and encourage awareness. That’s what happens in the exhibition because of how it’s been executed — how the works are placed, and the different surfaces and materials.

image courtesy Friedman Benda and Adam Pendleton | photography © Izzy Leung

DB: Could you speak about the process for creating the wall pieces? I’m interested in how you altered the materials to create these effects.

AP: A lot of it was dialogic — an ongoing conversation with the space. I worked with a model and made very slight changes. What became the glossy white triangle was originally a square. You look at it, study it, and realize it should be two triangles going in opposing directions. The ceramic elements were going to be hung individually, but when I began installing them, they became grids. It’s about how you map and read something visual.

DB: So it’s intuitive for you?

AP: It is intuitive, but also hyper specific. It’s a confluence of being hyper specific and intuitive, finding the space where those modes operate in a poetically efficient way.

DB: How do these works differ from your past work? Are there new strategies for creating or exploring?

AP: They involve completely different material realities, and material realities are temporal realities. Every material has a tempo or speed. A drawing has a different speed than a painting, and a painting has a different tempo than a sculpture. I like working in all of those registers.

DB: Would you say these pieces evoke more slowness?

AP: They’re slow, yes. They have a kind of weight, but even though they’re heavy, they also feel weightless, which also fascinates me.

image courtesy Friedman Benda and Adam Pendleton | photography © Izzy Leung

DB: Earlier you mentioned temperature. What temperature is being conveyed?

AP: Optics and ideas radiate sensations. Heat and cold are sensations we’re extremely aware of. I’m fascinated by how we always want to touch things when we see them, even when we shouldn’t. We want to feel our body in relationship to things on an intimate level. I’m interested in ideas and objects that propel those visceral thoughts, feelings, and desires.

DB: Are there cultural or historical references you’re inspired by currently?

AP: I’ve been reading Deleuze, Maggie Nelson, and thinking through Noguchi, but also someone like Gaetano Pesce — how playful and experimental he is with material and color. These works are also experimental in how they relate to space and create space. They do things improperly — if you think of something as a table, these objects do things tables shouldn’t do. Some objects make you wonder, what is it? I like that in-betweenness, that theoretical space of something perpetually becoming and evolving.

DB: Are you more inclined toward messiness or order?

AP: I’m inclined toward balance. I like ideas that don’t make sense and are improbable, which is a kind of chaos. I like taking what is improbable or unlikely and creating a sense around it — creating space for things, ideas, and volumes that are improper or improbable. I want those things to exist in the world. I want to put ideas into the world that are articulate but speak a language that’s unfamiliar.

image courtesy Friedman Benda and Adam Pendleton | photography by William Jess Laird

project info:

name: Who Owns Geometry Anyway?

artist: Adam Pendleton | @pendleton.adam

gallery: Friedman Benda | @friedman_benda

location: 515 W 26th Street, New York, NY

dates: November 7th — December 19th, 2025

photography: © Izzy Leung | @izzyleung

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Unspoken Codes, presented by Common Names at Art Share L.A. (October 18–31, 2025), explores how shared expression can form a language beyond words. Featuring over 2,500 hand-painted hexagon tiles contributed by individuals around the world, alongside new works by ten international artists, the exhibition reflects on the invisible emotional and social codes that shape human connection. Through collective authorship and participatory design, the project invites viewers to move through a field of color, gesture, and memory, dissolving traditional boundaries between artist and audience. The result is both an evolving archive and a quiet conversation between strangers.

Founded in Los Angeles, Common Names began as a small community art initiative grounded in the idea that creativity should not depend on fluency, expertise, or visibility. Inspired by everyday acts of making, the platform has grown into a space for shared authorship across language, culture, and age. Unspoken Codes is the platform’s first major public exhibition, and embodies a belief that empathy can take shape through form, rhythm, and collective attention.

Open in LA, USA from 18-31 October, 2025, designboom hosts an exclusive Q+A with Unspoken Codes exhibition initiator and Common Names founder Cici Zhu to delve deeper into the curatorial vision and design philosophy behind the show.

Cici Zhu, Hexagon Drawing Collection (partial view from Unspoken Codes), 2025. Collaborative installation of over 2,500 hand-painted hexagons. Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025 | all images courtesy of Common Names

Interview with CICI ZHU, COMMON NAMES FOUNDER

designboom (DB): Looking back at the journey of founding Common Names, what was the original spark for the idea, and what kinds of questions were you exploring in the beginning?

Cici Zhu (CZ): The project was inspired by my experience of moving from Shanghai to Los Angeles. I arrived two years ago, and the transition came with language barriers and cultural adjustments that deeply challenged how I connected with people. I often questioned my ability to belong, or even to be understood, simply because I struggled to communicate through words.

But I started to realize that expression doesn’t rely on language alone. Communication can take many forms—visual, emotional, intuitive. Just because someone cannot speak fluently doesn’t mean they have nothing to say. That realization gave me confidence, and also made me wonder: What if we built a space where expression wasn’t measured by fluency or credentials, but simply by honesty?  That’s how Common Names began—a platform open to everyone, where creative expression is encouraged without filters or expectations. I wanted to create a place where people could meet through making, and feel recognized for what they express, not for how perfectly they say it.

installation view of Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025. Featuring works by participating artists | image © Yubo Dong

DB: In what ways has the act of curating shaped or changed how you think about art’s function and its interaction with an audience?

CZ: I’ve been practicing art since I was very young, and over time it became a personal language, something I turned to when words didn’t quite work. But curating requires a very different mindset. It’s not about speaking—it’s about listening. It taught me to see how works relate to one another, how they speak side by side, and how the audience completes that conversation.

With the hexagon installation, I read each piece carefully—the colors, lines, textures, sometimes the written reflections. Then I thought about how to place them next to each other to bring out contrast, harmony, or a kind of silent rhythm. It felt less like assembling an artwork, and more like setting a stage for others to speak.

Curating also shifted my focus away from personal meaning and toward collective experience. I realized my role wasn’t to interpret the works, but to hold space for the audience to enter and discover their own relationships to them. That was new to me, and very powerful.

installation view of Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025 | image © Zihui Song

DB: When creating unconventional exhibition spaces for many people—from professional artists to community contributors—what kinds of connections or patterns have surprised you the most?

CZ: What surprised me most is how naturally people connect through art, even if they don’t call themselves artists. In this project, I worked with participants of all ages and backgrounds—many who had never painted before or never expected their work to be seen publicly. But when I laid their tiles side by side, I saw emotions and themes repeating across languages and geographies.

People who had never met expressed the same sense of longing, or drew from the same palette of memory and joy. You start to see that some emotions don’t need translation. That kind of unspoken connection really moved me. It reminded me that creativity doesn’t come from training—it comes from being human.

installation view of Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025 | image © Zihui Song

DB: Considering Common Names as a platform, how do you define and actively design for the idea of ‘community’ within your work, especially in terms of fostering shared experience and collective voice?

CZ: I don’t think of community as a group of people who all live in the same place or share the same background. For me, community is built when people express something honestly and feel recognized for it. That’s what I try to design for in Common Names—not a shared identity, but a shared act of showing up and speaking in your own way.

In the hexagon project, no one was told what to paint or how to contribute. There was no expected outcome, just an invitation. And from that openness, a kind of quiet chorus emerged. You could see pain, joy, memory, playfulness—all coexisting in one space. I think community lives in that coexistence, in the ability to hold multiple voices without needing to flatten them.

Bryan Cruz, Inner Demons, 2023 at Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025  | image ©

DB: How has working with people across different generations and backgrounds influenced the way you think about authorship and leadership?

CZ: Bringing together works from contributors across China, the U.S., Thailand, and many other places helped me realize that authorship doesn’t have to mean ownership. My role wasn’t to speak for others, but to shape a space where many voices could be seen and felt on their own terms.

This became especially clear in working with two very different groups. First, I want to acknowledge the ten invited artists, who generously joined this project and responded to its themes in personal, nuanced ways. Their practices brought depth and contrast to the exhibition, and I’m grateful for the trust they placed in this space.

I also want to highlight our collaboration with Saint Mark’s School, a K–6 elementary school that lost nearly its entire campus in the LA fire earlier this year. Despite that devastation, 170 students contributed hexagon paintings—some joyful, others abstract or introspective. Their works were arranged into the shape of their school’s lion emblem, and now form a mural that speaks to collective resilience, memory, and hope.

Working with both professional artists and young students reminded me why I started Common Names in the first place: to celebrate many forms of expression, across age and experience, and to build something that gives back to the communities who trust us with their stories.

installation view of Cici Zhu’s Hexagon Drawing Collection, dedicated to Saint Mark’s Primary School, at Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025

DB: How do you understand space in your practice, whether as a designer, curator, or artist?

CZ: I think of space as something that shapes how people feel, move, and relate. It’s not just a background for artwork—it’s part of the experience itself. In Unspoken Codes, we thought about space as a series of emotional states: exploration, gathering, and creation. The exhibition was designed like a journey, and each room asked the visitor to take on a different role—observer, listener, or maker.

We started with a narrow hallway filled with anonymous hexagon paintings. That space asked people to slow down and look closely. Then they entered an open gallery room for the invited artists, followed by a more intimate room curated around the work of students from Saint Mark’s School. Finally, they reached the participatory workshop room, where they could contribute a tile of their own. As people moved through the space, they moved through different modes of connection.

DB: A portion of the exhibition takes place in a hallway, a space that is often transitional. What led you to choose that setting, and what kind of attention were you hoping it would invite?

CZ: We wanted to challenge the idea that important art has to be placed in the center of a gallery, framed and spotlighted. Hallways are often passed through without much attention—but in this case, we wanted that space to hold presence and stillness. The hallway was lined with hundreds of anonymous hexagon paintings from participants. Because the space was narrow, visitors had to slow down and stay close. That physical intimacy created a different kind of viewing—quiet, careful, and reflective. It also reflected the values of Common Names: everyone deserves to be seen, no matter where they are placed.

installation view of the Cici Zhu’s Hexagon Drawing Collection in the corridor space, part of the Unspoken Codes at Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025

DB: What were the key factors in choosing Art Share L.A., a community-centered venue, over a more conventional gallery space for Unspoken Codes, and how does this choice align with the exhibition’s core message?

CZ: Art Share L.A. felt like the right home for this project because it supports both the making and sharing of art. It’s not just a gallery—it’s a space where artists live, work, and connect with their communities. That felt aligned with what Common Names stands for.

We weren’t looking for a polished white-cube space. We wanted a venue that reflected the raw, ongoing, participatory nature of the project. Art Share also offered us flexibility and trust, which made it possible to build something that wasn’t just a display, but an environment where people could contribute and belong.

visitors view Cici Zhu’s Hexagon Drawing Collection from below, part of Unspoken Codes at Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18–31, 2025

DB: The hexagon tile is a central motif. How has this design element been used to act as a “visual system of communication” for visitors?

CZ: The hexagon shape became the foundation of this project, both visually and conceptually. In nature, hexagons connect seamlessly and grow outward—like in beehives or crystal formations. They’re stable, expandable, and modular, which made them the perfect form for holding many different voices together without hierarchy.

In the exhibition, each hexagon tile is hand-painted by a different contributor, but when placed side by side, they form a field of expression that feels collective rather than fragmented. There’s no single center. Instead, the meaning builds through repetition, placement, and proximity.

We also extended the hexagon idea into our graphic design. The poster and invitation feature a layered hexagon built from fragments of all ten invited artists’ works. It becomes a kind of echo—an expanding visual that mirrors the way expression travels and grows when it’s shared. It suggests that communication doesn’t always start from the middle. Sometimes it moves outward, softly but powerfully, carrying many voices forward at once.

selected drawings from Cici Zhu’s Hexagon Drawing Collection, Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025

DB: What kind of experience do you hope visitors carry with them after engaging with the exhibition, and what design elements contribute to this intended experience?

CZ: I hope visitors leave with a feeling of connection—whether to a stranger’s gesture, a shared memory, or even to themselves. I hope the space encourages people to slow down and notice what they might usually overlook, and to recognize that quiet expression still carries weight.

We kept the design very human-scale. No dramatic installations, no hierarchy between works. The participatory room invites people to make something, not just look. That balance between seeing and doing, between reflection and participation, is at the heart of the experience we hoped to create.

DB: Reflecting on the entire Unspoken Codes project, what unexpected insights or challenges emerged in the process of bringing it to reality?

CZ: One of the biggest surprises was how much the project shaped itself. I had plans in the beginning—layouts, categories—but as I spent time with each contribution, I realized those systems weren’t necessary. The work spoke clearly on its own. I learned to trust the process, to let go of control, and to listen more than I directed. That shift in mindset—seeing curating as listening—was a challenge at first, but it became one of the most meaningful parts of the experience.

Cici Zhu at opening ceremony of Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025  | image © Zihui Song

DB: How do you envision the Common Names initiative, and specifically the insights gained from Unspoken Codes, informing your future design projects or community-based art initiatives?

CZ: Unspoken Codes helped me realize that community doesn’t always come from shared identity—it can come from shared expression. I’ve seen how people connect across distance and difference simply by making something honest and putting it into the world.

Going forward, I want to continue designing projects that create space for many voices, especially those that are often overlooked or undervalued. In Unspoken Codes, for example, I reached out to Saint Mark’s School, a school badly devastated by the Los Angeles fire, to gather canvases and expose them to the public to honor their perseverance and optimism following the rebuild. In the future, I hope to connect more with communities whose voices need to be heard and give back through the transformative power of art.

Common Names is still growing, and I see it as a long-term process of listening and building alongside others. As part of that, we will continue to support and contribute to the recovery of Saint Mark’s School—not just in gratitude for their participation, but because their presence in this project has reminded me that expression can be a way of healing, and care can take many forms.

selected drawings from Cici Zhu’s Hexagon Drawing Collection, Unspoken Codes, Art Share L.A., Los Angeles, October 18 – 31, 2025

project info:

name: Unspoken Codes

organization: Common Names | @common.names

exhibition initiator: Cici Zhu (founder Common Names)

location: ArtShare LA, USA | @artshare_la

dates: October 18-31, 2025

The post common names exhibition ‘unspoken codes’ fosters space for voices left unheard appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Hidden behind an unmarked door in Paris’ 7th arrondissement, ‘Rose, c’est la vie’ is an unexpected sanctuary of softness amid the intensity of Art Basel Paris 2025, conceived by architect and designer India Mahdavi in collaboration with Luca Pronzato, founder of We Are Ona, and Mexican chef Jesús Durón. The week-long pop-up dining experience is set inside a former car repair shop, turned into a radical speakeasy of texture, warmth, and color, where every surface is swathed in a floral pink textile inspired by the Rose d’Ispahan. The project reimagines hospitality as an act of emotion, what Mahdavi calls ‘the seriousness of happiness.’

On the occasion of the event, designboom speaks with Mahdavi and Pronzato about the origins of their collaboration and the making of this multisensory dining experience. ‘We’re in a world that is quite aggressive right now,’ Mahdavi tells us. ‘The past is past and the future — we don’t know. My work is always about creating memories, ephemeral moments of happiness that you can take away with you.’

images by Laurent Giannesini, unless stated otherwise

 a speakeasy of softness at art basel paris

As Pronzato explains, the collaboration grew out of a long-standing admiration for Mahdavi’s work. ‘At We Are Ona, we create culinary experiences where we like to invite not only guest chefs but also creatives, designers, artists, and architects to think in their own way about the culinary experience,’ the founder of the nomadic dining collective shares with designboom. ‘I’ve always dreamed of working with India Mahdavi, and I’m so happy to celebrate her work and let our guests experience her pop-up.’

What began as conversations between Paris and Mexico evolved into the idea of an ‘ultra-feminine, feminist speakeasy.’ For Mahdavi, this was a conscious departure from We Are Ona’s earlier projects, which had been mainly led by men. ‘I thought I had to make a rupture,’ the Paris-based architect and designer notes. ‘A continuity within the quality, of course, but a rupture with the aesthetics that were being brutalist, minimalist, etc. I wanted it to be immersive — the experience has to start from the street. Where are you going? How do you enter? There should be a bit of a surprise.’ 

That sense of discovery guided the search for the venue. After reviewing several options, the team settled on an old carrosserie, a former car workshop, where the rough industrial shell could contrast with Mahdavi’s delicate transformation, as her design wraps the entire interior in a bespoke textile inspired by the Rose d’Ispahan, a small and fragrant Persian flower often used in decorative arts. Find our full conversation with Luca Pronzato of We Are Ona and India Mahdavi below.

‘Rose, c’est la vie’ is an unexpected sanctuary of softness amid the intensity

in conversation with India Mahdavi and Luca Pronzato

designboom (DB): How did the idea for this collaboration come about?

Luca Pronzato (LP): At We Are Ona, we create culinary experiences where we like to invite not only guest chefs but also creatives, designers, artists, and architects to think in their own way about the culinary experience. I’ve always dreamed of working with India Mahdavi. We’ve been talking about it for a very long time, and I’m so happy to celebrate India’s work and to let the We Are Ona guests experience her pop-up.

the week-long pop-up is set inside a former car repair shop

DB: Was the location something that We Are Ona decided first and then invited India, or did you discuss it together?

LP: What I love about the creative process is the conversation that we have had along the way with India. It’s pretty much carte blanche at We Are Ona. I remember India talking to me about this idea of creating a super feminine speakeasy, where you can push a door in Paris and arrive in her world.

India Mahdavi (IM): One of the first things I noticed was that We Are Ona has mainly worked with men and fewer women. I thought I had to really make sort of a rupture, a continuity within the quality, of course, but sort of a rupture with the aesthetics that were being sort of brutalist, minimalist, etc. I wanted it to be a very immersive experience. The experience has to start from the street. Where are you going? How do you enter? There should be a bit of a surprise.

I started working with the idea of a floral fabric, which was inspired by the rose of Isfahan, Iran. It’s a small, beautiful rose that has the most incredible perfume. I just took it to a different scale, and it turned into this kind of shimmery, feminine world. I felt like within this environment of the art fair, it would be nice to have this feeling of being embraced by your grandmother, in a way. So, the project was crafted by me responding not only to We Are Ona, but also to the event in Paris, and to my own aesthetics. What’s interesting about this experience is that you’re free to work with your imagination.

Then, when I showed my idea to Luca, he loved it. Still, we had to find a place where we could have this element of surprise. Luca and his team proposed five to ten spaces. We investigated what sequences we could create around each of them, and then chose the one that worked best.

the industrial shell contrasts with Mahdavi’s delicate transformation

DB: So, you wanted to create a contrast between something typically seen as masculine, like a car workshop, and a much softer, more delicate atmosphere?

IM: It’s an old carrosserie that had been transformed into an office space, but there was still this roughness due to the industrial feel of the building. The way you enter is the main surprise element. But in any case, yes, it’s a contrast: having this space, which is rough and completely covered in one pattern.

Mahdavi’s design wraps the entire interior in a bespoke textile inspired by the Rose d’Ispahan

DB: Could you elaborate on the design concept, especially the all-over textile treatment, and how it contributes to the tactile and immersive quality of the space?

IM: The fabric gives you a very special feel. I’ve always been interested in designing patterns for fabrics or wallpapers, and that’s part of my language. I use ornaments a lot in my work. It’s a way of giving a new identity to a space that we’re modifying. It’s an efficient and beautiful way of doing that.

At that moment, I was also designing a line of fabrics for this French company called Pierre Frey. So, we used that as a base, we took this fabric, scaled it, and worked with them to produce it. It’s based on the rose. It’s very fresh, very familiar, because we’ve all seen homes covered with floral patterns, and I’m just taking it to a different level, making it radical. It’s an ode to soft power because soft power is something subtle that does exist, but when you have it all over, it becomes very powerful.

the space becomes a tactile cocoon

DB: Luca, how do the dining elements and overall experience dialogue with India’s design?

LP: It’s a total. Everything was settled with India, from the main architecture to the table design, tablecloths, plates, glasses, cutlery, and the aprons of the staff, even adding some surprises around the idea of the rose.

We also created a conversation with Jesús Durán, an amazing chef from Mexico that I really love. I think this will really add a lot to the experience. He’s one of the most incredible emerging talents — he used to work at Pujol, and we worked on some projects in Mexico with India. So there’s a nice link there.

guests share a communal table

DB: The way you describe this experience, it sounds like you’re focusing on positive elements — softness, happiness, warmth, and coziness. Why was it important to highlight these in this project?

IM: You know, we’re in a world that is quite aggressive right now. We’re surrounded by a future we don’t know. So I think that’s what it is, it’s about the present moment, the past is past and the future — we don’t know. My work is always about creating memories, creating an ephemeral moment of happiness that you can take away with you. The idea of the experience is really important — we see so many images on social media that we don’t know what’s real anymore. The only way to know if something is real or not is to live it, to experience it yourself. So I think this multisensorial experience is super important. It’s also about togetherness, because with this dining experience you’ll be sitting maybe next to somebody you don’t know, since it’s communal tables. You’ll share the same experience, which will engage conversations and encounters. All these people coming are interested in experience, in design, in food. It’s all about that.

LP: I totally agree with India. The point on human experiences is so important because all these details have been designed to put the guests into a full culinary experience. That’s something we’re really proud of at We Are Ona, creating this togetherness.

Durón’s menu interacts with Mahdavi’s sensory landscape

project info:

name: Rose, c’est la vie, We Are Ona x India Mahdavi

artist: We Are Ona | @we.are.ona

designer: India Mahdavi | @indiamahdavi 

location: Paris, France (7th arrondissement)

chef: Jesús Durón

occasion: Art Basel Paris 2025

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