Francois
Chambard
Design should be functional, and more than that.
An interview with designer François Chambard
What is the role of a designer in a world that doesn't need more objects? And can design become a tool for activism, non-verbal communication, and building relationships between people? In this interview, Agáta Young Hošnová speaks with designer and maker François Chambard about design as a catalyst for social change, objects of protest and fiction, and why creating space for others to make can sometimes be more important than designing objects of your own.
Can you introduce yourself and the principles guiding your work?
I am the founder of UM project studio and its sister initiative unblock.space. These platforms function as avenues for experimental approaches to creating and making, and my position in them is always shifting. Sometimes I am a facilitator of community engagement with a given design product, other times I am the designer myself. My goal is to use design processes as bridges to nurture meaningful connections between people and objects. What I am trying to say through my practice is that design should be functional, and more so. That is where my intention always sets in. For a long time, I have been a self-taught designer, but I recently graduated from Contextual Design at Design Academy Eindhoven.
How would you describe the different types of objects you create?
Basically, I would divide these into three categories or stages, and these are also principles of the UM project studio and unblock.space. I call the first phase “objects of function”, or products – these usually relate to my earlier work, when I was focusing on highly functional objects, such as lamps, furniture, instruments and tools. These objects would always be created by layering and collaging basic shapes and colours. The second phase are “objects of fiction”, or prototypes. These objects invite a layer of imagination and fantasy and are shaped by the field of speculative fiction and ever-changing potential. Example of this include my series Odd Harmonics, where I designed and built theremins, and the project Craft System, where I presented a collection of modular lamps. And the third section, on which I have been focusing most recently, I call “objects of activism”, or “pro-tests”, shaped by emphasis on action, advocacy and activism. Here, tools become facilitators of public engagement. The first object I created for a broad audience was The Printshop for the Museum of Arts and Design in New York City. It was a semi-automated silk print press, serving as a center for workshops – my goal was to make something to allow others to create too. Similarly, another project of mine focused on public participation was The Filter Project at the Ghent Design Museum. Twelve neurodivergent and/or disabled participants of all ages from various backgrounds (out of which only two were designers “by profession”) were invited to imagine, design and make an object, a “Filter”, that illustrates how they see and navigate the world. The “Filters” advocated and represented neurodivergence in an embodied way, through non-verbal communication.
UM Project, Theremins. Photo: Francis Dzikowski/OTTO
How much of the process and the idea behind each project of yours is intentional? To what extent do you incorporate chance and randomness, or do you always think the project through in advance before you start?
Two things happen when I start a project. First, I think the way people see, react or use my work is often surprising, and usually doesn't go as intended. I always learn from these comments and implement feedback into my future work. Second, as a designer and maker, I do not send my concepts into a factory for others to create the final pieces. I always start with a sketch of the design concept. But when I begin, things change. The making informs the design and vice versa – it gives the object life, it gives it shape and there is a level of unpredictability that then specifies the intention.
unblock.space, The Filter Project. Photo: UM Project
We can see this well with the Filter project. It was an invitation to absolute freedom. You were guiding the participants through the process, or helping them with the manual making. Sometimes your position is to be a facilitator of a process, some other times the conceptual lead and the creator of the object.
That’s true and it is actually what I tried to achieve here with students from UMPRUM during the workshops. I gave them an assignment of doing a pro-test – in simple terms, that consists of making an object that reveals something invisible. I am aware that this is not a simple task, but I wanted to invite students to experiment through unexpected forms.
Did you give them any more clues or hints, any tools they can use?
I told them not to feel intimidated, and invited them to, for instance, use an object as a tool of activism advocating for a specific cause, but also to start with a creation of something rather practical if they wish, and then see where it goes. I emphasised that it does not even have to be something necessarily real or a material, 3D object, it could also be a narrative. In my view, the definition of an object is very wide, an object can be anything.
Do you think if an object ceases its function, it becomes a sculpture instead?
This leads us to the eternal debate of defining the line between design and art. I move back and forth between both, even though I do not see myself as an artist. In my view, if an object loses its clear function, it becomes a fiction, not a piece of art. It makes people dream; it can then engage with something totally unusual, imaginary, unreal and beyond that.
It reminded me of your theremin project. They are truly strange objects – sort of modular sculptures, let’s say. But the way to interact with and operate them is not to touch them. Maybe that is the fiction – there is no direct manual contact. What matters is what happens around the piece, that is what resonates them, quite literally.
It brings me to the paradox that as an object maker, I produce a lot of objects. But then I question whether it is a good idea to be producing more material stuff in this overwhelmed world. It leaves me conflicted but I also cannot stop making them, perhaps I am a bit of a compulsive designer and maker… So the question that remains is: what do I do with this? And my answer is to just try to push the limits, to try to create connections and to move people, and, maybe even make them realise something that they were not aware of. Aiming for this helps me to justify making objects.
Playfulness seems to be quite key to your practice. Your projects look very funky. I was wondering, whether people see your work as less serious or childlike because of this?
I see what you mean and I would see my influences as pop, or a poppy twist on Bauhaus, but playfulness is never an objective of mine, it is unintentional. Perhaps it is an expression of my creative sensibility - collaging fragments carefully – especially since I work on my own and not with big factories. The playfulness is a good way for people to connect with the object. Once you start peeling down the layers of the playful facade, you see details, functions, materials – you see much more.
UM Project, Mobile Pint Press. Photo: UM Project
I think that playfulness often comes with the colours you use. It is an easy way for people to read it through specific colour types, like pastels.
Indeed, I do like colours. But hopefully playfulness is just one dimension of my work.
Do you have a favourite object to design?
I like tools. I like hammers, clamps. Generally any so-called simple machines, defined as mechanical devices with few or no moving parts that make work easier by multiplying or changing the direction of a force. I love that there are so many of them, they are timeless and universal, but can also be quite personal. Besides that, I enjoy creating musical instruments, but I do not like when the object’s parts become invisible, or too sleek, and you do not see the fragments they are made from – I like seeing the mechanical details.
I think it is curious that you said that your favourite object to design is something that you then use to design with. It is quite meta. I see that you have worked a lot with marginalised communities and kids by involving them into your workshops and letting them be designers too. Why do you think that designing and experimenting can be a good tool to communicate with the outside world and perhaps a way to destigmatize their differences?
Making is a universal language – we all make something and we design our own life by default. “Design by Default” is a theory first developed by my close collaborator and good friend Daisy Dawson of ADEZIV in Eindhoven. The key is to give time, space, and confidence to people that they can make something by themselves. And it does not happen a lot. Often you kind of compress or suppress this instinct, or you think you have to make things in a specific way, which is expected by others. But no, you should make the thing you like and be yourself. Besides, objects are also a great tool of nonverbal communication. Sometimes it is really difficult to express yourself verbally even about the realities and experiences you know. For instance, it is easier for me to draw and design than to speak. And also I think by just inviting people to make something, even though most of them are not experienced with designing, they can easily become makers, but then nobody is formally recognized or given confidence to be so. Through these workshops, I have noticed that people can feel more valued, it is a way to give them space.
I also found that you moved from a commercial, I can imagine, well-paid projects, exclusive, prestigious objects and commissions for a narrow group of consumers to being more of a facilitator of something more inclusive.
That is true. My income has decreased, but my happiness has increased.
In my opinion, it is also quite a good pipeline to start as a commercially successful designer and then slowly move to more community-based projects and to use the stability of the first stage to facilitate this shift. Yet, what I think is great, that even with the project where you are the facilitator by providing tools for people to make things themselves – like the more recent Mobile Print Presses for Iskra Print Collective in Vermont, which is a piece to be solely used by the audience, you could still recognise your authorship style. You do not lose your style, but maybe only change the approach, the context and the audience.
Thank you for noticing this, I really appreciate it.
UM Project, MAD printshop. Photo: Francis Dzikowski/OTTO
Interview for UMPRUM Online: Agáta Young Hošnová
Portrait: Apolena Typltová
François started UM Project in 2004 as a solo designer and maker practice, creating objects that move between function and fiction. More recently, he founded unblock.space, an initiative that supports collective work with a focus on advocacy through objects. François shares his time between Brooklyn and Vermont. While François practiced a long time as a self-taught designer, he recently graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven (NL) with a Master in Contextual Design. François shares his time between Brooklyn and Vermont. While François practiced a long time as a self-taught designer, he recently graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven (NL) with a Master in Contextual Design.
Agáta Young Hošnová is a graduate of the BA in Curating at Goldsmiths College, the MA in Arts Management at King's College London and the Theory and History of Art at UMPRUM. She works at the Prague City Gallery and is an independent curator, currently a guest curator at Berlinskej model gallery. She is interested in the possibilities of curatorial theory and practice, the intermedial overlaps of the moving image and art from the second half of the 20th century to the present.
Francois
Chambard
Design should be functional, and more than that.
An interview with designer François Chambard
What is the role of a designer in a world that doesn't need more objects? And can design become a tool for activism, non-verbal communication, and building relationships between people? In this interview, Agáta Young Hošnová speaks with designer and maker François Chambard about design as a catalyst for social change, objects of protest and fiction, and why creating space for others to make can sometimes be more important than designing objects of your own.
Can you introduce yourself and the principles guiding your work?
I am the founder of UM project studio and its sister initiative unblock.space. These platforms function as avenues for experimental approaches to creating and making, and my position in them is always shifting. Sometimes I am a facilitator of community engagement with a given design product, other times I am the designer myself. My goal is to use design processes as bridges to nurture meaningful connections between people and objects. What I am trying to say through my practice is that design should be functional, and more so. That is where my intention always sets in. For a long time, I have been a self-taught designer, but I recently graduated from Contextual Design at Design Academy Eindhoven.
How would you describe the different types of objects you create?
Basically, I would divide these into three categories or stages, and these are also principles of the UM project studio and unblock.space. I call the first phase “objects of function”, or products – these usually relate to my earlier work, when I was focusing on highly functional objects, such as lamps, furniture, instruments and tools. These objects would always be created by layering and collaging basic shapes and colours. The second phase are “objects of fiction”, or prototypes. These objects invite a layer of imagination and fantasy and are shaped by the field of speculative fiction and ever-changing potential. Example of this include my series Odd Harmonics , where I designed and built theremins, and the project Craft System , where I presented a collection of modular lamps. And the third section, on which I have been focusing most recently, I call “objects of activism”, or “pro-tests”, shaped by emphasis on action, advocacy and activism. Here, tools become facilitators of public engagement. The first object I created for a broad audience was The Printshop for the Museum of Arts and Design in New York City. It was a semi-automated silk print press, serving as a center for workshops – my goal was to make something to allow others to create too. Similarly, another project of mine focused on public participation was The Filter Project at the Ghent Design Museum. Twelve neurodivergent and/or disabled participants of all ages from various backgrounds (out of which only two were designers “by profession”) were invited to imagine, design and make an object, a “Filter”, that illustrates how they see and navigate the world. The “Filters” advocated and represented neurodivergence in an embodied way, through non-verbal communication.
UM Project, Theremins. Photo: Francis Dzikowski/OTTO
How much of the process and the idea behind each project of yours is intentional? To what extent do you incorporate chance and randomness, or do you always think the project through in advance before you start?
Two things happen when I start a project. First, I think the way people see, react or use my work is often surprising, and usually doesn't go as intended. I always learn from these comments and implement feedback into my future work. Second, as a designer and maker, I do not send my concepts into a factory for others to create the final pieces. I always start with a sketch of the design concept. But when I begin, things change. The making informs the design and vice versa – it gives the object life, it gives it shape and there is a level of unpredictability that then specifies the intention.
unblock.space, The Filter Project. Photo: UM Project
We can see this well with the Filter project. It was an invitation to absolute freedom. You were guiding the participants through the process, or helping them with the manual making. Sometimes your position is to be a facilitator of a process, some other times the conceptual lead and the creator of the object.
That’s true and it is actually what I tried to achieve here with students from UMPRUM during the workshops. I gave them an assignment of doing a pro-test – in simple terms, that consists of making an object that reveals something invisible. I am aware that this is not a simple task, but I wanted to invite students to experiment through unexpected forms.
Did you give them any more clues or hints, any tools they can use?
I told them not to feel intimidated, and invited them to, for instance, use an object as a tool of activism advocating for a specific cause, but also to start with a creation of something rather practical if they wish, and then see where it goes. I emphasised that it does not even have to be something necessarily real or a material, 3D object, it could also be a narrative. In my view, the definition of an object is very wide, an object can be anything.
Do you think if an object ceases its function, it becomes a sculpture instead?
This leads us to the eternal debate of defining the line between design and art. I move back and forth between both, even though I do not see myself as an artist. In my view, if an object loses its clear function, it becomes a fiction, not a piece of art. It makes people dream; it can then engage with something totally unusual, imaginary, unreal and beyond that.
It reminded me of your theremin project. They are truly strange objects – sort of modular sculptures, let’s say. But the way to interact with and operate them is not to touch them. Maybe that is the fiction – there is no direct manual contact. What matters is what happens around the piece, that is what resonates them, quite literally.
It brings me to the paradox that as an object maker, I produce a lot of objects. But then I question whether it is a good idea to be producing more material stuff in this overwhelmed world. It leaves me conflicted but I also cannot stop making them, perhaps I am a bit of a compulsive designer and maker… So the question that remains is: what do I do with this? And my answer is to just try to push the limits, to try to create connections and to move people, and, maybe even make them realise something that they were not aware of. Aiming for this helps me to justify making objects.
Playfulness seems to be quite key to your practice. Your projects look very funky. I was wondering, whether people see your work as less serious or childlike because of this?
I see what you mean and I would see my influences as pop, or a poppy twist on Bauhaus, but playfulness is never an objective of mine, it is unintentional. Perhaps it is an expression of my creative sensibility - collaging fragments carefully – especially since I work on my own and not with big factories. The playfulness is a good way for people to connect with the object. Once you start peeling down the layers of the playful facade, you see details, functions, materials – you see much more.
UM Project, Mobile Pint Press. Photo: UM Project
UM Project, Mobile Pint Press. Photo: UM Project
I think that playfulness often comes with the colours you use. It is an easy way for people to read it through specific colour types, like pastels.
Indeed, I do like colours. But hopefully playfulness is just one dimension of my work.
Do you have a favourite object to design?
I like tools. I like hammers, clamps. Generally any so-called simple machines, defined as mechanical devices with few or no moving parts that make work easier by multiplying or changing the direction of a force. I love that there are so many of them, they are timeless and universal, but can also be quite personal. Besides that, I enjoy creating musical instruments, but I do not like when the object’s parts become invisible, or too sleek, and you do not see the fragments they are made from – I like seeing the mechanical details.
I think it is curious that you said that your favourite object to design is something that you then use to design with. It is quite meta. I see that you have worked a lot with marginalised communities and kids by involving them into your workshops and letting them be designers too. Why do you think that designing and experimenting can be a good tool to communicate with the outside world and perhaps a way to destigmatize their differences?
Making is a universal language – we all make something and we design our own life by default. “Design by Default” is a theory first developed by my close collaborator and good friend Daisy Dawson of ADEZIV in Eindhoven. The key is to give time, space, and confidence to people that they can make something by themselves. And it does not happen a lot. Often you kind of compress or suppress this instinct, or you think you have to make things in a specific way, which is expected by others. But no, you should make the thing you like and be yourself. Besides, objects are also a great tool of nonverbal communication. Sometimes it is really difficult to express yourself verbally even about the realities and experiences you know. For instance, it is easier for me to draw and design than to speak. And also I think by just inviting people to make something, even though most of them are not experienced with designing, they can easily become makers, but then nobody is formally recognized or given confidence to be so. Through these workshops, I have noticed that people can feel more valued, it is a way to give them space.
I also found that you moved from a commercial, I can imagine, well-paid projects, exclusive, prestigious objects and commissions for a narrow group of consumers to being more of a facilitator of something more inclusive.
That is true. My income has decreased, but my happiness has increased.
In my opinion, it is also quite a good pipeline to start as a commercially successful designer and then slowly move to more community-based projects and to use the stability of the first stage to facilitate this shift. Yet, what I think is great, that even with the project where you are the facilitator by providing tools for people to make things themselves – like the more recent Mobile Print Presses for Iskra Print Collective in Vermont, which is a piece to be solely used by the audience, you could still recognise your authorship style. You do not lose your style, but maybe only change the approach, the context and the audience.
Thank you for noticing this, I really appreciate it.
UM Project, MAD printshop. Photo: Francis Dzikowski/OTTO
Interview for UMPRUM Online: Agáta Young Hošnová
Portrait: Apolena Typltová
François started UM Projectin 2004 as a solo designer and maker practice, creating objects that move between function and fiction. More recently, he founded unblock.space, an initiative that supports collective work with a focus on advocacy through objects. François shares his time between Brooklyn and Vermont. While François practiced a long time as a self-taught designer, he recently graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven (NL) with a Master in Contextual Design. François shares his time between Brooklyn and Vermont. While François practiced a long time as a self-taught designer, he recently graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven (NL) with a Master in Contextual Design.
Agáta Young Hošnová is a graduate of the BA in Curating at Goldsmiths College, the MA in Arts Management at King's College London and the Theory and History of Art at UMPRUM. She works at the Prague City Gallery and is an independent curator, currently a guest curator at Berlinskej model gallery. She is interested in the possibilities of curatorial theory and practice, the intermedial overlaps of the moving image and art from the second half of the 20th century to the present.