The Most Intriguing New Multigenerational Design Firms

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From Prada to Missoni to Fendi, multi-generational companies have dominated the fashion world for decades. The founders are looking for children and grandchildren to maintain their creative vision and maintain their family-controlled property. The dynasty’s brands include household items such as the iconic Italian atelier Fornasetti and the 109-year-old Viennese brass workshop Carl Auböck, now owned by the fourth Carl (the fifth has already set foot). It also exists in the world. These businesses have traditionally been passed down for years, but recently a new class of family-owned design work has emerged. These are true creative collaborations. Brands jointly established by parents and children cooperate on an equal footing. Whether you’re creating lighting, pottery, or tabletop objects, these studios can take advantage of both youth and experience, along with the added benefit of a deeply connected shared perspective. Don’t ask who is in charge.

Bettunika

Remember when the 54-year-old school principal was happy to spend time making mugs of flowers, giving them to friends on holidays, or selling a few at Etsy? It was Betina Jørgensen before Instagram and before social media influencer daughter Marie Wibe Jedig devised a mother-daughter strategy Bettunika in the spring of 2020. She was sent home from the school where she worked, and the fruits of her hobbies accumulated. Meanwhile, many of Jedig’s sponsorship campaigns were also canceled, so “the two of us suddenly spent a lot of extra time and had a lot of enthusiasm to continue creating,” says Jedig. With existing reach and insights that make decorative motifs such as smileys, ladybugs, clouds, and hearts most appealing to Gen Z peers, Jedig has grown Bettunika’s Instagram into more than 100,000 followers. Of their release.

Bettunika has grown so much that, in fact, earlier this year Acne Studios invited Jedig and Jørgensen to create a store-specific series designed to reflect the textile patterns of fashion brands. The duo also scaled up and released stools and giant vases this winter, selling pottery at retail stores for the first time to please fans who aren’t fast enough to get them on Instagram. I am. (What was the inspiration for this season’s offerings? Jedig’s five-year-old niece’s toys and books.) It wouldn’t have been possible if Jorgensen hadn’t trusted her daughter’s instinct to call her muse. “I just imagined Bettunika as a hobby, but at this point I spend less time on school work to do this,” says Jørgensen. “I live in a dream two years ago that I didn’t even know I had.”

Eric, Helena and Natasha Sultan from Konekt in a Philadelphia studio.Eric Brunello Cucinelli Jacket and pants; Gabriela Hearst T-shirt; his own shoes.Helena Valentino Jackets, tops, skirts. Her own shoes.Natasha Jil Sander Suit and top; Maria Muna Silzade Sandals. Taken by Lelanie Foster.

Song for Olives Hair by Isabelhi; Makeup by Tracey Alfajora for Chanel by Bri Winters Inc. Retouch: Allison Richman from Chroma New York.

connect

A longtime vintage design enthusiast, Helena Sultan helped a Philadelphia neighbor decorate her home when she wanted to make her own work. That’s why in 2015 we founded the furniture and lighting studio Konekt. Shortly thereafter, she always sought feedback and advice from her daughter, Natasha, who worked for a jewelry brand in New York City. “She was my right hand,” recalls Helena. Eventually, the pair decided to formalize their work relationship, and with the addition of Helena’s husband Eric, rebuilt herself as a family business in 2017 and succeeded overnight in the furniture world. Launched a series of velvet and horsehair edging stools.

While Eric is on the business side, Helena and Natasha work as code signers and co-creative directors in a surprisingly seamless collaboration, thanks to common aesthetic inspiration. Helena’s mother is an artist whose oil paintings and stone carvings take advantage of a kind of imperfections. The organic form and rich texture that defines the parchment, wood and brass sideboards of Konekt goat skin. Asymmetric bronze mirror; and hand-blown glass pendant light. Helena and Natasha describe their relationship as an almost creative fusion of minds. “When we’re together, one of us points out interesting shapes and objects, and the other says she’s almost always aiming for the same thing,” says Natasha. “Add the missing parts to each other’s ideas.”

Rubble’s Gillian Redman-Lloyd, Max Voss-Lloyd, and Jerrie-Joy Redman-Lloyd on Bondi Beach, Australia, wear their own clothes and accessories. Taken by Bob Broadfoot.

rubble

During the 2020 blockade, most designers turned inward. Apart from teams and workshops, they focused on everything they could create at home. But the Lloyd family did the opposite. Isolated more than 800 miles away — Jerry in Sydney-Joy Redman-Lloyd and her parents, Gillian Redman in Adelaide, Australia-Lloyd and Maxvos-Lloyd-they started making lamps together Connection How to maintain. “We talked and sketched back and forth every day,” says Jerrie-Joy. Eventually, the trio “became obsessed with the process of becoming a snowball,” she said, transforming her pandemic entertainment into an up-and-coming brand, Rubble. The company’s polished ventilated concrete lamps are code-signed by Jerry Joy and Max, who hand-carve them. Everything is overseen by project manager Gillian.

The lamp has a unique Stone Age atmosphere that reflects the playful first proposal of the project to design the objects of Barney Rubble’s house and the eccentric sense of humor of the family. “I like to think of it as a souvenir brought back from a spectacular tour of Europe in the 1800s, a work found in the ruins of an archaeological excavation,” says former television producer Max. For food stylist Jerry Joy, the reference point for this line is more individual, from the family’s shared love for Danish design to the rock formations visited on a family trip to Joshua Tree and the public celebration of Hanukkah in his hometown. It is a typical one. Bondi Beach recently urged them to create a limited edition menorah in the same Flintstones language. We are also working on wall-mounted candle holders and furniture.

Joan Magnoza, Aurora Syria and Xavier Maganoza of Appalatu wear their clothes and accessories at the studio in Barcelona. Taken by Nacho Alegre.

Grooming by Paca Navarro for Le Pure of Kasteel Artist Management. Photo Assistant: Mora Drego.

Appalatsu

Xavier Magnoza grew up in his parents’ pottery factory in Spain, set up kilns on weekends and summers, and helped decorate traditional ornate vases sold at household goods stores across the country. When he went out to study industrial design and eventually moved to Berlin, he thought he had left his family business behind. I have to go home and run a company with us until my mother calls him with an ultimatum. Shuts down forever. Manyosa agreed to return, but he joked only on the condition that the factory became his “dictatorship.” His parents gave him creative control and the business became Apparatu. This is a design-led partnership that “stops looking at objects and begins to focus on materials and processes.”

Together, he and his parents move away from classic pottery, from ceramic lamps from the Spanish brand Marset, to experimental installations, abstract sculptures on display in art galleries, new to be launched in Finland this winter. I started making everything, from a series of household items. Design house Artek. Manyosa’s mother, Aurora Syria, is a practical figure, and her father, Joan, is currently primarily overseeing the production. However, Joan is also a creative engine, inspiring his son’s ideas and experimenting with new technologies that Manyosa can incorporate into the project. “His curiosity drives us all,” says Manyosa.

Peter Gudrunas and Iris Fraser-Gudrunas of Sirius Glassworks Blown Glass Studios in Ontario, Canada, wear their clothes and accessories. Taken by Luis Mora.

Grooming by Claudine Baltazar of Plutino Group’s MAC Cosmetics.

Sirius Glassworks

Peter Gudrunas began blowing art glassware at his studio in Ontario, Canada, Sirius Glassworks in 1976, and gained a reputation until his work was sold in nearly 100 galleries in North America. However, the 2008 financial crisis, coupled with the aging fan base, wiped out his market and “the future of Sirius looked pretty tough,” recalls his daughter Iris. He was retired at the time, but “we were ready to be on the verge of oblivion,” she says. She wanted to help maintain the large facilities he built, not just his father’s work. The generation of glassblowers. The two teamed up in 2013, and eight years later, a sudden epidemic of hand-blown glass has led to a surge in demand for their work. “I’m really surprised,” says Peter. “Now I have a personal gratitude for the craftsman, but I didn’t realize it.”

With that in mind, Iris spent the first few years in Sirius trying to make his father look more clearly handmade. For decades he has been striving for technical perfection, but she has urged him to loosen and make things more asymmetric and unstable. “My colleagues are attracted to more unique work,” she says. “They want to be able to see the artist’s hands.” Iris also began to dive into his father’s archive, pulling forms from the 1970s, 80s, and early 90s (Popular Gen Z). His distinctive psychedelic jewel tone urged them to revive. She also began to bring her own designs to him, including a cup with iridescent colored spots in the popular Nassau series. The next big move for Iris is to share more art glass history with Sirius’ followers through Instagram dedicated to the studio’s large library. By emphasizing the context of the work, I hope her curious fans will become a glass collector for the rest of her life.

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