through Brussels with Arnaud Eubelen
The young Brussels Arnaud Eubelen (31) can create obscure designs that highlight the poetry of the banlieue. He transforms waste from the streets of Brussels into artful design designs that are made by galleries. “The city is my material library.”
“It’s pretty empty at the moment because a lot has been sent out for exhibitions.” When entering Arnaud Eubelen’s studio in Molenbeek, the emptiness to which the designer refers is not particularly noticeable. Glass doors, pieces of scaffolding and wooden planks: materials that are labeled as waste are scattered in heaps. The composition carefree designer sits on a self-made bench consisting of bare pieces of concrete, and corrugated plastic – the seat. The sofa is like a chameleon in the jungle.
Arnaud transforms discarded materials into furniture and objects such as lamps, chairs and sculptures. His work is very much appreciated. He is exhibiting this week at Paris+ by Art Basel, at the London Design Fair and Art Antwerp is also on the schedule. The Brussels Eubelen is the new boy in the neighborhood.
The reason: his special intuition for selecting materials. Arnaud looks at waste with a different eye. He sees patina instead of dirt. “Once something is thrown away, it has value and it becomes waste,” he explains. “But there is a certain aesthetic to discarded items. You have the feeling that the materials have really come to life, that they tell their story. This is lacking in new materials.” When I photograph his works in his studio at the end of the day, after a walk through the banlieues of Brussels, I understand that he is not talking nonsense. He plays with patina, with color, with the texture of the materials. His compositions are well-considered and balanced. He’s just good. The child has it.
Like crazy on the bike
Arnaud often goes outside to gain material and inspiration. A large part of his design practice consists of… bicycles. “The best neighborhoods are Molenbeek and Anderlecht,” he explains. “These neighborhoods are not necessarily dirtier, but people there are used to just dumping their bulky waste on the street. The best day is Sunday. Then everyone cleans up their house. I often cycle at six in the morning when the streets are quiet. If I focus my attention on the mess on the sidewalk, cycling sometimes becomes dangerous.” It is neither Sunday nor morning, but we go out together by bike. What he told about dangerous cycling becomes a fact within five minutes: Arnaud drives like crazy through the Brussels traffic and ignores the traffic lights. “You have to drive like a taxi driver: in harmony with the dynamics of the traffic,” he laughs.
He often stands on his pedals to survey the streets, his gaze just above the roofs of the parked cars. “It works like a flea market; you don’t know exactly what you want to buy, but you keep your eyes peeled for chosen.” Like glass. “It is transparent and has a nice light effect. And besides: glass on the street is something you normally avoid. It’s dangerous. I think that’s a nice contradiction. To me it sparkles like gold.” In Molenbeek we cycle past a rounded mirror against a facade. No one looking back on behalf of Arnaud. He stops, but does not take the mirror with him. Not needed at the moment. The designer really makes me look at the banal mirror. “It just forms a big hole in the facade; the trees opposite are reflected in it.” An objet trouvé annex trompe-l’oeil.
Arnaud mainly searches for large heaps of waste, that which people would rather see lying in their street. “Usually I don’t consciously go looking, but search the streets if I need to go somewhere. If you consciously search, you often find nothing. At times when I need a specific piece, a large wooden plank for example, I can look around for three hours and still come home from a bare trip.”
Je-me-errorism
When we have just crossed a busy intersection without taking into account the traffic light, Arnaud points to the West Station to indicate that there is often useful junk there. Yards are great sources of timber. Because of the way in which he feels so at home in the slums, it is imperative that it is not just about collecting material. “I like working-class neighborhoods,” he admits. “The people are more lively and all the houses look different. Neighborhoods such as Molenbeek and Anderlecht feel however. They are my living environment, but also my source of inspiration. I want to bring the atmosphere of these streets to the living room. And create a new image for discarded materials.”
He does not applaud the slum to infinity. The designers are with social and trading places. These have one great quality: they carry a great sense of freedom. There is a certain you-me-errorism because there is nothing to lose.
His fascination with the dystopia dates back to his childhood. “I am based north in Cheratte, a small mining town south of Liège. The abandoned industrial buildings were my playground and around the age of eighteen they became the subject of my photography.” He visited the many abandoned construction sites and industrial buildings – for example along the Maas – to hang out and take pictures. His photography would form the starting point of his design. “In Liège I was part of the collective La Superette. With them I developed my style by building and exhibiting furniture for the space. It is also there that the idea of working with waste from the street was born, which I did not do before.” Arnaud vegetable when that vegetable are omnipresent. “In addition, these raw materials have a direct link with the city. They carry the atmosphere of the urbanization within them, without you having to force it as a designer. In the meantime, I find buying material something strange.” In addition to the obvious ecological aspect of reuse, this way of working is more genuine.
Ikea manual
Our final stop is Vossenplein in the Marolles, the visible flea market of the country. Strolling around there with Arnaud is a different experience. While two tourists gawk at an old analog camera, he rummages through cardboard boxes. “I come here when I’m looking for something specific, like electronics or tools.” He soon finds what he was looking for: a convex lampshade for four euros. It ends up on its self-constructed, fold-out luggage rack.
“Just walking around here and seeing all those objects together inspires me. Sometimes the sales display their goods in an interesting way and they unconsciously form good combinations of materials. But I don’t buy too much here. Because they are typical interior items. I want the outside world. Otherwise my work will become too homey.”
After fiddling around a bit, he came up with an old catalog from 1932. From Yale, a brand of door locks. He browses mesmerized. “The photos show a bit how I design.” Arnaud points to technical drawings where the parts of each lock are clearly visible and separated from each other. He does. “I always try to visualize the entire anatomy of the object, a bit like an Ikea manual.” Arnaud is not only concerned with the beauty of old materials, but also of old, analogous mechanics: the position of a particular bolt, the curve of a thread, the interaction between two plates. The simplicity of the technique resonates within the almost chaotic mass of materials. “I really use the simplest way of building. My work is very low-tech.”
World in decline
On the way back we cycle along his ‘boulevard of stuff’, the Boulevard du Midi. Up to two he makes a sharp turn to even enter a street. His eagle eye had something again. “How can you suddenly conjure up your house and put it on the street?” he wonders. If I look at it long enough, I also discover a chosen aesthetic: laminate and garbage bags are enough. Arnaud’s ideas are also starting to take hold of me.
A neighborhood in decline, the typical Belgian would think. Arnaud sees the decay of the entire world and likes that apocalyptic thought. His work references sci-fi films such as Blade Runner where and darkness kipple – the word sci-fi writer Philip K. Dick coined to describe ever-growing garbage – creating the atmosphere. “End-of-the-world movies like this have a big impact on my practice,” he confesses. “My end of our work is: when the abundance of materials is over and people have to work with what is available. That is gradually the case. Scarcity is naked. Building materials have become ridiculous. Initiatives such as Rotor, which recover and sell building materials, will be the norm in the future.”
Technically, Arnaud Street sell to affluent design aficionados. I throw that out and we explore in the heart of Molenbeek and drink a Moroccan pea soup for three euros, which we both season with too much olive oil and chili powder. With his robot design, the young rebel shows very conscious respect for the used paradigms of the design world: clarity, functionality, craftsmanship and no beauty. He fights against the stereotype of smooth, stylized objects. “I am not against design theory, because it has also taught me a lot. My point is to introduce new ways of producing. Making from your own financial reality and that without compromises, such as comfort.” He rolls a cigarette. “I want to open a new field in this world of stuff. I don’t sit down and draw. I cycle around. That is my design process.”
With a burning palate we return to the studio.
Waste becomes art: through Brussels with Arnaud Eubelen
October 20-23. Tools Gallery during Paris+ by Art Basel,
Grand Palais Ephemere, Place Joffre 2, Paris.
-Until Nov 18. Poliform Lyon, rue du Colonel 1, Chambonnet in Lyon.
– Until Nov 18. La Sira, just a step from heaven – Quai Aulagnier 153, Asnières-sur-Seine.
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