An illustrator and animator, Brian Rea has long built his work around intimate, everyday stories, told through an essential visual language that nonetheless carries strong emotional resonance. His visual approach moves naturally between illustration, animation and storytelling, maintaining a careful balance between formal simplicity and narrative depth. He lives in Sweden, a place where light – and its absence, especially during the long winter months – takes on a powerful cultural and emotional significance.

It is precisely from here that his contribution to What’s in a lamp? takes shape: Foscarini’s editorial project that invites international artists to creatively reinterpret the brand’s lamps through their own perspective. Brian Rea begins with a question that is as simple as it is powerful: what if the characters that inhabit the dark were curious about the light? What would they look like? How would they react when faced with a lamp that suddenly turns on? And what kind of relationship would emerge between them?

From these questions comes a series of short animated stories, dedicated to six Foscarini lamps – Binic, Madre, Sunlight of Love, Spokes, Fleur and Eolie – and populated by shy, curious, playful characters. The lamps become companions and interlocutors: presences that observe, welcome, listen and spark the imagination. There is no spectacle, no noise: everything unfolds in the details, in suspended moments, in subtle movements.

In a world that often shouts to capture attention, Brian Rea chooses the opposite path: one of delicacy, in perfect harmony with the character of Foscarini lamps. A light that does not overwhelm, but accompanies. An invitation to slow down and observe what happens, inside and around us, when a room begins to glow.

You move between illustration, animation, and storytelling with unusual naturalness. How would you describe your signature style in just a few words?
Restrained, but hopefully emotional, often highlighting the quiet moments.

Your characters are fragile, funny, emotional, profoundly human. What originally drew you to this kind of intimacy rather than to grand narratives or heroic protagonists?
I’ve always been a pretty emotional person (I love a good cry from a movie) but it took me a long time to discover these are the types of images I like to create too. I’ve been illustrating the Modern Love column for now 15 years, so by reading the column each week (a column about life and love and relationships in all the forms it can take) I suppose I developed a better understanding of how to present “feelings” in the work and elicit an emotional response from the viewer.

Which cultural or artistic references were most influential during your education and career?
There were so many at different stages of my career, but lifelong inspiration has always come from Ben Shahn and Saul Steinberg. Film makers such as Roy Anderson and Jaques Tati have also been a big influence on me too, particularly on pacing and the joy, pain and humor of quietness or the human condition.

Can you walk us through your creative process, from the first idea to the finished illustration or video?
It always begins with writing before sketching—I tend to make lots of lists. These lists then lead to sketches. I draw everything by hand but at times I’ll use Photoshop to refine color or make simple adjustments. In this collaboration, I selected six lamps that seemed to have unusual or playful visual characteristics in some way. Then I created a mini story for each one, with a central character to highlight something about each lamp. I worked with a wonderful animator named Bruno Persico, who then brought these stories to life.

You often blend tenderness with a subtle, quiet humor. How did this tone become your way of looking at the world?
I grew up in a big, loud family of wonderful storytellers. But I was too shy to tell stories with words, so I just listened. Eventually, I figured out I could share my little moments much better with pictures instead—usually one panel at a time or in short animated stories. And that became my way of connecting to the world.

You’ve said that some stories “arrive” almost fully formed, while others resist and unfold slowly. How do you understand when a narrative is finally complete?
When I can’t see any of the struggle or when the drawing (or animation in this case) feels effortless and fluid, and the timing is right on the animation, then it’s probably complete. Maybe I get a smile after looking at it—that’s another sign.

In this series for Foscarini, the lamps feel like living presences: they accompany, listen, console, spark imagination. How did you build this relationship between light and character?
I spent some time thinking about my complicated relationship with light. I was tremendously afraid of the dark as a child, and turning a light on was a big relief for me—it made the darkness and all the monsters I imagined that were in it go away. I now live in Sweden, which can be dark for long stretches of the winter, and I hear my children expressing worry about the same “monsters” I did as a child. But imagine if those characters in the dark were curious about light too—what would these characters look like? How would they respond to these lamps? This series hopefully expresses some of that surprise and joy and that connection that many of us share when the warmth of a lamp is turned on.

Was there a specific lamp or video in the series that surprised you the most or revealed a personality you didn’t expect?
The Binic lamp was certainly the most direct to personal experience—in it I see my children playfully sitting and staring, like a mirror to my kids. But I love sunlight (especially during the winters here), so the Sunlight of Love lamp was one that was really fun to work on. My two young children loved the Eolie lamp animation, probably because the character is doing something he shouldn’t do.

One of the beautiful aspects of this series is that nothing is loud or spectacular. The emotion lives in tiny gestures, pauses, glances. What did you discover by working at such an intimate scale?
I’m a big fan of the quiet power of little moments and trying to capture that in an image. The world can be a loud and intense experience—everything shouting at you for your attention. But these lamps don’t do that, and that’s what makes them stand out. It was important that the animations reflected that same tone as the lamps.

Did any of the stories take an unexpected turn during the process?
I don’t believe so. We sketched things out pretty clearly and I had a wonderful collaboration with Bruno Persico on the animation side of things. Valeria and her team at Foscarini were great, and I’m grateful for the creative room and the trust they gave us to tell our stories about their wonderful lamps.

Which video from the series is your favorite, and why?
As I mentioned, the Sunlight of Love lamp was probably my favorite. The name alone makes me smile, but so does the lovely animation that Bruno created for it. Hopefully it does for others too.

Finally: what does creativity mean to you?
Finding something you love more than anything else in the world and make it your life’s work every day without compromise.

In constant pursuit of original and unexpected languages – not only in terms of product, but also its communication – Foscarini explores a new visual horizon together with Massimo Gardone, the photographer and long-term collaborator of the company. The project investigates the potential of artificial intelligence as a tool of expression, but always guided by a sensitive, conscious human touch. A story in which technology is a means of amplifying the human gaze, where settings generated by AI contain lamps photographed in their physical presence.

The research conducted by Foscarini with Gardone and his studio Azimut has a very simple but quite ambitious objective: to teach the computer to “see” like the photographer, reflecting the suspended, delicate gaze that sets Gardone’s work apart, moving forward over the years in the world of flowers, the elective subjects – together with the sea – of his personal explorations. Thousands of floral images have invaded the digital memory of the machine, in a long, methodical process where every nuance, every detail of the petals, becomes a chromatic vibration that is absorbed and re-encoded.

With this photography project, that same sensibility has been transported into spaces, in a fascinating shift of scale from small to large, natural to imaginary – from the fragile and natural closeup of the flower to the creation of domestic landscapes that contain Foscarini’s lamps. The fixed points along this path are the lights by Foscarini, which remain real, photographed to preserve their authenticity and to inhabit spaces that belong to the boundary between reality and imaginative vision. The outcome is not a replica of reality, but an act of poetic translation.

Technological experimentation is a territory shared by Gardone and Foscarini: for both, technology is not an end, but a means to grant form to ideas. In Gardone’s work this approach translates into a dialogue between analogue gesture and digital potential, in which artificial intelligence is guided, instructed, gauged to amplify the human gaze, not to replace it. The photographer grafts sensitivity and intuition into the technological process, generating a novel narrative of Foscarini’s lighting: a balance between material and imagination, reality and vision.

An internationally renowned illustrator, Jorge Arévalo lives and works in Madrid, dividing his time between creative direction and drawing. After his beginnings in advertising agencies, he brought his distinctive line to publications such as The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, and Rolling Stone. His synthetic and vibrant figures are made of few strokes, yet they convey rhythm, elegance, and character. “I try to define a character with the smallest amount of information possible,” he explains, “turning minimalism into fluid lines, into a gesture that brings rhythm and style.”

In his work for What’s in a Lamp? – the editorial project through which Foscarini invites artists and creatives from different disciplines – illustrators, photographers, sculptors, animators – to reinterpret its lamps from a personal and free perspective – Arévalo stages a dialogue between designers and the lamps they have created.
On one side, the great masters – Rodolfo Dordoni with Lumiere, Ferruccio Laviani with Orbital, Patricia Urquiola and Eliana Gerotto with Caboche, and Marc Sadler with Twiggy – figures who have shaped the history of design and created some of the most iconic pieces in the Foscarini collection. On the other, two emerging voices in contemporary design – Felicia Arvid with Pli and Francesca Lanzavecchia with Allumette – bring a fresh, vital, and experimental outlook that opens up to the future.

After his project Chairs & Architects, Arévalo lifts his gaze upwards: light becomes the true protagonist, and the lamps turn into symbols of aspiration and desire – luminous presences that reflect their creators.

Each illustration combines graphic precision with narrative sensitivity. The colours – oranges, magentas, and turquoises, intensified by black – bring brightness and visual strength, while the relationship between lamp and designer always carries a human and intimate tone. The result is a gallery of essential and dynamic portraits, where the line becomes light, and light becomes story.

Where does your interest in drawing come from, and when did you realize it could become your professional path?

I have always drawn. As a child, if I wasn’t playing football, I was drawing. But it was only when I started working in an agency as an art director that I began to integrate illustration into my design projects. From there, a language was born – a style that was soon noticed and began to be requested by magazines and newspapers.

You define yourself as an “illustrator” rather than an “artist.” Why is that distinction so important to you?

Illustration is an art, but it is not “art” in the pure sense of the word. I am an illustrator. The illustrator aims his arrow at a target and must hit it; the artist, on the other hand, places the target where the arrow falls. We illustrators work for a client, for a brand, with a briefing. Being clear about that allows me to work more professionally, while also giving me full freedom in my personal projects.

Is there a common thread between Jorge the creative director and Jorge the illustrator, or do you prefer to keep these two sides separate?

They are inseparable. One feeds the other, enriches it, expands it. Illustration exists only within a graphic context: a drawing on paper, on its own, is just a drawing, not an illustration. You need to visualize the atmosphere, the context, the story around it. I think that’s what really defines my style.

How would you describe your signature style in a few words?

I try to reach the essence of a character with as little information as possible. That minimalism, however, must turn into movement, rhythm, and a natural elegance of line.

Which have been your main cultural or artistic influences?

The illustration of the 1960s and cinema up to the 1980s. I always look to the classics: René Gruau, Miroslav Sasek, Al Hirschfeld, David Hockney… and further back, Mucha, Toulouse-Lautrec, Schiele, and even further, Velázquez, Goya, Caravaggio. All of them, in their own ways, have taught me how to build a figure and give it soul.

Can you tell us about your creative process, from the initial idea to the final illustration?

The key is to never start with a blank sheet. I always begin with a coloured background that helps me set the tone of the image. My work is digital, and that allows me to move elements with a designer’s mindset – as if composing a collage of shapes and proportions.

After Chairs & Architects, you approached Foscarini’s iconic lamps and their designers. What was the biggest challenge – or the main attraction – in this new parallel?

Lamps fascinate me. The light of a lamp in a home defines us more than a chair. In Chairs & Architects, the protagonists touched their chairs and looked downwards; in What’s in a Lamp?, everything is more ethereal. The object of desire is above, almost out of reach, and the light feels like something you could touch with your fingertips.

How much did you seek coherence across the series, and how much did you want each lamp to have its own unique identity?

I tried to maintain consistent proportions between the designer and the lamp, but I wanted it all to remain human. The designers had to feel comfortable next to their own creations – that was the real challenge.

Colour plays a central role in your work. How do you choose a palette? Is it more of an aesthetic choice or a language of meaning?

It depends on the project. Sometimes a series needs a coherent palette so that the concept remains dominant; other times, the character or the scene dictates the colours. In my work, black gives strength and structure to the illustration, enhancing the other colours. The tones that appear most often are orange, magenta, and turquoise – they are the colours that bring light.

And how did you approach colour specifically in this series for What’s in a Lamp??

I wanted powerful colours that would convey brightness. In this case, I gave priority to the object rather than the designer – it was the lamp that had to shine.

This series features four established designers and two emerging voices. Was it more challenging to reinterpret iconic designs already known to everyone, or to visualise new and evolving proposals?

Iconic designs already have a story, a past – it’s easier to capture their essence. New creations, on the other hand, are still evolving, changing, writing their own story, and that requires more improvisation.

Looking ahead, is there another type of design object you would like to reinterpret with this approach?

Cars.

Finally: what does creativity mean to you?

In my illustrations, creativity is when the viewer can look at the image and feel as if they are peeking through a window of Casa Malaparte or through the keyhole of a jazz club in Harlem.

This international event will be a meeting ground where Italian creativity bridges culture, innovation and business — a dialogue between Made in Italy and the Saudi design ecosystem.

The installation, curated by the architectural studio Giò Forma, takes the shape of a landscape of modular scaffolding wrapped in a semi-transparent red fabric: a visual thread that connects people and spaces, symbolising energy and the future. Among its structures, products from over 35 Italian companies create a pathway of craftsmanship, design boldness and harmony that outlines new perspectives for contemporary design.

Within the exhibition, Foscarini presents Spokes, Buds and Caboche Plus — three lamps that embody the brand’s free approach to design. Through different materials and aesthetics, they interpret light as an experience, shaping spaces with emotion and character, both when on and off.

In the Business Lounge, designed by Piero Lissoni, Twiggy brings its discreet and functional presence to the spaces dedicated to meetings between architects and professionals, creating a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere.

Red in Progress – Salone del Mobile.Milano meets Riyadh
King Abdullah Financial District, Riyadh
26–28 November 2025

After the many selections that over the years have led to two Compasso d’Oro awards — for Mite by Marc Sadler (2001) and for the editorial project Inventario (2014) — the ADI Permanent Design Observatory once again confirms its interest in Foscarini, including no fewer than three projects in the ADI Design Index 2025: the PLI suspension lamp by Felicia Arvid; the cultural project HABITUS, born from the collaboration with Andrea Anastasio and the creative team of Amal; and the monograph published by Corraini Edizioni on the occasion of the company’s fortieth anniversary.

Three different paths — a product, a research project, and an editorial work — together narrate Foscarini’s multifaceted identity, defined by innovation, creative freedom, and critical reflection.

Presented to the press on 15 October, the ADI Design Index 2025 is featured in a printed yearbook, a dedicated website, and a series of exhibitions.

PLI
The poetry of design simplicity

Designed by the young Danish designer Felicia Arvid, PLI is a suspension lamp where light itself becomes a structural element. An essential, poetic gesture: a thin sheet crossed by light that turns into folds and three-dimensional drapery. PLI combines formal delicacy with technological exploration, marking Arvid’s first foray into lighting design and confirming Foscarini’s ability to discover and support new creative talents.

HABITUS
The freedom of research

Presented during Milan Design Week 2024, HABITUS is a research project that moves within the open space between idea and product.
A path where Foscarini chose to engage freely with creativity, exploring new directions in the world of light — free from the limits naturally imposed by serial production.Born from the collaboration with artist and designer Andrea Anastasio and with Arun Jothi and Natalie Frost, the creatives of Amal, an atelier operating between India and Rome specialized in embroidery and haute couture detailing, HABITUS investigates the encounter between light, embroidery, and high craftsmanship.
Beads, sequins, and laser-cut PET ribbons become living materials that dialogue with light, generating shimmering, unpredictable textures that are never the same twice.None of these works was conceived with industrial application in mind, but rather as an open exploration — a space for reflection and imagination.
Because sometimes, it is precisely through research freed from constraints that new directions emerge.
For a company, taking the time to reflect, weave connections, and venture into apparently distant creative worlds is not only a privilege but a courageous choice — as Carlo Urbinati has stated.

Monograph.
“Some Think It’s Just About Shedding Light. Foscarini 1983/2023”

Published by Corraini Edizioni with graphic design by Artemio Croatto / Designwork, the volume celebrates the first forty years of the company — a story built from the very beginning on research, innovation, and creative freedom. Structured in six thematic sections, the book features a critical selection of lamps, a complete catalogue of Foscarini’s entire production, and contributions from scholars, economists, critics, and designers. Together, they outline the profile of a brand that has managed to unite tradition and experimentation, industry and craftsmanship, culture and enterprise. An editorial work that captures Foscarini’s essence: independent, eclectic, and driven by innovation.

Beppe Conti is an illustrator and visual designer from Turin, specializing in digital collage. Inspired by surrealism and the unconscious, his works merge organic elements, abstract visions, and references from different eras and cultures.
His technique is a clever and creative remix of elements, a territory of freedom where contradictions and contrasts are embraced and transformed into meaning, setting his work apart from other creative languages that demand coherence. Over the years, he has contributed to editorial projects, branding, exhibitions, and multimedia collaborations, crafting images that create a sense of wonder and mystery, inviting viewers to explore deeper layers of meaning.

For What’s in a Lamp?, Conti explored the duality of light and shadow. Darkness is not emptiness but a field of potential: patterns, gradients, dreamlike architectures and fragments of reality emerge only through light. Drawing inspiration from the psychedelic aesthetics of the 1960s and 70s, he treats color as a perceptual force that structures the visual narrative and amplifies the emotional resonance of the lamp.

Each lamp becomes a story of its own. Aplomb appears as an architectural piece suspended in the void, where light is a constructive principle: it shapes space, carves geometries, and generates architecture with Brutalist echoes. Dolmen stands as an ancestral monolith, a relic from space bridging ancient memory and futuristic imagination. Binic, whose design was inspired by the nautical world, becomes a micro-psychedelic lighthouse that emerges from darkness as a visual signal, guiding and orienting. Other lamps, such as Gregg, Nile, and Tobia, also find new identities in Conti’s surreal universe.

By combining elements from different times, cultures, and materials, Conti builds images that live in the tension between construction and deconstruction, reality and imagination. In his series for Foscarini, lamps are no longer merely objects, but metaphors of transformation—bridges between light and shadow, earth and cosmos, present and dream.

Follow Foscarini on Instagram to discover the full What’s in a Lamp? project and read the complete interview with Beppe Conti.

Can you tell us about your artistic journey? Was there a key moment when you realized that art and illustration would become your path?

My artistic journey began with studies in graphic design, which gave me the tools to think of images as a language. Over time, my practice evolved in layers, much like the collages I create. The turning point came when I realized that my compositions were not only visually appealing, but also a way of thinking through images. That’s when I understood that art and illustration could become my professional path.

Digital collage is your distinctive technique: how did you arrive at this form of expression, and what does it allow you to do that other mediums do not?

I came to it almost out of necessity. I needed a way to combine different eras, styles, and materials without being limited to a single approach. For me, digital collage is a territory of freedom—it embraces contradictions and turns them into meaning. Other creative mediums demand consistency, but collage thrives on contrasts and unexpected combinations, and that’s what makes it unique.

In your works, you mix references from different times and places: do you rely on a personal visual archive, or on chance and discovery?

I use both. Over the years, I’ve built an archive of images, books, magazines, photographs, and distinctive elements that form a strong foundation. But I also leave room for chance: a randomly discovered image can become the spark for an entire composition. Collage works through this ongoing dialogue between archive and unexpected discovery.

How important are intuition and chance compared to control in your creative process?

Intuition and chance bring freshness and movement, while control shapes the final form. I always work in a balance between letting go and discipline: I listen to the images, then select, remove, and rearrange until I find the right tension.

How do you know when an image is “finished”?

It’s an intuitive moment, not governed by rules, but by a sense of balance. It’s as if the image, at some point, stops asking for intervention and begins to breathe on its own. That’s when I know it’s complete.

The collages you created for the What’s in a Lamp? project appear dreamlike and mysterious, but they also have a narrative dimension. What story did you want to tell by combining your imagination with the Foscarini lamps?

I imagined the lamp not as a simple object that illuminates, but as a device that generates visions. From the darkness, patterns, gradients, and fragments of reality emerge that would not exist without its light. The aesthetic draws heavily from 1970s graphic design and psychedelia, where color becomes a vibrational and perceptual experience—a language that expresses Foscarini light as a creative force capable of opening new visual worlds.

Each lamp expresses a different identity, always linked to the theme of light and darkness. What does it mean for you to explore this contrast?

Light and darkness are opposing yet inseparable poles. In collage, they allow me to construct and deconstruct an image, but above all, they speak to perception: we see only what emerges from a dark background. With Foscarini, I worked on this dialectic, turning darkness into a living matter from which colors and visions arise.

Which lamp inspired you the most to work on, and why?

Dolmen was particularly inspiring for me due to its monumental and ancestral character. Its form allowed me to work with archetypal, almost ritualistic images, where light becomes a call to primitive energies, interpreted through a contemporary lens.

Do you see collage more as a process of construction or deconstruction?

It’s both. I build something new by deconstructing what already exists. Collage lives in the tension between memory and invention; I take what is familiar and transform it into something unexpected.

How do reality and imagination coexist in your work?

They are intertwined. Reality provides the raw materials—photographs, textures, colors, architectures—while imagination recombines them into new configurations. Collage thus becomes an alternate reality, made of recognizable fragments arranged into a narrative that is almost dreamlike or surreal.

Within this balance, what role do wonder and surprise play?

Wonder drives me to search, cut, and collect images. Surprise comes when two distant elements unexpectedly connect; it’s a moment I can’t entirely control, and it’s precisely there that the work comes alive.

For you, what is creativity?

Creativity is the ability to see what already exists as if it were new. It’s an act of shifting perspective, overturning habitual connections, and putting images, times, and memories into dialogue.

Peter Grundy has built a career rooted in simplicity and is among the pioneers of conceptual infographics. From founding the studio Grundy & Northedge in 1980 to his more recent projects signed as Grundini, he has chosen to work more with information than advertising, dedicating himself to translating complex concepts into clear, accessible, and universal images. His graphic language is geometric and narrative, characterized by balance and reduction: a recognizable and distinctive visual code that serves the idea even before the image.

For What’s in a Lamp?, Grundy chose to tell Foscarini’s story through six lamps, six values, six visions: Lumiere speaks of internationality, openness and Foscarini design’s ability to engage with different cultures, each with its own way of experiencing light; Chouchin explores the meaning of home as a refuge and personal space; Buds embodies the spirit of avant-garde and the drive toward the future; Binic celebrates creative freedom; Satellight tells the story of the personality of luminous objects and how they connect emotionally with people; Kurage pays tribute to craftsmanship, the harmony between mind, hand, and material.

Six illustrations, each rising within the silhouette of a lamp, animated by a system of symbols and icons that visually translate each core value. Every image in this silent narrative cycle is a self-contained, dense, and eloquent system.

There is something profoundly philosophical in the way Peter Grundy approaches form. His images, stripped down to the essentials, are like contemporary ideograms. In an age saturated with visual stimuli, Grundy reminds us that subtraction can be more radical than addition. And that a lamp is not just an object that lights: it can be a metaphor. Of identity, home, freedom. Of vision.

Follow Foscarini on Instagram to discover the full What’s in a Lamp? project and read the complete interview to dive deeper into Peter Grundy’s vision and artistic approach.

Can you briefly tell us about your journey? How did you end up doing what you do today?

In 1980, Tilly Northedge and I founded a studio to explore information design in a new, imaginative and personal way. First, because nobody else was doing it. Second, because while at the Royal College of Art two years earlier, we had grown interested in a kind of design that was more about explaining than selling.

Over the next 26 years, as Grundy & Northedge, we redefined what is now known as infographics.

As Graphis magazine once put it: “In the design world, the communication of information has never had the allure of more glamorous disciplines. Designing a poster can cast the designer as an artist, creating the identity of a multinational turns them into a strategist. But who designs maps for housing developments, or instructions for tying a bow tie?” That was us – Peter Grundy and Tilly Northedge.

In 2006, I founded Grundini to focus on smaller, creatively driven projects, often in collaboration with other designers and agencies. Former Scenario colleague Angela Wilkinson wrote: “Today Peter Grundy, aka Grundini, tackles modern messiness by designing simple, shared and accessible architectures of the future.”

Who were the key figures – designers, artists, illustrators – who shaped your visual and creative education?

Benno Zehnder, who taught me Swiss style while I was at the Bath Academy of Art 1973-1976.
Lou Klien, who introduced me to the American spirit when I went to the Royal College of Art 1976-1979.

You’ve often said that your style comes from necessity and simplicity. What does “visual economy” mean to you, and how central is it to your work today?

We created a drawing style in 1980 to convey our ideas that came from the geometric methods we had learned to design symbols, trademarks and letterforms. Over the years this style has developed, though the principle has always been the same: communicate ideas, simply and internationally, without the need for words.

Tell us about the concept behind your series for What’s in a Lamp?. What story did you want to tell, starting from the silhouettes of Foscarini’s iconic lamps?

I thought it would be interesting to tell a specific story for each lamp that would reflect Foscarini’s values. The themes we chose are: International, Home, Avant-Garde, Craftsmanship, Future and People.

Which of the values you chose to represent was the most challenging to translate into a visual language?

Avant-garde.

And which one resonated most with your own vision – the one that inspired you the most?

Avant-garde. What could be more fun than a vision of the future? My idea is a lamp that is a solar system, with Planet Earth in the center and the future orbiting around it.

You work with static images, yet they always seem to tell a story. What makes a strong visual narrative without movement or words?

The core of any design is an idea. The idea comes before any picture, symbol or animation. Some years ago I made a diagram to explain how I work: it shows an iceberg, with the tip being the picture, but the much larger part under the water that you don’t see is the idea.

How do you choose the symbols or icons when you turn complex ideas into images? Do you follow a clear method, or rely more on instinct?

I invent icons and symbols that tell a story effectively and elegantly, like someone would use a written language.

How do you approach color? Is it mainly about aesthetics, or do you use it as a language to convey meaning?

Colour plays two roles: first as a way of signposting, second as a way of making things beautiful. I choose colours instinctively. I often find that colours one would imagine as looking horrible together, like pink and orange or brown and grey, actually look great when used in the correct proportions. Something I learnt while working with architects.

Infographics were originally created to simplify. Do you still see them as a functional tool, or more as a form of art?

When I first started working in 1980, no one was doing infographics in a creative way. While at the Royal College of Art in the late ’70s we saw an opportunity. In those years most designers and illustrators were involved in advertising, brand and packaging — these were the glamorous areas of creativity. When Tilly Northedge and I founded Grundy & Northedge our aim was to do “Information” with the same creativity as advertising or corporate identity. We did so by using art and ideas to tell stories or explain complicated things.

What’s the most useful piece of advice you’ve received in your career? And what’s one that truly made you stop and reflect?

There’s only one thing worse than being bad, that’s being mediocre.

What does creativity mean to you?

Freedom to express individuality.

New Collections

On display at 3daysofdesign is the project dedicated to the archetype of the chandelier, reinterpreted in a contemporary key. The protagonists of this formal exploration are ASTERIA, designed by Alberto and Francesco Meda, ALLUMETTE and TILIA by Francesca Lanzavecchia, and ÈTOILE, signed by Dordoni Studio: four visions that blend aesthetic research, technical innovation, and the poetry of light.

Alongside these, Foscarini continues its material experimentation with EOLIE, a pioneering project that uses recycled lava stone to create lamps with a strong material character, and the new wall version of APLOMB, which reinterprets the iconic concrete model with a sober and essential presence.

Events to Inspire

June 18 – 19 | 4:30–5:30 PM
Aperitivo with the Artist
Discover the visual world of Bennet Pimpinella, creator of the video installation that blends scratched analog film with Foscarini’s light, creating an immersive experience suspended between the digital and physical realms.

June 20 | 10:30–11:30 AM
The Art of Enlightenment
A morning talk dedicated to reinterpreting a timeless classic: the chandelier. With Matteo Urbinati (Design Coordinator & Marketing Director at Foscarini) and Bruun Rasmussen, reflecting on how light can evolve between memory and innovation.

In her studio in Manchester, on the edge of the English countryside, Helen Musselwhite shapes enchanted landscapes by folding and layering paper cutouts with a mastery that blends craftsmanship, artistic vision, and innovation. Her art explores the beauty of nature with meticulous attention to detail: from small animals to magical landscapes, every element is built with precision and poetry, and a simple material like paper generates narrative scenes full of suggestion.

For Foscarini’s What’s in a Lamp? project, the British artist created a series of works that reinterpret some of Foscarini’s lamps, selected from those whose design or names evoke elements of the natural world.

Using her distinctive layering technique — a meticulous process of constructing, layer by layer, with papers of varying weights and colors — each lamp is framed in a three-dimensional story that unfolds from its shape, evoking emotions and visions. In her compositions, light is not just a subject: it is a living material that interacts with the paper, shaping the scenes, generating shadows, depth, and rhythm. The resulting works are both delicate and complex, capable of transporting us to a dimension suspended between dream and reality, where each lamp becomes a gateway to a world to explore.

Discover the imaginative universe of Helen Musselwhite: read the full interview to dive deeper into her creative vision and follow the What’s in a Lamp? project on Instagram @foscarinilamps, and be inspired by the upcoming artworks.

Tell us a bit about yourself and your background, can you share the moment or experience that led you to pursue a career in art?

I come from a family of amateur artists and makers. There was always evidence of that around from my Grandad painting with oils listening to classical music, my Dad mending things from toys to tractors and my Mum, who was the driving force of my creative interests, consistently trying out new creative activities and encouraging me to try my own. Their spirit is in everything I make and I’m very grateful.

How would you describe your style?

My style is graphic, colorful and intricate. It’s based on craft, process and detail. In the past I’ve strived for perfection but lately I’ve been trying to be at one with the imperfections that inevitably come from my hands, the Wabi Sabi. I think it’s a reaction to AI.

What drew you to paper as your main medium, and what keeps you captivated by its possibilities?

I started to use paper because it was an affordable, ubiquitous and humble material. My 1st pieces were all white, I liked the idea that I could pile on intricacy and detail and it would still retain a calm quality because it was white on white on white. Color soon came along though! The original reasons for using paper still keep me captivate, I love that a simple sheet of paper can become anything your creativity wants it to be.

Your three-dimensional paper art creations often feature intricate layers, vivid colors, and rich storytelling. How did you develop this signature style?

My work lives between 2 and 3D, the best way I can describe it is 2.5D, occasionally it goes fully into 3D but I like the in-between space. I started to use paper and layering because I wasn’t confident in my ability to work in the traditional realm of 2D and I didn’t learn to illustrate digitally so I felt I needed something to detract from this and to add originality to what I was trying to achieve.

In recent years I’ve liked the storytelling aspect of my work to childhood memories: the joy and wonder of visiting miniature model villages, making miniature gardens on biscuit tin lids and, in particular, some framed Hawaiian pictures made from layers of paper, bark and twigs that belonged to an Uncle. I wanted to shrink down and walk around in all the above!

How does this collaboration for What’s in a lamp? editorial project reflect your artistic philosophy and approach to design?

I was very happy to contribute to What’s in a Lamp. My interest in all things creative extends to interior and product design and Foscarini is on my radar as an innovative and distinctive brand with craftsmanship at its core, all attributes I admire and attempt to recreate.

What’s your creative process like when working on your artworks? Do you have specific rituals or habits that you follow to nurture your creative and alternative viewpoint?

My creative process is mostly analogue. It starts with notes and quick thumbnail sketches that I enlarge on a photocopier and work into deciding on layers and detail. I add color to the sketches with marker pens which is a part of the process I love and have done since I was a child although then they were just regular felt tip pens not expensive markers!

The making stage is next, the layers and elements are traced onto the papers, cut out and assembled.

The last stage is photography, this is where I enter the modern digital world either myself or preferably with a professional photographer.

I’d love my process to be tidier, but my small studio always gets very messy so after each project I reset with a big tidy ready for it to get messy again!

Another important part of my day is going for a walk, it’s something I used to do with our Labrador Earl(rip) and I’ve kept up. I spend long hours sitting doing repetitive actions so need a reset in body and mind, also hoping soon to have another 4-legged friend to share walks with…

Can you share the core concept or inspiration behind your What’s in a Lamp? series?

The inspiration behind my What’s in a Lamp series is based on the design concepts and names of the lights I’ve chosen. The concept that links the work is a framing device I often use with lots of layers and detail within it. It worked well for this project defining the shape and outline of the lights and highlighting a story or design linked to them within the shape.

Nature often plays a central role in your work. How did that influence show up in this series, and were there any specific narratives or emotions you aimed to convey?

Several of the lights I chose to portray have a link to nature in their name or their purpose, so they were a natural inspiration.

Do you have a favorite piece from this series? What makes it stand out for you?

Birdie and Gregg were the 1st ones I chose; I liked the idea of them illuminating a brief moment, a bird flying and nocturnal creatures passing through the light cast by them.

What does creativity mean to you?

To me creativity means being inspired to think about, make or do something. It’s fleeting and sometimes hard to catch and pin down but it’s always around.

Dopo l’interpretazione della storica Luminator disegnata da Pietro Chiesa nel 1933, che ha dato vita a Chiaroscura, Alberto e Francesco Meda tornano a reinterpretare un classico della luce per Foscarini, lo chandelier. Lo fanno lavorando, ancora una volta, con estrusi di alluminio e integrando l’elemento luminoso all’interno del corpo stesso della lampada, concedendosi anche un divertissement decorativo ottenuto impeccabilmente grazie al gioco di incastri tra la fonte luminosa e il sostegno.

Perché, secondo voi, Foscarini vi ha chiesto di collaborare a questo progetto?

«Sicuramente Foscarini cercava una pluralità di mani e sguardi da impegnare sul tema della sperimentazione intorno al tema dello chandelier. Rispetto agli altri designer ingaggiati (Francesca Lanzavecchia e Dordoni Studio, ndr), la nostra forza penso sia insita nella ricerca di innovazione a partire dal dialogo tra materiali e tecnologie, interpretando in chiave contemporanea la tradizione senza stravolgerla nella sua essenza».

Da progettisti, qual era l’interesse in questo progetto?

«Ci piace lavorare su tipologie rimaste immutate nel tempo. Lo abbiamo fatto con Chiaroscura, e lo stesso vale per lo chandelier, un oggetto studiato e reinterpretato infinite volte, ma sempre con un approccio basato sul decoro e sulla molteplicità delle fonti luminose. Noi, invece, abbiamo scelto di affrontare la sfida da una prospettiva opposta».

Quale?

«Siamo partiti chiedendoci cioè dove ci avrebbe portati la tecnologia per l’illuminazione contemporanea, cioè i LED che offrono nuove opportunità che permettono di lavorare sulla qualità della luce e sulla sua distribuzione. Ci siamo chiesti, all’interno della tipologia del lampadario importante e centro stanza quale fosse la forma più essenziale che i LED permettevano di ottenere. Ne è uscita l’idea del braccio, con una striscia di LED, che è stato il punto di partenza del progetto».

Qual è la chiave di lettura per cogliere la portata innovativa di ASTERIA?

«La forza progettuale di ASTERIA sta nell’integrazione intima tra struttura e luce.
Come accennato, alla base del progetto c’è il braccio, un estruso di alluminio con una sezione a V, caratterizzato da un lato corto verticale e uno lungo che si estende orizzontalmente, curvandosi. La luce viene emessa da una striscia LED incassata nella parte superiore del braccio e coperta da una pellicola trasparente, che straborda in modo impercettibile sui lati e permette alla luce di fuoriuscire leggermente. Questo dettaglio rende la fonte luminosa percepibile anche a chi osserva il braccio dal basso o lateralmente.
Il braccio, che funge sia da struttura che da diffusore, è collegato a un cilindro centrale verticale. Sei braccia formano un livello dello chandelier, con un massimo di tre livelli sovrapposti in modo sfasato.
Quando acceso, ASTERIA emette luce in più direzioni: verso l’alto, in modo radiale grazie alla sovrapposizione dei livelli, e con una sottile linea luminosa quasi grafica dove il LED fuoriesce leggermente da ogni singolo braccio. Inoltre, se posizionato sopra un tavolo, fornisce anche luce diretta, grazie a un’ulteriore fonte luminosa posta nella parte inferiore del cilindro centrale».

Raccontato così sembra un lampadario modulare. È così?

«Sì, ogni livello può esistere indipendentemente come lampada a sospensione. La modularità quindi c’è anche se, per mantenere una certa coerenza progettuale, le diverse configurazioni saranno proposte dall’azienda, nell’offerta di una certa varietà estetica e funzionale».

Come siete arrivati a una ridefinizione così essenziale del lampadario?
«Cercavamo un’evoluzione del concetto. Abbiamo lavorato sul braccio come elemento centrale, integrando la luce nella struttura. Inizialmente volevamo creare una struttura più rigida e lineare, ma ci siamo resi conto che risultava troppo fredda. Abbiamo quindi introdotto curvature e una disposizione più dinamica dei bracci per rendere il progetto più armonioso e contemporaneo».

Nello sviluppo del progetto, insieme a Foscarini, c’è stata un’evoluzione significativa rispetto al concept iniziale?

«Sì, soprattutto nell’idea di “spettinare” la composizione per evitare un’estetica troppo rigida. Questo è stato un contributo dell’azienda, che ha voluto dare maggiore dinamismo all’oggetto».

Come si capisce quando un progetto ha trovato il giusto equilibrio tra rigore e morbidezza?

«È un processo di affinamento continuo. All’inizio c’è sempre un rischio, ma man mano che si ricevono feedback dalla sperimentazione, si inizia a percepire se la soluzione funziona. Per questo l’affinità tra designer e azienda è così importante».

Cosa definisce la contemporaneità oggi?

«Vuol dire fare cose semplici – cioè risolte – dal punto di vista costruttivo e in cui le tecniche o le tecnologie che sono state utilizzate per ottenere quel risultato non sono esibite. Significa creare quindi oggetti meno connotati che, proprio per questo, possono durare di più nel tempo perché non soggetti alle mode».

Le mode però ci sono. È un problema?

«Sì, il rischio è un’omologazione eccessiva. Decenni fa l’elemento distintivo delle imprese italiane era la capacità di evolvere, mettere a punto pezzetti di conoscenza che poi altri ereditavano e portavano avanti. Oggi questa cosa è rarissima e la conseguenza è che quello che viene presentato alle fiere come novità è tutto molto uguale: quando qualcosa funziona commercialmente diventa subito un template da ripetere con o senza varianti. Lo stesso accade con i classici, riproposti all’infinito perché sono sicuri e commercialmente efficaci».

La mancanza di innovazione e il passatismo è un problema solo per gli appassionati di design?

«Noi pensiamo che diventerà un problema per le aziende. Soprattutto quelle piccole o giovani – che non hanno un heritage a cui attingere e copiano le forme e il flair dei classici invece di inventare qualcosa di personale e significativo. Quando il mercato sarà saturo, avranno un problema».

Alberto, hai detto che il design aggiunge un pezzo di conoscenza al preesistente. Come si fa a perseguire questo obiettivo?

«Bisogna essere curiosi degli sviluppi scientifici e tecnologici, senza cadere nella celebrazione della tecnologia fine a se stessa. Il design deve saper cogliere il valore innovativo della tecnologia e trasformarlo in un vantaggio funzionale ed estetico. Per esempio, tornando al tema dei classici rivisitati, è un esercizio che ha senso se si aggiunge al progetto originale quello che viene dalla ricerca in materiali più sostenibili, un settore in cui vedo che – effettivamente – molte aziende sono impegnate».

Cosa vedete nel futuro dell’illuminazione?

«Gli OLED potrebbero rappresentare una vera rivoluzione. Si tratta di sorgenti luminose puntiformi che, sebbene ancora relativamente costose, offrono grandi possibilità per i designer grazie alla loro capacità di emettere luce da una superficie piatta. Questa superficie può persino essere flessibile, simile a un tessuto, aprendo scenari inediti e variegati che meritano senza dubbio di essere esplorati».