Tell us about your practice and how you came to making?

My introduction to design and making began while I was studying architecture. Although I’ve since shifted fields, my architectural education gave me a set of conceptual tools that still shape how I think and work today.

After graduating, I joined a design studio in Beirut, where I got to work on a series of functional yet sculptural pieces across different scales and materials. One of the best parts of the job was getting to go to different factories and collaborating with fabricators to bring the work to life. I started working closely with the master stone mason leading one of the projects, but my role was limited to the design side, since I had no practical training in stonework. Seeing how the pieces were being made sparked a deeper interest, and not long after, I began an informal apprenticeship, immersing myself in the making process.

Learning how to make and execute my own work completely shifted my approach to design. It gave me a much deeper understanding of materials and processes, and that hands-on knowledge continues to inform my designs.

What led you to begin working with stone, and how did you develop your particular approach to the material?

Doing the stonework apprenticeship and having the chance to make my own pieces was a huge turning point for me professionally. After relocating to the United States, I wanted to continue learning and making but I didn’t have access to the same tools, materials and guidance as I did in a factory setting.

In Beirut, stone is an important part of the built environment, so it’s a lot more available and accessible as a material compared to the US. Feeling like I found my niche in stonework and wanting to practice my craft, I had to adjust to more limited resources. I started looking for alternative ways to source material and began collecting slab offcuts from local countertop fabricators. These offcuts came in all shapes and sizes, and I had to find a way to work with what I had. Embracing the remnant, I began treating the unique qualities of each piece as guiding parameters for my design and making process.

Pictured: Ruffle Side Table

Do you have a ritual when it comes to making/designing work?

I usually begin with the material, sourcing and selecting remnants based on a general idea of what I want to create. I choose the remnant depending on specific characteristics, like shape, thickness, veining, and color, and then develop a drawing that works for it. My base drawings are often inspired by baking and pastry designs, and sometimes I’ll make small plaster models using piping tips to use as references for creating the cream-like forms.

While the drawing sets the general size and form of each piece, I always leave space for adjustments and improvisation during the making process. This flexibility is important when working with stone, there needs to be a give and take, because often the material is guiding the work.

You work with a material often associated with rigidity and weight, yet your pieces feel fluid and light. How do you bring softness and movement into your forms, both conceptually and practically?

Stone is a material that can accommodate an incredible range of textures, and when it’s carefully worked, it can give the impression of lightness. We see this in nature, from the rough, broken edges to the smooth eroded surfaces that shape our landscapes.

This quality is what first drew me to create these organic, cream-like forms. Being part of that material transformation, sculpting soft forms out of hard and rigid materials, is something I still find intriguing with every piece I make.

When selecting remnants, I usually work with marble since it’s naturally easier to manipulate compared to other stone types like granite or quartzite. And while I love introducing color, I’m always careful with the hues and veining I choose for my pieces. I often find myself going for reclaimed Carrara marble, the neutral tones and subtle veining complement the carved forms rather than competing with them.

But the key to drawing out the softness of marble, is the detailing and finishing of the piece. I dedicate as much time as I possibly can to refining each piece because this is really where the marble begins to soften.

Working with a natural material comes with inherent constraints. What challenges arise when considering its weight, fragility, availability and cost, and how do these constraints shape your process?

Using stone remnants means working with what’s available, each piece is unique, which creates one-of-a-kind work but limits repeatability. My material choices are generally influenced by availability, shifts in interior trends and changing prices.

When designing my pieces, I work within the limitations of the remnants. These offcuts come from precut slabs, usually just a few inches thick, so I use a lamination technique to layer the slabs and build depth. While doing this, I also need to consider the size and weight of the pieces, since I’m handling most of the work on my own. When tackling larger pieces, like side tables, I build them in parts and incorporate hardware so that I can assemble and dissemble them when I need to. This makes the handling and shipping the pieces manageable, as I’m essentially flat packing my pieces.

There’s significant material waste in both the building and furniture industries. Was reuse something you were consciously considering when developing your collection, which uses remnant stone?

Stonework is largely tied to architectural applications, and the fabrication process often produces an excess of offcuts that hold limited material value to fabricators. Working directly with these factories, I’m able to reclaim readily available remnants otherwise destined to be discarded. The cuts I work with are largely determined by the original decisions of the fabricator and their clients, and this material exchange turns into a kind of dialogue between our practices.

I enjoy the problem-solving aspect of working with these remnants. These limitations push me to find inventive solutions and help reduce decision fatigue, which can sometimes be overwhelming. The irregular shapes of the remnants naturally lend themselves to the organic forms I create, making it easy to adapt my designs to fit these materials and minimize waste. What began as a practical necessity quickly became an integral part of my practice.

Pictured: Double Cream Vase

Is there anything you’ve dreamed of making, but haven’t yet?

I had access to a ceramic studio while I was completing my MFA, and during this time I developed glazes from fired stone remnants. I was trying to explore alternative ways to use and transform remnants beyond traditional stonework.

While I was successful in making glaze samples, I didn’t get the chance to push this further. I would love to keep developing these glazes and eventually incorporate them into full-scale pieces, integrating them into my stonework.

What’s next for you?

I would like to eventually work on a larger scale, creating bigger furniture pieces like coffee or console tables. I’m gradually building up my inventory of larger sized remnants in preparation for a project like this.