Search this site

May 14, 2026 | Art & Culture WAITING to be a FLOWER UNDERNEATH the FIG TREE words Goksen Bugra photos Gokhan Tanrıover This week at Photo London, Istanbul-based gallery Bosfor presents a solo exhibition by photographer Gokhan Tanrıover: Waiting to be a Flower Underneath the Fig Tree. Moving between memory, myth and inherited stories, the series traces the artist’s connection to a small village on the Turkish Aegean coast through analogue photography and darkroom printing. Ahead of the presentation, we spoke with Tanrıover about memory, belonging and the slow rituals of analogue photography. This year you’ll be taking part in Photo London with Bosfor, with a solo presentation. Could you tell us a little about the series Waiting to be a Flower Underneath the Fig Tree, which you’ll be showing there? Three of my grandparents were born in a small village on the Turkish Aegean coast, scented with fig trees and the salt of the sea, edged by tides and dotted with the empty stone houses of long-abandoned villages. It is a place I never lived in, only visited; a place that now exists for me mostly through stories: histories that shift each time they are told, half-remembered anecdotes, hyperbole, things that may or may not have happened. “Waiting to be a Flower Underneath the Fig Tree” began as a way to step into that landscape and make work from inside it. Visually, the series moves between the village and what surrounds it: empty stone houses softened by figs growing through their walls, the saline light of the coast, fragments of figures, quieter still lifes built around objects I came across or carried with me. Some images began on long walks through abandoned settlements; others were arranged later, more deliberately, once a story had stayed with me long enough to take form. I returned again and again with my medium-format camera and treated the territory as a stage, wandering through it as a partial outsider, anchored only by familial bonds, retelling the stories that surfaced as I walked. The work hinges between fact and fiction, lived history and inherited stories, brushed by myth: the rebirth of Narcissus, the slow demise of Echo. The fig tree threads through all of this. Its flower hides inside the fruit, which felt like a fitting image for a place that exists for me through what was withheld and what was passed on in fragments. Back in the darkroom, the prints add another layer of subjectivity over an already malleable narrative. What I’m constructing, piece by piece, is a new visual family archive. One that doesn’t claim to be true, but tries to be honest. I TRAVELLED TO THE VILLAGE WHERE THESE STORIES TOOK PLACE AND ENTERED AN INTENSE PERIOD OF MAKING WORK In this series, how did family stories and oral narratives become a starting point for you? The stories were always there, long before I thought of making work from them. Growing up, family gatherings would inevitably circle back to the village, and someone would begin telling a story that everyone had heard before but that nobody ever told the same way twice. Details would shift. New characters would appear. I never knew which parts were true, and after a while I stopped trying to separate fact from embellishment, because the telling itself was the point. In some ways, this project grew out of an earlier body of work, Confessionals, where I used my own childhood memories as material. There was a delay of several years while I pursued my master’s and my practice-based research took me elsewhere. But when I relocated to Madrid from London, leaving behind the city where I had lived most of my life, I felt a sharp pang of nostalgia for the idea of home and what it means to me. The village came back into focus. What pulled me there with urgency was the realisation that my grandmother, the last gatekeeper of these stories, was losing her hold on them. Her dementia was advancing, and the tales I had grown up with, tales in which my ancestors took on the roles of almost legendary characters, were beginning to dissolve. I travelled to the village where these tales took place and spent an intensive period making new work in a way that was entirely new to me. I walked through the landscape looking for physical traces of the stories — the wells, the stone walls, the overgrown paths — and waited for certain ones to find their form. The photograph of the well came together only after several visits, when I finally stood before one whose depth was barely perceptible, holding nothing but dust and the sediment of old wishes. How has living between Izmir, London, Madrid, and now Barcelona shaped your sense of belonging? I was born in Izmir and moved to London twice, first as a toddler and then again at the age of ten. I also spent several years in Istanbul early on. Growing up between English and Turkish, I often wasn’t sure which language truly felt like my first. Even now, calling either one my mother tongue feels too definitive, as I’ve never felt fully tied to a single geography or identity. That complicated relationship with language has followed me everywhere. After spending most of my life in London, I moved to Madrid and later to Barcelona, where Catalan became yet another language shaping daily life. I now speak three languages, all with accents of varying strength, which means I’m constantly asked where I’m really from. Over time, I’ve realised my sense of belonging has less to do with geography and more to do with the spaces I build for myself — spaces I allow only a select few into. IT WAS ONLY DURING MEDICAL SCHOOL THAT THINGS BEGAN TO CRACK OPEN How did your transition from medical training—something that takes a long time and a great deal of effort—into photographic art unfold? What did that turning point change in your life? I think there is a quiet violence in choosing a career as a teenager and being expected to build a life around it. I was good at science, and in the environment I grew up in that was enough to set a direction. Medicine was the obvious path: it was respected, demanding, and rewarded the kind of discipline I had. What I could name, even then, was that I loved to draw. But in my family, as in many others, the arts were never presented as something you could truly make a living from. It was only during medical school that things began to crack open. I started working with artists and photographers, not behind the camera but in front of it, modelling for life drawing classes, taking part in performances, lending my body to other people’s projects. I was fascinated by the decisions they were making, the way they constructed an image or a gesture, and over time I found myself wanting to be the one making those decisions rather than simply being shaped by them. I bought a camera. I photographed compulsively, without method, which is almost unrecognisable from the way I work now. The decision to leave medicine was not gradual; it was sharp, almost impulsive, though I think it had been building beneath the surface for a long time. I didn’t want to keep treating photography as an escape from a life that left me anxious and depleted. I wanted it to become the life itself. Once I made that shift, photography stopped being the place I fled to and became the place I live in.

August 11, 2026 | Travel | Vol 9 BORGO GALLANA words Alp Tekin photos Salva Lopez Does the desire to leave eventually turn into a longing to return? If you were born and raised in Puglia, the answer is probably yes! Giuseppe De Vanna’s life is the perfect example. Born in this enchanting region, Giuseppe moved to Milan at 18, driven by dreams of discovery and a desire to explore the world. But as he puts it: “Life, like nature, is cyclical. The urge to leave transforms into the urge to come back. The best moments of my life are tied to Puglia—the return to family, summers by the sea, the unique light of the region, the olive trees, and the sound of cicadas.” Today, Giuseppe runs Borgo Gallana, a boutique hotel nestled among olive trees in the countryside of Oria, one of Puglia’s oldest historic towns. A CELEBRATION OF SIMPLICITY Borgo Gallana consists of three traditional stone houses, which Giuseppe describes as “the embodiment of my memories, my happy place, my mother’s beloved Puglia, and my grandmother’s humble Puglia.” To achieve this authenticity, he collaborated with Studio Andrew Trotter for the design. “Andrew brought Puglia’s simplicity to life by working with local materials, artisans, and traditional building techniques,” Giuseppe explains. A GARDEN DEDICATED TO THE MEDITERRANEAN ECOSYSTEM The houses—Casa Camino, Casa Luce, and Casa Limone—each feature a private garden, an outdoor lounge with a stone bathroom and a second kitchen with a barbecue. The central courtyard hosts a swimming pool surrounded by olive trees and aromatic plants. Artists Cosimo Terlizzi and Damien Modolo, founders of Lamia Santolina, envisioned Borgo Gallana’s garden as a tribute to the Mediterranean ecosystem. Alongside ancient olive trees, they planted native and endemic species to revive and enrich the region’s botanical heritage. DESIGN ROOTED IN LOCALITY Studio Andrew Trotter employed vaulted ceilings and concrete floors throughout the three homes. The primary construction material is local sandstone, known as tufo. The bathroom sinks and kitchen counters were also custom-designed by Trotter and crafted locally. The interiors are furnished with timeless brands like Frama, Lumina, Bongio, Tine K, and Gervasoni, alongside locally crafted tableware by Nicola Fasano. Outdoor spaces feature black metal wall lights designed by Studio Andrew Trotter. PUGLIA’S MUST-VISIT TOWNS While staying at Borgo Gallana, don’t miss the chance to explore these charming towns: - ALBEROBELLO Famous for its whitewashed trullo houses—traditional stone huts with conical roofs—this village, located about an hour south of Bari, can easily be explored in a day. - POLIGNANO A MARE Situated on limestone cliffs along the Valle d’Itria coastline, this picturesque town features centuries-old churches, ivy-covered houses, and Italy’s most photographed beach: the pebble cove beneath the Ponte Borbonico di Lama Monachile bridge. - OSTUNI Known as the “White City,” Ostuni is a 40-minute drive down the coast from Polignano a Mare. Sip a Negroni at one of the bars lining its cobblestone streets, then savor exquisite dishes at Piazzetta Cattedrale. - LECCE A baroque gem in Italy’s heel, Lecce offers culinary delights like Rosalba de Carlo’s renowned Alle due Corti and innovative dishes at Arte dei Sapori. Don’t miss La Scarpetta’s romantic garden or the heavenly pastries at Pasticceria Natale. - VIESTE Perched dramatically on cliffs, Vieste is a dream for photographers. Before leaving, visit Castello Beach for stunning views. - MARTINA FRANCA Quieter than its neighbor Alberobello, this charming town is home to the must-see Basilica di San Martino. - AND MORE... Explore hidden gems like Monopoli, Locorotondo, Gallipoli, and Trani for a complete Puglian experience. - The full story is featured in Vol.9 - Print VOL IX - 2023 Out of Stock Add to Cart

TRAVEL a PRIVATE WORLD on the PACIFIC a STOCKHOLM LANDMARK THROUGH a BARCELONA LENS the NEW ERA of a 600-YEAR-OLD PALAZZO PEOPLE COME to HYDRA not ONLY for FOOD but FOR a FEELING A MINIMALIST PAUSE IN TIME BORGO GALLANA ANA LUI ‘Island life is definitely something that makes me happy!’ LE SIRENUSE MARE a NEW CHAPTER in a QUIET BAY INSIDE CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN’s VERMELHO BENEDICTA & BENOÎT’S Utopian Paradise a SLOWER SIDE of OAXACA SIFNOS at its OWN PACE a QUIET, WILD RETREAT SWIM, DINE, RESTORE, REPEAT Living by the ANTIPAROS flow ATMOSPHERE OVER NOSTALGIA MILOS in SLOW MOTION the LUCCA SUMMER CONTINUES the VOCMOS SPIRIT: SMALL, PERSONAL, and FULL of SOUL NOBU TORONTO DRAWS from the JAPANESE RYOKAN ISTANBUL’s NEW COOL SPOT: Hovagimyan Show More

Barcelona-based ADC & Tuneu founders Aaron Clarke and Marta Tuneu discuss the redesign of Sheraton Stockholm and their approach to hospitality design. September 2, 2026 | TRAVEL a STOCKHOLM LANDMARK THROUGH a BARCELONA LENS words Onur Basturk photos Ben Anders We spoke at length with Aaron Clarke and Marta Tuneu, founders of Barcelona-based ADC & Tuneu, about hospitality design and their redesign of Sheraton Stockholm’s public spaces. ADC & Tuneu discuss how they reshaped the public spaces of the 1971 Sheraton Stockholm while preserving the building’s architectural character — from the lobby and bars to the co-working areas and Mr. Bronck restaurant. They also reflect on the research behind the project and the references that informed its design. PRESERVING WHAT MAKES IT SPECIAL Hospitality design is increasingly expected to create spaces that appeal to locals as much as hotel guests. Has this changed the way you think about what a hotel should be? Absolutely. I think the role of a hotel has evolved enormously. Public spaces, and particularly lobbies, are no longer simply places to pass through on your way to your room — they have become social spaces in their own right. With Sheraton Stockholm, for example, when renovating the public spaces we thought about how they could feel more inviting and relevant to both guests and the wider city. We wanted to create spaces that people would genuinely want to spend time in. Sheraton Stockholm opened in 1971 and carries more than five decades of history. When you first walked into the building, what did you feel needed to be preserved, and what needed to change? It’s an older building that has seen a great deal of use over the years, and every hotel eventually requires maintenance. But for us, that does not mean changing the soul of the building. It means improving it, adapting it and designing it to meet today’s needs while preserving what makes it special. We felt it was a wonderful space, and we wanted the original structure to remain visible and shine through the new design. We exposed structural elements such as the huge columns, making the double-height volume a remarkable feature and allowing you to understand the scale and dimensions of the building as soon as you enter. The way the light enters and moves through the interior is magnificent, and we wanted to preserve that quality as much as possible. Appreciating the scale and proportions was key to our approach to Sheraton Stockholm. We wanted to bring some fun, pattern and colour into what could otherwise feel like a rigid building. Swedish design has such a strong identity, and we wanted to emphasise that through vibrant colours and a playful yet elegant approach, bringing back some of the glamour and spirit of the 1970s. WHEN WORKING IN SWEDEN, ASPLUND IS AN INEVITABLE REFERENCE Rather than simply referencing Scandinavian design, you looked to figures such as Gunnar Asplund and elements of Swedish visual culture, from Falu red to Svenskt Tenn. How did you bring these references into the interiors without falling into nostalgia? MARTA: I studied architecture for more than six years, and I’ve always been fascinated by architectural history. I find an enormous amount of inspiration in looking backwards — at buildings, interiors and projects from different periods — not simply as historical references, but as a way of understanding how ideas evolve. There is so much intelligence and invention embedded in the classics, particularly in the way they deal with proportion, scale, light and material. We are quite romantic in that sense; we believe there is great value in understanding what came before us. When working in Sweden, Asplund is an inevitable reference. His architecture has an extraordinary sensitivity to proportion, materiality and light, and there is something very human about the way he creates atmosphere within a space. These qualities were particularly relevant to how we approached Sheraton Stockholm. Fashion is also deeply embedded in the DNA of our studio. We don’t see the relationship between fashion and interiors as a superficial one; both are fundamentally about creating an atmosphere, a sense of identity and a way of inhabiting the world. Svenskt Tenn is a particularly strong reference for us in this project. The confidence with which it combines colour, pattern and scale is something we find incredibly inspiring. We are also looking carefully at the fashion scene in Northern Europe, particularly street style. Beyond the established fashion capitals of Paris, Milan, New York and London, there is a new fashion language emerging in the north that we find incredibly exciting. There is something very instinctive about the way colour, texture and pattern are combined — often bringing together pieces that, on paper, shouldn’t necessarily work, yet somehow create a natural and effortless whole. We wanted to translate that freedom and confidence into the interiors, allowing colour and pattern to be playful and unexpected while maintaining elegance, balance and a strong sense of proportion. WE ARE IN LOVE WITH THE 1970s There is a distinct 1970s character to the project, yet it never feels like a recreation of the period. How did you balance those historical references with a contemporary approach? We are in love with the 1970s, so you will see a lot of that period throughout the project. The red sofas, the carpet designs and some of the colour combinations all have a strong connection to that era. We looked carefully at the archives of suppliers we regularly work with and used those references as a starting point. We then reinterpreted and redesigned them to suit the project, paying particular attention to proportion, comfort, durability and current compliance requirements. The sofas, for example, are completely bespoke. We made them larger and adapted their proportions to the scale of the spaces and to the way a contemporary hotel needs to function today. For us, the idea is to capture the spirit of the 1970s rather than reproduce its aesthetics literally. We wanted the project to have that sense of glamour, colour and optimism associated with the period, but expressed through a contemporary lens. WE LIKE TO GO BACK TO THE ORIGINAL SOURCES You wanted to reconnect Sheraton with the life of Stockholm. How can design help build that relationship with a city? I think the best way to connect a building with its city is to really understand the place before starting to design. This is something we are very passionate about at ADC & Tuneu. We don’t believe that inspiration should come only from Pinterest, Instagram or the latest digital tools. Of course, they are useful, but they can also make everything feel very similar. We like to go back to the original sources: buying books, looking through archives, visiting museums, walking through the streets, observing how people live and discovering the details that you would never find online. For us, this research is what allows a project to feel genuinely connected to its location. You need to spend time in a city, understand its culture and its people, and really look at what is around you. That is where you find the references that make a project feel like it belongs to that particular place, rather than simply being placed there. Mr. Bronck has a noticeably quieter, more restrained design language than the lobby. Why was it important for the restaurant to have an atmosphere of its own? Mr. Bronck is different. It has its own entrance and serves a different purpose, which called for a more intimate atmosphere. We therefore made the colour palette softer and less saturated, creating something warmer, cosier and more distinctive. We also had to consider that some people will come to Mr. Bronck without ever staying at the hotel. For us, it was therefore important that the restaurant could have its own identity while still belonging to the same family. BARCELONA SENSIBILITY The project brings together Stockholm’s design heritage and influences from Barcelona. Where do you see the Barcelona side of ADC & Tuneu most clearly? The Barcelona side of ADC & Tuneu is more about our way of looking at things than about bringing obvious Spanish references into the project. We are a Barcelona-based studio, and the city is part of our DNA. Barcelona has an incredible architectural heritage, from Romanesque and Gothic architecture to Modernism and more contemporary work. I think you can see that Barcelona sensibility in the way we approached the project — the importance we place on proportion and architectural elements, but also in our love of colour, pattern, craftsmanship and a certain sense of warmth. We like spaces that feel elegant but never too serious, and that have a sense of life and personality. There is also something very Mediterranean in our approach to hospitality. We like interiors to feel welcoming, comfortable and lived-in, rather than overly perfect. At the same time, we wanted to be very respectful of Stockholm and Swedish design, so we were never trying to bring Barcelona to Stockholm. It was more about allowing our own perspective to meet the character of the city. I think the most interesting projects happen when you bring your own identity to a place without imposing it upon its character. For us, Stockholm was always going to be Stockholm — but seen through our Barcelona eyes. As interiors are increasingly experienced through images first, has hospitality design become too focused on how a space looks rather than how it feels? Images are an important part of hospitality design now, and of course we want our projects to photograph well. But I don’t think that should be a starting point. When a space is designed only around how it will look in an image, it can easily lose its authenticity. For us, it is about creating a complete experience rather than simply creating a beautiful image. MARTA LEADS THE CREATIVE, AARON MAKES IT WORK Aaron, your time at Soho House gave you an understanding of both design and operations. What from that experience still shapes the way you approach hotels today? Working on projects where design, food and beverage, service and operations all had to come together taught me to look at a hotel from many different perspectives. A beautiful space is not successful if it doesn’t function properly, if it doesn’t work for the staff, or if the guest experience doesn’t feel natural. That experience still influences the way we work at ADC & Tuneu today. I look at things very differently from Marta. Marta tends to focus more on the creative direction and the architectural and aesthetic side, while I am constantly thinking about how everything is going to function in reality — how people move through the space, how the staff use it, what happens behind the scenes and how the business operates. I think that combination is very valuable for us. We always want the design to be beautiful and have a strong identity, but it also has to work. You come from quite different creative backgrounds. When you begin a project together, where do your perspectives tend to diverge? MARTA: Aaron is English, I am Spanish — you can imagine… We always make it work. I lead the creative direction, and Aaron makes it happen. It’s a very natural balance between us — I tend to follow my instinct and push the creative side, while Aaron brings structure and finds a way to make the ideas work in reality. As we say in Catalan, Aaron is the “seny” and I am the “rauxa”. He brings rationality and structure, while I bring instinct and spontaneity. I think that balance is actually very important to the way we work together.

June 28, 2026 | VOL 18 CASA MUXARABI words Onur Baştürk photos Fernando Guerra Working from the inland city of Franca in São Paulo state, mf+arquitetos approaches architecture through measured gestures rather than grand statements. Founded by Mariana Garcia Oliveira and Filipi Oliveira, the practice is shaped by clear geometries, honest materials, and a consistent dialogue between interior space and landscape. Casa Muxarabi reflects this attitude with quiet confidence. Named after the lattice screens that filter light throughout the home, the house is composed through courtyards, shadows, and permeable layers that shift with the day. It is an architecture that does not compete with nature, but lives alongside it. THE MUXARABI WAS INDEED THE STARTING POINT OF THE PROJECT The house takes its name from the muxarabi — the lattice screens that filter light throughout the project. Was this element the starting point for the design? How did the idea first take shape? The muxarabi was indeed the starting point of the project. From it, we structured the entire logic of light, shadow, and visual permeability throughout the house. The idea emerged during the very first site visits, when we understood that filtering light would be essential to creating an intimate, soft atmosphere that changes constantly over the course of the day. Casa Muxarabi is arranged as a linear pavilion, divided by a long central courtyard. What was the guiding intention behind this spatial composition? The decision to design a linear pavilion divided by a central courtyard stemmed from the desire to create a continuous flow while simultaneously establishing an axis of pause and contemplation. The courtyard functions as the heart of the project. It organizes circulation, provides natural ventilation, and reinforces the presence of nature as a structuring element of daily life in the house. Red hardwoods, solid walls and a light, minimal roof come together to express the warmth of the earth. How did you approach the material palette to achieve this gentle sense of grounding? The material palette was conceived to convey warmth and a strong connection to the ground. The red hardwood and solid walls reinforce a sense of permanence and protection, while the light roof counterbalances this weight with delicacy. We sought a balance between warm textures and more neutral surfaces, creating an environment that asserts itself without losing serenity. You’ve described the house as appearing “like a fine line drawn between sky and earth” when seen from afar. What does this quiet silhouette represent for you? The fine line we describe between sky and earth represents our ambition to create a quiet architecture that inserts itself respectfully into the landscape. It is a house that does not compete with its surroundings, but rather engages in dialogue with them, as if it were gently resting on the site and asserting its presence in a subtle way. SIMPLE GESTURES, POWERFUL IMPACT The relationship between inside and out is a recurring theme in your work. Which architectural decisions were key to creating that continuity here? The continuity between interior and exterior is the result of several key decisions: generous openings, fluid circulation, the use of similar materials indoors and outdoors, and direct integration with the central courtyard. We sought to minimize physical and visual barriers, allowing the space to dissolve naturally between built and natural environments. The furniture choices feel controlled, timeless, and deliberately unobtrusive—allowing the landscape to take the lead. How did you shape this interior curation? The furniture curation was guided by the intention to create an environment that complements the architecture without overwhelming it. We chose pieces with clean lines, natural materials, and a discreet presence. The goal was always to allow the landscape to remain the protagonist, while the interior reinforces a sense of calm and timelessness. Where does Casa Muxarabi sit within your broader architectural practice? What has the project taught you or revealed to you along the way? Within our practice, Casa Muxarabi represents a deepening of our pursuit of an essential, honest architecture fully integrated with its context. The project taught us about the power of simple gestures, such as controlling light, opening a courtyard, and working with natural materials. It was a process that reinforced our belief that architecture can be both poetic and functional, discreet yet deeply meaningful. - The full story is featured in Vol.18 - Print VOL XVIII - 2026 €20,00 Price Add to Cart

Inside Orient Express Venezia, set in Palazzo Donà Giovannelli and reimagined by Aline Asmar d’Amman as a new expression of Venetian hospitality. August 26, 2026 | VOL 19 the NEW ERA of a 600-YEAR-OLD PALAZZO words Onur Basturk photos Giulio Ghirardi (Courtesy of Orient Express Venezia) With a history spanning six centuries, Palazzo Donà Giovannelli has returned as Orient Express Venezia, reimagined by architect and interior designer Aline Asmar d’Amman. Following the opening of Orient Express La Minerva in Rome and the launch of the La Dolce Vita Orient Express train in 2025, the project signals a new chapter for the brand in Italy. Rather than restoring the Venetian palazzo as a monument frozen in time, Asmar d’Amman approached it as a living structure shaped by memory, craftsmanship, and contemporary energy. Throughout the eight-year transformation, her intention was for guests to experience the Palazzo with a cinematic sense of progression. Orient Express carries a unique mythology of travel. Where did you begin when translating that legacy into a physical space? A world of wonders unfolds at the evocation of the Orient Express. It carries a sense of glamour and sophistication, the very best of the art of travel and a certain mystique of exceptional journeys rooted in the golden age. Here, ritual and movement shape a romantic idea of travel as a passage, crafted through deeply thoughtful design and meticulous attention to detail. Throughout this creative journey, the Orient Express Hotel at Palazzo Dona Giovannelli became a dialogue between two worlds: the Palazzo’s historical legacy, a 15th-century Venetian crown jewel bringing permanence, intimacy, and memory, and Orient Express introducing movement, glamour, and the romance of travel. Keeping both worlds in dialogue rather than blending them, I immersed myself in each and tried to create a passionate dialogue between two strong identities. References to the golden age of travel are woven in with subtle precision: travel trunks appear as bedside tables, while grand interior architecture is treated as wonder cabinets, underlined with wood marquetry, brass details, and etched mirrors that capture the soul of the palazzo’s historical features in reflection. In more contemporary rooms, a 1930s atmosphere quietly permeates the space through lacquered woods, refined finishes, and original antique chairs by Paul Follot flanking chess tables with Murano glass checkered plateaux. Everywhere, from the Piano Nobile’s ornate salons to the more contemporary spaces, bespoke drink cabinets invite interaction, opening like curated cases designed to spark curiosity and engagement, reinforcing the journey of discovery. At Orient Express Palazzo Dona Giovannelli, there is always this tension between stillness and movement, intimate and grand, past and present, which defines the essence of its legendary art of travel imagined as a theatrical voyage through Venice. OVER THE LAST EIGHT YEARS, I MOVED THROUGH EPOCHS AND ERAS, UNCOVERING STORIES EMBEDDED IN WORN SURFACES AND CEILING FRESCOES, EACH LAYER CARRYING ITS OWN MEMORY This project unfolded over nearly eight years. How did that extended timeline shape your design decisions? How did your initial vision evolve over time? Over the last eight years, I moved through epochs and eras, listening closely, revealing and unearthing every story, from the worn surfaces beneath our hands to the frescoes on the ceilings, each layer carrying its own memory. The restoration of Palazzo Dona Giovannelli, home to the Orient Express Venezia hotel, became a true labour of love, requiring rare interventions, from drying the palazzo’s foundations and building a dam around the façade walls, to the careful removal and treatment of each stone on the walls and floors. It became a revelation of how closely architecture and environment are bound together in Venice. Over nearly a decade, hundreds of specialised artisans worked across fresco restoration, sculpture, gilding, and woodwork. Young artisans, joinery makers, metal specialists, craftsmen mastering leather cladding and terrazzo floors, as well as highly skilled marble makers, all joined in a communal gesture shaped by devotion and artistry. Behind every perfect detail, there are thousands of hours spent mending beauty. During the process, hidden layers of history were uncovered and naturally integrated into the evolving narrative of the space. Beyond a monument to history, I see the Orient Express Venezia at Palazzo Dona Giovannelli as a living story, where the past continuously shapes the future. Fragments of original mouldings appear within contemporary rooms, reflected in etched mirrors and varnished woods, in a continuous dialogue between heritage and modernity. Pieces once hidden or damaged are reintroduced with grace, allowing the story of the palazzo to remain visible in conversation with architectural nowness. This unfolding deeply shaped my design decisions. Rather than shifting my vision, the discovery of the Palazzo’s many layers deepened it into a more intimate dialogue with its history. My approach is never nostalgic about the past but always in conversation with it. You describe the transformation as a “theatrical sequence of wonders.” How did you translate this idea into spatial terms? I wanted guests to experience the palazzo as a cinematic progression, where layers of history gradually reveal themselves through surfaces, objects, and space. This is the essence of Venice: mystery, drama, and celebration set between stone and water, movement and eternity. Guests move through the Palazzo like protagonists within a story, encountering fragments of history, traces of the lives that shaped the space, and moments of unexpected beauty. Here, the walls are always speaking. The Palazzo was once home to noble Venetian families, from the Duke of Urbino to the Donà and Giovanelli families, and hosted grand occasions such as the wedding of the Duke of Urbino’s son to Princess Vittoria Farnese in the 16th century. Centuries later, its Piano Nobile welcomed scholars from across Europe, continuing its role as a place of exchange. I wanted this spirit to remain perceptible today through the architecture, curated art, and a sense of lived-in elegance and intimacy. VENICE INSPIRES ME AS A MEETING POINT BETWEEN EAST AND WEST — A DUALITY ALREADY EMBEDDED WITHIN THE PALAZZO ITSELF Venice has long been a gateway between East and West. How did this dual identity shape your design approach? Venice deeply inspires me as a meeting point between East and West. Born in Beirut, I feel a personal connection to the city’s layered cultural identity and recognise many correspondences between Venetian architecture and my own heritage. I never experienced the Serenissima as foreign, but with a sense of familiarity, as if returning to a source of inspiration. That duality already exists within the palazzo itself. The neo-Gothic staircase by Gian Battista Meduna reveals an architectural language where Gothic forms meet arabesque influences, geometric ornamentation, frescoes, and luminous stained glass — traces of Venice’s long history of exchange and movement. Crowned by a celestial vault, the octagonal staircase leads into spaces like the Sala della Cultura, shaped by ideas, encounters, and cultural dialogue. Here, Venice expresses itself as it always has: a cosmopolitan world where East and West coexist naturally. Lapis lazuli tones, Italian marbles, vintage furniture, and contemporary bespoke design come together like a layered memory of a grand tour, balancing richness, sensuality, and restraint. The idea of the “Lost Colors of Venice” plays a key role. How did this concept shape the material and colour palette? The “Lost Colors of Venice” became central to my approach to the renovation. Inspired by 16th-century pigments and poetic lore, these are not vanished colours, but rediscovered ones — faded fragments of myth and memory brought into the present with a contemporary sensibility. The first time I entered Palazzo Dona Giovannelli, I was struck by these living colours spread across its historical walls and surfaces. Patinas washed by time became both my guide and inspiration, informing everything from stone and marble selections to moiré fabrics, velvets, and material accents. This feeling culminates in the Colori Persi Suite, where the tones of the ceiling fresco seem to spill into the room, creating a luminous dialogue between past and present. The lost colours continue throughout, threaded through cocoon-like moiré fabrics that subtly echo the movement of the Venetian laguna. THE WAGON BAR IS CONCEIVED AS AN ART DECO SPEAKEASY INSPIRED BY THE ORIGINAL RAILCAR LOUNGES OF THE ORIENT EXPRESS The Orient Express is rooted in movement, transition, and journey. How did you bring that sense of motion into a static structure like a palazzo? Inspired by the golden age of travel, historic trunks are reinterpreted as wonder cabinets throughout the Palazzo — from bedside tables and wardrobes to dressing rooms, even concealing bathrooms within the suites. They bring the rituals of departure and arrival into the interiors, creating a quiet sense of slow travel throughout the space. This continuity extends into the Wagon Bar, conceived as an Art Deco speakeasy inspired by the original railcar lounges of the Orient Express. In the Corte del Conte lobby, monumental bookcases and shelving compositions guide movement through layered surfaces of memory, almost like curated stations within the Palazzo. The Cherubini Suite takes its name from the cherubs running across its walls, recalling that Venetian grandeur has always embraced joy and movement. A rediscovered frieze by Sebastiano Santi unfolds across the walls with dancing putti and women playing ancient instruments — movement suspended mid-song — while a layer of Renaissance faces crowns the space with wisdom and poetry. I wanted to respond thoughtfully to these multiple layers of history, embracing the legacy while introducing a new interior architecture into the room with timeless elegance and permanent rhythm. Spaces like Il Corte del Conte transform a former courtyard into a dramatic living room. How do you approach such bold architectural interventions? One of the greatest challenges in the renovation was the ground floor itself. Today’s lobby was once an open courtyard shaped only by air, light, and the elements. Historically, the Palazzo was always a place of gathering and celebration, and I wanted to preserve that warmth and sense of belonging. What was once a passageway is now conceived as a generous living room. I introduced a grand library-like architectural structure within the Palazzo itself, seamlessly integrating technical functions into monumental shelving and hidden compartments. The intention was never to create the feeling of a technical intervention, but to bring timeless elegance and natural ease into the space. Wood-clad libraries with Murano details subtly conceal contemporary technology, including the new entrance hidden behind Venetian artisanal glass doors. - The full story is featured in Vol.19 - Print / NEW VOL XIX - Aegean & Mediterranean 2026 €20,00 Price Add to Cart

July 16, 2026 | DESIGN & INTERIORS the WHITE ARCADE words Noah Mercer photos Mia Interior Photography production Karine Monié Tucked into Dubai's leafy The Villa neighbourhood, The White Arcade transforms a traditional Spanish-style residence into a calm family sanctuary defined by light, rhythm and sculptural simplicity. Designed by D'Ora Tokai Designs, the home belongs to an Emirati couple raising three children while navigating demanding international careers. Originally characterised by heavy proportions, decorative detailing and colourful finishes, the villa retained the charm of its Spanish origins but felt visually dense. Instead of erasing that identity, designer D'Ora Tokai reinterpreted it through a quieter architectural language, drawing equally from Moorish geometry and European restraint. "Rather than redesigning the house, we refined its language," she says. The result is an interior where arches, natural materials and carefully filtered daylight create a home that feels calm, sculptural and quietly balanced. ARCHITECTURE IN SOFT CURVES The defining motif is the arch. Present only in a few original openings, it became the starting point for the entire renovation, expanding across doorways, passages, windows and ceiling transitions. Repeated throughout the house, these gentle curves soften the architecture while establishing a calm rhythm that connects every room. "Arches became the heartbeat of the project," Tokai says. "They slow movement and soften the way spaces unfold." At the heart of the home sits a double-height courtyard, reorganised as its emotional and architectural centre. Once sunken and visually disconnected, it has been transformed into a luminous gathering space anchored by a bespoke C-shaped sofa designed by DOT Objects, D'Ora Tokai's furniture collection. Echoing the surrounding arches, the sculptural piece embraces the courtyard rather than occupying it, becoming the first gesture visitors encounter upon entering the house. Above, a glazed roof draws daylight deep into the interior, creating layered views between both floors and allowing family life to unfold naturally around its quiet centre. "We wanted the courtyard to become the emotional centre of the home," she says. A RESTRAINED PALETTE Built around the soft white hues of Pantone's 2026 Colour of the Year, Cloud Dancer, the interiors unfold in layered whites, warm neutrals and soft oak tones. "White isn't an absence of colour," Tokai says. "It's a way of revealing proportion, light and calm." That same restraint extends to the material palette. Light oak herringbone flooring, bespoke white and sage-green joinery, neutral Spanish tiles and brushed brass detailing create a calm visual language, while Carrara marble, travertine, white onyx and softly veined quartz introduce texture without disturbing the overall serenity. Almost every major furniture piece was designed specifically for the project through DOT Objects, from the courtyard sofa to the formal dining table carved from white onyx, the living room seating and the children's bedrooms. Carefully selected pieces from CB2, Crate & Barrel, Vitra and West Elm complement the bespoke elements without competing for attention. The only deliberate departure from the monochrome palette appears in the preparation kitchen, where muted sage-green cabinetry introduces a subtle sense of play. A circular internal window connects adjoining spaces, bringing both practicality and a gentle moment of surprise into the otherwise restrained architecture. Rather than simply renovating a Spanish villa, The White Arcade reimagines it through a softer architectural lens. Blending Mediterranean, Moorish and European influences, D'Ora Tokai has created a home that feels restorative in every sense. "A well-designed home should quietly support everyday life," she says. "When a house brings clarity, families naturally feel more connected."

March 2025 | VOL 14 RESIN & RESOLVE: How Tina Frey Turned Passion into Design words Sibel İpek Tina Frey is a truly inspiring designer and entrepreneur, known for her unique minimalist style and innovative use of materials. Born in Hong Kong and raised in Canada, she initially ventured into the world of finance, working with big names like Ernst & Young and Christian Dior. But her heart was always drawn to art and design, prompting her to make a bold career shift. That's when she founded Tina Frey Designs, focusing on beautiful, resin-based home décor items like bowls, lamps, and vases. Tina has become a global sensation with her elegant, hand-sculpted pieces that seamlessly blend functionality and artistry. Drawing inspiration from nature, her travels, and everyday moments, her work embodies a timeless simplicity with clean lines and organic shapes. Tina’s dedication to sustainability and craftsmanship has garnered her a devoted following, solidifying her as a key player in modern home décor and design. Now splitting her time between San Francisco and Montecito, she continues to expand her product lines and push the boundaries of her creativity. Tina shares her inspiration, the challenges she’s faced as an entrepreneur, and the future of her brand in an ever-evolving design landscape with the Yuzu community. IT IS FUNNY THAT I PURSUED FINANCE AS A CAREER BECAUSE I GUESS I KNEW FROM A YOUNG AGE THAT CREATIVITY AND MAKING ART WAS MY TRUE PASSION How did you first realize that art, especially working with resin, was your true passion, despite your background in finance? It is funny that I pursued finance as a career because I guess I knew from a young age that creativity and making art was my true passion. It was always so enjoyable and second nature to me that it never occurred that this could also be a profession. I was raised in an environment where having a career meant focusing on security rather than following your heart. I chose resin as a material of focus since I loved the versatile qualities of the material, how it can mimic glass, porcelain, stone or clay. What challenges did you face in transitioning from a stable corporate career to starting your own design studio? When I made the transition, I remember removing my finance and business minded hat and focused on creating something I was excited about that came from my heart. I didn’t have a business plan or a clear idea of my audience; I simply wanted to create and share my work. At my first exhibition, I was completely unprepared—I didn’t even have line sheets or an order pad. It wasn't until someone asked how to order that I realized this was a potential business and that people actually like my creations. I learned everything on the go and was still consulting in my finance career when I first started the company. I worked crazy hours to get it off the ground and every penny from my finance career was put into growing my business. I am glad I didn't know how much work and how hard it would be at times since it was good to delve in without fear or questioning of whether I was doing the right thing or not. How did your former career in finance help you build Tina Frey Designs? Having the former career definitely had its benefits since I knew the business side instinctively, so I was able to focus on the creative things while the business side sort of ran on autopilot. I was also very fortunate to have the income from financial consulting to fund the growth of my business. Can you tell us about the moment or experience that pushed you to finally make the leap into a full-time art career? Was there ever a time when you doubted your decision to leave finance for design, and how did you overcome that? When I started my company, I was still consulting in finance four days a week. As the business was growing, I started reducing my consulting hours to 3 days, then 2 days, then 1 day, then no days! I remember when it struck me that the safety net of my old career was ending and that I would be supporting the growth of my company through its own cash flow. Even though the company was growing, it was still a mental hurdle to know that the old career was not behind me. I also knew that I did not want to go back to my old life and there was never a doubt. That's not to say that there have not been challenging times in the last 17 years of my company. There was a time about 7 years ago when I was a bit burned out and so overworked that I had to adjust my way of working and my life balance. Once I did that, I regained my focus and excitement for creativity. I LOVE SIMPLICITY AND MINIMAL DESIGN Your designs often have a minimalist and organic aesthetic. How do you balance simplicity with functionality in your pieces? Thanks for the kind words about my work! I love simplicity and minimal design. However, I also appreciate the human element that makes each piece more personal. I like the idea of sculpting in clay first because you can see and appreciate the indentations left on the fingers that remain part of the final design. There is also an imperfection in the pieces that is uneven and natural, and there is a beauty in that imperfection that makes it human. How do the environments you live in, such as San Francisco and Montecito, inspire your color choices and design forms? I am definitely inspired by my surroundings. I’ve always loved travel, fashion, and design. When I see these things and think of interiors, I see how something could look amazing in a space. This can influence the color combinations of the collection. The shapes are often influenced by nature. I love how there is a softness that results from the elements. Imagine driftwood softened by the ocean and sand. You've created a wide variety of products, from tableware to lamps. How do you decide what to design next and what drives your creativity? I haven't run out of ideas yet—in fact, I have more ideas than I can execute for each season or collection. It’s actually more challenging to resist creating too many things at once! ONE OF THE REASONS I LOVE RESIN IS THAT IT’S MORE DURABLE THAN GLASS OR PORCELAIN, YET THE FINAL FORMS CAN BE UNEXPECTED What is the story behind your Mushroom Lamp and the large collection of vases? How does necessity influence your designs? I love useful objects. Perhaps it's the practical side of me from my finance background that makes me feel that creating something functional justifies its purpose. However, I’ve come to appreciate the value of making something simply for its form and beauty, even if it serves no function. There’s something to be said for the intrinsic value of beauty. Your pieces have been described as looking like sea glass or porcelain. How do you achieve such different textures with resin? One of the reasons I love resin is that it’s more durable than glass or porcelain, yet the final forms can be unexpected. There are shapes and effects you can achieve with resin that aren’t possible with traditional materials, which makes it so fascinating to work with. I also prefer a soft, sanded finish in my designs, as it highlights the handmade aspect without any visible seams. What emotions or experiences do you hope people will have when they interact with your designs? I want people to feel the love and intention behind each piece. I believe in energy, and even if we can’t see it, I know it exists. When I create a piece, it truly comes from my heart, and I hope to share that positive energy with the world. You often mention travel as a source of inspiration. Can you share how a particular destination influenced a recent design? I was in Copenhagen recently to visit 3DD. The Scandinavians have a very beautiful aesthetic that really resonates with me. There is a clean minimalism that fits very well with my designs. Even the colors have a cool feel to them that has definitely influenced my collections in the past. Is there a particular piece you've created that holds special meaning for you, and why? This is a tough question since so many pieces hold special significance. Each was created during a specific period in my life, influenced by different experiences along the way. It’s a journey akin to life itself, making it hard to pinpoint one particular moment as everyone is special in its own right. for more Print VOL XIV - 2024 / 25 €20,00 Price Add to Cart

SLS Properties brings European minimalism and organic modernism to a Studio City home shaped by natural materials, soft California light and indoor-outdoor living. August 15, 2026 | DESIGN & INTERIORS a QUIET CALIFORNIA RHYTHM words Noah Mercer photos Nils Timm production Karine Monié In Studio City, SLS Properties brings European minimalism and organic modernism into dialogue with the light and landscape of Southern California, shaping a home around material warmth, openness and restraint. Tucked into the hills of Studio City, among mature trees and winding residential streets, this 548-square-metre home is closely connected to its Los Angeles setting. Designed and built by SLS Properties, the five-bedroom residence favours open spaces, tactile materials and an easy transition between inside and out. For Shlomi Sfadia, founder of SLS Properties, the starting point was less about establishing a recognisable style than creating a particular atmosphere. European minimalism and organic modernism provided the framework, while the intimacy of boutique hospitality also informed the interiors. “The design was inspired by a blend of European minimalism, organic modernism, and the quiet elegance of boutique hospitality spaces,” Sfadia says. “Rather than referencing a single style, the project focused on creating emotional resonance through materiality, proportion and restraint.” The architecture is precise and the palette controlled, but the rooms are softened by texture, changing light and pieces that appear to have been collected over time. CALIFORNIA, THROUGH A EUROPEAN LENS Studio City is largely residential, with canyon landscapes, winding hillside streets and a longstanding connection to Los Angeles’ creative industries. These surroundings became an important part of the project. “Set within a landscape of mature trees, winding hillside streets, and soft California light, the location strongly informed the overall mood of the project,” Sfadia explains. “The design embraces the indoor-outdoor lifestyle associated with Southern California, emphasizing natural materials, openness, and a strong connection to light and greenery throughout the home.” The open-plan living spaces extend this connection, bringing daylight and greenery into the house rather than treating the landscape simply as a view. The result combines the ease of Californian living with a more restrained European sensibility. In the living area, a sofa, coffee table and lounge chairs from RH sit alongside artwork by Creative Art Partners. The dining table and chairs are also from RH, paired with custom-designed lighting, while Zara Home barstools feature in the kitchen. A TREE AT THE CENTRE At the centre of the house, a curved sculptural staircase wraps around a mature interior tree, organising the plan across both levels. “The layout was designed around a central architectural moment — a sculptural staircase wrapped around a mature interior tree, which acts as the heart of the residence both visually and spatially,” Sfadia says. On the main floor, the living, dining and kitchen areas connect while retaining a degree of intimacy. Upstairs, the private spaces are arranged around the same central axis. The staircase and tree maintain a visual connection between the two floors, with natural light filtering through the space. The combination also brings the project's different references together: the clarity of European minimalism, the softer forms and materials of organic modernism, and the light and greenery of Southern California. MATERIALS SET THE MOOD Hand-applied plaster, natural oak, heavy linen, travertine and limestone form a warm, earthy palette, selected for their tactile qualities and the way they change with the daylight. “Natural textures, muted tones, and tactile finishes were used to evoke a sense of calm throughout the home,” says Sfadia. “Inspiration was also drawn from the surrounding landscape, particularly the way light shifts throughout the day and interacts with raw materials such as plaster, wood, and stone.” Furniture and objects came from local artisans, custom fabricators, European suppliers and vintage dealers, mixing contemporary pieces with more collected finds. In the primary bedroom, a Four Hands bed is paired with RHnightstands and artwork by Creative Art Partners. Developed over a year and a half, the house is ultimately an exercise in restraint: pared back, but still domestic; carefully composed, without feeling overly finished. Light, natural materials and the surrounding landscape do much of the work.

Meet four creative voices shaping contemporary Athens across art, design, branding and food, in a series of conversations on identity, inspiration and the city. April 3, 2026 | vol 17 ATHENIAN FREQUENCIES words & interviews Nicolas Vamvouklis Athens hums with a renewed creative charge — a mix of art, design, and experimentation that feels both grounded and electric. From virtual worlds to sensual furniture, from rebellious branding to edible architecture, a generation of Greek talents is redefining how creativity looks, feels, and tastes. We met four of them to talk about inspiration, identity, and power. THEO TRIANTAFYLLIDIS Visual Artist portrait photo / Nikos Katsaros Your work sits between tech, fantasy, and performance. What’s been sparking your imagination lately? There are too many sparks right now — it feels like the world is on fire. I’ve been having a lot of apocalyptic daydreams about climate wars and trying to turn that anxiety into creative material. You’ve turned virtual space into something intimate. What’s the secret ingredient? I always try to approach technology critically, to find an emotional and bodily response to it. Making digital worlds tactile, sensory, and a bit awkward gives people a way to enter the work instead of standing across from it. And then, sometimes, if we’re lucky, a certain magic brings the work to life — and it starts speaking on its own. Does being Greek influence the worlds you create, or are they from another planet entirely? I’ve been struggling with that question for a while. “Greekness” for me is more about a connection to geography and a way of thinking — a spirit of place, and a pragmatic approach to both aesthetic and technical challenges. That attitude seeps into everything I make. Any exciting shows coming up? We recently opened If/Then at the Ujazdowski Castle Centre for Contemporary Art in Warsaw, on view until February 2026. We built a fully functional Polish version of the “Feral Metaverse” catapult. It’s a really fun show — don’t miss it. POLINA MILIOU Designer & Sculptor portrait photo Giorgos Sfakianakis You make pieces that are both furniture and characters. How do you want people to live with them? My pieces appear organic and animated, yet they also suggest monumental or sacred geometry. It’s this ambiguity I want people to experience: moments when they feel caught in the act, mid-gesture, and others when they seem serene and poised. Your sculptures feel alive. What’s been inspiring you these days? Throughout my practice, I explore femininity as fluidity, strength, nurture, and playfulness. Lately, womanhood has been a recurring subject. I notice that during a woman’s thirties, there’s a period of heightened awareness — of body, of experience — a transformation. So right now, I’m inspired by “a 35-year-old woman.” What does a good day in the studio look like? Music, orange light, the sound of tools and slaps, coffee, then more decaf. Drawing symbols through self-invented puzzle games. And for some reason, having a horror movie playing in the background always helps. Where in Athens do you go when you need a creative reset? In summer, I go to the beach to collect rocks, pebbles, and bits of plastic. In winter, to parks for flowers and leaves. They’re tiny but full of information — something always clicks. And if I really need to reset, I’ll just go for a margarita with ice in Kypseli. NIKOS GEORGOPOULOS Art Director & Founder of Marlon Tate Let’s start with the name. Who is Marlon Tate? It’s the creative agency I founded in 2022, with offices in Athens, London, Jupiter, and Mars. The last two are, of course, mythical — but we like to keep the dream alive. The name itself is pure fiction, borrowed from Marlon Brando’s first name and Sharon Tate’s last. Tell me about this cosmic expansion. What’s the view like up there? As good as one can imagine. Our journey has always been imaginary, and honestly that’s where its strength lies. When everything begins in the mind, there are no limits to what you can build. Your universe is full of bold color and attitude. What drives this sense of rebellion? Probably my need to find balance — to preserve the space between madness and vulnerability. I’ve always been like that. Launching my own agency gave me the freedom to build a team and collectively pursue the kind of work I truly believe in. We blend fiction and surreal storytelling to create viral ads, fictional news, made-up brands, and moments of star power — often just for our own amusement. If design could say one thing about our time, what would it shout? Nothing is really impossible. You just have to close your eyes and imagine it. Design is a force — it storms through boundaries, breaks assumptions, and reshapes what we thought we knew. How does the Greek capital feed your creativity? I was born and raised in Athens, and even after more than a decade in London, I always imagined a kind of heroic return. The city inspires me not only through its vibrant cultural energy but also on a deeper, emotional level. KAROLOS MICHAILIDIS Architect & Cook You call yourself “The Food Architect.” How do design and gastronomy come together in your world? They represent the two sides of my personality — balancing between structure and spontaneity. Designing a dish is not unlike designing a space: both orchestrate light, shape, and texture. I often say that senses like sound and light coexist with flavor. A meal is more than what’s on the plate. What are your all-time favorite recipes? I always return to pastitsio — a comforting layering of tradition and technique; a humble chickpea soup that becomes a canvas for aromatics; and delicate tarts, both sweet and savory, that allow freedom and intention, adapting to every season. If you had to choose one cuisine beyond the Mediterranean, which would it be? Impossible to pick one. Japanese for its precision and reverence to nature; Italian for its soulful simplicity; French for its rigor; Vietnamese for its balance and freshness. Each carries a philosophy that resonates with how I approach design and flavor. There is no creation without tradition, and vice versa. What inspires your next dish or the way you curate an experience? Inspiration springs from memory, landscape, and material form — fields I cultivate both as architect and cook. I design each dish like a space: through rhythm and contrast. Every experience should feel like a dialogue between nature, emotion, and the senses. And what does Athens bring to your table? It feeds me with contrasts — ancient and contemporary, loud and slow, raw and poetic. Beneath its grey surfaces lies a rhythm that sparks curiosity and imagination. Its markets, cafés, and hidden corners remind me that creativity thrives in imperfection. - The full story is featured in Vol.18 - Print VOL XVII - 2025 Out of Stock Add to Cart

GRAUº and Esquivel bring ceramics and jewellery together in Lisbon, creating a shared space shaped by craftsmanship, geometry and contemporary Portuguese design. April 10, 2026 | vol 17 MADE in LISBON: TWO CRAFTS, ONE VISION photos André Nave In Lisbon’s Príncipe Real, a new address quietly redefines how we experience Portuguese design. Conceived by jewellery designer and architect Sofia Esquivel and the ceramic duo Isac Coimbra and Diogo Ferreira, the shared space brings together two disciplines united by craftsmanship, geometry, and form. More than a showroom, it acts as a living studio — a place where materials, ideas, and people intersect. With its earthy palette and sculptural displays, the interior mirrors the brands’ sensibilities: thoughtful, tactile, and distinctly contemporary. Together, Esquivel. and GRAUº invite visitors into an intimate dialogue between silver and clay, tradition and experiment, object and emotion. Príncipe Real has become one of Lisbon’s most creative neighbourhoods in recent years. What, in your view, makes this area so special from a design perspective? Príncipe Real stands out for how it blends heritage with experimentation. Historic façades and leafy squares sit alongside concept stores and creative studios, giving the area a layered, evolving identity. It feels both authentic and forward-looking — where design honours the past while constantly embracing new ideas. With your new space, how do you hope to contribute to Lisbon’s design landscape? Our space reflects the dialogue between authenticity and experimentation. It’s the first time jewellery and ceramics — our two authorial expressions — are presented together under one roof in Lisbon. Beyond that, we want to foster interaction. Both Esquivel. and GRAUº invite direct contact between creator and visitor, offering bespoke commissions and consultations that make design a shared experience. How did the idea of bringing ceramics and jewellery together under one roof first come about? SOFIA: As a jewellery brand, I knew direct contact with the public was essential. When I found the space, I realised it was slightly too big, so I thought of GRAUº. We’ve often shared events and audiences — and a similar creative mindset. ISAC + DIOGO: Opening a physical space was always part of our vision, though we imagined it would come later. When Sofia reached out, we knew this was the right moment to grow and evolve — we couldn’t say no. Both brands share a focus on geometry and detail. Where do you see the common ground between silver and clay? Both Esquivel. and GRAUº are rooted in craft and precision. With clay, geometry emerges through shaping and structure; with metal, it’s in the accuracy of cutting and finishing. The connection lies in our shared attention to detail — a respect for materials, process, and the deliberate rhythm of making. EVENTS LIKE LISBON BY DESIGN AND LISBON DESIGN WEEK HAVE HELPED SHAPE THIS MOVEMENT — WE WERE FORTUNATE TO JOIN BOTH Sofia, your jewellery draws inspiration from architecture — from Modernism to Art Deco and Organic Architecture. What fascinates you most about translating buildings into wearable pieces? SOFIA: I’ve always been fascinated by scale — how changing proportions alters the way we relate to space and form. During my MA in Scenography in London, this interest became almost an obsession. When I began designing jewellery, I naturally turned to architecture, sketching buildings that moved me and translating their essence into small, wearable structures. Each piece reflects a fragment of a space or a detail that caught my eye — it’s never just jewellery; it carries a story. I love how something monumental can be reimagined as something intimate enough to wear. GRAUº’s work balances a modern and tribal aesthetic. How would you describe this tactile, sensory universe that defines your ceramics? And what’s driving Lisbon’s growing design scene? ISAC + DIOGO: Our work merges raw textures with refined forms — pieces that feel grounded in tradition yet carry a modern edge. Clay invites touch, while geometry brings precision and clarity. We explore the space where raw, almost tribal roots meet minimalist design. Portugal, and Lisbon in particular, has a deep craft tradition — from ceramics and textiles to tilework and wood carving. In recent years, there’s been a revival of these crafts through contemporary reinterpretation. Designers are merging old techniques with new aesthetics, creating work that feels both timeless and fresh. Events such as Lisbon by Design and Lisbon Design Week have played an essential role in amplifying this movement, and we were fortunate to take part in both. Events like these give visibility to both established and emerging designers, while offering a mix of exhibitions, workshops and open studios, which helps connect local talent to national and international networks. People are visiting Lisbon not just for its historic beauty, but to also see galleries, studios, craft shops and interact with the design scene in person. And we definitively want to be a part of this, through our new space. Address: Rua Nova de São Mamede, 13 - store 11, Lisbon - The full story is featured in Vol.17 - Print VOL XVII - 2025 Out of Stock Add to Cart

Guillaume Matz, Partner at Harvey Law Group, on global mobility, residence and citizenship programmes, Schengen access and the changing priorities of international investors. May 6, 2026 | PEOPLE GUILLAUME MATZ words Pınar Yılmaz Borders are no longer merely geographic — they are strategic. From education to Schengen access, investors are rethinking how and where they move. We spoke with Guillaume Matz, Partner at Harvey Law Group, about residence- and citizenship-by-investment programmes and the shifting meaning of second citizenship. STEPPING OUTSIDE THE COMFORT ZONE What is the founding story of Harvey Law Group? What sets you apart today on a global scale? Founded in 1992, Harvey Law Group has grown into one of the world’s leading international law firms focused on residence-by-investment and second citizenship programmes. The firm operates across Europe, North America, Asia and the Caribbean. What sets us apart is not only our deep knowledge of these programmes, but our ability to design long-term, flexible mobility strategies tailored to each client. What was the turning point in your career that led you into global mobility? It began with my first opportunity to work outside France. As a trainee lawyer in London, working across different firms changed the way I looked at both my personal life and my career. Being in a different country brings a kind of energy you simply cannot find elsewhere. It made me realise how limited my perspective had been — and how far reality was from what I had imagined. What struck me most was that I experienced this shift in a place not so different from where I grew up. That realisation marked a turning point. Embracing another culture and way of life proved essential. In the end, it is experience — and what you make of it — that allows you to move forward. Stepping outside your comfort zone teaches you a great deal. For me, it clarified that mobility was where I wanted to focus. MOBILITY AS STRATEGY Is global mobility law purely a professional field for you, or also part of a personal vision? Working internationally was always something I felt drawn to, even if I couldn’t fully explain why. It was, in many ways, instinctive. Following that instinct has shaped both the lawyer and the person I am today. Working across different countries and cultures has influenced not only my analytical approach, but also the way I advise clients. Why has global mobility become so important in recent years? Mobility is no longer just about visa-free travel. It’s no longer about movement alone. Business continuity, access to education, the ability to live across different countries and diversify risk have all moved to the top of investors’ priorities. A second residence or citizenship is no longer a luxury — it is a strategic plan. A NEW MAP FOR INVESTORS Which countries have seen the highest demand in 2024–2025? Are Europe and the Caribbean still leading? European residency-by-investment programmes continue to attract strong interest, particularly due to Schengen access and overall quality of life. Caribbean citizenship programmes remain appealing for their speed and the strength of a second passport. What criteria do investors prioritise today when selecting a country? The question is no longer simply “Which programme is the most affordable?” It has shifted towards more nuanced considerations: education, healthcare, ease of doing business, political stability and a clear path from residency to citizenship. Decisions are no longer one-dimensional. How have applicant profiles for Golden Visa programmes evolved? Investor profiles were once relatively homogeneous. Today, a much broader group — including entrepreneurs, technology investors, family offices and young professionals — is entering the space. Mobility is no longer just about protecting assets; it has become part of a broader growth strategy. Why is Schengen access so critical for investors? Freedom of movement within the Schengen Area offers clear advantages, both in terms of access to European business networks and lifestyle planning. For those active in international business, the ability to move — without losing time — is a strategic asset. Which European programmes currently stand out? Portugal and Bulgaria are among the most prominent. Portugal continues to attract attention for its quality of life, long-term outlook and strong European connectivity. Bulgaria, meanwhile, offers a more accessible, business-oriented structure, positioning itself as a strategic and cost-effective alternative for investors seeking active engagement.

Photographer Kamila Solarz on her Cycles series, the passage of time and a practice exploring transformation through flowers, materiality and image-making. June 13, 2026 | vol 18 KAMILA SOLARZ words Onur Baştürk artworks Kamila Solarz Kamila Solarz’s practice is defined by observation, restraint, and a quiet attentiveness to space and time. Moving between analog and digital formats, she treats photography as a deliberate act, guided by light, material, and the intervals between things. Her images are precise yet open—pared back but tactile—inviting stillness rather than spectacle. Her recent project Cycles marked a turning point in her personal work. Presented last year as a solo exhibition in Barcelona, the series considered transformation not as a linear path, but as a continuous, circular state. Solarz speaks of working between mediums and letting photography move beyond representation—becoming a quiet field for looking and listening, where nature and material reveal themselves on their own terms. BETWEEN MEDITERRANEAN FLOW AND NORTHERN STILLNESS Your life and practice unfold between Mediterranean culture and Polish roots. How do these two worlds—one defined by openness and flow, the other by quiet and depth—shape you and your work today? For a few years, I felt in between Poland and Spain. Not only physically, as I was travelling a lot between the two countries, but emotionally as well. I now say more often—and more confidently—that I’m based in Barcelona, but it has been a transition and a process. I think many people can relate to that feeling: one place no longer feels like home, and the other not quite yet. Mediterranean culture has healed me in many ways. It opened me, allowed things that were stuck and waiting for permission to finally flow. At the same time, I carry something from my roots—a certain inner silence, but also strength. A tendency to observe, to go into the deepest layers of things, a kind of reflectiveness. The clear rhythm of seasons in Poland often comes back to me when I need a reminder that everything in nature falls and is reborn. Nature in both places feels unique and very different. In Spain, there is vitality and lightness. In Poland, silence and intimacy. Both inspire me deeply. ANALOG SLOWS ME DOWN You move fluidly between analog and digital formats. How would you describe the essence of your photographic approach today? It is very process-focused. I’m interested in observing how things take form. From that place, Cycles was born, opening a new chapter in my personal work and allowing me to explore photography as matter. Another important part of my practice is capturing the stories behind artists’ creations—through studio visits, searching for the soul of spaces and the presence enclosed in objects. I like to mix analog and digital during a single shoot, switching between them, as each medium offers a different perspective. Analog slows me down. It makes me respect each frame, but it also leaves less room for experimentation. Digital, on the other hand, allows more spontaneity—sometimes less careful, but often more playful and daring through that openness. OBSERVER AND OBSERVED Flowers, textures, and natural cycles recur throughout your work. How do you define yourself as an artist today? What feels most present in your practice right now? What feels most present for me is navigating between being the observer and the observed. When I photograph other people’s creations—whether objects, spaces, or experiences—I become a quiet observer. Most of all, I listen. In my personal practice, I open space for being seen. I explore where the boundary lies between process and result, and photography as a medium that can become matter for creating an object, not only an image. I SPEND A LOT OF TIME IN MY INNER WORLD There is a meditative quality to your images. How does this sensibility connect to your personal inner world? I spend a lot of time in my inner world. I’m drawn to layers, to what lies beneath the surface. It’s interesting because my images often convey peace, while I don’t really see myself as particularly stoic. In my actions, I’m quite dynamic—I change spaces easily, make decisions quickly. My mind is always moving, driven by a desire to discover and to scratch beneath the surface. I’ve been learning, and am still learning, how to tame that impulse in favour of calm. Photography is where that calm exists. It’s there that I find it—and it finds me. THE ORIGINS OF CYCLES Cycles begins in spring, yet its roots extend much further back. What first sparked the project? It’s difficult to trace a clear beginning—and in the same way, an ending. From a future perspective, it may all still be part of the process. But when I think of the elements that shaped Cycles—flowers, textures, transparency, layering, Japanese papers—flowers were there from the start. They have always fascinated me. I see them as beauty in constant motion, fluid and ever-changing. In the project, they reflect the circular movements found in nature and became a way of thinking about transformation. The intention behind exploring cycles as something continuous and circular crystallised after a journey I took to India last year. PATIENCE, RHYTHM, AND LETTING GO Following the transformation of a single flower over days or weeks requires patience and surrender. What did that process reveal to you? It was about returning every day to see what had changed. Simply observing. At first, I would arrive with an idea—choosing flowers whose form I loved and imagining how they might transform. Many of them, perhaps to teach me something, never opened. I’m grateful to have observed each process. Every flower had its own rhythm and character. In the series, we see ten flowers, but I photographed around thirty species. The selection was very personal—I developed a real relationship with them. The intention was to show different transformations, energies, and rhythms, so each could be recognised as an individual organic presence. I also became calmer. That had already begun after my journey, but spending so much time with the flowers taught me deeply about the nature of process and its cyclical essence. MY JOURNEY TO INDIA AND CONTINUOUS TRANSFORMATION You’ve described India as a moment of inner shift. What changed for you during that time? My journey to India gave me a profound understanding of transformation as something continuous and circular. Life and death existed side by side there. Death wasn’t a taboo, but something obvious. I witnessed rituals at the ghats, where bodies were cremated in the open air, visible to everyone. Covered with flowers, everything slowly became one matter. What remained was carried by animals or taken by the river. On my last day, I met a man who rebuilt his small café every year after the river flooded it. He told me calmly, “We try to complete life, but life is never complete.” It was the first long journey I took alone. One of my intentions was to allow myself to be seen, as I had always felt comfortable being the observer. India places you on the other side without warning. You experience what it means to be different and visible. You can’t disappear into quiet observation. I met people, listened to their stories, and felt they were shifting something in me as well. Very quickly, I understood that the journey wasn’t about what could be seen, but about constant becoming—about perceiving through the act of seeing. It was never just one thing. I don’t think it ever is. LOOKING AHEAD Are there new directions or themes you’re currently exploring? Nature remains an inexhaustible source of inspiration. When I discovered Japanese papers—organic, delicate yet strong—I fell in love. There is so much to explore, including the processes and the artisans behind them. I would love to travel to Japan and photograph paper-making processes, and to continue exploring larger formats. I’m interested in the relationship between inner cycles and those in nature, both individual and collective. This year, I want to deepen my exploration of transformation and photography as object. After Cycles, how do you feel your visual language evolving? Definitely—one that allows more space for exploration. My aim now is to enter something uncertain, something that may still be unresolved when I decide to leave it. I go there to discover, not to know. I’m not searching for a physical form for an idea. I explore theme and matter together, allowing the process to shape the result—sometimes letting the result become part of the process. I’ve learned that certain things take time and unfold in their own rhythm. What daily rituals or quiet routines nourish you? Coming back to the senses. When my mind feels cluttered, I try to do just one thing at a time: walk, play with my dog, look at the sky, feel the texture of what I’m eating, notice the letters that make up words, listen to a song. Simple things—yet often difficult in daily life. Changing scales, shifting perspectives, challenging the mind with its opposite. Most of these moments happen internally, by returning to a space of attention. And the sea. It’s always my point of return. Water gives me a peace I can always come back to—yet it is always different. - The full story is featured in Vol.18 - Print VOL XVIII - 2026 €20,00 Price Add to Cart

Milan-based American designer Haydn Von Werp on architecture, sculpture, Italian craftsmanship and the ideas behind his Arcus furniture collection June 27, 2026 | vol 18 HAYDN VON WERP words YUZU Editorial photos Portrait | Olivia Ghalioungui Product | Katherine Orakova Haydn Von Werp is an American designer based in Milan whose work sits between architecture and sculpture, shaped by a close engagement with Italian craftsmanship. Working with stone, metal and wood, he develops pared-back forms guided by structure, weight and proportion. His Arcus collection reflects this thinking — reduced pieces that suggest fragments of architecture, scaled to the intimacy of objects. How has living between New York, Paris and Milan shaped your design perspective? What has each city left with you? Living between New York, Paris and Milan taught me three distinct disciplines. New York gave me scale and boldness. It removes hesitation. Objects must hold presence there — they compete with architecture, speed and ambition. Paris refined my eye. It taught me restraint and proportion. In Paris, elegance often lies in what you remove. Milan gave me material intelligence. The culture of craftsmanship there is unmatched. You learn that structure is not only conceptual; it is engineered, resolved and detailed, often visible in façade layouts and material hierarchies. My designs sit between those three: bold in presence, restrained in language and engineered with precision. How does your background in photography inform your design decisions today? Is light and framing still a tool in your process? Photography trained me to observe before creating. Light remains central. I consider how a piece behaves at different hours, how stone absorbs shadow, how metal reflects tension and how edges cast lines. Framing is fundamental. I do not only design an object; I design how it sits in space. A table is not just a surface but a horizontal plane that reorganises a room. I also spend time framing images carefully. ARCUS PIECES READ LIKE FRAGMENTS OF BUILDING — CARRYING TENSION AND GRAVITY Your work feels driven by structure rather than decoration. What does it mean, for you, for an object to approach architecture? For an object to approach architecture, it must have internal logic. Architecture is not applied; it is resolved. Every line carries weight and every joint has a reason. I begin with structure, almost like the bones of a building. Ornament, if it appears, emerges from construction. I am less interested in adding than in revealing. Haydn ‘Arcus’ pieces are like fragments of buildings — reduced and scaled down, yet still carrying tension and gravity. In the Arcus collection, the idea of reducing architecture to its “bare bones” stands out. When simplifying a form, what do you make sure to preserve? Simplification in Arcus was not about minimalism but about essence. When reducing a form, I preserve structural clarity, proportion and weight. If those remain, the object keeps its dignity and its bones. I strip away until only what is necessary for balance remains. What is left should feel inevitable, as if nothing more could be removed without collapsing the idea. Stone, wood and metal each carry a different voice. Is your material selection more intuitive or analytical? It begins analytically and ends intuitively. I first study structural roles: what carries weight, what holds tension, what grounds the piece. Then I listen to the material. Stone brings permanence and silence, wood brings warmth and humanity, metal brings precision and tension. I am drawn to contrast — softness against rigidity, opacity against reflection. That tension creates energy. HIDDEN STRUCTURES FASCINATE ME Art Deco, Futurism and Brutalism appear as references in your work. Are these historical references or active influences? They are not nostalgic references. Art Deco brings geometry and sensual luxury, Futurism brings dynamism and tension, and Brutalism brings honesty and raw materiality. I absorb principles rather than aesthetics. What interests me is ambition. Each movement sought to redefine its time, and that ambition informs how I approach design. What currently inspires you? What ambitions shape your next steps? At the moment, I am inspired by engineering. Hidden structures fascinate me — how something can appear monolithic yet rely on invisible precision. My ambition is to scale the Haydn language further, moving from collectible pieces toward architectural interventions. I want to explore larger typologies, perhaps architectural elements themselves. Ultimately, I aim to create objects that feel timeless — pieces that do not follow trends but feel discovered rather than designed. - The full story is featured in Vol.18 - Print VOL XVIII - 2026 €20,00 Price Add to Cart

Lighting designer Ali Berkman on light and shadow, spatial atmosphere, ON·OFF, Studio DIM and why lighting should be integral to architecture. June 28, 2026 | vol 18 ALİ BERKMAN words Onur Baştürk Lighting designer Ali Berkman grew up around luminaires in his father’s shop in Istanbul. Today, he leads the Istanbul-based ON·OFF Lighting Design Consultants and Studio DIM. His work is shaped by a careful reading of light and shadow. For Berkman, lighting is not an accessory to design, but one of its structural elements. What makes a space powerful — its design, or its lighting? Design and lighting are not separate disciplines. Each can stand alone, yet a compelling spatial experience depends on their alignment. A beautifully designed interior can feel flat — even uncomfortable — under the wrong light. Equally, a modest architectural setting can gain depth through considered illumination. Every space has a psychology, and vision shapes it more than we tend to admit. Light is not a technical afterthought; it defines atmosphere. Jonathan Speirs was once asked in Copenhagen, “What is good lighting?” His answer was direct: “If a user walks into a space and says, ‘What beautiful lighting,’ we’ve probably done something wrong.” Light should not call attention to itself. It should reveal — the space, and the people within it. ‘HIDE THE LIGHT SOURCE’ IS A PRINCIBLE THAT DEFINES OUR APPROACH Why should lighting be seen as foundational rather than a finishing touch? When lighting is introduced at the end, it must adapt to decisions already made. But light and darkness need to be considered from the outset. To fully understand a project, a lighting designer should witness how materials are selected, how volumes shift, how intentions take shape. Atmosphere begins long before fixtures are installed. “Hide the light source” defines our approach. The source should recede; the effect should lead. When involved early, we can integrate light into architecture — concealed within ceiling details, embedded in furniture, or positioned discreetly behind objects. The result is not decorative illumination, but something embedded in the space itself. How do you evaluate architects’ and interior designers’ approach to lighting today? In larger practices, lighting designers are increasingly involved from the beginning — not merely as technical consultants, but as part of the design dialogue. The challenge is not only timing, but understanding. Investors and clients need to recognise what lighting design contributes and why it matters. How does ON OFF guide its clients through the process? Design today is saturated with digital tools. Simulations and modelling software can predict performance with impressive accuracy. Yet no software replaces physical presence. Our approach is defined by involvement — from concept to completion, and critically, on site. Early conversations often influence interior decisions themselves. Materials, hierarchy, spatial distribution and even ceiling design are reconsidered through the lens of light. On-site testing remains essential: mock-ups, adjustments, observing how materials react, measuring reflections. Fine-tuning follows. In lighting, small shifts can alter perception dramatically. A slight change in angle, a minimal relocation, a calibrated contrast — these can transform the experience. Such precision only emerges at full scale, in real conditions. GOOD LIGHTING DEPENDS LESS ON AESTHETIC FASHION THAN ON PERCEPTION AND BALANCE Are there trends in lighting, or is good lighting inherently timeless? Technology evolves. Light sources improve. Control systems become more refined. Lighting design itself, however, is not driven by fashion. It is grounded in human vision and psychology — and that makes it timeless. Good lighting depends less on aesthetic trend than on perception and balance. The Seagram Building in New York, where Richard Kelly developed the lighting design, remains a compelling example. Nearly seventy years on, it still feels current. Kelly emphasised vertical surfaces, concealed sources and movement guided through contrast rather than brightness alone. What draws you toward the elevator lobby is not sheer illumination, but orientation and contrast. Its endurance lies in its alignment with how we see. Lighting is also contextual. Cultural and geographic differences shape preference. In parts of the Middle East, cooler tones are common in residential settings; in Northern Europe, warmer tones dominate. These choices reflect climate, habit and cultural perception rather than fashion. How do you approach lighting in your own home? Lighting at home was not a solitary decision. My wife, Juanna, is an architect, and from the outset we developed materials, colours and furniture details together. This dialogue allowed for a restrained and largely invisible lighting strategy. Our home receives generous daylight; artificial light is rarely needed during the day. We value observing how natural light shifts over time. In the evening, we rely on layered lighting. All sources are dimmable, allowing the atmosphere to adapt to different moments. Artworks, plants and objects create distinct layers. Reading, dining, hosting — each activity shapes its own tone. Where possible, light sources remain concealed, aside from decorative fixtures. They are integrated into furniture, hidden within planting, or positioned discreetly beside seating. We chose not to use visible ceiling-mounted sources. Collectible lighting is becoming increasingly sculptural and expressive. How do you see it? Collectible and decorative lighting should primarily be understood as design objects. When tasked with illuminating an entire space, they often compromise visual comfort. In our projects, we position decorative fixtures as compositional elements rather than primary light sources. The general lighting scheme is resolved independently. In some cases, these pieces become strong focal points. We still engage with how their light is controlled — colour temperature, dimming, glare — but their role remains expressive rather than functional. At Studio DIM, even when designing sculptural pieces, we carefully construct the light–shadow balance. Form may lead, but it is the dialogue between illumination and darkness that ultimately gives the object presence. - The full story is featured in Vol.18 - Print VOL XVIII - 2026 €20,00 Price Add to Cart