Sophie and I were pursuing various creative interests alongside our daily jobs. As a couple, we had the desire to start a project together. Initially, we spent a year or two experimenting with photography, leading us to personal projects across France and northern India. Sophie later began prototyping a ceramic and brass lamp, which caught my attention. What started as a single lamp evolved into a collection. We reached out to the press, got a few publications, received some orders—and step by step, we reached a point where we could fully dedicate ourselves to the studio. Studio HAOS was officially founded in 2017.

At the beginning, we had no formal design experience and were quite self-conscious. We would spend endless hours refining each object, assuming that extra time would always improve it—when in reality, it often did the opposite. Every project starts differently; we never know where it will lead. There is no set formula. Often, what truly drives us is the urgency of an upcoming exhibition—deadlines force us to make decisions quickly and push ideas forward. Sophie is more spontaneous and instinctive, while I am more analytical and methodical. This contrast sometimes creates friction, but when our approaches align, the results are always interesting.

The choice of material in one body of work is often a response to the previous one. For example, in 2023, we worked with raw aluminum tubes because we wanted to create imposing, sculptural, and raw pieces. Immediately afterward, we sought the opposite—lightness and fragility—which led us to Japanese paper and fiberglass. There’s always a sense of unease, of never being fully satisfied, that pushes us to explore new materials and techniques. In a way, this dissatisfaction is necessary to keep evolving, while our guiding principles—exploration, honesty, and simplicity—remain unchanged.

When we moved to Lisbon, we opened a large-scale workshop where we could handle design, prototyping, and manufacturing ourselves. Having our own workshop allows us to practice what we believe—that there is a particular, and perhaps higher, form of elegance in making things yourself. It lies in the ability to evoke emotions with restraint and purposefully limited means. This shift also distanced us from the trend of relying on expensive materials and overly elaborate craftsmanship.

Every time we start something new, we feel incredibly excited, convinced that what we’ve made is groundbreaking. Then, the next day, we look at it again—it’s terrible, we’re devastated, the world crumbles. We repeat this process a hundred times, and eventually, a new series of objects emerges from the workshop.

— Studio HAOS

Sometimes, we question the purpose of our work—especially compared to, say, a heart surgeon. But when these doubts arise, we turn to a collection of interviews with the French sculptor Auguste Rodin (L’Art). Although we would never presume to call ourselves artists, we do see our practice as an artistic endeavor. In the book, Rodin beautifully explains the role artists play in society—how they offer insights into the human condition, challenge norms, and foster a deeper appreciation for life and emotion. We strongly believe that objects made from simple or even ready-made materials can evoke deep emotional responses and shift perspectives. This has been demonstrated by many designers and artists throughout history—think of Gerrit Rietveld’s crate chair or the minimalist works of Donald Judd and Charlotte Posenenske. Today, this philosophy feels more relevant than ever. That’s why we prioritize shape and form over expensive materials or rare craftsmanship. By doing so, we hope to address concerns of our era, carving out a space between mechanized mass production and excessive luxury.

It’s always our most recent work that excites us the most—paired with the anticipation that the next project will bring even greater satisfaction. Of course, we are constantly striving for something that still feels just out of reach. Maybe that’s just an excuse to keep creating, but this feeling of looking ahead is what drives us forward.

Finding inspiration isn’t the issue—we’re bombarded with influences. The real challenge is filtering through the noise, identifying what is truly exceptional, and developing a unique, contemporary point of view. The difficulty lies in learning from powerful visual and conceptual works while maintaining originality. More than images, we are inspired by the lives of artist-designers. If I had to name one, I’d say Mariano Fortuny, the Spanish inventor and fashion designer, because he mastered multiple creative disciplines with style and poetry. We also admire figures like Franz West, John Chamberlain, Hans van der Laan, Enzo Mari, Donald Judd, and Gerrit Rietveld. Their work and research were always deeply connected to their lives.

We are about to start renovating our workshop, which was previously a car repair shop, transforming it into a hybrid space—half home, half workspace. It’s our first architecture project, and quite a significant one. The most likely outcome? We go bankrupt, spend a few years in jail for financial mismanagement, and then struggle to regain custody of our son, who won’t recognize us by then. But if it all works out, we’ll have a great office.