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

I founded NV Studio in 2022, as a way to explore and express my fascination with the vernacular crafts of my country of origin. This interest began during my time as an architect, where I often felt restricted by the limits imposed by the field, both in terms of expression possibilities and the slowness of the process. Furniture design became a more immediate way to experiment, and eventually bring some of my ideas to life, to create tangible pieces that are functional, but also carry a symbolic meaning, continuing the traditions of craftsmanship that are so dear to me.

We love that your work spans both traditional making and digital design. How does this play into the ritual of designing/making work?

My work typically begins by exploring a craft to understand its possibilities and limitations, with the aim to push the boundary of how or where it is traditionally used. In the Liquid Stone series, I was drawn to how a primitive technique like Tadelakt could elevate something made digitally: One of the drawbacks of digitally produced objects is their cold, machine-made aesthetic, which often lacks the depth and imperfections of handmade work. By applying a plaster finish, we effectively enhance the resolution of the piece, smoothing the edges beyond what machines can achieve and adding the quirks and imperfections only possible through the involvement of the human hand.

We know you did an apprenticeship in Morocco where you learned more about tadelakt plaster making. Can you tell us a little bit about this material and its significance (both in the world of architecture and in your practice)?

During the pandemic, I spent an extended period in Morocco, which gave me the chance to dive into my growing interest in vernacular crafts. I explored many, but Tadelakt was the main material I focused on. I apprenticed with an artisan for a few weeks, learning the basics and gaining the confidence to continue experimenting on my own. After returning to LA, I spent over six months refining my techniques before becoming more ambitious with the size and shape of my pieces, going from small vessels to larger sculptural pieces.

Tadelakt appealed to me for many reasons, one of which is that it's a material that demands one's complete focus—it's applied in one go, and you must feel the material's consistency, smell and color as it dries, to perfectly time the successive layers of polishing and avoid cracks. 

Tadelakt also holds a particular significance for me. While 6,000 miles away from home, it felt comforting and connecting to reproduce the same gestures my ancestors used over 3,000 years ago, but in a way that creates entirely new forms for contemporary uses.

You’ve talked to us about the inherent challenges of using some of the materials that you do, and how you’ve come up with solutions to create pieces that are beautifully designed and honor traditional techniques but are still functional and long-lasting. Can you tell us more about how you worked through those challenges?

In the beginning, I focused on small items to refine both the substrate and the final Tadelakt finish. The wooden substrate, which supports the plaster, needed to be strong yet lightweight which required substantial experimentation. I also had to improve the traditional Tadelakt lime plaster, adding different aggregates, to make it much more resistant than the version typically used on walls or bathroom vanities. While Tadelakt is still a plaster finish, and needs protection from heavy impacts, once set, it becomes extremely durable and perfectly well-suited for everyday use, and the level of wear and tear that a piece of furniture would be subject to.

The forms of your pieces are both very organic and very contemporary. What inspires your initial drawings / ideas when it comes to form?

While my design process can be very conceptual and ideas-based, especially in architectural projects, it was actually very intuitive for these pieces. They were all sculpted digitally, almost as if working with clay, adjusting the shapes until they felt right. 

From there, each piece was further developed as it materialized into a physical object, both in rational ways improving its balance and stability, but also in spontaneous ways through the hand building process giving each piece its own unique character.

How does your training in architecture affect the way you approach designing objects? Is there an inherent idea of where these objects will live in their final home before you begin making?

My interest in vernacular crafts stems from a sort of uneasiness with the cookie-cutter, straight-edged, machine-made aesthetic that's so prevalent in our culture and especially in architecture today. 

In a way, it’s a rebellion against our obsession with right angles. As such, I would like my objects to challenge that rigidity by bringing a sense of playfulness, sensuality, and human imperfection into the spaces they inhabit. 

What’s next for you? 

I plan to continue exploring more vernacular crafts, particularly those with personal symbolic value, and seek new ways to apply and express them in my work. Expanding into new forms and pushing the boundaries of these traditional techniques is what I'm most excited about.