Vincent Van Duysen Photo © Zeb Daemen The TwentyFour SixA common thread runs through Vincent Van Duysen’s work: forms are reduced to their essence, allowing materials to come to the fore and bringing proportions, light and tactility into focus. Together, these elements define a coherent design language that extends across different scales and typologies. We spoke to him about how this approach has evolved over time, the role of materiality in shaping our perception of spaces and objects, and the relationship between technology and craftsmanship. This exploration also extends to the bathroom, interpreted through the new Bathroom Collection for Molteni&C as an integral part of the home and its architecture.
What role does materiality play in your design approach? Does form guide the choice of material, or can the reverse also be true?
Very often the material can define the project from the beginning. Each material has its own structural and expressive logic. The way you design a piece in solid timber should not be the same as the way you design it in aluminum, stone or upholstery. I am interested in understanding what a material wants to do, where its limits are, how it can be joined, folded, carved or assembled. This can completely influence the form. I prefer when the construction feels inevitable, when the geometry seems to come from the material itself rather than being imposed onto it.
In your work, materiality is experienced through touch, but also through light and proportion. What enables a material – and ultimately a product – to evoke emotions that endure over time?
I think emotion often comes from things that are quite difficult to photograph. It can be the weight of an object, the softness of an edge, the temperature of stone, the way a textile absorbs light, or simply the proportion between two elements. These are very physical experiences. I am also interested in materials that are not completely fixed in time. Leather, wood, stone or certain metals can develop a patina and become more personal through use. I find that much more interesting than a surface that tries to remain perfect forever. The relationship becomes stronger because the object records life.
Today, there is much talk of a renewed interest in strong, tactile and authentic materiality. What do you think is driving this trend, and what kind of design is it leading us towards?
Perhaps we are reacting to the increasing abstraction of everyday life. So much of our experience now happens through flat, perfectly controlled digital surfaces. There is something reassuring about materials that have weight, irregularity and texture, and about objects where you can understand how they are made. But materiality should not become another aesthetic trend. Adding texture for the sake of appearing “natural” is not enough. What interests me is when the material is connected to the construction, the longevity of the object and the way it will be experienced over time.
You have remained remarkably consistent and faithful to your design language over the years. How has the way you approach a project evolved? Is there anything you consider essential today that perhaps you would not have regarded as such twenty years ago?
With experience, you learn that a project does not always become stronger by adding another idea. Sometimes the most important decision is knowing where to stop. I also pay much more attention now to how things age and how they live together over time. Earlier in my career, perhaps I was more focused on defining a language. Today I am more interested in creating a framework that can absorb life, objects, art, people, wear, changes without losing its strength.
How do you think contemporary design has evolved at a time when artificial intelligence and a return to craftsmanship, new technologies and the search for authenticity are all being discussed simultaneously? Which of these changes do you think will endure, and which are simply passing trends?
I am not sure that technology and craftsmanship should be presented as opposites. They are simply different ways of understanding and making things. Technology can help us work with greater precision, explore complex structures and improve performance. But it does not automatically reduce waste, it can just as easily accelerate production, multiply iterations and encourage overconsumption. Craftsmanship, on the other hand, is not only about slowness or imperfection. It carries a form of intelligence, an understanding of materials, gestures, tolerances and details that is built through experience. What matters is not whether a project is made by hand or with advanced technology, but whether the chosen process is appropriate to the object. The danger lies in using technology as a spectacle, or craftsmanship as a decorative sign of authenticity. In both cases, the method becomes more important than the result.
From private residences and hospitality to retail and office spaces, you work across a wide range of interior environments, yet your approach remains consistent. What is the starting point of each project, and what is the ultimate goal?
The starting point is never a style. It is the place. I look at the architecture, the existing conditions, the light, the proportions, the landscape or urban context, and then at the way people will actually move through and inhabit the space. From there, the project is built through layers. Architecture, fixed elements, materials, furniture, objects and art all need to belong to the same atmosphere without becoming too coordinated. The final goal is that you no longer read these decisions separately. You simply experience the space as a whole.
Working across both architecture and product design, what is the guiding principle that remains constant throughout your work?
The relationship between object, space and body. Even when I design a small product, I think about it architecturally. How does it stand? How does it touch the floor? Where is the weight? Where is the void? How does it relate to the body and to the space around it? And in architecture, I often think at the scale of the object. A junction, a thickness, a handle or the way two materials meet can completely change the perception of an interior. For me, these scales are never really disconnected.
This year, we have seen you working across a variety of fields, from indoor and outdoor design to the bathroom. What interests you in exploring different types of products and spaces? Is there a particular area you prefer to work in?
What interests me is the specificity of each typology. A chair immediately brings questions of posture, structure and contact with the body. An outdoor object has to deal with weather, drainage, temperature and landscape. A bathroom involves water, reflection, privacy and a completely different degree of physical intimacy. I like working within these constraints because they prevent design from becoming purely formal. I do not have one preferred category. I am probably most attracted to projects where a very familiar typology can still be reconsidered in a subtle way without losing what made it useful in the first place.
Speaking specifically about the Bathroom Collection for Molteni&C, it forms part of the company’s increasingly comprehensive vision for the home. How did you interpret the bathroom within this broader concept?
I wanted the bathroom to feel like architecture rather than a collection of sanitary products. The approach was very much connected to the work we have been developing for Molteni&C across the rest of the home, strong volumes, controlled proportions, continuity of materials and an idea of furniture that structures the space. At the same time, the bathroom has its own rituals and technical requirements, so it could not simply become an extension of the living room. The challenge was to find a language that belonged to the Molteni&C world while still feeling specific to this very intimate and functional environment.
The bathroom is no longer a purely functional space: it is now designed with the same care and attention as any other room in the home, creating intimate and sensory experiences. How does this translate into design, in your view?
I think the bathroom is one of the rooms where the body experiences architecture most directly. You are barefoot, you touch surfaces constantly, you experience water, temperature, steam, reflection and changing light. Because of this, very small decisions become extremely important. The tactility of stone, the warmth of timber, the reflection of metal, the softness of indirect light or the acoustics of the room can completely change the experience. I do not think the bathroom needs to become more decorative in order to become more luxurious. For me, it is almost the opposite. The luxury is in precision, calm, privacy and the quality of the materials around you.
