Laetitia Forst's Domaine De Boisbuchet AER Residency Report
- Written byPost-Grad Community
- Published date 23 September 2021
Set up by Professor Lucy Orta UAL Chair of Art for the Environment - Centre for Sustainable Fashion in 2015, The Art for the Environment International Artist Residency Programme (AER) provides UAL graduates with the exceptional opportunity to apply for short residencies at one of our internationally renowned host institutions, to explore concerns that define the 21st century – biodiversity, environmental sustainability, social economy, and human rights.
Laetitia Forst - completed her PhD at UAL earlier in the year and was successful in being selected as the AER 2021 artist in residence at Domaine de Boisbuchet, Design Architecture Nature, Lessac, France.
Below is Laetitia's report to the UAL Post-Grad Community on her residency outcomes and experiences.
Leaving the screen
During the last sixteen months of pandemic, the prospect of the AER residency was almost like a lifeline through the necessary but repetitive video calls and conferences. So many parts of this experience came as a radical shift from the past months. I spent most of lockdown in my small London bedroom – suddenly everything is happening outside. My social circle had constricted to only include the few I live with – on the first night at Boisbuchet I got to meet about fifty new people. All my work had been taking place through a screen – I barely even used my phone for the week of the residency.
This week of reconnection to land, to people and to making has helped bring more perspective to my work as a designer and researcher, and this account of it hopes to crystallise some of this reflection.
The Domaine de Boisbuchet
The Domaine de Boisbuchet was founded about 30 years ago by Alexander Von Vegesack who was then the head of the Vitra Design Museum. His dream was to set up a place where design meets education, and it led to founding the International Centre for Cultural and Agricultural Research and Education. This aim was to revitalise the domain as a place where people can practice and discover culture in its dialogue with nature and agriculture.
The complex includes the beautiful castle built in 1865, buildings like the barn that serves as a restaurant and exhibition space, the ‘dépendance’ where the rooms are, and the much more modern workshop, as well as 150 hectares of land on which are scattered pavilions and experimental houses built over the years by invited designers and architects. The result of this combination of design with nature is a clam and generous space, which bears the traces of years and years of collaboration between designers and workshop participants coming to learn together.
Fibre Power
Every year, the programme of workshops loosely follows a theme, here it was ‘Energies Synergies’, with the added note ‘a revival’ to account for the 2020 cancellation of this programme and its resurrection in the summer of 2021. Within this programme, Fernando Laposse’s provocation ‘Fibre Power’ set the mood for a week of immersion in sisal, hemp and other naturally occurring fibres.
The brief was to use natural fibres to create a collaborative piece of architectural proportions. Up to us participants to imagine what that could be!
Fernando Laposse’s work is one of the most striking examples of combining complex societal issues with an apt use of materials in design. I was introduced to his work through a presentation he give in a materials design workshop I attended in 2018, and I was struck at how clearly the path from exploitative trade deals, to indigenous community empowerment, to land regeneration was traced through the story of corn. The Tototmoxtle project is a demonstration of the holistic role of the designer, instrumentalising the capacity to create high added value from materials that have a key ecological role, and therefore encouraging the regenerative potential of their agriculture.
With the Fibre Power workshop we, the participants, were invited to consider how our own design decisions could shape the fibres we were working with to make some new sense emerge. While our ambition for this short workshop fell short of regenerating the land the fibres came from, the key driver for our group was to respect the material and show it at its best in a transformed state..
Seven days of Boisbuchet
The week was full immersion in design practice, and every moment was an opportunity to learn. Learn a technique, learn about others, about oneself. The flow of communal work and rest time, meals and parties was so easy to fall into, it’s no surprise some people never leave!
Sunday
One of the most important parts of the residency at Boisbuchet is the community, so the first moments after arriving at the domaine were all centred around getting to know the other participants. A drinks reception was held by the mill, a small stone building on the edge of the river Vienne through which ran a stream of water that had once actioned the mill wheel. This was the first sunny day since my arrival in France (and the only one that week!), and we all enjoyed a cold glass of wine in the sun with a beautiful view on the chateau.
Three workshops were being held that week: Wax with Lex with Lex Pott, ‘This one is about you’ with Bertjan Pot, and ‘Fibre Power’ with Fernando Laposse, so all the more participants to meet! I hadn’t been around so many people at once in a long time, and the exercise of remembering names and key facts about all these new people while we shared a drink, then the evening meal, and then sat around the bonfire, set my brain into wild spinning that kept sleep away for several hours even after I had gone to bed!
Monday
The first morning of the week started with rain, but that was no deterrent to visiting the domain and the exhibition in the chateau. There is where Alexander Von Vegesack’s, collection is held on display for visitors and workshop participants. The rooms of the castle show a wealth of design classics that one usually only gets to see in national museums. There is also something very personal about the way the collection is curated, with some pieces representing key parts of Von Vegesack’s remarkable life. From the Thonet bent wood chairs that were is original expertise and interest, to a carriage made to measure for him while he was living in an Amish community.
The visit continued with the different pavilions that are scattered across the park, showing a wealth of architectural styles and techniques.
We then split into our workshop teams. Our small group of five participants included two volunteers, who support the running of the workshops all summer and in exchange get to participate in a workshop of their choice. The three others were myself of course, a design graduate, and a events manager eager to get creative. All of us were intrigued and eager to get hands-on with natural fibres.
The afternoon was the kick-off for the workshop. We gathered around Fernando for an introduction to sisal and to his work. As it turned out, Brexit and pandemic restrictions stopped the fibres that were meant to be used in the workshop from arriving to Boisbuchet from England in time for the start of the week. This challenge was collectively met without worry, as it was very apparent that we were surrounded with fibres in the grass and trees all around the workshop. What’s more, to complement the sisal that Fernando had brought with him, there was a wealth of seagrass fibres, left from a previous workshop.
Our small group of five quickly agreed that we would like to create a collective piece, something that we could all put our effort into to make larger scale gesture to highlight the materials’ beauty. We initially imagined that we would create a metal structure to make the shape of a small shelter that would then be covered with fibres. We took hold of the materials and started experimenting with giving them forms and imagining how they could become this dwelling, tying and braiding them together.
This short bout of open testing of the different materials gave us a technique that beautifully highlighted the aesthetic properties of the seagrass. By simply doubling the strands of seagrass over a flexible rod of wood in a repetitive way, securing each tassel with a simple and elegant knot we created a form of boundary, a fibre fringe that clearly could create space.
The long line of seagrass fringes had a simplicity that set it aside from obvious cultural citations, and the weight of the fibres on the wood created an wave that we agreed would beautifully demarcate our shelter space. Thus starting with the material, then the assembly, we went on to imagine the form this structure of architectural proportions could take.
To complete a very full day, the evening was concluded with a presentation by Lex Pot, the designer leading another workshop taking place in parallel to ours. Hearing an accomplished designer present their work was so refreshing, it so starkly highlighted how in the pandemic we miss human connections and the serendipity that happens when people share a space and work together, hearing about each other’s experiences in the process.
Tuesday
Hitting the workshop with a clear goal for the structure we wanted to achieve relieved that day’s activity from any designing and planning, and left all the time to repetitive assembly and knotting of our lines of seagrass. As a textile designer I have had some experience of this type of craft activity with knitting and weaving.
A much as I enjoy the morecerebral work I do now, I also miss the meditative state that repeating the same gesture over and over again induces. As we were working in teams of two, this quiet time also gave us the opportunity to connect and get to know each other. By the end of the day we had collectively produced about ten meters of our sinewy and fluffy lines of seagrass. Parking them to the side ready for more thinking the next day.
That evening Bertjan Pot, who was leading the ‘This one is about you’ workshop presented his ongoing work with prototypes and samples laid out on the ping pong table in the barn. This was a convivial way to discuss his approach to projects and for me to be amazed at his work with jacquard weaving.
Wednesday
Guided by our new understanding of the material, and perhaps prepared to be more experimental again after a meditative day, new ideas to use the fibre started emerging and somehow to create a loose story about what we could see this collective effort producing. We were imagining our twenty or so meters of seagrass fringes delimitating a form of enclave or shelter like space. As this took form, some natural or archetypal ideas for how to populate that space. Some almost obvious products emerged: a mat for the floor, a seat, lighting, … and all were made using the innate properties of the fibre, modifying it as little as possible by our action.
These smaller scale objects meant that we split into teams making a specific object. For me and a couple of others in the team, the rest of that day was spent knotting a tatami mat.
Wednesday evenings at Boisbuchet are dedicated to the week’s party, for which a theme is voted, and fancy dress mandatory. Our ‘sparkly gangsters in the rain’ theme was clearly inspired by the weather. After a frenetic hour of costume making using waste from the workshop, we were ready for a costumed dinner and dance that lasted long into the night.
Thursday
Another day and more knotting. To quote Fernando, craft has no shortcuts. For me, this final day before the presentation was dedicated almost entirely to making a lamp, using the same technique as for our structural lines, but scaled down to the size of an object.
The new scale meant that it was a one person job, letting me fall completely into the lull of repeating the knot technique and focus my attention on the craft process.
That evening’s talk was Fernando Laposse’s presentation. I was delighted to hear about new aspects of his work that I didn’t yet know about. The conversation covering his work with the residents of Tonahuixtla was rich with examples of how global political decisions such as Trump’s crack down on immigration in the USA can be directly connected to a designer’s ability to induce change and provide livelihoods.
Friday
Our last day of the residency was spent pulling our space and objects together. We set up our little fibre sanctuary in the barn, contrasting the soft lines of the seagrass with the hard stone and concrete of the building. Our experimentation with domestic archetypes translated through seagrass fibre came into its own in this space as we were able to give a sense of tranquil homeliness to our abstract enclosure.
As satisfying as it was to see all our work coming together in a beautiful tableau, one of the most interesting aspects of the day was to see the presentation of what the other groups had been working on, finally getting a holistic sense of the activities that happened in the two other workshops when during the week we could only see the participants busy at parts of the work. In the ‘Wax with Lex’ workshop participants had developed their own collection of candles. They had learned from the designer’s techniques and interpreted them to their own vision and taste, moulding wax and sculpting it with the lathe. The ‘This One is about You’ workshop aimed to encourage participants to discover what their own design signature was through a series of very short briefs to create a candle holder, a door stop, a mask, … Leading to very personal and diverse results.
There was something extremely heart-warming to get to discuss their work with all these other designers-at-heart that I had learn to know in our week of co-living, it brought the experience of the residency back to its intensely human aspects. This sense of connection and the beauty of these new friendships was later enshrined in the beautiful dinner by the lake and the final sharing by the campfire
more photos
Art (and design) for the Environment
My work has always been focused on environmental challenges for fashion and textile design. I believe I am infinitely lucky to be applying myself to a cause that I see as true and important. Yet in the day-to-day execution of the job, it is sometimes hard to keep focus and motivation, especially in the limiting conditions of the pandemic. A literal breath of fresh air is essential to regain some focus and determination, and I am writing this report with a renewed feeling of purpose. Above all, this experience has enabled me to re-articulate for myself what Art for the Environment can, and needs to be. I hope to take this forward in the next stages of my work.
As a designer I have always been involved in making things that serve a function, solve a problem in some way. The release from that imperative that came with Fernando’s open brief was a refreshing starting point. My experience in academia, whether through my PhD research over the last four years, or more recently in my work on collaborative research projects has a very different texture to the condensed making involved in the five days of a Boisbuchet workshop.
Reconnecting with the joy of making things that express the resource’s qualities and are simply beautiful provided a different perspective from the constant rationalising of research. Most importantly, connecting with other types of designers, whether students or entrepreneurs, as well as the handful of other academically minded participants in the workshops in a safe and self-contained environment was one of the most enjoyable parts of the experience. My work often focusses on design methods, or on designing workshop for other designers to implement sustainable practices in their work, returning to the real considerations of making was necessary as a reminder of wht designing really is.
It is easy to fall into a trap of seeing the environment as something external that we need to protect. Spending a week away from constantly planning and rationalising, and instead just picking up fibres and letting one’s hands take suit, all this while sitting outside or listening to the rain against the workshop roof brings one back to feeling and knowing that we are part of the environment. We made our constructed interior as an environment or as a representation of one. We didn’t write a statement or propose any type of theory when we presented our work. Sitting back in front of the computer now and reflecting on the experience and the outcomes of this wonderful experience, I wonder if making a home for ourselves in that way could be a way for us surround ourselves with nature in the form of fibre, to morph it into every aspect of our routine, and hold it there, safe.
Related Links
- Art for the Environment International Residency Programme (AER)
- Domaine de Boisbuchet
- UAL Centre for Sustainable Fashion
- UAL Post-Grad Community
- Laetitia Forst website
Find out more on how to apply for an AER Residency*
*Open to UAL postgraduate students and recent graduates (within 12 months), applicants can choose from a 2 to 4 week period at one of the hosting institutions, to explore concerns that define the twenty-first century - biodiversity, environmental sustainability, social economy, human rights - and through their artistic practice, envision a world of tomorrow.