Read an excerpt from Material Wonder

From a young age I was acutely aware of materials and nature. I never imagined that this fascination would lead to a life exploring both in my design projects.

One of my earliest memories is sitting in the car as a kid looking out at the Australian landscape and being blown away by the changing terrain and kaleidoscope of colours. The characteristic hues and distinctive light have been etched into my memory, influencing the way I marry colours and textures.

1970s dreaming

My interest in materials and design really began with the homes I grew up in. We lived between two houses: one on the banks of the Yarra River near the city in Melbourne, and the other on a farm up in the mountains. The youngest of six kids, I didn’t realise how privileged we were to spend time in both places.

I remember watching our farmhouse, an A-frame kit home, being assembled in one day. With two bedrooms, one bathroom and six children, the house was small and cosy – it felt like a tree house. I loved the exposed, chunky wooden rafters and the steeply pitched ceiling. My father expanded the house in the 1980s using recycled materials, wood panelling and amber-coloured glass salvaged from an old bank building. Looking back, he was incredibly inventive with the materials he found and transplanted into our home.

In contrast, my parents had renovated our Melbourne house in true 1970s style. There was white, red and green shag-pile carpet, textured woollen wallpaper, red felted walls, yellow laminate, stained olive-green oak joinery and beaten copper pendants. There was a warmth and richness to it, with layers of colour and texture.

My childhood and time spent in nature has shaped my design aesthetic and underpins my passion for natural materials and tones drawn from the colours of the landscape. On the farm, we were surrounded by scrappy bushland and scenic, mystical moun­tains. Big storms and winds would often sweep across the farm and at times it felt dangerous – especially when trying to sleep in our assembled-by-hand A-frame house. The farm machinery had patinaed metal and peeling paint from being out in the harsh summer sun and dramatic winter storms. The seasons felt intensified, but it was always picturesque, romantic and beautiful.

Cool culture

After finishing school, I studied fine art painting and later went on to study interior design. I spent eight years at university in the centre of Melbourne, when the city was undergoing a period of interest­ing change. (It was the free-spirited grunge era.) I would often walk the back streets, peeking into spaces where the roller door was up and discovering the most incredible things being made, from sculptures to paintings or ceramics.

Though I studied painting, there was nothing I loved more than exploring other artistic disciplines. I would visit the silversmiths, ceramicists and printmakers, then cross Swanston Street to see what was going on in the sculpture department. This budding creativity informed my love of materials.

Melbourne in the late 1990s was cool. A mood of change and reinvention was in the air. The times felt modern and forward-looking. Architecture, art and jewellery were minimal and considered, but, mostly, materials were being explored in totally new ways. In between lessons I would wander down to Flinders Lane, where the Adelphi Hotel had just been created from a converted warehouse, its traditional facade dressed in aluminium and steel blades painted in pale yellow. A glass-bottomed swimming pool jutted over the street. Anna Schwartz’s eponymous gallery next door was wrapped in hand-finished aluminium. My attraction to aluminium was born out of these early experiences. There were cool fashion stores and cafes that resembled white cube art galleries. Crossley Street had Gallery Funaki, a place I loved to visit, and I would marvel at the intricacy and skill of contemporary jewellery makers. I still do.

Branching out

My first job in design was at a big commercial studio. I didn’t always connect with the projects at this studio or the materials being used, which were slick, pressed and shiny. Even at that early stage, I imagined my future in design as being completely intertwined with art and the examination of alter-native, less refined materials. However, I loved my time assisting Jenny Angel in the library where I created a catalogue of furniture and lighting to assist the designers on their projects. At this time, the internet was its early stages, and accessible websites were numbered.

Moving to Canberra to work with Romaldo ‘Aldo’ Giurgola really opened my mind to the possibilities of material exploration, especially as Aldo used a diversity of stones and timbers in his projects. Following this was time spent with John Wardle, a master craftsman of materials who is constantly challenging what is achievable. These experiences were deeply informative for my education and development. By the time I opened my own studio, my design aesthetic was forming and my practice direction was clear. It would encompass projects that combine art and elemental materials to create distinctive, refined spaces.

Travel also holds potent memories and possibilities for me. I have toured widely in the past fifteen years, often spending time in art galleries or the studios of much-admired makers gathering new ideas and challenging my understanding of materials. Two fundamental experiences I had were visiting the Noguchi Museum and their notable outdoor sculp­ture garden in New York, and seeing an exhibition of sculptor Rachel Whiteread’s work in Rome. Both artists place great importance on materials in their work, whether stone, resin or paper. I try to bring the same uncompromising focus and passion to our studio practice: seeking innovative solutions that uphold the value of our work.

Discovering unfamiliar places and cultures, whether in Australia or overseas, opens the door to researching new materials. I find travel to be the best way to keep our work forward-looking; it helps me to understand our place in the global design world, and drives our practice to be resourceful and inventive.

The Work Shop exhibitions

In March 2019 I launched my inaugural exhibition Work Shop as part of the National Gallery of Victoria’s (NGV) Melbourne Design Week. The exhibition is a showcase of experimental design, artworks and objects by Australian and international artists, artisans and designers that examines the dialogue between art and design. Informed by my fine art studies and background of artistic practice, it explores the creative dualism between artistic disciplines in response to a lack of public platforms, presenting them together in a non-hierarchical manner.

Given that so many of the interior projects I work on feature collaborations with artisans and artists for custom elements, the exhibition space (in our office annex) also embraces displays of early prototypes – the unfinished and undone – granting designers the opportunity to test ideas before proceeding into full production.

The 2019 exhibition showcased my original designs plus pieces by New York-based lighting designer Mary Wallis, Australian sculptor Makiko Ryujin, painter Jiaxin Nong and British porcelain artist Olivia Walker. The works investigated the tension between the constructed and deconstructed, the resolved and incomplete and the built and undone, encouraging viewers to discover beauty at all stages of creative evolution.

Work Shop 4 was formed as part of the NGV’s Melbourne Design Week 2020. I designed and curated an eclectic assemblage of artworks, objects and sculptural furnishings that reflected my studio’s interest in technology and curiosity about the use of hand-crafted processes across multiple mediums and disciplines.

My interest in artistic collaboration – ever present in the studio’s practice – underpinned the bespoke pieces I designed in collaboration with local craftspeople, including an aluminium cabinet hand-made by Daniel Barbera – a functional meditation on consumption, given its single drawer and compact maple rail crafted by Ross Thompson. While aluminium is usually known for its slick machined veneer, here it was given a matte surface combined with Frank Stella-like chalk outlines for a hand-finished sensibility. I also co-designed a crumpled illuminated balloon of hand-sewn silk stiffened by acrylic paint in collaboration with archival seamstress Catherine Shannon. Tethered to both ceiling and floor, it was neither a lamp nor pendant light. Its sheer lunar force probed the precious and vernacular nature of materiality. The exhibition also included a curation of works by artists Rebecca Agnew and Jacopo Moschin, who explored photographic and digital mediums.

Since launching in 2019, each Work Shop exhibition has featured original designs and commissioned pieces, and included furnishings and ceramics. Some iterations have been co-created by myself and my team, while others have been guest curated by creatives.

The power to transform

I have always been drawn to projects where there is an honesty and integrity to how the materials are expressed and assembled. Our projects are curated to explore materials and the ways in which they interact. It is always about the essential, and not overwhelming the dialogue between the materials.

My design approach is to focus initially on problem- solving and planning – researching an angle our studio can take for a project. Often I will go back through my image library to draw on places I have visited and seek out details or materials I have captured in photos. I create a collage of these images and then start sketching ideas for my team to explore.

I consider how we can investigate materiality and new techniques. For me this is an intuitive response to the site, my client and their brief. I will usually start with a broad approach to the inclusion of raw elements and then refine these to a few select materials.

Having worked through this process, it is then about feeling and connection: how will the client feel in the space? The mood that’s created and the materials used influence the way a client responds to and connects with a space.

I find the most interesting use of materials tran­spires when they have been manipulated – usually by an artist or maker. The Lee Mathews store on James Street in Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley was a pivotal project, in which the client and I were equally passionate about materials and art. The large-scale plaster work designed by Alana Wilson, which wraps around the change room, is an example of integrat­ing art as part of the interior built form, rather than adding it later. This exemplifies the way I aspire to do all my projects, with art and design embedded.

The projects and case studies in these pages embody our practice’s approach to design, using a palette of materials that are elemental and expressive. They demonstrate the way we respond to design challenges and collaborate with artists and makers to create mood and evoke feeling, whether for functional commercial installations or private residences.

Each of the key materials profiled – stone, metal, wood and textile – are used in each of our projects, usually in combination. I love the connection between these materials and how they relate to one another, coming together to create signature spaces that are luxurious, purposeful, innovative and pleasurable.

Understanding materials and how they affect our lives is a never-ending subject. As the design world focuses more closely on ways to source and repur­pose materials, I feel we are on the brink of a new era where we will only be working with materials that are local or recycled. It’s an exciting time to be on this journey.

Material Wonder: The Interiors of Fiona Lynch is available now.