Form and Function
Studio Akademos
“Our customers need to understand why they’re buying a particular piece. We’re not artists, we’re designers, and our first collection was conceived with the idea that each piece could be passed down from one generation to the next; and for that to happen, they need to be useful. That said, we would like to develop a sort of capsule collection through which we would try to do our own blurring of the boundaries between art and furniture.” — Aurélien Raymond
Furniture has over the centuries changed considerably in appearance, both stylistically and in terms of the role ornament and practicality play in its design. During the eighteenth century, the aristocracy and haute bourgeoisie made the decoration of their Parisian homes a lifetime occupation, and much of the heavily ornamented furniture was designed to showcase the impeccable craftsmanship of the period. By means of example, a pair of gilt-bronze mirrors (c. 1780), thought to have been supplied to Marie-Antoinette — part of Sotheby’s recent sale of items from the storied Hôtel Lambert — are festooned with enormous rhinestone bows, which, having dulled through the passage of time, appear somewhat more understated than they must when first presented to the ill-fated French queen, at which point the effect would have been truly dazzling. Similarly, the elegantly arched back of a giltwood Régence fauteuil (c. 1710-20) is centred by a pierced cartouche, surmounted by a crown and flanked by lions’ heads and acanthus scrolls — a veritable orgy of decoration. Yet, at the same time, it was a period of considerable societal change and practicality and convenience became hallmarks of good taste. Régence was a reaction to the pomposity of the court under Louis XIV and is perhaps best understood not as a style but as a state of mind. It marked a move away from the strict formality of the late Baroque in favour of a lighter, curvilinear style — and in turn, chairs became more graceful, and for that matter, more comfortable. The evolution of the petit salon, as opposed to formal, ceremonial state apartments, marked a shift toward intimacy, distraction and pleasure, resulting in a penchant for furniture more elegant and agreeable to the eye. Often described as the final expression of the Baroque movement, Rocco emerged in the 1720s and 30s as the most rebellious of all design styles. Ornamental, theatrical and without rules, compared to the order, refinement and seriousness of the English Classical style, Rococo has been described variously as superficial, degenerate and illogical. Taking its name from the French word “rocaille”, which means rock or broken shell, the style was based on asymmetrical design, light and full of movement, featuring an entirely new repertory of ornament, including floral motifs, ribbon, and on occasion, trophies formed of musical instruments or even gardening implements. The approach to furniture, in essence, remained much the same for the next hundred years — in the sense of its being comfortable, and decorated in the style of the day — until in 1910 architect and theorist Adolf Loos (1870-1933) gave the lecture “Ornament and Crime” at the Akademischer Verband für Literatur und Musik in Vienna, thus ushering in the stripped back austerity of the Modernist movement.
Written at a time when the floridity of Art Nouveau was at its peak, Loos’ polemical essay railed against decoration as wasteful, self-indulgent and imminently obsolete. Picking up and running with Loos’ distinctly no-frills baton, French architect Le Corbusier (1887-1965) wrote in The Decorative Arts of Today in 1925, “Decoration, baubles, charming entertainment for a savage. (And I do not deny that it is an excellent thing to keep an element of the savage alive in us—a small one). But in the twentieth century, our powers of judgment have developed greatly and we have raised our level of consciousness.” Outspoken in his criticism of the Secession and Wiener Werkstätte, the modernist maestro continued, “It seems justified to affirm: the more cultivated a people becomes, the more decoration disappears.” (As an addendum, recent academic research has linked the “Utopian” architect with fascist and anti-Semitic views — to the extent that in 2019 the French paper of record Le Monde published an open letter from a group of nine prominent cultural figures calling on French Minister Franck Riester (b. 1974) to “stop financing the Le Corbusier Foundation, withdraw its representative from the board of directors, give up the participation in the Le Corbusier museum project, and finally, act so that the mayor of Poissy removes the publicly-funded statue of the architect inaugurated in the city in January”.) Subsequently, a generation of young architects and designers, fuelled by Loos’ undeviating righteousness spent decades trying to rid their work of excess, exploring new methods of production and manufacture, with the aim of improving well-being in the home. Of course Corbusier was only moderne in terms of theoretical underpinnings, and far less so when it came to women in the workplace, to the extent that when avant-garde architect Charlotte Perriand (1903-1999) — who would go on to become one of the most influential figures of twentieth century design — first applied to work at his studio in 1927 she received the dismissive assertion that “we don’t embroider cushions here”. Yet merely months after this unforgivably sexist snub, Perriand would cause a succès de scandale, when she exhibited furniture in aluminium, chrome, glass and leather at the prestigious Salon d’Automne. Upon visiting the exhibition, so impressed was Corbusier with Perriand’s designs that he hired her on the spot — and so began a decade-long collaboration.
Architects Aurélien Raymond and Costanza Rossi of Studio Akademos, sitting on their “Scott Sofa 02” in high-gloss lacquered American walnut
The “Elsa Liquor Cabinet”, named after designer Elsa Schiaparelli, in high-gloss lacquered American walnut and stainless steel, lined in Loro Piana cashmere, by Studio Akademos
Perriand created two armchairs (the B301 for conversation, the LC2 Grand Confort for relaxation), her small revolving “armchair” the Siège Pivotant, and the B306 chaise longue. Coming full circle, the latter, created from bicycle tubes and covered in pony skin, despite its pared-back appearance, is essentially a hyper-modern, lightweight, de-feminised version of the eighteenth-century “fainting couch”. Such ascetic modernity continued until 1947 when whimsically inclined designer Jean Royère (1902-1981) created the plushly upholstered Ours Polaire (or “polar bear”) sofa for his mother’s exceptionally chic apartment at 234 rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré on the occasion of her redecorating. In line with the biomorphic style prevalent in French post-war design, the Ours Polaire forms one continuous curve, practically eliminating the typical parts and structure of most seating. Whilst unashamedly and unabashedly modern, unlike other designers who were working with new materials and techniques to achieve their organic forms (e.g. Eero Saarinen’s (1910-1961) fibreglass Womb chair (1948), designed at the behest of Florence Knoll (1917-2019) for “a chair like a basket full of pillows”, and Charles (1907–1978) and Ray Eames’ (1912–1988) use of moulded plywood) the Ours Polaire relied on traditional cabinetmaking methods to achieve its novel shape. Indeed photographs of a frame — likely taken in the courtyard of an artisan in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine district — reveal a wooden interior skeleton not dissimilar to those used in Louis XVI sofas. From the mid-nineteen-fifties, as Royère’s style matured, in terms of form and colour, his work became far simpler, resulting in stronger architectural forms and silhouettes. In turn, ornament, which had at first only been given a simple role as an added element, took on another, much more important dimension, no longer playing second fiddle to the “architecture” of a piece of furniture, and instead, making up the form of the object itself. This can be seen to great effect in the designer’s Tour Eiffel (or “Eiffel Tower”) series in which the ornament, in this case, an elegant wrought iron lattice and ball motif, forms tables, stools and lamps.
Whilst veering away from Loos’ austere modernist edict, Royère’s furniture was radical in that it essentially turned traditional notions of “ornament” on its head, creating works that were, in effect, heavily decorative, and yet at the same time, minimal in appearance. In terms of defining shifts, it might be worth finishing with American designer Wendell Castle 1932-2018), who has been described as the unofficial “father of the art furniture movement” — his unique approach, straddling both categories of serviceable furniture and fine art, leaving an indelible mark on the industry and changing the way in which we think about making chairs, tables and other objects. Castle was wholly unconcerned with the idea that a chair had to have four legs, or that a table couldn’t hang from the ceiling, and although, arguably, his unrestricted sculptural furniture emphasized form over function, it in turn allowed for malleability in stylistic genres and materials; merging the detailing of traditional crafts with the engineering of industrial design. Blurring the line between furniture and art, Castle paved the way for what we now take for granted in the contemporary design world. As New York Times critic Joseph Giovannini (b. 1945) noted, when the artist’s furniture appeared in galleries it was seen as “radical in fundamental ways: the visual presence of a piece now outweighed its function, design outweighed technique, and form was more important than material”. Importantly, though, Castle’s best pieces actually work — they’re sturdy, comfortable, and the right height and pitch. The artist once explained that while form is paramount, “the function must be there … a chair which is beautiful but cannot be sat in is nothing.” His inimitable style undoubtedly influenced myriad contemporary designers, such as Paris-based fashion and furniture designer Rick Owens (b. 1962) with his now iconic “Stag” chairs (though I wouldn’t suggest putting them around a dining table). Looking at the ways in which a new generation of designers might approach furniture going forward, we spoke to Aurélien Raymond and Costanza Rossi of Studo Akademos, whose debut collection has been described as the perfect balance between beauty and functionality.
The “Scott Sofa 02” by Studio Akademos in high-gloss American walnut, upholstered in cashmere wool from Loro Piana
TLL: What was it that initially drew you to a career in design?
We founded Studio Akademos during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic which meant we couldn’t work on actual interior design projects since the planet was on hold. Because we were both at home and had plenty of time on our hands, we decided to try and create a furniture collection. Time and freedom gave us the opportunity to really explore exactly what we wanted to do and tell. We deliberately took an entire year to properly develop our concept. It allowed us to go as far as we could in terms of details, designing hinges, a soft close system — even thinking about the noise each piece made when opened.
Your debut furniture collection has been described as the perfect balance between beauty and functionality. The tops of some of your pieces, so to speak, such as the Elsa liquor cabinet and Ira console table consist of a series of opening boxes, and therefore can't be used to display objets d’art or any other such everyday detritus — as would usually be the case with such items. On that basis, do you consider your furniture as stand-alone, in the sense of its being used as a statement piece?
As American architect John Elgin Woolf (1908-1980), one of our biggest sources of inspiration, once said: “You only get one gimmick in a room.” Even though we wouldn’t describe our interiors as minimalist, yes, each piece was designed as stand-alone in the sense that the collection wasn’t designed to coexist altogether at once in the same room. We see each piece as a beautiful object that brings a certain wow factor to an interior. Apart from the console, each piece is quite voluminous as we wanted them to be self-sufficient; their scale prevents them from being buried under piles of books and clutter that could obscure a proper visual reading.
In that regard, American sculptor Wendell Castle blurred the boundaries between art and furniture, paving the way for what we now take for granted in the contemporary design world; but in your opinion, where does the balance lie?
To us, the balance primarily lies in constantly reminding ourselves that each piece in our collection, first and foremost, has to serve a purpose — in that has to remain at the service of the individual using it. We want our furniture to live, not to be seen as static statement pieces that no one really looks at once a spot has been designated for its placement. Art can only play a part up to a certain point. If one looks at the work of masters such as Jean-Henri Riesener (1734-1806), Georges Jacob (1739-1814), André Arbus (1903-1969), Jean-Charles Moreux (1889-1956) and even Jacques Adnet (1900-1984), they all added an artistic dimension to their work but not at the detriment of functionality. We think that the previously mentioned artistic dimension should be kept as a coquetterie. Our customers need to understand why they’re buying a particular piece. We’re not artists, we’re designers, and our first collection was conceived with the idea that each piece could be passed down from one generation to the next; and for that to happen, they need to be useful. That said, we would like to develop a sort of capsule collection through which we would try to do our own blurring of the boundaries between art and furniture.
Stylistically speaking, you say your aesthetic is defined by three universes, namely, 1920s and 30s Café Society, 1970s avant-garde, and finally, a subject we’ve already touched upon, what you describe as being “a perpetual research for practicality in use”. With such diverse influences, do you ever have difficulty ensuring an overall harmonicity in your designs?
Not really. Each project is generally tackled the same way. We identify issues within a space and find solutions in order to give it a more organic flow in terms of use and circulation. That’s what we mean by a perpetual research for practicality in use — which is the core of each project. A client needs to dream and we, as interior designers, have a responsibility to take each client on a visual and imaginary trip to get them hooked on our concept; but the dream part has to be backed by a solid core that will enable the client to envision themselves living in the architectural concept. The era of Café Society and 1970s avant-garde are generally used as stylistic enablers. Our job is not to mimic history and recreate what’s already been done. We’re not creating movie sets for a period picture. We generally use Café Society’s main protagonists as inspiration and, in a way, fantasize about how these people might be living today. So it’s really our very own interpretation of both these eras.
The “Gloria” box by Studio Akademos, named after Gloria Von Thurn und Taxis, in high-gloss lacquered American walnut, lined in Loro Piana cashmere
Aside from furniture design, it’s seemingly an ethos that extends to interiors projects, with your emphasizing the fact that you make a point of “justifying the existence of every single element”. On the face of it this sounds somewhat akin to Adolf Loos’ austerely minimalist aesthetic; but how does such an approach remain relevant in an increasingly fractured world where a good many people are looking for their home to act as something of a warm, relaxing sanctuary from the outside world, of the sort Royère was trying to create in the aftermath of the Second World War?
Justifying the existence of every single element does not mean, in our case, that we went for Le Corbusier’s extreme utilitarian views on architecture. What it really means is that when it comes to interiors, every single objects, pieces of furniture, and even in some cases artworks, have to properly align themselves with the initial story-telling we sold our client. For example, the last residential project we finished is located in a 1936 late Art Deco building which directly echoes the era of Café Society. Because the apartment had undergone so many modifications through the years, we decided to reintroduce some Art Deco architectural details. Since the glamour of the late 1970s is also part of our main aesthetic, we strove to create architectural details that fit both eras in terms of shape and materials.
For example, the entrance to the living room is a grand arch made of glossy black lacquer, as are the baseboards in the hall and both reception rooms. These were elements used during both eras. Then the headboard and nightstands in the master bedroom present an Art Deco-inspired design but are made of stainless steel, which was a popular material during the 1970s. In terms of free-standing furniture, pieces by Maria Pergay (b. 1930), as well as Maisons Jansen, Baguès and Charles, were used in order to fit the 1970s part of the story-telling — but we also went for a large 1920s ebony sideboard for the hall as well as a 1930s armchair. Every element, whether architecture or furnishings, has something to say about both eras and they all coexist through the main theme which is centred around receptions and parties.
There are a plethora of furniture designers entering the market as people en-masse become ever more interiors savvy, and look to invest in well-made design-led furniture. Your collection is clearly aimed at the luxury sector, but would you ever have any interest in designing pieces for the mass market?
Even though our collection has indeed been designed for a specific type of clientele, we do not wish to completely zone the mass market out altogether. Given the current climate challenges we’re all facing, if we were to design something for the mass market it would have to be done in an eco-conscious way. As designers, we have a responsibility to find ways to create without this pattern that pretty much consists in outsourcing all kinds of materials all around the globe. These high carbon footprint materials no longer have a legitimate reason for being, at least if they are to be used for the mass market. Also, what kind of mass market are we talking about; European, American, Asian or global? We’re still trying to figure this question out and are in no hurry as we insist on doing things right whether it’s for us or for the environment.
There’s an increasing tendency for magazines to focus on editorial and eye-catching interiors, employing statement pieces of furniture, for example, the Pierre Augustin Rose Multilaque coffee table, or Yovanovitch Papa Bear chair. As a result, we’re seeing a number of such works copied by designers whose clients can’t afford originals, or by unscrupulous retailers trying to cash in on the desire for trend-driven interiors. Do you worry about the way in which such a phenomenon might impact up-and-coming designers such as yourselves?
We do worry about this, but there’s sadly very little one can do about it. Throughout humankind’s history copies have always existed — it’s not just a recent issue. Also, being up-and-coming, for now, we can’t finance patents. Design, just like history, eternally repeats itself and nothing is created but transformed. Every single designer has been inspired by another’s work, so hardly anyone can claim their work is original. The only reassurance we currently have is that we’re not famous enough to be copied. Retailers and other designers copy pieces made by famous and coveted designers. Let’s go back to that question in five years!
The “Scott Sofa 02” by Studio Akademos in high-gloss American walnut, upholstered in cashmere wool from Loro Piana
Who are your favourite twentieth-century designers?
First and foremost Jacques Adnet (1900-1984) who famously said, “La question n’est pas seulement de faire des choses utiles, mais de satisfaire les yeux puis l’âme”, which roughly translates as, the question isn’t only to produce useful things, but to satisfy one’s eyes and one’s soul. We love this quote as it perfectly represents what we strive to do as designers, which is, through usefulness and practicality, to generate beauty and imagine designs that would touch someone’s soul. People seem to have forgotten the part beauty plays in most architectural undertakings. Then there’s David Hicks (1929-1998), and in particular, the way he used clashing colours and fabrics in his designs. We strive to include elements in our interiors that Pop and play with the limit between bon goût and kitsch. We even refer to our style as “kitsch chic”, as it allows us to play with classical codes and push them to wherever we want them to go. Since a lot of our stylistic identity is based on the world of parties and receptions, Maria Pergay is another source of inspiration; especially her collection of objets — varying from cigaret boxes to champagne buckets, to ashtrays, to other cocktail accessories. And finally, although he’s not a designer in the literal sense of the term, American architect John Elgin Woolf (1908-1980). What’s more, he’s part of the whole Hollywood Regency era which is an aesthetic we particularly cherish.
In an ever-changing world, what would you say is the biggest problem facing today’s designers, and indeed for that matter, the industry en masse?
We think that the industry as it exists today no longer possesses a viable future. The planet is clearly showing, day after day, that it simply cannot provide the way we’ve wanted it to provide for so many decades. Designers now have a very important role in order to rethink how we produce and buy furniture as well as how we create interiors. We have to realise that we’re also part of the problem and that we have a huge opportunity to be part of the solution. What does luxury now mean? How do we create luxurious furniture or interiors that can also be environmentally friendly? Where does it begin? In the same way we look at where our food comes from and how it was grown or bred, we have to start looking at where materials come from and in what conditions they were extracted or harvested etc. It might mean having to cut back on or simply abandon certain products. Our furniture is handmade in Northern Italy, and the materials come from local producers; meaning there’s a relatively low carbon footprint. The main issue is shipping a piece to the US or Asia, which is something we’re working on. Let’s also not forget that our specific field which is destined for a particular market — high-end furniture and interior design — is a luxury and not a necessity. If we wish to still have a reason for being, we need to get with the program. It’s as simple as that.
What’s your favourite work of art?
Aurélien: Le cercle de la Rue Royale (1868) by James Tissot (1836-1902). I’m drawn to the period of the second half of the nineteenth century in France and especially the Second Empire. What I particularly liked about this painting when I saw it for the first time at Musée d’Orsay was its realism. It’s almost like a photograph, taken spontaneously, where none of the sitters are looking directly at the camera, as if they’re unaware a picture is being taken. At second glance, I found myself taken by a feeling of relaxation — no one is speaking, but they still seem to enjoy each other’s company, comfortable enough to let themselves get lost in their own thoughts. One can almost feel a light breeze and the silence of the Place de la Concorde beneath the terrace on which they’re standing. To me, it’s a very poetic depiction of pure idleness.
Costanza: It’s very difficult for me to identify one particular work of art or design for the simple reason that I love too many things! Being quite fond of the late Italian Renaissance and Mannerist periods, I’ll go for The Carmignano Visitation (c. 1528-1530) by Pontormo (1494-1557) in the propositura dei Santi Michele e Francesco in Carmignano. I still remember the day I stumbled upon this painting: I was travelling around Tuscany with my parents — from whom I inherited my passion for the Italian Renaissance. There was barely anyone around and as we walked through the door to the church, we saw the painting on our right, emerging from the shadow; the building’s atmosphere was reflected in the picture — suspended in time, melancholic and spiritual. I was very impressed by the extremely dense, bold colours used for the four main characters — all female — as well as their dramatic silhouette. What I also love about the painting is its contemporaneity — the volumes and the texture of the garments look almost like a Valentino Haute Couture collection.
On a more personal level, what was the first important piece of art you ever owned?
Aurélien: My paternal grandparents have been collecting paintings by Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947) and Henri Fantin-Latour (1836-1904) for several decades now, and I’m lucky enough to be the future custodian of one of them. Even though I don’t exactly own it at the moment, what attracted me to the piece in question was the use of rich and vivid colours. It always brings me back to childhood memories of summer lunches in the garden, the noise of grasshoppers, and the delicious taste of fresh peaches and apricots.
Costanza: A painting by German artist Marlon Wobst (b. 1980), the first piece of art I’ve ever purchased, with my husband, for our apartment in Paris. Hopefully the first of many! The idea is to gather, step by step, a collection of works by young artists, that we discover during our life together. We first saw the artist’s work during an exhibition at Maria Lund Gallery in the Marais. What I instantly liked about Wobst’s work was his unconventional point of view and his subtle humour. He paints seemingly everyday scenes, but the situation is elevated. What drew us to this painting was the bold deep blue shades of the sea — or a sky — in which three little characters, “swimmers”, appear to be lost.
And in an ideal world, which artists would you collect if you could?
Aurélien: I would definitely choose Bernard Boutet de Monvel (1881-1949). His painting representing the Maharajah of Indore as well as his self-portrait are my two absolute favourite works. These paintings are both realistic and surrealist at the same time. To me, he’s a sort of neo-Giovanni Boldini (1842-1931) in that he tends to present — the exception being the Maharajah — his models from a three-quarter view so as to exaggerate some features such as necklines and shoulders. There’s always a certain degree of sensuality expressed through his work.
Costanza: Jewellery by Salvador Dalí (1904-1989). He’s mostly known for his paintings and architecture but, between 1941 and 1970, he collaborated with some of the most skilled jewellers of the day to give birth to his intricate designs. More than jewels, they’re crafted visions. Some of them were even mechanical — the most striking ion which, to my mind, is a diamond-encrusted flower whose petals open and close. I like the idea of collecting an object that is completely opposed to what I design day to day, a little folie in an otherwise balanced interior atmosphere. Moreover, after being expelled from the Surrealist movement, Dalí managed to reinvent himself and collaborated with different artists in other fields such as sculpture, fashion design, advertising and photography which make him, to me, one of the most versatile artists of the twentieth century.
An object you would never part with?
Aurélien: A seventeenth-century coloured print that was offered by the Pope to my maternal grandparents on their wedding day. I spent a good portion of my childhood getting lost in the different scenes depicted, and now that I have it, I still, sometimes, get lost in it.
Costanza: A nineteenth-century French liquor cabinet with marquetry work which belonged to my grandfather. It’s one of the objet désuet that inspired our first collection.
What was the last thing you bought and loved?
Aurélien: A book on Jean-Charles Moreux (1889-1956). I discovered his landscaping work which, for some reason, I’d been completely oblivious to in the past. I absolutely adore his approach and the way he used unconventional materials such as mirrors for his exteriors.
Costanza: A Maurice Dufrêne (1876-1955) for La Maison Moderne polished brass table lamp. Even though he’s mostly known for his Art Deco lines, this object seems to be inspired by a surrealistic painting. It perfectly suits the deep high gloss blue of my sitting room.
What would you like to own that you currently don’t possess?
Aurélien: A manor house in Scotland. My ultimate dream, one day, is to permanently move to Scotland, surrounded by animals, where I can practice my second passion — after architecture — landscaping.
Costanza: I can’t think about one thing in particular. I can enjoy a piece of art, or design, without the need to possess it. Contemplating, not owning, is a form to process art and it’s what defines beauty to me.
What’s the best gift you’ve been given?
Aurélien: The complete set of original plans and elevations to my maternal grandparents’ Hôtel Particulier; it was one of my favourite family homes and my dream project as a future architect — but unfortunately, it was sold five years ago. I’ve had them framed and hung in my apartment, and now, whenever I look at them, each window, each door and each room brings back all these amazing childhood memories. To this day, I still fantasise about what I would do to this house as an architect if I were its custodian.
Costanza: A 1970s chair by Maison Roméo that Aurélien offered me as a cadeaux de naissance after my daughter’s birth. Custom would normally lead people toward offering a gift related to the baby — so his little break in tradition by choosing me meant the world.
What’s your biggest extravagance?
Aurélien: A 1940’s Serge Roche (1898-1988) plaster column. It’s also one of the best purchases I’ve made. As a child, I would watch The Broadway Melody Ballet — starring Gene Kelly (1912-1996) and the magnificent Cyd Charisse (1922-2008) — over and over and this column reminds me of the props used on set. Every time I look at it, I’m reminded of those happy memories.
Costanza : Rather than my biggest extravagance to date, I have a huge unfulfilled dream to design a discotheque like those legendary ones from the 1970s — a metal-covered floor, velvet seats and walls covered completely in mirrors. I like the idea of playing with the subtle limits between chic and kitsch.
What’s your biggest regret?
Aurélien: Being way too impatient and not focusing enough on the present.
Costanza: Doing too many things at the same time, in life as well as work. Although it’s stimulating to have so many different projects, sometimes I wish I could take the time to focus on one or two in particular in order to enjoy the process — especially the concept and preliminary steps.
The site that most inspires you?
Aurélien: The John Ferraro office building that houses the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. It’s surrounded by a raised, cantilevered moat and seems to be floating above the water. I’ve always admired the sheer monumentality of the building’s shape and size, which at the same time remains light and transparent. It rather proudly announces its intention and design as an all-electric facility when illuminated at night, shining like some sort of a lantern for everyone to see, especially from the nearby highway. The concrete floor slabs extend beyond the ribbon windows, which in turn, become invisible — serving to accentuate the horizontal planes. It really is a modern masterpiece!
Costanza: The Gypsotheca – Museo Canova, a true architectural gem in Possagno and Antonio Canova’s (1757-1822) birthplace. It’s divided into two buildings: one designed by architect Francesco Lazzari (1791-1891) in the nineteenth century, and the other by Carlo Scarpa (1906-1978) around 1957. It’s interesting to see how the space was interpreted at two different times. In Lazzari’s version, the works are arranged as if we are inside an artist’s atelier, the atmosphere monumental, composed and evocative, very similar to the Tribuna of Palazzo Grimani. Scarpa, instead, defines a new idea of museum set-up — fluid, essential and dominated by natural light that comes from cut-out volumes and bright walls. As with most of Scarpa’s interventions, the space is the result of a perfect balance between tradition and contemporary architectural language.
The “Ira Console” by Studio Akademos, named after Princess Ira Von Fürstemberg, in high-gloss lacquered American walnut and stainless steel, lined in Loro Piana cashmere
Where’s the most unforgettable place you’ve travelled?
Aurélien: Even though it’s hard to narrow my choice to one place, I’d have to pick the city of Edinburgh in Scotland. Up until I was 16 years old, my family owned a hunting estate in the Highlands. It was acquired by my great-great-great grandfather at the end of the nineteenth century, and so Scotland has always played a big part in my life; whenever we’d go there, we’d always spend a few days in Edinburgh prior to going up north. Visually speaking, it’s an extremely powerful city thanks, in part, to its monuments and urban planning, but especially its topography. Standing on the North Bridge is an amazing experience through which one can really grasp the millefeuille-esque urban fabric of the city. The blackened granite of the buildings’ facades, the grand urban perspectives and the New Town neighbourhood, which together all contribute confer to Edinburgh a place among Europe’s most beautiful cities. In particular, I would recommend visiting the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, the Palace of Holyroodhouse and the Writers’ Museum, as well as strolls through Dean Village and Greyfriars Kirkyard. Hiking up Calton Hill is also an incredible experience. And if in the mood to venture outside the city, Gosford House, Dalmeny House and Hopetoun House are three marvellous and quite easy-to-reach stately homes.
Costanza: My husband and I have been travelling quite a lot in the past few years and though it’s difficult to pick one place, in particular, I would have to say Saint Petersburg in Russia. Founded in 1703 by Tsar Peter the Great as Russia’s Window to the West, St Petersburg is, to me, an extraordinary example of architectural diversity: Petrine Baroque, Elizabethan Rococo, Catherine Classicism, Alexandrian Empire, Soviet Neoclassicism all coexist and produce a sort of European-Russian hybrid. The Shuvalov Palace, which houses an incredible Fabergé collection, the Neo-gothic Russian Orthodox Chesme church, built by the Russian court architect Yuri Felten (1730-1801) at the direction of Catherine the Great (1729-1796), and the neoclassical General Staff Building designed by Carlo Rossi (1775-1849) in the Empire style — which, renovated by Studio 44, houses an incredible collection of twentieth-century art — are all unmissable.
Where would you like to go next?
Aurélien: I have, for quite some time now, dreamed to do a road trip across the UK in order to visit as many stately homes as I can; Blenheim Palace, Chatsworth House, Castle Howard, Holkham Hall, Lyme Park, Wentworth Woodhouse, Waddesdon Manor, Ickworth and Longleat House are all on the bucket list.
Costanza: One of my dream destinations would be California. Besides L.A. of course, my tour would undoubtedly include Palm Springs, in order to dive into desert modernism and be transported back to the Golden Age of Hollywood. I would love to visit the famous Sunnylands by Quincy Jones (1913-1979) and try to see, even if only from the exterior, the iconic Kaufmann House by Richard Neutra (1892-1970) — one of my favourite architects. The road trip would continue to San Diego to see the Salk Institute by Louis Kahn (1901-1974) and the Geisel Library by William Pereira (1909-1985).
What’s the best souvenir you’ve bought home?
Aurélien: A small planter that I converted into a pen pot. I bought it during a road trip across the US at Frank Lloyd Wright’s (1867-1959) Taliesin West House in Scottsdale, Arizona. Its square-shaped sides are based on the textile blocks of the 1923 Mabel and Charles Ennis House in Los Angeles. It was one of the best trips I’ve ever had and so every time I look at it, I’m reminded of this very happy moment in my life.
Costanza: A nineteenth-century Mongolian carved silver incense burner. I bought it from a nomad woman that invited me to her Yurt in the Gobi desert. Before buying it, I remember meeting the whole family and playing with her kids as a moment of extreme tenderness. Mongolia was definitely one of the most adventurous and exotic road trips I’ve ever done.
Tell us about a recent “find”?
Aurélien: The eighteenth century Château de Fonscolombe near Aix-en-Provence. It was the seat of the Marquis de Fonscolombes for three hundred years before becoming a high-end boutique hotel. The grounds are exquisite, and great for a romantic stroll before apéritif!
Costanza: Rome’s Centrale Montemartini — an extraordinary example of the conversion of an industrial structure, the city’s first public power plant, into an archaeological museum, displaying sculptures and artefacts from the Capitoline Museums’ collections.
If you didn’t live in Paris, where would you live?
Aurélien: If I moved from Paris, it would have to be a place completely different on all levels, and so I think it would be Los Angeles. People often fear or criticize the city for its size — but that’s actually one of the many things that appeals to me. I particularly love the Beverly Hills Hotel, Galerie Half on Melrose, the Sheats-Goldstein Residence by John Lautner (1911-1994) and the Bellosguardo Foundation in Santa Barbara.
Costanza: I can’t imagine myself anywhere else. Paris, more than ever now, feels like home. The beauty of its architecture, the history, the opportunities to explore art, the mixité and the food are the main reasons — I feel like a true European citizen.
What’s your favourite room in your apartment?
Aurélien: After my great-grandfather’s death, my great-grandmother no longer wished to live in the main house and so spent the last twenty years of her life in hotels — six months of the year at Le Bristol in Paris and the remaining six in hotels across the south of France, Switzerland and the French Alps. After visiting her as a kid, I always fantasised about living in a hotel room — so I designed my bedroom to look like one. Within one space I’ve managed to incorporate a bedroom, living room and office. This is also the room where I keep all my favourite furniture, which makes it very eclectic. The nightstands are 1920s Italian, the bedside lamps are Maison Charles, there’s a 1970s chrome and glass coffee table and a Louis XV bureau plat that once belonged to my great-grandfather.
Costanza: My living room. I’ve designed it with Aurélien to be our signature space for receiving guests and entertaining friends. It’s visually separated by two made-to-measure mahogany cabinets into a dining space and lounge area — which offers different opportunities to enjoy the space. The high gloss surfaces combined with velvet and metal make this espace de reception as glamorous as those from the legendary Café Society period!
What’s the best book you’ve read in the past year?
Aurélien: L'esprit de la Ve République (2017) by Philippe Raynaud (b. 1952). Our current regime was entirely designed by former President Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970) in 1958 as he felt the French President should have more power in order to get things done more quickly. De Gaulle was a firm believer that France was never meant to be a Republic and even considered for several years placing a Bourbon back on the French throne. In the meantime, he made sure the President of the Republic became a King-like figure and even contemplated moving the Presidency from the Élysée Palace to Château de Vincennes — a former royal residence on the outskirts of Paris. Though his plans never came to fruition, he implemented a strict and Ancien Régime-like — protocol within the Élysée Palace through which he would appear as the central, most important figure. This book tackles the many issues and paradoxes related to our present political regime. Both the Presidency and the Government are criticized on a daily basis for being totally disconnected from the realities France faces today, and the media enjoys pointing out the luxurious conditions in which the President lives. Meanwhile, at the same time, the French have proven — especially under François Hollande’s term — that they do not wish for their President to lead a normal life and would rather see him as this King-like figure each President under the Fifth Republic has tried to maintain.
Costanza: White Night (1848) by Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821-1881). It’s a short story about a young man called the dreamer who lives a life completely estranged from the world around him. During one of his long walks around the city of Saint Petersburg, he gets to know a young woman, Nastenka, who with her irresistible enthusiasm, manages to make him appreciate what life has to offer. “Good Lord, only a moment of bliss? Isn’t such a moment sufficient for the whole of a man’s life?” is one of my favourite quotes from this book and, at the same time, a good reminder to make the most of every day. Saint Petersburg is the background to the whole love story, which takes place over four nights in the summertime. The city feels deserted — suspended in time — and both the buildings and the Neva River intertwine with the narrator’s lonely existence. I fell in love with this image of Saint Petersburg, romantic and decadent, before visiting the city for the first time, through the eyes of Dostoevsky.
What would you do if you didn’t work in design?
Aurélien: Absolutely no idea. I never really thought of myself as something other than an architect. Architecture has been my true passion for as long as I can remember. So much so that I used to force my grandmother to take me to Paris to walk down as many streets as possible so I could look at all the details the wonderful Parisian facades. I remember one night, when we were heading back home from dinner, driving along Avenue Henri Martin in the sixteenth arrondissement — I was about nine years old and literally begged her to stop the car so I could get out and peek inside a building that had particularly caught my interest.
Costanza : Certainly something related to the visual arts. When I decided to move to Venice after graduating high school, I only had one wish: to be surrounded by beauty. I had no idea what it would lead to, I just let myself go with the flow. Eventually, studying architecture gave me the chance to understand, analyze, preserve and, I hope, create beauty.
What ambition do you still have?
Studio Akademos officially launched a year and a half ago and so it’s fair to say we’re still at quite an early stage in our careers. As such, we’ve got nothing but ambitions. We’re very proud already, in our short existence, to have been able to create, produce and distribute a furniture collection that really represents us and in parallel, to have already finished two residential projects where we pretty much had carte blanche in terms of design and styling. Our main ambition, of course, is to take Studio Akademos as far as we can. A company is a life project and we’re thrilled to have embarked on this journey.
What’s the greatest challenge of our time?
The greatest challenge of our time would the same challenge we are all facing, no matter the industry in which one works, namely climate. We, as interior designers and designers, have to keep in mind that creating the way our predecessors have, no longer holds a legitimate reason for being.
What’s next?
We can’t say much about it at the moment as we’re contractually obliged to keep quiet — but we’re working on a set of three apartments in the Marais in Paris. The client is very passionate about architecture in all its forms and has given us carte blanche. We’re in total sync concerning concepts — and being immediately understood and supported by a client is every interior designer’s dream. We’re also finishing an apartment in the ninth arrondissement that we’ll shoot at the end of September — and we’re very excited to see the finished result!