"The Material Determines the Form!"

Franziska Horn: Your studio is named ciguë, which means “hemlock.” Why? After all, this plant is quite poisonous.

Alphonse Sarthout: We were quite young, in our twenties, when we founded our studio in Paris in 2003 as a group of six. We didn’t want a name directly linked to architecture and came across this word with its unique spelling—yet everyone knows it. We liked the idea that this plant can be both poisonous and medicinal. It grows naturally by the roadside, often unnoticed, and many people don’t even recognise it.

In the early days, you started by collecting wood and other materials from the streets. Recycling still plays a significant role in your work today.

Alphonse Sarthout: Every student starts this way. Back then, we were planning our very first project—the renovation of an old family property—which ultimately wasn’t realised. We searched for inexpensive, readily available materials—on the streets. It was also a way to closely observe our surroundings and use what already existed. Aged materials—and buildings—carry entire stories, which seemed logical to us. And also eco-logical.

So, material is both the starting and ending point?

Alphonse Sarthout: Yes. In the past, people would think about what material to use for a particular design. Today, it’s the opposite: we adapt the design to the material. We experiment and push the limits of what a material can offer. For example, we work with recycled paper, gypsum cement, and gypsum fiberboard - also known as Fermacell - as well as wood, of course. We spent two years researching how to replace concrete with gypsum. Cement and sand are difficult materials to handle, and sand is becoming increasingly scarce. In Montreuil, we demolished an old house and used the rubble to create a type of gypsum flooring—an extremely ecological material. You can crush it, bake it, reuse it, and start again. We also used gypsum concrete for the floor here in Montreuil.

It sounds like a research journey.

Alphonse Sarthout: You could say that. Initially, we approached things scientifically. Over time, we built up an extensive library of materials. It’s a way to explore and develop more ecological materials and to demonstrate that they can be truly beautiful. We play with technical themes, which can be fascinating. In 2019, we had an exhibition at the Pavillon de l'Arsenal titled A Room for Tomorrow, where we designed a prototype for a hotel with a closed eco-system.

What does this mean for your daily practice?

Alphonse Sarthout: We prefer to develop materials than ordering samples. We cut the wood, treat the surface, and consider how it will age over time, including the patina. A piece of wood can carry the entire history of a place. Working with and transforming materials is our daily ritual.

ciguë seems to have a practical yet aesthetic design philosophy.

Alphonse Sarthout: What still drives us today: architecture is a way of seeing the world. From day one, we have been experimenting. We do a wide variety of projects and don’t want to specialise in just one thing. In the end, architecture is about taking care of people—meeting people, engaging socially. Architecture is part of culture.

Your team now has 20 members, and you design stores and interiors for Alain Ducasse, Ace Hotel, Isabel Marant, Kris Van Assche, Aesop, Uniqlo, Caudalie, Arabica and the Samaritaine Rivoli department store. You talk about a democratic approach to luxury. What does that mean?

Alphonse Sarthout: We try to break down barriers between thinkers and makers. People learn faster when they work with their hands. I believe in democratisation. Craftsmanship is crucial, and luxury brands understand this—architects, not so much. These luxury projects, particularly for retail, allow us to build and develop things in new ways. People sometimes ask why we work with luxury brands. Our goal is to shift the perception of luxury, to operate within brands and introduce a more ecological approach.

Are you a trained craftsman yourself?

Alphonse Sarthout: Not formally, but we use craftsmanship as a bridge—a connection. The desire to make things by hand has always been strong, though we have limited capacity. When we worked on Isabel Marant’s store in Tokyo, we had a revelation: we discovered Japanese craftsmanship, which opened our minds and led us to the right collaborators. Our clients are often demanding, which pushes us to learn new craft techniques—especially with Aesop. Design involves close collaboration, and we do crazy things—like an eight-meter-long tube lamp for the Ducasse Brasserie. Scaling up such projects is a challenge. It took five years to convince the glass maker of our approach and bring him out of his comfort zone.

The interior of Hotel Tribe Clichy also incorporates craftsmanship, referencing the industrial history of this Parisian suburb.

Alphonse Sarthout: Yes, for example, we used brick in the foyer, enamelled lava stone, natural stone, terrazzo, and brass. The concrete ceilings in the rooms bear the imprint of the wooden formwork used in construction—a nod to the making-of process.

You also design furniture, calling them archetypes. What does that mean?

Alphonse Sarthout: We use this term for fundamental forms in design. We don’t believe in reinventing things—everything already exists. The key is to reactivate and reinterpret these existing elements, making them more accessible and useful. It’s like a déjà vu that gives you a sense of comfort and familiarity.

What are your current projects?

Alphonse Sarthout: We are designing the Caudalie headquarters and spa in Paris. We’re also working on the interior of Viberg, a Canadian shoe brand, for its New York store and 12 New York (a matcha brand), a new brand within a collaboration. Additionally, we’re planning an art school in Cergy, in northwest of Paris, alongside another architecture firm.

Have you worked in Germany?

Alphonse Sarthout: Yes! We designed some flooring for KaDeWe in Berlin.