Jean-Baptiste Durand in conversation with Fakewhale
Jean-Baptiste Durand moves fluidly between design, ceramics, and scenography, merging industrial and artisanal techniques with conceptual freedom. His work resists categorization, drawing from diverse influences, from motorsports aesthetics to wabi-sabi philosophy. As he prepares for upcoming exhibitions and collaborations, Fakewhale explores his creative process, his vision beyond functionality, and the narratives shaping his work.
Fakewhale: Your work resists categorization, seamlessly navigating between design, ceramics, and scenography. How do you perceive the relationship between these disciplines in your practice, and do you intentionally blur the boundaries between them?
I don’t question it that way! I really like this notion of blurring boundaries, and I even prefer not thinking in terms of boundaries.
Of course, I come from design, so I often start with “classic typologies” like seating, lighting, tables, etc.,but I enjoy creating different things, at different scales, in different contexts.
Jean-Baptiste Durand: The “Spring Series, Green Nascar Edition” chair draws inspiration from motorsports, mountaineering, and outdoor equipment, yet it rejects ergonomic functionality in favor of pure form and image. What attracts you to these visual languages, and how do you decide which elements to extract and reassemble?
I like these languages because they are authentic in a way. They are created to be effective above all. I’m drawn to forms generated by necessity. For example, an engine. An engine isn’t designed or conceived with aesthetic considerations; it takes shape based purely on functional requirements.
Paradoxically, I use these forms in an unconventional way, solely for aesthetic purposes.
For a long time, I had tastes I kept as secrets.
For example, I’m kind of a fan of MotoGP… but I didn’t dare admit it.
Since I’m rather eco-friendly, for a degrowth economy, it didn’t quite fit haha!
Then one day I told myself, “Stop hiding that! Use it! If you find it beautiful, go for it.” That’s how the first spring chair was born. In a way, it was simply allowing myself to do things I had liked for a long time.
Your background includes working alongside Mathieu Lehanneur for five years before establishing your independent practice. How did that experience shape your approach to design, and what prompted your decision to shift towards a more experimental and interdisciplinary direction?
At Lehanneur’s studio, I felt like I was learning a ton of things, really fast.
After just six months, I was modeling 6‑meter‑high trees and overseeing the construction of a 1,000 m² cultural space. I still wonder how I managed to keep up because I wasn’t the most rigorous haha!
It was great because he was working on super diverse projects, ranging from industrial objects to interior architecture, as well as installations and collectible design… and that was exactly what I wanted to do: a bit of everything.
My plan from the start was to learn the job in a studio, then leave to go solo… but the road turned out to be a bit more contorted than expected!
What led me toward more experimental pieces? Well, it’s simply because I don’t even realize they’re experimental! I just feel like I’m making things, that’s all! But I guess this is the whole point: creating things that you hope will bring something new! That makes me wonder: does creating mean experimenting? Feels like a philosophy exam question!
But to be honest, I often feel that I’m not creating but only copying works I love, so I don’t really feel I’m creating either!
The notion of “sampling” plays a significant role in your creative process, where you compose works by assembling disparate materials and references. Do you see your work as a kind of visual archaeology, collecting and reinterpreting fragments of different worlds?
It’s super cool to see it as a form of archaeology, but that would be pure imposture haha!
The notion of sampling, drawing a parallel with music, seems more accurate to me because it also involves the creative aspect: reassembly.
That is to say, I search, I extract, but then I compose and assemble elements together. And that’s exactly what I find interesting in this amalgamation: you can see the references, but it’s not just a ready‑made, mere assembly, or copy‑pasting. I like that there’s this extra layer that makes things a bit more complex and ambiguous.
That said, for the dystopian series, I was creating objects that I considered futuristic archaeology. But that concerns only a part of my work.
In 2020, you co‑founded Atelier Super in Le Havre with Virginie Willerval, pausing your solo practice to focus on ceramics. How did this period influence your relationship with the medium, and did it alter the way you approach material experimentation?
When we opened that workshop, for me, it was part of a bigger picture.
My political and ideological convictions grew stronger. The way I saw my life, my expectations, and my goals also evolved. I realized that my desires no longer aligned with my ideas, and I’d had enough of Paris.
So we left for the sea, to a smaller town… and I loved it! It was the best years of my life.
Our workshop was really unpretentious, and that’s how I discovered ceramics, more to help out than out of any real interest. In fact, at first, I didn’t even like ceramics. But gradually, I learned to appreciate it. I was discovering new worlds, new techniques… One thing that completely blew my mind, for example, was realizing that you could melt earthenware onto stoneware by firing it at high temperatures. That moment made me think, “Okay, there’s some fun stuff to try here!”
And little by little, my creative urges started kicking back.
Over time, I realized that this need to create was just part of me. I think it’s probably tied to some kind of neurosis, this fear of not existing haha! But it’s there, it’s part of who I am. So I “accepted” it, and when we closed the workshop, I told myself, “Alright, now, just go for it.”
I’m trying to find a balance between this neurosis and a harmonious life… but there’s still work to do!
Your dream home would embrace the wabi‑sabi philosophy, yet you wouldn’t display your own creations in it. What draws you to this aesthetic, and how does it contrast with the sometimes bold and industrial elements present in your designs?
The only way I can justify my practice, justifying adding more objects to a planet already overflowing with them, is by seeing it as an aesthetic exploration.
I try to create shapes, forms that I find beautiful, intriguing, or curious, shapes that provoke a reaction, an emotion. But that doesn’t mean these are the kinds of aesthetic worlds I’d want to live in.
I’m not trying to create comfortable things.
For example, I was completely mesmerized when I saw Denis Villeneuve’s Blade Runner. But that doesn’t mean I’d want to live in the world it depicts.
I think that’s kind of what’s happening with the pieces I’ve been creating recently.
Your participation in Paris Design Week 2023 marked a return to personal projects and opened up new opportunities. What did this event represent for you, and how do you see your practice evolving after this turning point?
To be honest, at that moment, I gave myself a sort of ultimatum. I was still living in Le Havre, no one was coming into my workshop, and no one seemed particularly interested in my work, except for the occasional Parisian passing through for the weekend. So I told myself, “Okay, I participate in Paris Design Week, and if I sense even a bit of public interest, I’ll keep going. If not, I’ll drop all of this, become a market gardener or something actually useful to society, and spend my free time between tennis and the beach, my real passions.”
And then, there was interest. I got positive feedback, and in four days, I made the equivalent of six months’ revenue!
Someone told me something trivial, but it stuck with me: “It’s good, but you could go further.” I think that unlocked something in me—even though it was such a simple comment haha!
Now, I always have that in my head: Did you go far enough? Did you push it enough?
At this Design Week, I mostly presented ceramics. I don’t know why, but right after that, I wanted to do Collectible in Brussels. I think, deep down, I still wanted to belong to the design world.
I invited Simon Geringer and Prisca Razafindrakoto to share a booth with me, and since they were showing chairs, I thought, “Okay, I’ll make one too.”
That turned out to be a second step in reconnecting with my personal practice. I felt like I could keep pushing a little longer and postpone my seaside plans!
You often work with unconventional material combinations—earth, rope, fluorescent Plexiglas, zinc tubes. How do these juxtapositions serve your conceptual intent, and do you approach materials more as a designer, a ceramist, or something else entirely?
It’s when I have to answer these kinds of questions that I feel most like a fraud haha!
When I have to talk about conceptual intent… because, honestly, there isn’t any.
My approach isn’t conceptual, it’s almost entirely visual. I work in an opportunistic, or at least intuitive, way; I follow the ideas that come to me, often sparked by things I’ve seen.
Because of that, I struggle to truly define myself as a designer. Of course, designer is my job, it’s what I do to put food in the fridge and pay my rent. It’s something I know how to do.
But at the same time, like all labels and definitions, it can feel restrictive. The pieces I’ve made recently aren’t about ergonomics, comfort, or even design in the strictest sense… so are they still design pieces?
But I’d prefer not to overthink it.
Looking ahead, what projects and dreams do you have in store? We’re curious..!
Well, actually, there are so many things I want to do! I’d love to explore different directions, that’s something I connected with Lehanneur.
Right now, I’d really like to develop interior architecture, collaborate with brands on showrooms, boutiques, and so on. But that takes time, so I’m being patient—or trying to be!
What worries me, because I feel like it’s a real thing in France, is being boxed into a category or a specific style.
I’ve had conversations with studios that want to collaborate, like Aimko, for example… that’s super exciting, and it really motivates me! We’ll see if it leads to something!
I’ll also be in Milan in April to present my work, and I’m organizing a group exhibition at a gallery for Paris Design Week in September. And hopefully, there’s much more to come!
It’s been a year and a half since I started showing my work, so I’m super grateful for what has happened so far!
Being interviewed by you, for example, was something I wouldn’t dare to dream of, so thank you very much.
fakewhale
Founded in 2021, Fakewhale advocates the digital art market's evolution. Viewing NFT technology as a container for art, and leveraging the expansive scope of digital culture, Fakewhale strives to shape a new ecosystem in which art and technology become the starting point, rather than the final destination.
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